Chapter 28
I flick through the photos I’ve taken today. They don’t do the beach justice but it’s enough to send to Naomi. I wish I’d asked Grandma to take a photo of me there. I’d name it ‘brave at the beach’ and send it to Alex Steward.
I send two pretty much identical photos to Naomi: Beach today, Hairspray tonight! It doesn’t take long before my phone rings.
‘Hairspray. Again? Sophie, how many times have you seen Hairspray live?’
Naomi’s exasperated expression stares back at me over video chat. Her hair looks nice today. I’ll never not be envious of someone whose hair stays shiny all day and doesn’t explode in their sleep.
‘Twice,’ I reply, indignantly. ‘That’s hardly excessive.’
‘And including the movie?’
‘About three hundred.’
‘Exactly,’ she replies, propping her phone up on the kitchen table.
‘Hairspray isn’t going anywhere. It’ll be full of families and weird couples.
Get out and mingle. What about that priest guy you met at the pool?
He might be there. If he looks like you’ve described, you should absolutely mingle the shit out of him. ’
‘What priest?’ I hear Philip shuffling around behind her phone. ‘Hey, Sophie!’
‘Hi, Philip!’
‘He’s not an actual priest,’ Naomi tells him. ‘That show, Evil? He looks like the guy.’
‘Ah. That guy. Say no more.’
‘He won’t even be there,’ I inform them. ‘I doubt he’s even single.’
‘You never know.’
‘Did you notice a ring?’
‘A ring? Well, no, but I wasn’t looking.’
‘Sophie, you have eyes for a reason.’
She has a point. While not everyone in a committed relationship is married, it might help narrow down those outwardly unavailable.
‘What are you making?’ I ask, watching her chop onions without flinching. It’s impressive. This woman is a hard arse.
‘It’s fajita night. Again,’ she informs me. ‘I’m sick of bloody fajitas but the boys like them. Sometimes I think that life would be easier if I didn’t know how to cook but then we’d all die from eating Philip’s pink chicken.’
‘One time!’ I hear Philip yell in the background. ‘You know the oven wasn’t working properly.’
‘Anyway,’ Naomi continues, ignoring his protests. ‘Get glam. Show off that non-existent tan you got at the beach today.’
‘Hmm, well, there is a mixer tonight,’ I say tentatively. ‘I guess I could swing by after dinner?’
‘Attagirl,’ she replies. ‘Now, go forth and conquer.’
I’m the first to arrive for dinner. I momentarily panic that I’ll be the only one at my table, pathetically ingesting bread rolls while I stare at my phone.
Thankfully, everyone joins me before our waiter Marco is forced to usher me off to the table for women who look like they’ve been stood up on a first date.
The board outside tells me it’s French night tonight.
I’m excited. My only foray into French cuisine thus far has been pastries and the occasional croque monsieur from the restaurant near my office.
Sometimes Kieran gets the croque madame. It’s a good time.
‘Well, isn’t Sardinia just breathtaking?’ Lucas says, as he pulls out his chair. ‘Cameron and I went to Porto Cervo and sipped vino in the Piazzetta. Cameron was convinced he saw Silvio Berlusconi.’
‘I did,’ Cameron insists. ‘He was right there.’
‘He’s dead, sweetheart,’ Lucas replies. ‘Though that Roberto Cavalli boutique is exquisite enough to bring anyone back to life. Or kill them, depending on their bank balance.’
Isla arrives last and sits down with a sigh. She does look pretty this evening, wavy blonde hair and a low-cut white bodycon dress. Again, her boyfriend Richie is nowhere to be seen.
‘Did you have a nice day?’ Mia enquiries.
Isla nods. ‘It was fine. We just stayed on board. I prefer it when everyone leaves the ship for the day. More space around the pool.’
‘The beach was pretty,’ I tell her.
‘I don’t do beaches. Too much sand.’
‘What about you, Mia?’ I ask, controlling the urge to ask Isla if she’s ever been happy a moment in her life. I pick up a menu and consider frisbeeing it across the table towards Isla’s bored little face. ‘Did you guys have fun?’
‘We visited La Maddalena,’ Dieter replies. ‘We took the ferry. Interesting place but we were very hot.’
Mia nods in agreement, her eyes fixed on her own menu. Mia is tiny but from what I saw last night she has a bigger appetite than me. Well, almost. I’m certain if it came to a carb eating contest, I would win.
‘We just had a wander around town, didn’t we, Brian?’ Evelyn tells me. ‘But I agree, Dieter, far too hot. What about you Sophie? Good day?’
‘It was,’ I reply. ‘The water was lovely. Given the heat, it sounds like I made the right decision.’
‘Ready to order?’
‘Salad to start and then the chicken,’ Mia tells Marco. ‘And could I have some extra blue cheese salad dressing on the side?’
I order the calamari and the beef with mashed potatoes, asparagus and a red wine sauce.
I know it says ‘French night’ but the menu has precisely four French dishes, including escargot, which I’m not putting anywhere near my mouth, no matter how many times it’s offered.
Unless calamari, risotto and rogan josh also originated on the banks of the Seine, it’s not the most extensive selection.
‘And for you, madam?’ Marco asks Isla.
She hums and haws over the menu for longer than necessary.
Marco leans in and points at the menu. ‘I can recommend the linguine. It is very photogenic.’
Dieter is the first to laugh.
She glares. ‘Just the risotto. No starter.’
I’m enjoying my time with my new acquaintances and also the way Marco puts Isla in her place.
I’m certain she’s the type of woman who’ll complain to his boss and I’m certain that Marco is the kind of man who couldn’t give two shits.
However, after our chat last night, she continues to be somewhat nice to me.
‘I looked you up last night, Sophie. Richie says he thinks he knows your boss, Roger. Met him at some function or other a few years ago.’
‘Roger?’ I reply, through a mouthful of mashed potato. French or not, it’s delicious. ‘Isn’t it a small world? I’ll be sure to let Roger know.’
Rupert won’t have a clue who the man from the cruise who doesn’t know his name is.
Unless you’re ultra famous, uber wealthy or work for him, Rupert won’t remember a thing about you.
It took him six weeks to remember Kieran’s name without having to ask me first. Sometimes I’d say his name was Kato, then deny it afterwards.
‘Richie not joining us?’ Mia asks.
‘Fasting,’ Isla replies. ‘Same as yesterday.’
Mia frowns. ‘That can’t be much fun for you, eating alone. You should share this time together.’
‘It’s fine,’ Isla assures her. ‘We eat breakfast and lunch together. It’s good to have some time apart so we don’t get under each other’s feet. Besides, we’ll meet up later. No biggie.’
I’m not sure I could be in a relationship where dinner consists of one person not eating and the other taking pictures of the food before also not eating.
Especially on an all-inclusive holiday where it’s a legal requirement to overeat.
I wonder whether this time apart arrangement was entirely Isla’s idea.
That sounds like something Jason would have said to keep me at arm’s length while he swanned about looking at other women.
After wolfing down our starters, the main meal arrives. I see Lucas watching Isla adjust her plate. I can tell he’s about five seconds away from sticking his finger directly into the middle of her mushroom risotto.
‘There’s karaoke on tonight at the pub,’ Cameron mentions. ‘Anyone else going?’
‘Our local pub does karaoke,’ Evelyn tells us. ‘I don’t sing but Brian and my daughter Claire do.’
‘What’s your song, Brian?’ Cameron enquires. ‘For me, it’s “Faith”. George Michael. Love that song.’
‘“Don’t stop believing”,’ Brian says proudly.
I don’t have the heart to tell him that I think that’s the most annoying song I’ve ever heard and that it should be wiped from existence.
‘He’s very good,’ Evelyn confirms, placing a hand on Brian’s arm. ‘Oh, and sometimes he sings “All I Have to Do Is Dream” with Claire. Brings a tear to my eye, so it does.’
‘I love karaoke,’ Lucas says enthusiastically. ‘And as cliché as it is, my go-to song would be “Party in the USA”. How can anyone hate Miley?’
‘We do karaoke often,’ Mia says. You know “Rehab”? Amy Winehouse? That is my song.’
‘What about you, Dieter?’ Lucas asks.
‘“Love Shack”,’ he replies quite seriously. ‘I like the B52s very much.’
I’m dying. I just cannot picture Dieter, with his tidy hair and sensible trousers, singing something that flamboyant, or indeed Mia singing soul in her beige moccasins. In fact, I cannot picture either of them at karaoke, full stop.
‘What about you?’ Cameron asks Isla.
She momentarily looks up from her phone. ‘What about me?’
‘Karaoke? Do you have a favourite song?’
‘God, no, I wouldn’t be seen dead at karaoke.’
‘Right. Good to know.’
‘I’ve only taken part in karaoke once,’ I admit. ‘So I don’t really have a song.’
‘What would you choose, though?’ Cameron asks. ‘What’s a song you’d sing in the car or the shower?’
I mentally go through my Spotify song list. John Denver? Too chill. Lily Allen? Too hard to sing without mimicking her accent and failing. How about every Eurovision song ever written? This is difficult.
I finally choose before everyone loses interest. ‘Hmm, maybe “Before He Cheats”,’ I reply. ‘Or “Heart of Glass”, I’m not sure.’
‘Oh, you’re absolutely doing karaoke before this cruise is over,’ Cameron insists. ‘It’s on every day. I won’t take no for an answer.’