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

Chapter 12

M aureen was alone in the lift for the few floors to the Lido Deck, where Donal was practising his ping-pong with John. Then the doors slid open, and the sinewy manchild from London’s East End or somewhere nearby stepped in. She’d almost not recognised him dressed in civvies. His tights and tank top had been swapped for shorts and a t-shirt. If he recognised her as the woman he’d given short shrift to along with her manfriend in the Grand Theatre yesterday, he wasn’t letting on.

He’d been unnecessarily rude, Maureen thought, wondering if he could feel her eyes boring into his back. The bubbling volcano sensation saw her begin crooning ‘We’ve Got Tonight’ softly, for reasons she didn't understand. However, she was gratified seeing his shoulders tense. Ha , she thought: he knew who she was now alright and had a guilty conscience. When the doors opened on the eleventh floor, he shot off so fast she fancied she could smell the burning rubber of his flip-flops. Served him right, she thought, pulling her sunglasses down from the top of her head as she emerged into the sunshine.

Maureen weaved her way around the deck chairs littered about the pool. They were all taken by people who were either slurping drinks, reading books, or sleeping under the hot sun. She spied a sensible woman slathering sunscreen on and thought there’d be a run on the E45 cream in the pharmacy this afternoon when the other eejits baking themselves sought relief from their sunburn.

The table tennis tables were set up in a sheltered area, undercover behind one of the bars and near the entrance to the spa and gym. She could see Donal down one end of a table, John the other. She rolled her eyes because despite Donal having his back to her, she could see him bouncing on his toes and passing the paddle from hand to hand like a tennis pro while waiting for John to serve the ping-pong ball.

The other table was in use, and several small children with fed-up expressions were milling about. As she drew nearer, she heard one child saying, ‘I’m going to tell my dad they won’t get off the table and let us have a turn.’

‘Donal!’ Maureen called out. Donal swung around hearing his name and promptly missed the serve John sent.

A little girl quickly picked the ping-pong ball up as it bounced on the deck.

‘Mo. Don’t shout my name out like that during the tournament later.’

Donal was uncharacteristically snappy, and Maureen blamed the paddle he had a death-like grip on. He was holding his left hand out for the ball, but the little girl wasn’t handing it over.

‘My mommy says sharing is caring, Mister, and you’re not letting anyone else have a turn playing.’

‘But I’m training for a tournament. I’m not messing about. Would your mammy tell your man Agassi to get off the court when Wimbledon was looming? Now give me that ball.’

‘Donal, get a grip.’ Maureen’s tone matched his in the snappiness stakes. ‘Enough. She’s only a child, and the passengers are king, remember?’

‘I tried telling him, Maureen.' John had put his paddle down and come around the table to where she stood with her hands on her hips. ‘It went in one ear and out the other though.’

‘What are you doing, John? The tournament’s in a few hours. I need to work on my backhand.’ Donal’s gaze swung wildly from the child with the ping-pong ball to his bandmate.

‘Donal McCarthy, put that bat on the table now or I’ll be working on my backhand.’

‘My mommy also says we talk with this.’ The little girl put her index finger to her mouth and then raised a fist. ‘Not with this.’

Maureen was beginning to think this child’s mammy would be a very annoying woman altogether and, ignoring her, she changed tact with Donal.

‘Donal, c’mere to me now. It’s lunchtime, and you know you’ll have no energy for the tournament without sustenance. Let the poor children have a turn on the table and come and have something to eat.’

Donal was torn, and Maureen watched the internal battle on his face.

‘Well, I’m starving. I’ll see you in the Lido Buffet.’ John headed off.

Maureen held her hand out for the paddle as a hostage negotiator would a gun. ‘There’s no need for this sort of carry-on. Donal, remember the children’s parents are paying guests. The table and the bats will be here after lunch.’

‘I am a little peckish, and it’s a paddle, not a bat, Mo.’

‘The bat, paddle, whatever, Donal,’ Maureen reminded him and, after a beat of hesitation, he passed it over to her. Just like that, Maureen had the Donal she knew and loved back. ‘There you go. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ She gave the paddle to the little girl waiting for a turn, and Donal said she'd better make the most of the hour she had to play before he returned.

The Lido Buffet restaurant was a seething mass of hungry cruise ship passengers piling plates up from the dazzling selection of dishes and then hunting out tables to sit and enjoy their meal. Donal had seemed to manage to put the upcoming tournament out of his mind and enjoy his leisurely lunch, Maureen thought, patting her mouth with her napkin before announcing to the group seated around the table that Niall, Davey and Carole had commandeered earlier, ‘Variety is the spice of life. I thoroughly enjoyed my Mexican, Italian and Chinese lunch choices.’

‘That lemon chicken was delicious,’ Carole said, aware Maureen had had the same.

‘It was, Carole,’ Maureen agreed.

‘I’m off to check out what’s on offer for dessert,’ Davey heaved himself up. ‘Anybody care to join me?’

‘Not me, Davey,’ Maureen said piously.

‘I spied lemon meringue pie earlier,’ John announced, getting up.

Maureen’s mouth watered. She loved lemon meringue pie.

‘That’s one of your favourites.’ Donal got to his feet. ‘Would you like me to get you a slice while I’m at it, Mo?’

‘Just a teeny-tiny sliver like, Donal, thanks. Don’t overdo it yourself; remember, you’ve got to be nimble on your feet this afternoon.’

‘I won’t, Mo,’ he reassured her, stampeding off to the tempting lineup of treats.

Niall offered to get in a round of tea and coffee, leaving Maureen and Carole alone at the table.

‘Thanks for including me this morning, Maureen. It was fun.’

Maureen smiled. ‘You’re very welcome, although it would have been more fun if we’d won the quiz. That Mayan Princess drink bottle would have been just the ticket for keeping Donal hydrated at this afternoon’s tournament.’

‘Yes, I suppose it would have been.’

She had a lovely, soft accent. Maureen thought more Olivia Newton-John than yer criminal wans in that Prisoner Cell Block H programme the girls had always begged to stay up late to watch. ‘It must have been hard leaving your daughter for three months. My girls were bereft at thinking of Donal and me being away at sea for three months. Of course, treating them to an all-expenses holiday in a month aboard the Mayan Princess took the sting out of it for them.’

Carole smiled.’ Yes, I’d imagine it would have. So they’re all coming?’

‘What you do for one you have to do for all with my lot, and Donal’s girls and their families are coming too.’ She explained the unexpected windfall that had come Donal’s way and how he’d generously decided to share it with all the family.

‘How lovely to have them all together like so.’

‘It will be, although we’ll need eyes in the back of our heads on the ship with Noah and the toddler Kiera. They’re dynamos, the pair of them, when they get together. I don’t mind telling you the kids club staff will earn their money that week.’ Maureen noticed Carole hadn’t answered her question, so she asked it again: ‘You must miss your daughter when you’re away?’

Carole gave a slight nod but didn’t meet Maureen’s inquisitive eye as she picked up the salt cellar and inspected it.

‘Does she have a family of her own? Grandchildren are such a blessing, like.’

‘Not yet.’

This was like getting blood out of a stone, Maureen thought, but she’d cracked tougher nuts than Carole before. ‘Is she a musician like yourself?’

‘Yes, she is. She plays the piano too, but she’s far more talented than I am.’

‘I find that hard to believe. I’ve heard you play, remember? You’d give Richard Clayderman a run for his money any day. But it must be nice to have a chip off the old block. My children are nothing like me.’ Maureen smiled. ‘For one thing, they’ve not got a musical bone in their bodies. Not that we didn’t encourage them, Bryan and I, that's my late husband. But there’s only so much murdering of the recorder you can take. The toddler Kiera is showing great potential with the drums, though. She’s got natural rhythm.’ Maureen could see she’d lost Carole, who was staring out to sea. ‘Are you alright there, Carole?’

‘Mmm, sorry, what were you saying?’

Maureen decided to let things be where Carole’s daughter was concerned for the time being. ‘I was just saying how you and Niall seem to have hit it off.’

Carole smiled. ‘He seems a nice man. It’s not every day I meet a fellow Captain and Tenille fan.’

‘No, I’d imagine not, and he’s one of the good ones, is Niall.’

‘Did I hear my name?’ Niall appeared at the table with cups in either hand.

‘I was talking about you, not to you.’ Maureen accepted the brew with a thank you.

‘But it was all good.’ Carole smiled at him as she took her cuppa.

Maureen scanned the bustling corridor between tables and food stations for Donal, spotting him heading back to the table with his hands full. Maureen thought his idea of teeny-tiny and hers were two very different things, not complaining as she tucked into a generous wedge of lemon meringue pie he set down in front of her. Carole decided the pie looked too delicious not to partake, as did Niall. The pair of them went off to get themselves a serving, passing Davey who was grinning from ear to ear: in his happy place.

‘I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,’ he said, sitting down to enjoy his pudding.

The minutes ticked by as they ate silently, savouring the sweet treats and enjoying the never-ending vista of blue. It was beautiful, Maureen thought as Donal set his fork down and began twirling his hands around.

‘Donal, watch out, you almost smacked poor Davey.’

‘Sorry, Davey, but I’m limbering my wrists up.’ Time had marched on, and there were only fifty minutes to go until the tournament was due to start. John had made it clear that Donal was on his own because he’d not be returning to the ping-pong table to help him practise, and nobody else had put their hand up to help. ‘If I’m not getting back on the table between now and kick-off, then this will have to do.’ He got up from the table and did a few calf stretches.

When the others returned with their desserts, they agreed to head over to the table tennis tables once they'd all finished.

Maureen and Donal found a small crowd was gathering and the children had been moved on, leaving the tables empty. Christie, who’d been in charge of the pub quiz, checked players off the enrolment form she’d attached to a clipboard. A sun visor was on her head but her ponytail was still swishing back and forth, putting Maureen in mind of a horse’s tail swatting flies. Dodging it as it swished her way, she tapped the cruise ship’s Director of Entertainment on the shoulder. ‘Excuse me, Christie.’

‘Hey there, are you playing in the tournament?’

‘No. Donal is. Yer man over there doing the wrist twirls and lunges. I wanted to check in with you as to whether crew members are allowed to win prizes and, if so, is he playing for the chance to win a Mayan Princess drink bottle?’

‘It is one of the prizes, yes, and so long as you don’t play Bingo or participate in any games with a monetary prize, we can let the drink bottle go. Besides, they’re so useful.’ Christie’s grin mesmerised Maureen and, for a moment, she thought she’d said, ‘All the better to eat you up with!’ ss the wolf who’d dressed up as grandma in Little Red Riding Hood sprang to mind. The bubbling volcano sensation starting up in her stomach was a welcome distraction from the Director of Entertainment’s gnashers, and she wondered whether it was due to the Mexican, Chinese and Italian food she’d not long ago enjoyed. No, she decided. It was down to the urgent need for Donal to win the tournament and take home the prize of a Mayan Princess drink bottle.

It was time to take action, and she needed to get behind him. So, telling him to stand still, Maureen began massaging his shoulders. She’d seen the managers of prize fighters sitting in the ring about to start punching the living daylights out of the other fella doing this in the boxing. If it worked for them, it would work for Donal. ‘You’ve got this, Donal,’ she said, eying his competitors milling about. She decided yer woman, who she put at around eighty-something years and who’d pulled her navy blue slacks up under her armpits, was the one to watch. She’d brought her own bat in a special case, no less.

Donal bounced from foot to foot when Maureen finished her pep talk and punched the air. ‘You’re very good at motivational speaking, so you are, Mo.’

‘Thank you, Donal. You’re not the first to tell me that, as it happens.’

Then, seeing the man with Bat Woman pass her a Mayan Princess drink bottle, Maureen knew this woman was a winner.

She thought the lady had better watch out because so was her Donal.