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

Chapter 20

M aureen and Donal were being jostled by excited passengers who’d also decided the best view of their arrival into Cabo, as she’d heard those in the know abbreviate the Mexican resort city’s name to, was at the prow of the Mayan Princess .

‘Look, there it is,’ somebody shouted, and Maureen stood on tiptoes, craning her neck for her first glimpse of the Arch of Cabo San Lucas. ‘Donal, it’s just how the daily ship's newsletter described it. A mellow-hued rock, rising out of the sparkling Sea of Cortez: pass me the camera, quick!’

‘Put the strap around your neck, Maureen, because I’ll not be jumping in after it if you drop it. Who knows what’s swimming about in that water.’ Donal’s gaze was wary as he passed the camera over, expecting to see a frenzy of great whites in the calm waters below, just waiting for a plump Irish cruise passenger to fall in. ‘They’ve sharks in Mexican waters, you know. I saw them in Jacques Cousteau's documentary. Vicious they were, eating all the poor fish.’

Maureen thought it was good advice and draped the strap around her neck, taking aim with the camera just as the woman beside her knocked her, causing her to push the shutter. She thought the photo would be a blue blur, and her eyes narrowed as the woman didn't offer an apology. Two could play at that game. Then, recalling her determination to hang on to the lovely zen post-yoga feeling, Maureen elbowed Donal instead. ‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’

‘You’re not wrong there, Mo,’ Donal said, rubbing his side. ‘And go easy on me. My poor old muscles are seizing up. I didn’t realise the rowing would be such a full-body workout.’

He’d told Maureen upon his sweaty return to their cabin earlier that the treadmills had all been in use so he’d hit the rowing machine, instead. She could tell from his red face he’d gone for gold and pretended he was trying out for the Irish rowing team. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, ‘I told you so,’ regarding the warm-up exercises or lack thereof. Still, she refrained because she was, after all, holding onto being zen.

The harbour ahead, where luxury yachts jostled alongside fishing boats, was small and, from what Maureen and Donal could see, packed with boats of all shapes and sizes. Donal’s frown was deep as he pondered out loud the logistics of a ship the size of the Mayan Princess squeezing in amidst the fray.

‘Don’t worry, Donal. Captain Franco knows what he’s doing.’

Donal began humming ‘Stayin’ Alive’, and Maureen relayed a spot of trivia she’d gleaned from yesterday’s pub quiz. ‘Did you know you’ve the Bee Gees to thank for writing Kenny and Dolly the “Islands in the Stream” song?’

‘They never.’

‘They did. So think on, Donal McCarthy.’

The word ‘tenders’ was bandied about, and Maureen and Donal put two and two together. The ship would not be muscling its way into the harbour. Instead, they’d be boarding a tender boat to take them ashore. Deciding there was nothing more to see now, they edged away from the prow to search for Carole, Niall, John and Davey. The foursome wasn’t hard to find seated around an open-air table near the pool with the remains of a late breakfast in front of them.

‘We’re making the most of the sun before it gets too hot to sit out in,’ John informed them, drumming his fingers on the table, bouncing his knee and never taking his eyes off the man a few tables away who was close to eating the cigarette he’d smoked so far down. Maureen clicked her fingers in front of him, breaking the spell.

‘Thanks, Mo. A weak moment, you know.’

Maureen slid his half-eaten toast under his nose. ‘You’re better off finishing this, John.’

Niall obligingly helped Donal find two extra chairs. At the same time, Davey chomped his way through the pastries he’d helped himself to, declaring them a grand way to finish breakfast. Carole meanwhile caught Maureen’s eye and Maureen, taking the chair from Niall, slotted it in alongside her. ‘All set for today?’ The question was loaded because she hoped Carole wouldn’t back down. Reaching out to her ex-husband for Carlos's contact details was the first step to putting things right with her daughter.

‘All set.’ Carole sounded confident and reassured Maureen, so much so that she thought how well she’d slotted into their group. She was pleased to have made a new friend as she tuned in to the story she was telling them. It was about a couple who requested Carole play ‘Lady in Red’ during her set last night because it was their song. Only the woman stalked off halfway through Carole's piano keyboard version because her husband was eyeing a tall blonde who happened to be in red. Listening, Maureen was glad she’d not let her first impressions of Carole put her off because she was lively and good fun once you got past her ice queen exterior. A front she now understood was a necessary survival tool for her new friend who’d been hurt and had hurt the person closest to her.

Donal and the lads briefly dissected how their first performance had gone over in the Havana Lounge, deciding it had been well received. The Billy Ray Cyrus line dancing number in the second half was a triumph. It allowed Maureen to show off her line dancing moves as she got the stragglers on the dance floor by coaxing them through the ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ steps. Hopefully, the popularity of The Gamblers' Kenny Rogers tribute act and the band's line-dancing hits repertoire would wipe the slate clean where Donal’s ping-pong reputation was concerned. Maureen squirmed, listening in relief when the emergency lifeboat drill/manchild incident wasn’t revisited. She quickly moved the conversation along to Cabo, asking what everybody fancied doing on their first day in a Mexican city.

Carole said she was keen to snorkel, and Niall was quick off the mark to say he fancied donning the mask and flippers, too. Davey, who’d a guidebook, had pinpointed a bar dedicated to the Rolling Stones who’d enjoyed sun-drenched, hedonistic holidays in Cabo. He and John were keen to check this out.

Maureen didn’t have anything she wanted to do other than meander and soak up the flavour of Mexico. She and Donal were on the same page. It wasn’t surprising because they were a team. Just not team players, she thought ruefully before speaking up. ‘We’re luckier than this lot.’ She flapped her hand in the direction of fellow passengers.

‘Why’s that then, Mo?’ John asked. ‘I mean aside from the obvious.’

Davey – with pastry crumbs stuck to greasy lips – asked, ‘What’s obvious?’

‘We’re getting paid to be here,’ Donal supplied the answer.

‘Good point.’ Davey wiped his mouth.

‘And,’ Maureen continued, ‘as contracted entertainers, we’ve no need to go mad cramming all the sights in because we’ll be back again and again and again. We’ve the luxury of leisurely exploring, picking, and choosing what we do. Well, so long as we’re back on the ship before it sets sail. The only thing I absolutely have to do is find an internet café. You’re with me there, aren’t you, Carole?’

Carole’s earlier confidence turned to shiftiness because time was ticking closer to when they’d get off the ship for the first time since walking up the gangplank. Nevertheless, she agreed this was the case.

Donal checked his watch. ‘We’d better head back to the cabin and fetch the day pack, Mo.’

‘I’ll follow you down,’ John said. ‘I need to put a fresh shirt on.’ He wiped at the blob of jam stuck to his front with a napkin, succeeding in spreading the sticky stain.

The others were good to go, having brought their supplies upstairs with them.

‘We’ll take the lift. Save time, like,’ Donal said.

He’d begun walking like a bow-legged gunslinger, Maureen thought as she and John trotted alongside him. ‘Who’re you trying to kid, Donal McCarthy? It’s to save your legs.’ She filled John in on Donal’s rowing exploits.

Donal wasn’t offended as he laughed good naturedly that Maureen had got him worked out. However, seeing the swarm of passengers loitering by the lifts, the laughter died in his throat. He had no choice but to take the stairs, or they’d be waiting an age. He moaned and groaned all the way down.

‘It’s falling on deaf ears, Donal McCarthy,’ Maureen threw over her shoulder.

It seemed that they’d donned orange life jackets in no time and were being herded off the ship onto a bobbing tender. Excitement swelled with a din of voices, all chatting about what they had planned for their day. They sat elbow to elbow in the boat, steadily motoring toward the harbour. Maureen turned her face to the water, enjoying the tang of cool, salty breeze on her lips as she soaked it all in. Ahead, a lone kayaker paddled lazily through the calm waters close to the bustling waterfront. The marina area teemed with life as restaurants, touts and shopkeepers prepared for the cruise ship deluge.

‘Donal, there’re palm trees!’ The tall, slender trunks, with crowns of fronds, were studded about, adding a holiday vibe to the vista. At home in Howth, Maureen had to make do with the spiky cabbage tree outside the pub on the main street for the seaside holiday vibe.

‘So there are, Mo,’ Donal said indulgently.

Maureen’s eyes travelled beyond the smattering of high-rise buildings to the backdrop of whitewashed Spanish-style homes with terracotta roofs beyond which acrid, cactus-filled hills were in stark contrast to the blue sky. Today would be hers, Donal’s and the others’ first foray into Mexico. Anticipation saw her begin fidgeting in eagerness to get off the boat and plant her feet on the foreign soil as she conjured up the little she knew of Mexico. Mariachi bands, beans and corn, more beans, cheese, Tequilla, sombreros and pinatas. Noah had had a birthday party pinata once. Maureen shuddered, recalling the grim determination with which those children had smacked the thing to get to the sweets within. They’d been blindfolded, and all the adults had kept a wary distance as the young wans took turns with the big stick.

‘Look over there,’ Carole said, pointing to where sea otters were basking on a rickety wooden pontoon, taking aim with her camera. Then their boat was bumping against the dock, and they were being helped off. The helpful Mayan Princess crew member wished them a wonderful time in Cabo.

‘I’m crew too,’ Maureen said as she took his hand but there was no time to expand on her role as she was jostled from behind.

The party of six found themselves milling about the hot marina in a sea of sun hats. The smells of sunscreen, cigarettes, and grilling fish filled the air while the shouts of the cowboy-hat-wearing men with Water taxi signs all vying for their business competed with a thumping music beat.

John and Davey announced they would attend the Stones bar they’d mentioned earlier. It was in a nearby square, and they hoped it might have interesting memorabilia to enjoy while sampling local tequila. Maureen wondered whether Kenny might have ever holidayed here in Cabo. She reminded them to hydrate with water and not just tequila because they’d not want banging heads for tonight’s performance in the Havana Lounge. Niall and Carole would accompany Maureen and Donal to an internet café and then head off for snorkelling.

Maureen’s face was soon aching from all the polite smiling at the touts wanting their business as she mouthed, ‘No, thank you.’ At the same time, they kept their eyes peeled for a café that wasn’t packed out with cruise ship passengers all eager to email their adventures home. They found one with two available consoles a little way behind the marina. Maureen told Donal she’d be sure to include Anna and Louise in her newsy update to ship life. All two days of it.

Carole’s shoulders were tense as her fingers hovered over the keyboard she’d sat down in front of. ‘My mind’s gone blank, Maureen. What should I say?’

‘Go straight to the point of the message. You want— Carlos, isn’t it?’

Carole confirmed this was his name with a dip of her head.

‘You want Carlos’s mobile phone number and you should tell your ex-husband to keep your having asked for it to himself.’

‘Rob won’t say anything if I ask him not to.’ Still, her fingers were poised over the keys.

‘You can do it, Carole,’ Maureen said gently. ‘You’ve got nothing to lose, remember.’

‘And maybe everything to gain.’

‘Exactly.’

Carole tapped out a brief message, pushing ‘send’ before she could change her mind.

‘Well done.’ Maureen smiled, then, including Niall, loitering nearby, said, ‘I’m going to be a while with all the news I’ve got to share. I’d better not forget to let Rosemary and Cathal know how we’re getting on. So don’t hang about on my part.’

Carole looked at Niall. ‘Shall we walk around the waterfront to see if we can’t buy a cheap mask and flippers?’

‘I can’t wait to get in that water,’ Niall said.

‘Me too,’ Carole agreed.

Maureen glanced up to see them smiling in that way that people who are just getting to know one another do when they discover something else they’ve got in common. In this case, a love of snorkelling. She wasn’t sure how much snorkelling Niall had availed himself of, given he usually spent his holidays in Dundalk, County Louth, which didn’t lend itself to tropical conditions for the mask and flippers. Still, she’d not say a word and ruin the moment. Unlike Donal, she thought glowering, as he ploughed into the tender scene.

‘Well, all I can say is good luck to you both. You couldn’t pay me to put a toe in that water and, for your sakes, I hope you’ve the colourful swimwear on.’

‘Why, Donal?’ Carole asked, her eyes abruptly torn from Niall to the blustering Donal. She was wearing a loose sundress beneath which the straps of a black swimsuit peeked.

‘Well, if it’s the black swimsuit you’re after wearing, Carole, as I suspect you are, who’s to say a shark won’t think you’re a seal?’

Carole didn’t seem phased but then she came from Australia, and everybody knew they’d all manner of nasties waiting to eat you over there. As for Niall, he was staring down at his turquoise swirly board shorts and then, looking up, he scowled at his pal.

‘Don’t listen to Donal, Carole. They’d not hire the flippers and mask out if Jaws lurked in the shallows.’ He took his lady friend by the arm in a masterful way that suggested he’d bop anything on the nose that made a beeline for them in the water if need be. Then, creating a loose arrangement to catch Maureen and Donal later, perhaps for a drink in one of the waterfront bars around 4.30ish, they headed off searching for snorkelling gear.

‘Grand, have fun,’ Maureen called after them with a waggle of her fingers while Donal hummed the Jaws film music, receiving a rude finger sign from Niall for his efforts.

‘Behave, Donal.’ Maureen tsked.

Donal grinned but instead of pulling up the seat that Carole had just vacated, he said he might go and wander through the indoor market next door, given Maureen was likely to be a while. Maureen didn’t look up from where she was tapping in O’Mara’s email address as she promised to find him when she’d finished. The door to the café opened and closed. Then her fingers began flying over the keyboard in her haste to convey everything that had happened between waving Pat, Cindy and the babby Brianna off to finding herself sitting in a poky internet café with an ancient air conditioner unit that sounded like a DC10 plane about to take off. Still and all, she was grateful it was there because, she typed, Cabo was hot.

‘All done, Mo?’ Donal asked as Maureen tracked him down in the market twenty minutes later. She’d found him admiring a t-shirt with a Cabo San Lucas logo set against a technicoloured rainbow palm tree.

‘All done.’ Maureen smiled, flexing her fingers which ached from the long letter she’d just typed and sent out as a group email. Then, seeing him putting his hand in his shorts pocket for his wallet, she asked, ‘Did you haggle?’

‘No. I asked the young lady here how much the shirt was, and now I’m about to pay.’

‘Oh no, Donal, you’ve to haggle. It’s expected.’

‘Is it?’

‘It is.’

‘You’re far more worldly than I am, Mo, what with visiting Vietnam. I expect they haggle there, do they?’

‘They do indeed, Donal.’

Haggling, however, did not come naturally to Donal, who bounced back a price fifty cents cheaper than the one in American dollars he’d already been given.

‘No, no, Donal.’ Maureen shook her head. ‘You’ve got to go in ludicrously low; your woman here will come back ridiculously high, and then you meet in the middle. It’s how it works. Isn’t that so?’ Maureen addressed the woman, staring at them with a surly expression. She gave nothing away.

Ultimately, Donal left it to Maureen who drove a hard bargain and accepted the bagged t-shirt from the now scowling woman, feeling pleased with herself. She’d managed to buy the shirt for a quarter of the initial price Donal had been prepared to pay. Then, seeing a little boy in a singlet and nappy sitting on a mat behind the stall pushing a toy truck around, she felt guilty and elbowed Donal, who yelped, to give the woman what he’d initially agreed to pay.

‘Why?’

‘Because she needs it more than we do.’

‘You’re a soft touch, Maureen,’ he said, not minding in the least. ‘Although you’ve very pointy elbows, if you don’t mind me saying.’

They strolled around the market, checking out the varied wares for sale but Donal’s wallet remained in his pocket. They agreed there was no immediate need for Cabo San Lucas fridge magnets; Maureen also didn’t need a sarong, given she’d a caftan, and the flip-flops on their feet were perfectly adequate. There was no room to decorate their cabin with traditional Mexican artworks or a storage room to hoard them for their return to Ireland. It was touch and go with the Cabo version of the garden gnome Maureen set her heart on. Donal successfully managed to talk her down by saying he’d feel like the little bearded man with a sombrero clutching a guitar was watching him all the time in their teeny-tiny cruise ship cabin. So, they turned their back on the items piled high in the stuffy marketplace and wandered into the glaring sunshine to stroll along the marina.

Maureen insisted they pause to hydrate, and that’s when Donal spotted a Motorbike rental stand; at that exact moment, Maureen noticed the glass-bottomed boat taking a group out. Only it was like no glass-bottomed boat she’d ever seen, not that there were many. This one, however, was completely see-through. A transparent boat. It was putting her in mind of the invisible plane Wonder Woman used to whizz about in on the seventies television programme, only a boat version, obviously. To head out to sea in one of them immediately became underlined with red pen on her bucket list.

‘I used to have a little moped back in the sixties, Mo. I loved it. Shall we hire one for an hour? I’ll drive; you can ride pillion.’

‘Sure you know yourself, Donal, you wouldn't hire a motorbike when wearing flip-flops at the beach in Howth. And we'd be quick to advise the children against doing so, especially in a foreign country. People go on holiday and take risks they’d never take at home.’

‘Tis true enough, Mo, but what the children don’t know won’t hurt them, and it's a harmless, old, slow poke moped, not a motorbike.’ Donal’s eyes sparkled with a lust for adventure.

It was very attractive that sparkle, Maureen thought. One of them had to be sensible, though. ‘Would our insurance even cover us?’

‘It was a comprehensive policy, Mo. I’ll pootle along so I will, and look, there’s helmets.’

Maureen could see the naked longing on Donal’s face. Even though the lure of a see-through boat trip was tugging, she knew compromise was the key to a successful relationship.

‘Sure, we could hire the little motorbike for an hour and then take a spin out on yer boat over there.’

‘What boat?’

‘The see-through boat.’

‘Tis a very small boat, and why’s it see-through, Mo? That’s not normal.’

‘So you can see all the lovely, colourful fish and coral. Sure, look, it’s perfectly safe. See that couple there are off the ship? They’re taking a spin on it.’

‘Jaysus, yer woman nearly tipped it over,’ Donal exclaimed seeing the boat bobbing precariously. Then, looking at Maureen, who was staring longingly at the boat, envisaging all the vibrant sea life the likes of which she’d not see in Howth’s Claremont Beach, he made a slow whistling noise through his clenched teeth and reluctantly agreed to a tour.

Maureen insisted they shake on it and no sooner had they done so than Donal was hot-footing it over to the motorbikes. It was the fastest Maureen had seen him move since his return from the gym. It might be the fastest she’d ever seen him move full stop! And, flip-flopping in his wake, she half-expected to see a scorch mark on the ground. What was she letting herself in for?