Hook, Line and Single

Chapter 8

8

‘Ruby, wake up! It’s time to go.’

I open my eyes groggily to see Sam’s face looming over mine. She looks wide awake, but I’ve never been brilliant at really early mornings, a fact not helped by the large dinner and bottle of wine we shared last night.

‘What time is it?’ I ask.

‘Quarter to four, but we’ve got to check in two hours before the flight leaves.’

‘OK, OK. Give me a moment.’ I push myself up into a sitting position and stare blearily around the room, before carefully levering myself out of bed and opening the curtains a crack to look outside.

‘Bloody hell, it’s still dark,’ I complain. ‘And it’s pouring with rain.’

‘Perfect going-on-holiday weather,’ Sam enthuses. ‘Get on the plane in rainy Britain; get off a few hours later in sunny Rome. You’ve probably got time for a quick shower if you hurry.’

I glance at her again, taking her in properly this time. She’s already fully dressed and her make-up is flawless.

‘How long have you been awake?’ I ask.

‘A while. I never sleep that well in a strange bed, and you were snoring a bit.’

‘I do not snore!’

‘Fine. You were breathing a little more audibly than usual, then. Better?’

‘Not really. How long have I got?’

‘Twenty minutes, max. The shower’s not very enthusiastic, so probably just do the basics.’

I hurry into the bathroom and peel off the T-shirt and knickers I was sleeping in, before stepping under the shower and turning it on. Sam’s description of it being unenthusiastic is spot on. It would probably take all day to get enough water out of it to wash my hair, so I do as instructed and focus on the basics before drying myself with a towel, brushing my teeth and applying the bare minimum of make-up. When I come out, she’s not quite pacing as our room isn’t big enough for that, but she’s definitely fidgeting.

‘Five minutes, Ruby,’ she almost barks.

‘It’s fine. I’ve just got to throw some clothes on and put my overnight stuff in my case.’

When we hurry across to the terminal, I’m expecting to find a busy throng of people queueing to check in, but it’s actually fairly quiet. It takes just a few minutes to deposit our bags and we pass pretty much straight through security.

‘I could have had another hour in bed,’ I mutter as we head towards the café that Sam looked up online to check it would be open at this time of the morning. ‘We still would have had plenty of time.’

‘Better to be safe than sorry. The ship won’t wait for us if we miss our flight.’

‘Where is everyone?’

‘Early morning during termtime, so not exactly family holiday friendly. I expect most of these people are travelling for work.’

‘What kind of job forces you to be in an airport at silly o’clock in the morning? It’s inhumane.’ As I look around me, I realise she’s right. There’s a distinct lack of holiday vibe here; the duty-free shops are quiet and most of the other passengers are sitting quietly, engrossed in their laptops and glancing periodically at the departure screens to check whether their flights are boarding.

‘It probably works for them,’ Sam explains as a server leads us to a booth and gives us menus. ‘Get up early, fly to wherever for a day of meetings, home in time to see the kids before they go to bed.’

‘Sounds like hell.’

‘You’re just grumpy because you need coffee. Come on, what do you fancy to eat?’

* * *

By the time we board the plane an hour or so later, I’m feeling a lot happier. The two espressos I drank with my breakfast of eggs royale have definitely kicked in, because I’m feeling wide awake at last and actually looking forward to the holiday again. According to Sam, we will hand over our luggage to the cruise line as soon as we’ve cleared security at the other end, and it will magically be waiting for us in our cabins when we board the ship this afternoon. In the meantime, we’ll have around four hours to explore Rome before we have to get back to the meeting point so the bus can take us to the port.

‘Did you buy Sistine Chapel tickets?’ Sam asks once we’re above the clouds and the fasten seat belt sign has been switched off. Although I don’t mind flying generally, I’m not great at the take-offs and landings, and turbulence makes me very uneasy. Our climb through the rainclouds was very bumpy, so Sam wisely left me to my thoughts until things smoothed out.

‘No,’ I reply. ‘On reflection, I decided it would be too tight time-wise. If the flight had been delayed, or the queues were longer than normal, we would have missed it. I’ll get some for the day we leave.’

‘Probably a good plan. So what’s on the list then?’

‘All the greats. The Colosseum, the Trevi Fountain, the Forum and the Pantheon.’

‘Wow. Are we going to have time to fit all of that in?’

‘Yup. I’ve booked us on one of those hop-on, hop-off bus tours. If we get there on time, we’ll be able to get off and explore a bit, but even if the flight had been delayed, we’d have been able to see everything. I thought it was the safest option.’

She smiles. ‘Have you ever considered a career in the travel industry? You’ve got a nose for organisation.’

‘I’m quite happy with my bookshop, thanks.’

‘One more question. Have you got itineraries as detailed as this for every place we’re stopping?’

Now it’s my turn to smile. ‘What do you think?’

‘You know the cruise line organises tours, don’t you? We could just sign up for those once we’re on board.’

‘Yes, and if they’re better than mine, that’s what we’ll do. But I’ve been doing a bit of thinking about what Jono and my family said. What if we are the youngest people by a country mile? I don’t want to miss out on seeing things because we’ve got to go at a geriatric pace. You know what it’s like in a large group – you can only go as fast as the slowest person.’

She thinks for a moment. ‘Fair point. I did put you in charge of this because I knew you’d be the best at it, so I’ll leave it to you.’

I settle back into my seat. What Sam doesn’t know is that, somewhere beneath us in the hold, my suitcase contains a notebook with pages dedicated to every port. I’ve listed the attractions, the various options for getting to them, along with prices where they were available. I’ve also photographed each page with my phone, so I have a backup if my suitcase goes astray. I’ve even written down the names of cafés and restaurants that are off the beaten track but were recommended by the guidebooks, so we can hopefully leave the other tourists behind and have a more authentic experience. I’ve loved every minute of my research, and I’m confident that the reality will be even better. I close my eyes and, despite the strong coffee still sloshing around inside me, I’m soon fast asleep.

* * *

‘Bloody hell, it’s massive!’ I exclaim as the bus pulls into the port at Civitavecchia that afternoon and we get our first glimpse of the ship.

‘Said no one to Jason, ever,’ Sam quips beside me, causing us both to giggle and earning us a sharp look from the couple on the other side of the aisle. Although the other passengers on our bus could hardly be described as geriatric, we must be the only people on here under the age of fifty.

I’ve seen plenty of pictures of cruise ships online and on TV, but this is the first time I’ve ever been up close to one, and it’s genuinely huge. The hull is painted dark blue, with Spirit of Malmo in large white letters at the front. Above that is a row of bright orange lifeboats, topped by countless storeys of balconies, like a massive hotel. At the very top of the ship, a large purple funnel with the Scandia Cruises logo on it is smoking gently.

‘Actually, this isn’t that big, by cruise ship standards,’ Sam informs me. ‘Some of the really big ones take over six thousand passengers, whereas this one only takes three.’

‘That’s still a hell of a lot. Are there enough lifeboats, do you think? It doesn’t look like you’d get three thousand people in those.’

‘I’m sure there are. Relax.’

‘Sorry, I’m just a bit overwhelmed by it, I guess.’

The bus pulls up with a hiss of brakes outside the terminal building and we grab our hand baggage and climb down. When we get inside, we’re confronted with several long queues, and it takes us a moment to find the Commodore Class one. As we inch forwards, I take the opportunity to scan the other passengers, and it’s fair to say we are a diverse bunch. Although most of them are of a similar age to the people we were on the bus with, I’m relieved to see some faces closer to our age group, as well as a few families with children. There are even a couple of teenagers, scrolling boredly on their phones as they nudge their hand luggage forwards with their toes.

‘Good afternoon, and welcome to Scandia Cruises,’ the check-in assistant says warmly when we eventually reach the front of the queue. ‘Can I see your passports and boarding passes, please?’

We hand them over and she taps rapidly on her computer keyboard.

‘Ms Johnson, you’re in cabin 7.064,’ she tells me as she hands me a wristband. ‘And you’re right next door in 7.062, Ms Thorncroft. Once you get on board, a steward will direct you, so all you need to know now is that you’re on deck seven. Your cabin number is on your wristband, which you just need to hold against the pad on your door to unlock it. You’ll also use your wristband to pay for any onboard purchases. We’ve loaded on your initial credit, but we’d advise you to register a credit card with us to pre-authorise any purchases beyond that. Would you like to do that now?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Sam tells her as we hand over our credit cards.

‘That’s all done for you,’ she tells us happily once we’ve entered our PIN numbers. ‘The ship’s currency is the US dollar, so that’s what you’ll see on your bill. I notice you’re also in the Friends of Marco Polo group, so you’ll want to head over to the Marco Polo desk once you’ve cleared security to pick up your information packs. Have a great cruise and we’re delighted to have you on board with us.’

‘What’s the Friends of Marco Polo group?’ I ask Sam as we join the queue for the airport-style security scanners.

‘Nothing. It’s just a way of keeping the single supplements down for the cabins, that’s all,’ she replies hastily, but I notice a shiftiness in her look that makes me suspect she’s not telling the complete truth. ‘Different groups go by different names on a cruise ship. It’s nothing to worry about.’

I’d like to press her, as I’m sure there’s something she’s not telling me, but we’re quickly embroiled in the business of clearing security. Although Sam and I make it through without any issues, we’re distracted by a bit of a fracas in one of the other queues. One of the security guards is holding aloft what appears to be a set of metal teeth, and the man in front of him is puce in the face.

‘I told you,’ the man exclaims loudly. ‘I wear them at night when I’m sleeping. Dormire , comprende? They stop me snoring. I’m not going to bite anyone with them.’

The security guard seems unimpressed, beckoning over a stout woman, who I’m guessing is his superior. After a bit of a debate in Italian, she shrugs her shoulders and the security guard hands the irate passenger back his teeth.

‘I hope he’s not on our deck,’ Sam remarks quietly. ‘I don’t think I’d sleep well at night knowing Jaws was on our corridor.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You know, the baddie from that old Bond film. He had metal teeth and could bite through almost anything. Ah, there’s the desk we need.’

We make our way over to a large counter with Marco Polo emblazoned across its front. Behind the counter is an enthusiastic-looking man who’s definitely gone a bit mad with the spray tan.

‘Sticking with the film connections, we had Jaws and now a real live Oompa-Loompa,’ I murmur to Sam. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so orange.’

‘Welcome, welcome,’ he cries as we approach the desk. ‘Are you part of our happy Marco Polo gang?’

‘That’s right,’ Sam tells him. ‘I’m Sam Thorncroft and this is my friend, Ruby Johnson.’

‘Delighted to meet you both. My name’s Barry and I’ll be your group coordinator for the time we’re together on board. We’ve got a really fun group this time. You’re going to have a blast, and who knows what might happen, eh? Let me just find your packs.’

‘Umm, Sam?’ I ask nervously as he rifles through a box of envelopes. ‘What exactly have you signed us up for?’

She doesn’t get a chance to reply as Barry slaps two envelopes down on the counter with a flourish.

‘Here you go,’ he says, sounding like he’s going to explode with delight as he opens Sam’s envelope and slides out the contents. ‘So, the details of everyone in the group are in this booklet. There are pictures and traffic lights so you can do a bit of research before you meet everyone. This is your traffic light badge, which you should wear at all our events. Oh, you’re a green, how brilliant. If you need to change colour at any point, just come and see me and I’ll sort you a new badge, OK? Now, our first event is this evening just after we depart. The other passengers will be going to the sail away party, which happens on the pool deck every time we leave a port, but we’ve taken over the Nautilus lounge for our Singles Mingle event, where you can meet all the other singles for the first time and start getting to know each other.’

I stare dumbfounded at Sam as the penny drops. She’s signed us up to a singles cruise. I am going to kill her.