Chapter 8
M aureen and Donal had arranged to meet John, Davey and Niall outside the Lido Buffet for 7pm and, upon leaving the Sail Away party two cocktails down, decided it was a good time to explore their new home and familiarise themselves with its layout. They’d ducked into the gym, making plans to visit it thrice a week while onboard; the day spa where a hairdressing service was available; and checked out the kids’ clubs for when all the grandchildren joined them. They were both delighted with how much was on offer to keep them entertained as their parents would be, too! The rest of them could help out with the little ones here and there to give Aisling, Quinn, Pat and Cindy a break.
Donal had been keen to locate the Havana Lounge, where The Gamblers would play tomorrow evening and each evening for the remainder of the week-long cruise aside from the Haybale and Hoedown evening. The country music party was to be held on the Lido deck. For now, though, they’d trooped down the stairs, inspecting the different levels, taking a few wrong turns, and pausing to check out the various table service restaurants. The menus sounded delicious but given the discount they received in the buffet restaurant that's where they'd be eating their meals. Not that either of them was complaining.
The Havana Lounge was on Level 7, and hearing the bells and whistles of a slot machine jackpot going off somewhere ahead of them, Maureen realised the casino must be on the same floor. As for the bar, it had potted palms in the corners and a bright mural depicting classic cars from the forties and fifties cruising a colourful Havana Street scene. Spanish guitar music with a strong percussion accompaniment played from hidden speakers.
‘That’s where we’ll be playing.’ Donal gestured to the space reserved on the far side of the lounge for the band and dancing.
Maureen gave the bar floor a slow sweep, concluding a few haybales about the place would give it more of a country music vibe for tomorrow night’s performance, albeit a Cuban country music vibe. They’d have to locate the haybales stored away for the hoedown party and she mentioned this to Donal who agreed it would add to the ambience.
‘Shall we take a peek at the Grand Theatre?’ Donal suggested, studying the ship’s map on the wall and, receiving the nod, headed off in the general direction of its location.
They found it without difficulty and, pushing the door open, were met with a deserted theatre in semi-darkness and a ceiling filled with thousands of twinkling stars.
‘It’s very grand,’ Maureen whispered even though there was no one about to hear her.
Donal agreed from where he was leaning over her shoulder.
Maureen couldn’t take her eyes off the empty stage. She was getting that volcano bubbling up feeling once more. ‘Donal, are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
‘I am, Mo. It’s the biggest auditorium I will ever stand on-stage in. It’s too good an opportunity not to.’
Partners in crime, they took the stairs to the stage two at a time and, a minute later, were standing in the centre of it looking up at the rows of empty seats spanning a semi-circle and stretching all the way up to a second tier of seating.
Maureen closed her eyes. ‘I’m visualising a sold-out house.’
‘And the entire audience is clapping and cheering for The Gamblers,’ Donal added.
‘It's deafening, so it is. Oh, and now, listen, can you hear the chant? It’s the ‘We’ve Got Tonight’ song they’re desperate to hear.’
‘You’re right, Mo,’ Donal played along. ‘We’ll have to wait for them to quieten down.’
They smiled into each other’s eyes, and then Donal struck a relaxed stance. At the same time, Maureen, using her fist for a microphone, never took her eyes off him, swaying gently as he began crooning the ballad. The acoustics in the theatre were terrific, even without a microphone, and Maureen couldn’t wait to step in as Sheena and hear her voice reach the very last row of seats. She’d just inhaled all the way to the bottom of her lungs in readiness to join in for her part when a sinewy manchild – so skinny one eye would do him – materialised in the wings. He was wearing a tank top and tights, and Maureen kept her gaze firmly trained above his torso as he cleared his throat.
‘Excuse me, but we’ve got a rehearsal about to take place here, and the theatre’s off limits to passengers when shows or the bingo aren’t on. You’ll find the Karaoke in the Sundowner Bar at seven o’clock this evening.’
He’d an accent perfect for Bert, the chimney sweep in Mary Poppins, Maureen thought, indignant at the Karaoke comment. She puffed up and explained that they weren’t passengers but fellow performers who’d been rehearsing themselves for the gig they were playing in the Havana Lounge tomorrow evening.
The young man placed a hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow, ‘I think you’ll find this isn’t a designated rehearsal space for lounge bar performers.’
Maureen, not liking the affectation when he’d said ‘lounge bar performers’, opened her mouth to tell him that The Gamblers were held in high regard at home in Ireland and were very popular on the sixty-plus birthday circuit. Thank you very much. However, a swarm of sinewy young people in tights was flooding the stage, so she closed it again to see the young man fling his arm out yonder.
‘The public exit is at the top of the stairs.’
Before Maureen could say precisely what she thought about being spoken to like so by a twelve-year-old in tights, Donal took her hand and tugged her off stage.
‘Come on, Mo. I think we’d best leave them to it. Dancers can be a terrible temperamental bunch.’
‘How do you know that?’ Maureen asked, huffing up the stairs behind him.
‘Louise did the tap for a few years as a child, and there was always someone in the class in tears over their shoes not tapping properly.’
Maureen thought about how hot under the collar some of the girls at line dancing could get when someone stepped out of sync and decided he was right. ‘Look at that,’ she stabbed at a poster on the wall beside the door which had just closed on the dance troupe gathering on the stage. ‘Latino Stars of the Sea.’ She followed this up with a harrumphing noise. ‘Yer sinewy wan back there’s about as Latino as I am.’ She wished she had a felt tip in her bag because she’d have loved to have drawn glasses and scribbled a moustache on the pouty face striking a snake-hipped pose in the poster.
‘Forget about him, Mo. He's a jumped up little so and so. Let’s see what else the Mayan Princess has to offer.’
‘You’re right, Donal. I’ll be the bigger person and let it go. Shall we see if we can find the photographs snapped when we came on board earlier?’
‘Good idea, Mo. It might be one for the album.’
They set off again and hadn’t wandered far before finding themselves in a wide corridor. The portal windows allowed natural light to flood in, and they paused to admire the vista of blue while on their right expensively framed paintings lined the wall.
Thanks to the informative newsletter, Maureen knew these artworks would be auctioned off throughout the week at the scheduled Champagne Art Auctions. She looked forward to sipping champagne while contemplating an eclectic range of paintings. Maureen and Donal meant to make the most of everything on the ship this first week at sea and expected, after a few weeks, the novelty of a champagne lifestyle might wear off a little but, right now, that was hard to imagine. She focused on the paintings: encompassing everything from fine to modern art, including a few Warhol prints, a selection of Disney pieces, and even a framed picture of the Beatles, the Abbey Road record cover. She’d be sure to tell Moira to enquire about selling some of the works she’d produced while at college as part of her Fine Arts degree. It could be a nice little earner for her.
Up ahead, Maureen could see the photo boards they were looking for and, eager to see hers and Donal’s, she quickened her pace. ‘I’ll start down this end. You start down there, Donal,’ she bossed, patting about her person for her glasses.
‘In the pocket of your caftan, Mo,’ Donal said, pulling his own glasses from his shirt pocket.
‘I’d be lost without you, so I would, Donal.’
They began scanning the boards with rows of identical cruise ship background photographs filled with smiling families, couples and groups, the minutes ticking by until she heard Donal mutter, ‘Oh dear.’
‘What’s oh dear?’ She moved alongside him, head tilted to one side as she studied the unfortunate shot of them both on display. Donal looked like he was chewing a wasp and she appeared startled, as though someone had jumped out at her. This was the case because the photographer had leapt in front of her and she’d not had time to arrange herself into her photo pose, whereby she raised her chin just so. It took years off.
‘I don’t think it’s one for the album Donal, do you?’
‘I think you’re right, Mo.’
It was just as well the children weren’t here because they’d have a field day with it, Maureen thought. She’d warn Pat and the girls about the man floating about with the camera as you walked up the gangplank. ‘Shall we carry on?’
Donal held his arm out for her to link by reply, then said, ‘We’re heading toward the Atrium area now. It’s in the middle of the ship.’
The size of the ship was mind-boggling, Maureen thought happily, leaving the unfortunate photo behind in favour of the shops.
When they emerged in the glitzy, almost circular area overlooking the atrium floor below, passengers in various states of dress and undress were milling about, stocking up on duty-free, trying on jewellery, or eyeing nautical- or tropically-themed fashions. Maureen leaned over the railing, looking up at the enormous chandelier dangling overhead, then across to where the grand staircase swept down to the floor below where a woman was tinkling the ivories. People sat in bucket seats, sipping drinks from the nearby bar and coffee shop, enjoying the sophisticated ambience of it all. A glass elevator let passengers on and off, and the guest services area was tucked away in the corner where people were lined up waiting for assistance or booking shore excursions. They’d have to get on to that themselves, Maureen thought, eager to see what was on offer to explore their various cruise stops.
‘I read on the programme sheet that there’s a champagne waterfall in the atrium on the formal night. I’d like to see that. I hope it doesn’t clash with our performance times.’
Donal was only half-listening as his toe began tapping to the Elton John number the woman had started playing. ‘She’s very good.’ He hummed along to a few lines of ‘Your Song’, then pointed. ‘Look, Niall’s sitting over there.’
‘Shall we ask if he minds us joining him? We could sit and listen for a while. I might request a bit of Richard Clayderman. I had a soft spot for him in the eighties. I found his music soothing when the girls and Pat tried my patience. The girls used to say, “You’ve done it now, Mammy’s after putting the Richard Clayderman record on.”’ She’d liked his lovely blonde hair, too.
‘Should I be jealous, Mo?’ Donal’s eyes twinkled.
‘Not at all, Donal. I had an even bigger soft spot for Kenny Rogers!’
Linking arms again, they ventured downstairs.