14. THE WHITE ROSE
FOURTEEN
THE WHITE ROSE
The White Rose was large, sleek and very white.
‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ Tess exclaimed as they got out of the taxi. What a wonderful setting for romance, she thought. All at once she could imagine a tanned, debonair, handsome man in a white dinner jacket leaning casually against the rail, handing her a glass of champagne, soft music in the background perhaps. She cast a glance at Alan and Barry. Perhaps not.
Their cabin was on the third deck, on the outside, with a small balcony. Orla said she’d decided they should pay extra to get some private outside space and views. They were relieved not to be any higher, as Tess knew that, the higher they were, the more likely they were to feel the motion of the ship and the possible seasickness that accompanied it.
As they arrived in their cabin, Orla was already raving about the fantastic-looking steward who’d welcomed them on board, all thoughts of Ricky disappearing into the azure and turquoise waters as the liner slowly made its way out of Piraeus .
Their cabin was immaculate: twin beds with snowy white bed linen, two blue chairs on either side of a white coffee table, blue and white cushions. Blue and white everything. They’d each been given a little booklet to show the location of the lifejackets and the ditching drill, as well as directions to the restaurants, pool and gym. A gym! Tess had occasionally toyed with the idea of going to a gym, but that was as far as it got. This would be her opportunity to work off the inevitable pounds gained in the wonderful restaurants: Greek, Italian, seafood, ‘Vitality’ (what was that ?), speciality steaks, a snack bar and the romantic – and expensive-sounding – White Rose Room. Would she ever get there?
There was a gentle tap on the door. Tess paused her unpacking and opened it. There stood a handsome steward, dark eyes flashing, white teeth gleaming, clutching a large basket of fruit.
‘I am Spyros,’ he said with a charming accent, ‘and I am here to look after you.’
Orla emitted a gentle groan. ‘Yes, please!’
‘And I have brought you fruit.’
‘Thank you, Spyros,’ Tess said, casting a reproving glance at her friend. ‘I am Tess, and this is Orla.’
He gave a little bow. ‘I am honoured to be of service.’ He placed the basket of fruit on the coffee table. ‘There is the button.’ He pointed at the bedside console. ‘You just press, and I can get you anything. I hope you will enjoy this voyage.’ With that he retreated back into the corridor.
Orla sighed. ‘If only I was forty years younger!’
‘You’re not here to ogle crew members who could be your grandsons!’ Tess said, laughing. ‘You’re here to meet guys your own age. ’
‘We’d better start looking then.’ Orla hung up the last of her outfits. ‘And I’m starving!’
‘Let’s find the snack bar for now, and we’ll sound out the bars and restaurants later,’ Tess said.
The snack bar had no end of tempting titbits and, while Orla loaded up her plate with pies and pastries, Tess settled for tzatziki – a yoghurt, cucumber and mint salad that surely shouldn’t be fattening – along with some dolmathes, the stuffed vine leaves. But she couldn’t resist a glass of retsina to go with it. After a coffee, they set off on an exploration trip, beginning with the pool area which was up on the sixth deck. The pool was large and inviting and already crowded, with all the sunbeds occupied. Just beyond was the sauna, a beauty salon and several shops selling colourful beachwear. There was also the gym.
‘There’s hardly time to do everything!’ Tess exclaimed. ‘We’re only on board for a week and we have to explore these islands as well.’ Perhaps she might have to give the gym a miss.
They went on to find the restaurants on the upper decks, and had a peep through the shutters at the White Rose Room on the very top level.
‘This,’ Orla remarked, ‘is presumably where you come when you find the man of your dreams – and preferably one with deep pockets, because this looks mighty expensive.’
The tables for two were already set up with pristine white tablecloths, sparkling crystal and gleaming silverware.
‘In that case,’ sighed Tess, ‘we’re very unlikely to be customers.’
‘They clearly expect some people to make it,’ Orla said, standing back from the windows .
‘Since it’s probably not going to be us,’ Tess said, ‘shall we have a look at the other eating places?’
‘What about sitting at the captain’s table?’ Orla asked. ‘Where does he sit? And where do we find him?’
‘I should think that, if he does these oldies’ cruises every other week, he’ll have the good sense to keep well out of the way. Probably has to barricade himself into his cabin to keep the mob at bay.’
‘He might be an oldie himself,’ Orla said wistfully. ‘And on the lookout. You just never know.’
‘Pigs might fly,’ said Tess.
They found a couple of steamer chairs positioned a little way along from the fourth-deck restaurant, and plonked themselves down to look out at the passing coastline and the incredible blue of the Aegean. Tess thought about David and how he’d have loved to be here. And how she’d have loved him to be here.
Orla adjusted her sunglasses. ‘I think a few drinks at the bar tonight, followed by some Greek nosh and then, maybe, a nightclub.’
At seven o’clock they headed towards the Athenian bar, Tess in a full-length green sundress with a split up the side and Orla in a knee-length floral number with a plunging neckline. Both had blow-dried their hair and applied their make-up with great care, and both had varnished their fingernails and toenails. Alan, who was chatting to a tall blonde, gave them a welcoming wave and carried on talking. Tess looked around and reckoned, as she’d expected, there were two women to every one man. And there was no sign of Barry .
‘I suppose we’ll just have to weave our way around,’ Orla said, looking doubtful.
Tess, for a brief moment, wanted to escape back to their cabin, read a book, watch a film, order room service and wait for tomorrow. Anything was better than trying to make conversation with all these complete strangers.
As if reading her mind, Orla said, ‘We haven’t paid all this money to hide ourselves away, and we look just as good as anyone here. Come on !’
Orla was right. They had to make some effort. Tess looked around but no one caught her eye, except for a very handsome Asian man in a white jacket, who was chatting to two tiny grey-haired women, both of whom appeared to be hanging on to his every word. She got to the bar, ordered a gin and tonic, and a tall bespectacled man standing alongside said, ‘No point in asking, I suppose, if you come here often?’ He was wearing a natty yellow bow tie over his buttoned-up black shirt.
‘No point whatsoever!’ Tess laughed, sipping her drink.
‘Well, I have been here before,’ the man continued, ‘last year, when we went to Lesvos and Kos. I’m Ed, by the way.’
‘I’m Tess. And why then, Ed, would you come here two years running?’ Was he desperately looking for a lover? she wondered.
‘Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I like to people-watch, mainly as research for a book I’m compiling: a photographic record of the social habits and love life of the over-sixties.’
Tess gulped. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Well, you’ve probably come to the right place.’
‘It’s largely untapped territory, you see,’ he continued .
‘I would imagine the social life of the over-sixties is very similar to that of the under-sixties, isn’t it?’ Tess asked. ‘Surely people don’t change that much?’
‘Ah,’ said Ed, ‘but their circumstances change. They’re more likely to be widowed or divorced, kids flown the nest and that sort of thing. All of which can equal loneliness. And, of course, health problems increase with age. Not too many over-sixties go to parties and discos, so where do they find a partner?’ He looked at her questioningly.
‘I should think it’s a safe bet to say they come somewhere like this,’ Tess said.
‘That’s because you joined MMM, I assume? Bear in mind that not all over-sixties are very computer-savvy, are they? And not all over-sixties have enough spare cash to indulge themselves in something like this. We’re the lucky ones.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ Tess said, wondering for a moment what she would have done if she didn’t use a computer or had to live entirely on her pension. After a minute she said, ‘I’d probably have taken up ballroom dancing.’ Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
‘That’s very good,’ said Ed approvingly. ‘Very good. You’d get exercise, a bit of fun, and a partner for an hour or two at least.’
‘But in case you hadn’t noticed,’ Tess went on, glancing around, ‘there are at least two women here for every one man, so how do you solve that one? It’s the women who have the problem, not the men.’
‘It’s the women I’m interested in,’ Ed began but, before he got any further, Orla appeared.
‘This,’ said Tess, ‘is my friend, Orla. I just know she’ll be happy to help provide you with some relevant information. Orla, this is Ed. ’
Orla gave one of her famous snorts, cleared her throat and said, ‘And what do you need to know, Ed?’ just as Tess made her escape.
She scanned the bar, hoping to see the good-looking Asian man – and there he was, looking just like Art Malik, now deep in conversation with a tall, willowy blonde. Tess’s heart sank. Never mind, there were more fish in the sea, as Orla never tired of reminding her. And so there probably were – all around them in the depths below – but precious few in here.
Tess wasn’t keen on small talk; she could never think of anything interesting to say to people she didn’t know, and was seriously considering going out on deck when Orla reappeared at her side.
‘Thanks very much for that introduction,’ she said sarcastically. ‘What a pontificating old bore! Anyway, I’ve given him something to think about. And I’ve just left him with an eighty-year-old who’s busy telling him she’s having the best sex of her life.’
‘God bless her,’ said Tess.
‘Let’s get out of here and go to eat,’ said Orla.
They opted for the Greek taverna where, predictably, Orla went into raptures about the waiters. ‘Aren’t they just gorgeous ?’
‘Gorgeous or not, you can’t have them,’ Tess said. ‘You’ll just have to settle for an Alan, or a Barry, or an Ed!’
‘In that case, let’s turn our attention to the food,’ Orla said.
They settled for some kolokithakia gemista , which consisted of plump courgettes stuffed with minced lamb and herbs, served with an egg and lemon sauce. Tess had vowed to avoid desserts but, seeing Orla about to order baklava, she decided she’d have it too. Just this once. And then she panicked at the sight of all the delicious-looking layers of filo pastry, but she ate it anyway. All this was washed down with a large carafe of red wine. Tomorrow, Tess vowed, she’d run round Mykonos!
Orla hiccupped. ‘Fancy some disco dancing?’
‘I fancy my bed,’ Tess said.
‘Me too,’ admitted Orla.
They were both sound asleep by eleven o’clock.