Cruising with the O’Maras (The Irish Guesthouse on the Green #17)

Chapter 7

‘ I sn’t it wonderful?’ Maureen breathed, soaking in the scene and committing it to memory so she could email the girls the next chance she got as to what to expect. The Lido deck was alive with an infectious music beat as passengers clutching colourful cocktails milled about, avoiding being splashed by excitable children already playing in the pool. The deck chairs flanking either side of the pool were already filled as holidaymakers forgot about their worries and began unwinding. Here and there, she saw amiable crew members in crisp white uniforms chatting to passengers. The sun beat down and the air was filled with a heady mix of grilling burgers, salt, suncream and the tang of cigarette smoke.

‘It is, Mo. I’ll order us a couple of cocktails, shall I?’

‘Grand.’

‘A Pina Colada?’ Donal launched into a few verses of the classic song. Still, Maureen was distracted by the vibrant blue drink a woman jiggling about to the music in barely-there shorts was clutching. ‘Actually, that one there looks interesting,’ Maureen interrupted him, crooning about getting caught in the rain, and hustled off to tap the blonde woman’s shoulder. ‘Excuse me, but what’s that you're drinking?’

The woman held up the drink with its cocktail umbrella. ‘It’s a Blue Lagoon. Vodka, blue curacao and lemonade. It’s delicious,’ she twanged in an American accent before slurping it up like lolly water.

‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Then, turning to Donal, Maureen said her favourite line from When Harry Met Sally film. ‘I’ll have what she’s having.’ She spied a familiar pair of bandy legs amongst the milling crowd and waved to Niall, The Gambler’s guitarist. ‘I’ll be over there with Niall. Oh, and Donal, tell the bartender you’re crew. You’ll get faster service that way.’ Maureen was going over to where Niall was leaning against the ship’s railings when she was nearly knocked over by an overexcited child running like the wind, even though there was a sign clearly stating there was to be no running by the pool. Children being children , she mused with a pang for Noah.

‘How’re you, Niall?’ Maureen reached the man, watching the Sail Away carry on with a bemused expression. She was fond of Niall. She was fond of all The Gamblers but had a soft spot for Niall, a gentle soul. He was also lonely since his wife had left him. Donal had told her she’d arrived home from her French evening class a few years ago and told him she’d met someone else who shared her passion for Provence. That was that, and he’d been on his own ever since.

‘Grand, Maureen. Isn’t the craic great?’

‘It is, Niall. Have you seen the other lads?’ She asked, referring to John the drummer, a widower with an eye for the ladies, and fat Davey, who was on the keyboard, as the lads called him. Davey was divorced and happy that way.

‘John’s off having a game of ping-pong, and Davey made straight for the buffet. No surprises there.’

Maureen laughed. ‘I shouldn’t laugh because I’m eager to check it out myself, and Donal will be pleased to hear there’s ping-pong. Sure, I’ll be like one of those golf widows whose husband’s never home because he’s swinging his club on the local green, only with the ping-pong, so I will. You know what he’s like when he gets one of those bats in his hands. He morphs into the Pete Sampras of the table tennis world.’

This time Niall laughed. ‘I won’t be putting up my hand to play doubles with him and the lads, that’s for sure. He’s too competitive for my blood.’

‘What’s your Kevin cabin-mate like?’

‘No discernible annoying habits, reasonable personal hygiene, better than Davey's. Mind, that's not saying much. He assures us he doesn't snore, unlike Davey, and for a comedian he seems a dour fella, but I imagine if you make your living making people laugh you might be all out of funnies off stage.'

'Well, Niall, he can't afford not to be cracking the jokes when he’s on the ship. The passengers are king, and we, as entertainers, are expected to always entertain.’ Maureen filled him in on the conversation with Tomasina and Pawel.

‘So what you’re saying, Maureen, is I’m to be strolling about with my guitar at all times, ready to strum a quick tune should anyone make a request? Should I stick a rose between my teeth, too, if I'm going to be doing all this serenading?’

‘No, Niall.' Maureen shook her head and pointed to a woman sprawling on a sun lounger. 'Say your woman over there, with the swimsuit that is a size too small for her, clicks her fingers and asks you what your favourite Kenny song is; you can’t tell her to mind your own business, you’ve to engage in a spot of banter with her.’

Niall looked terrified at the prospect, and Maureen decided it was time to move the conversation along so, seeing Donal on his way back with a drink that reminded her of a sunset in one hand and her Blue Lagoon in the other, she tried to convince him to step out of his comfort zone and order a cocktail instead of the ale he was supping.

‘Thanks a million,’ her hand shot out for the drink Donal offered as he reached them, eager for a sip. It was delicious, which she confirmed to both men. ‘What’s that you’ve got, Donal?’

‘This, Mo, is a Hurricane made with rum, passionfruit and lemon juice. Very nice it is, too. Although your man behind the bar was a little mean with the rum.’ He held it out for her to try and they swapped drinks, agreeing they were equally scrumptious.

Maureen was swaying along to the poppy music, interrupted by a welcome-aboard message from the Mayan Princess ’s captain. ‘Doesn’t Captain Franco have a masterful voice?’ she gushed. ‘I think we’re in safe hands.’

‘Actually, I thought his voice was rather high-pitched. He sounded like a Bee Gee to me,’ Donal said in a most-unlike Donal manner.

Maureen detected a little of the green-eyed monster in his summation of poor Captain Franco. Still, she let it go as the ship's horn echoed across the port. She clutched Donal’s arm in excitement. Her cry of, ‘We’re off!’ was drowned out by the DJ’s shout, ' Let’s get this party started!’ and the ensuing cheer. People thronged to join the professional dancers who’d filed into the middle of the deck area by the bar. They were decked out in their bright beachwear as they broke out the moves, waving their arms about and beckoning for passengers on the sidelines to join in. Maureen felt that surge she always got when she badly wanted to join in. It was a sort of bubbling like a volcano on the verge of erupting. A ‘This is my moment to shine’ sensation, which was why she’d begun jiggling everything from the neck down. She asked Donal if he fancied taking a turn on the dance floor.

‘Erm, I might sit this one out, Mo.’

‘Niall?’

‘Ah, no, sure you’re grand, Maureen. Look, there’s loads up there on their own.’

‘Lads, cop yourself on, we’re supposed to be mixing and mingling as crew. It’s in our contract.’ Neither man moved as they whistled and avoided eye contact. Ah well, nobody could say she wasn’t taking her role seriously as, almost breaking out into a jog and keeping a tight hold of her Blue Lagoon, she thrust her way into the thick of it all.

If the girls could see me now, she thought as an ABBA medley began to play, and she waved her free arm in the air like one of those young wans at a rave. She danced until her feet began aching, and her drink was a distant memory. Then, heading back to where Niall and Donal were relaxing, she saw they were on a second round. If you couldn't beat them, you might as well join them, she decided, veering off toward the bar.