Chapter 13
As if moving into a very cramped triple cabin with Astrid and Tiffany wasn’t bad enough, what follows certainly is.
We’re unpacking our clothes in uncomfortable silence when Garry Gee loudly announces on the squeaky public speaker system that the captain wants to see us in twenty minutes, which scares the shit out of all three of us, especially Astrid who was mid-lipliner.
‘Report to top deck bar area for team debriefing… Having said that, briefs completely optional, ladies.’ Followed by a filthy cackle. ‘Psyche!’
‘Uh, gross,’ I say. ‘Is he always this sexist and smarmy?’
Astrid stops mid-make-up and Tiffany puts down the pillow she is fluffing. ‘What do you mean?’ asks Astrid. ‘It’s only banter.’
‘Yeah,’ agrees Tiffany. ‘Leave him alone. He’s bad enough as it is without you always having a go at him.’
I have literally met him once.
‘Yeah,’ says Astrid. ‘You’ve been horrible to him since the day you arrived.’
Yesterday. I arrived yesterday.
‘Which, by the way, was a shitshow if ever I saw one.’ She laughs.
‘Erika said she’d never seen anyone make a worse first impression,’ Tiffany says, joining in. ‘No wonder she didn’t want you on her team. Or that Jackson didn’t want you anywhere near head office.’
What is happening here? These two bitter enemies appear to be ganging up on me. And, apparently, people have been talking about me behind my back. Which is rude.
I change into denim shorts, a white T-shirt and flip-flops and tie my hair into a top knot.
We make our way through the kitchen, which is also on the lowest deck, past a sweating chef who is barbequing strips of spiced chicken, throwing them with a slap onto a hotplate and sending blooms of delicious aromas into the air with a hiss.
The mouth-watering smells follow us up the staff spiral staircase, straight to the dining room.
From there we go outside to the bar and outdoor dining area, to climb yet more stairs up onto the roof deck.
Garry Gee and Shaun are standing at the bar drinking pints of Efes lager with the captain.
My eye is drawn to three empty shot glasses beside them and a bottle of raki that looks half empty.
The same stuff that leads to poor decision-making, blindness and party vibes rather than a ‘team debriefing’.
A wave of nausea washes over me at the thought of how many drinks I’ve had since I arrived, and how little sleep (an accidental scrappy two hours on the dolmus).
I don’t know how the reps do it. I feel like I’ve aged ten years since I got here.
I can barely focus. Never mind if I was in charge of navigating choppy waters, and responsible for all the lives on board a huge vessel like this.
‘Should you be drinking and driving?’ I ask the captain without thinking.
He turns to me, an affronted expression on his face.
There’s an awkward silence before he assures me in a snippy manner it is technically his night off, seeing as we don’t set sail until tomorrow.
He informs me that we will be rising early, inspecting all of the rooms, polishing all of the plates and cutlery, sweeping the boat, checking all of the water sports equipment…
in time to welcome all the guests on board, just before serving them their lunch, and then starting the whole cleaning process over again.
Well, that’s me told.
‘Are you always this much of a party pooper?’ Garry Gee snorts. ‘This week is going to be so boring if you keep putting a dampener on everything. You’re the human equivalent of double maths.’
I’m immediately incensed. Double maths was my favourite lesson. Also, he’s giving me Dillon vibes. ‘Sorry,’ I say to the captain. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought… Well, I’ve heard raki makes you do reckless things and too much of it can make you blind.’
I should know. I can’t think of wanking Jackson off in the middle of the sea without prickling from top to toe. A vivid flashback of him sucking on my nipples like gobstoppers pops into my head.
‘Don’t be so stupid.’ Garry snaps at me, waving a dismissive hand my way.
We all hang on his words. Maybe raki doesn’t make you blind. It does sound over-the-top now I come to think about it.
‘You sail a boat. You don’t drive it!’ Garry roars with laughter. ‘As for everything else you just said. Abso-fucking-lutely!’ He hands out shot glasses, sloshing raki liberally into them. ‘A toast. Here’s to fair winds and following seas.’
‘Here’s to sailing too close to the wind,’ Shaun says, laughing and winking at him. ‘If you know what I mean.’
‘You mean three sheets to the wind,’ adds Tiffany, chuckling as she holds out her glass for a refill.
‘Here’s to all hands on deck,’ says Astrid, eyeing Shaun like a prime cut of succulent fillet steak.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Shaun says, clinking glasses with her. She’s made it sound filthy, and the friendliness between her and Tiffany suddenly withers as they exchange a frosty look.
Oh. My. Word. A whole week of this?
The captain, a frown appearing on his forehead, is not quite following the subtext.
He clears his throat and begins his briefing.
‘Welcome on board the Love Ahoy! We set sail tomorrow at noon for Marmaris. We have thirty-six guests in total. It is a wedding anniversary celebration, so the range of guests is from eighty to five years old.’
The reps let out a collective groan. Tiffany is the first to complain. ‘Do not lumber me with the childcare. I can’t stand children.’
‘I can’t do it. I’m a man,’ announces Shaun who, in case it wasn’t obvious, lowers his voice an octave and begins rocking on the balls of his feet, legs apart, hands in shorts pockets, chest barrelled, just to make sure we are all on the same page as to his gender.
‘Well, don’t think I’ll be any better. Something about my face makes kids cry,’ states Astrid matter-of-factly. ‘Maddie will have to do it.’
‘For one thing, childcare doesn’t just have to be carried out by women,’ I say, looking pointedly at Shaun. ‘For another, I’m a numbers girl,’ I protest. I have no experience of children whatsoever never mind wealthy Turkish ones. I can’t imagine they will like doing maths puzzles or playing chess.
‘Okaaaa-yuh. We get it. You came to work in head office. Jesus. How many times?’ Tiffany has her hands on her hips. ‘You’re not the only rep here with a bloody degree you know. Mine is in Advanced Chemistry but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?’
Everyone appears shocked by this announcement. Especially Shaun. ‘Is it, babe?’
Tiffany nods and quite rightly turns back to face me.
‘And yes, before you ask, it was a first. A genuine first. Not an almost first like yours.’
Well, that’s put me firmly in my place.
‘Maddie, the job’s all yours. That’s the childcare sorted,’ says Garry with a snigger. ‘Cleaning rota?’
‘Not lates,’ Tiffany and Astrid say in unison, looking straight at me.
‘Okay, Maddie, you’re on lates.’ Garry scribbles my name down on his roster. ‘Cabins turnaround, towels and minibar?’
‘I’ll partner Shaun. Because I have a bad back and will need help lifting things.’ Astrid beams.
‘No, you won’t. I will partner him.’ Tiffany glares at her.
Garry clears his throat. ‘Maddie partners Shaun. Tiff, you’re with me. Astrid, you can be on restocking the minibars.’
It is beginning to feel as though Astrid and Tiffany are going to disagree about everything while I may be constantly caught in the middle, picking up their discarded jobs. Garry looks at Shaun with a pained expression. ‘Mate. Come on. You gotta sort your women out.’
Shaun sags back into his seat, his arms hanging loose at his sides, his head thrown back as he emits a frustrated groan.
‘Who wants first shift on water sports?’
‘Not me,’ says Astrid quickly.
‘Nor me,’ chimes Tiffany.
‘I’ll do it,’ volunteers Shaun.
‘We’ll all take turns doing breakfast, lunch, dinner and bar duties,’ Garry says firmly. ‘Now, we just have to decide what entertainment to put on.’
‘Not that godawful cabaret show, please,’ begs Astrid. ‘It’s so fucking lame. I hate it. If I have to do that ridiculous dance to “Doop” wearing those scratchy wigs one more time, I’ll throw myself overboard.’
‘She’s right. And the masks are ridiculously suffocating and some of those costumes are horrendous,’ moans Tiffany. ‘Except my favourite St Trinian’s one which has gone missing.’
‘I did drop it off for you. I asked Banu to give it to clever clogs here.’ They turn to face me. ‘Did you bring it?’
I nod. ‘Yes. It’s in my case.’ Crumpled, tattered, torn. At least that mystery has been cleared up. I make a mental note to apologise to Banu next time I see her. Being exhausted to my very bones should not be an excuse for ill-manners.
‘We’ll just fling some quizzes and mindless board games their way, so we’re not run ragged doing too much,’ scoffs Garry. ‘Dead Fly should keep them busy. Works like a charm on the 18–30 cruises.’
‘It’s where Garry yells “Dead Fly” at random times of the day and everyone on board has to drop down onto their backs and start waving their arms and legs in the air like a dead fly.
No matter what you’re doing you have to join in otherwise you forfeit,’ explains Tiffany when she sees me looking baffled.
‘And you have to do something silly as a punishment.’
Dear Christ. As though behaving like imbeciles wasn’t punishment enough.
The captain looks perturbed. ‘You are not offering the full LoveIt Holidays experience?’
Garry, seemingly oblivious, laughs off his concerns. ‘Gulet-y as charged, el capitano, me old mucker.’
‘This is very important family.’ Sounding slightly apprehensive, the captain hooks a finger to loosen his collar. ‘They are very wealthy. They expect the best. Including entertainment.’
‘No, seriously… everyone loves Dead Fly, plus we’ll do the drinking games, karaoke night and I’ll do my stand-up routine. It’s fucking hilarious, innit, you guys?’