Chapter Seven
Seven
‘Strategy-wise, I think we’d be smart to get to the captain’s dinner early tomorrow night and stick to Brooke like glue,’ Heidi said, lowering her voice.
‘We want to be sitting either side of her during the meal.’ We’d been brainstorming in the Japanese zen garden for over an hour now and both our notepads were full of scribbles.
‘Can we choose where we sit?’ I said, thinking there’d be no way Leo and Zach would let us get away with that. Or Brooke for that matter. ‘Due diligence’ and all that. ‘There’s bound to be a table plan. They can’t have any old random sitting next to the captain.’
‘A-ha. The early bird switches the place settings,’ she said, tapping her nose. ‘We’re only interested in where Brooke is sitting in relation to us so it’s a double switch at most.’
‘Sneaky tactics. I like it!’ I didn’t particularly fancy a client sandwich for dinner, but we needed time to understand what made Brooke tick and get a sense of what she might be looking for.
We had the rest of the day off to experience the cruise through guest eyes and enjoy ourselves.
But while I’d planned to sit by the pool with my book and a bottomless pina colada, Heidi had other ideas.
She wanted to map out creative territories for the pitch and feed them back to the studio in London.
There was a game of croquet going on and cruisers running around enjoying the sun and instead of the creamy cocktail I’d envisaged, Heidi and I were sharing a calming pot of jasmine tea.
‘Did you see the dress code is chess-themed?’ she said. ‘I read it on the app.’
‘What? No? As in black and white or dressing up as pawns?’ My mind went to the denim dress I’d planned to fancy up somehow for dinner and how I might still make it work. ‘I thought it was dress to impress?’
‘I know. I got it wrong. Can you wear your “impressive dress” and go as a queen? What colour is it?’
I hated being on the back foot. Any theme-related changes would have been useful to know when I was at home, packing.
‘Pink,’ I blurted out, knowing she’d freak if I said denim.
However cool or glamorous I’d planned to make it look, Heidi was very anti-jeans.
‘I could put a paper crown on and go as a fairy queen?’
‘Or pretend you misunderstood and go as a prawn?’
‘What are you wearing?’ I asked, getting palpitations.
Heidi flushed with pleasure at the question, desperate to talk me through it. ‘I’ve got a black lace gown, with a full skirt and petticoats and a fitted bolero jacket.’ As you do. ‘I just need a crown to go as the black queen. I’ve been keeping an eye out for something to repurpose.’
‘Like a lampshade?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Possibly. If it’s a small one. If I can’t find anything appropriate then I’ll plait my hair in loops and cover them in necklaces.’
‘Awesome,’ I said, my brain whirring. What the hell was I going to wear? And more importantly, who takes a bolero jacket on holiday? This was giving me a headache. ‘I’ll have a think about how to play it – don’t worry.’ Like I didn’t have enough going on.
Heidi had loads of dresses and hadn’t offered to lend me one, so she couldn’t be that bothered about my outfit. Her eyes narrowed. ‘As long as you don’t show me up.’
‘I’ve got plenty of options,’ I said, mysteriously, which was a lie and having seen some of the outfits being flaunted on deck as daywear, I had nowhere near the right level of glitz for the occasion. ‘In fact, I might just pop back to the room now and have a look-through.’
I could feel panicked tears coming and tried not to blink, waving my hands in front of my face to dry them out.
I needed to stay focused and logical and work out what to do.
I kept my face hidden and raced down the corridor towards my cabin, turning a corner too fast and colliding with Barbie Queue.
She was dressed in green velvet with long blonde plaits and a thick fringe, and even without the stage setting and the microphone was still a force to be reckoned with.
‘Hey,’ I said quietly, with a half-nod.
‘Ey up, cock!’ she called, striding past, then stopped sharp and turned. ‘Are you OK, love?’
‘Fine,’ I muttered, speeding up.
‘You might want to tell yer face that. You’ve not been cryin’ ’ave yer?’
I rubbed at my cheeks, embarrassed. It would sound superficial and vain if I admitted I didn’t have anything dinner-appropriate to wear and I didn’t want her to think I’d be so pathetic as to get upset over something so trivial.
But it was deeper-rooted than just the dress – it reinforced my imposter syndrome when I tried so hard to fight it.
Proof that I didn’t really belong in this world, even after all this time.
That I wasn’t properly prepared and didn’t know how to act.
This would never happen to the likes of Heidi or Leo.
People with money were always prepared. They instinctively knew what to do in every situation and that was what set them apart.
‘It’s silly, honestly, please don’t worry.’ I quickened my step to try and get away, but she rounded on me and blocked the path.
‘Hey, hey, hey… this don’t look like nothin’ to me! What’s goin’ on?’ she said, catching me up.
I felt like a right prat now.
‘I don’t have an outfit for dinner at the captain’s table tomorrow night. I missed the memo about the chess theme.’
Barbie’s concerned frown switched to an eye roll, her eyelashes fluttering. ‘You’re crying actual tears because you need a dress?!’ she said, incredulous. ‘I can sort that out for yer in two minutes flat. Come with me.’
‘Can you?’ I felt a rush of relief as I trotted after her. Although the green monstrosity she had on wasn’t going to cut it. ‘I’m not sure your… er… look will be quite right to be honest, Barb. No offence.’
‘Fear not, mademoiselle, you ain’t borrowing this one. This is me Broccoli Spears frock, for Britney,’ she said, pulling a coniferous hat from her pocket and putting it on to sing. ‘I’m not a girl, not yet a woman…’
I smiled. ‘Brilliant! How many identities have you got?’
‘Oh, hundreds. Well, at least ten. I’m well known as Jackie Potato at Funny Girls in Blackpool so there’s a whole farmer’s wife sketch for that, but they wanted something more mass-market for the ship, so I decided on Barbie Queue. Keeps it clean for the oldies, you know?’
‘And gives you loads of Barbie options for frocks. Perfect.’
‘Naturally. I’ve got all the classic Barbie costumes. Binge-drinking Barbie, Lap-dancing Barbie, Boxset Barbie, and my personal favourite, Barbie Robs Banks. She’s a bugger, that one.’
‘Count me in for that show,’ I said, giggling. ‘Ahh, thanks, Barb, you’ve cheered me right up.’
‘I thought about calling myself Dry Jan, but I couldn’t quit drinking for the character, unless it was a different kind of dry of course. Then they asked me to consider a water theme, but Sue Nami seemed in bad taste.’
‘Well, Barbie Queue suits you.’
‘Thank you. And it means I get plenty of sausage, so I’m happy. Now then. Back to your dress dilemma.’
‘It needs to be chic and boring ideally. Have you got anything in black or white?’
She gave me a look. ‘Of course I have! I’ve got every colour of the rainbow in ’ere.
My wardrobe isn’t just pantomime costumes, twinkle toes; I’ve had all sorts over the years from the great and good of the cruising world.
Jane McDonald gave me a dress once. A slinky green number with a red sash.
And there was that yellow and black abomination from Dame Edna Everage.
Enormous of course, but I couldn’t say no.
’ She frowned. ‘It might fit you, actually.’
‘Charming!’
‘I’ve got necklaces from both the Kylies – Jenner and Minogue – Madonna’s beret, an eye mask from Cher…’
‘Really?’
‘Oh, yeah. I’ve got all the divas on my Snapchat and they’re always sending me stuff.
My room is a veritable dressing-up box, sweetheart.
Don’t you worry – I’ll find you something dinner-appropriate.
’ She steered me past a handwritten sign with ‘ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK’ scrawled in black marker, and into an Aladdin’s cave.
Rainbows flickered on the walls as the sun shone through a porthole and reflected off the sequins and sparkles.
It was more fancy-dress ugly sisters than a fancy dress for dinner, but it was worth a shot.
I eyed the bustier and flamenco skirt hanging from the wardrobe and Barb clocked my expression.
‘Trust me, Cinderella, I have excellent taste. Outside of this,’ she said grabbing a handful of the red satin. ‘And this…’ she said, gesturing to her costume. ‘What size are you? Twelve? Fourteen?’
‘Give or take,’ I replied, wiggling my waistband, which was tourniquet tight.
I’d give her size fourteen a whirl. It would no doubt be some highly flammable number, made of cheap, itchy material, so I was very prepared to reject it before I had to go through the indignity of trying it on.
She started rifling through the dresses, eventually disappearing into Narnia in a poof of faux fur.
‘Now then, where are they?’ she muttered, screeching through the coat hangers. I could only imagine the horrors she was hunting for. Hopefully not the yellow fishtail with the black dots I could see hooked on the mirror.
‘Aha!’ Barb said, holding a dress bag in the air, victorious. ‘Here we go.’
She unzipped it and pulled out two dresses. ‘I’ve got these beauties in black: a floor-length velvet batwing and a skintight bodycon with gold buttons.’
It was such a relief to see normal-looking dresses that had potential.
If they fit me of course. I held them both up against me in front of the mirror and imagined myself as the black queen.
Heidi would be seething if I turned up in one of these when she’d suggested I go as a prawn, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Either dress would be fabulous and I couldn’t wait to try them on.
‘And then finally, one in cream…’ She held up a full-length shimmer of gorgeousness on a silky hanger, and I instantly fell in love. ‘They’ve all got names and this one is Ivy.’ It was the most beautiful off-the-shoulder column dress in satin, covered in a zillion Swarovski crystals.
‘Wow,’ I said, completely gobsmacked. ‘OK, you’ve got me. I’m impressed. Any one of these could be the one, but Ivy is my favourite.’
She gave me a knowing smile. ‘Told you! AND she stretches so she’ll fit like a dream.’
I couldn’t bear to hope it might, as Barb gestured me inside a makeshift changing room. ‘Try her on and let’s see,’ she said, closing the curtain behind me.
My clothes were off in half a second and I stepped inside the dress, the cool satin material easily stretching around my sizable arse. Borrowing dresses from drag queens was the way forward it seemed. It. Was. Stunning. I pulled the curtain back and Barbie whooped.
‘Seeeeeee!’ she said, doing a happy dance. ‘A perfect pour. Move aside, Gok Wan, Barb’s coming for yer job.’
‘Does it look alright?’ I said, admiring myself in the full-length mirror.
‘Absolutely bangin’, babe. I wouldn’t even bother trying the other two on.
Hilary and Delia can go to someone else.
You just need a touch of jewellery to finish the look and you’re done.
I’ve got tiaras, headbands, earrings – clip on, obviously – bangles, turbans…
knock yourself out.’ Barb grabbed accessories from every crevice of the room and laid them all out on the table.
Pearls, diamantés, silk scarves and feather boas.
It was like the haberdashery department at Liberty’s.
I chose a silver headband encrusted with coloured jewels and a matching clutch. I’d never looked more glamorous.
‘Like an absolute queen,’ Barb said, clicking her fingers. ‘Not a drag queen, though, obviously. That takes real effort.’
‘A chessboard queen, as per the brief – and long enough to hide my trainers underneath.’
‘Ideal if you fancy a quick jog around the running track between courses.’
I laughed. I felt so much better about everything all of a sudden and my stress headache had subsided. ‘Leave everything here and you can come back tomorrow to get ready,’ Barb said, untangling the remaining necklaces and hanging them on the doorknob.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said, hugging her hard. ‘You’re a lifesaver – and it wasn’t just about the dress.’
‘It never is sweetheart.’ She bopped me on the nose with a long green talon. ‘You’ll fit right in, don’t panic.’
I was such an open book. I tried to breathe the tension out and smiled. I’d been holding on tight to the panic in my stomach, and I couldn’t believe it had been so easily sorted. Thank God for Barb, she’d seen right through me.
‘It’s nice to have a friend on board. Let me know if I can ever return the favour.’