Chapter Eleven
Eleven
Esmeralda left Ponta Delgada in the afternoon, and we were already well on the way to Terceira Island by the time we’d finished dinner.
Another gorgeous day on the Portuguese seas, and the warm breeze tickled my shoulders as I sipped my Amaretto on the rocks.
I could almost pretend I was on holiday if I closed my eyes, until Heidi appeared out of nowhere.
‘There you are! I was about to press the man overboard button. Now. Where are we up to with pitch ideas?’
She looked at me expectantly and I put my drink down with an inward sigh. By we she meant me.
‘Nothing beyond what we discussed yesterday,’ I said. ‘I’m letting my brain percolate the ideas for a while.’
‘OK, well let’s percolate together!’ Heidi said, clearly having no idea how percolating worked. But there was no appeasing her when she was like this. I repositioned my umbrella and sat up.
‘We need to appeal to a younger audience,’ I said, confidently.
‘Yes, yes, agreed.’ Heidi wrote youth on an Esmeralda coaster in capital letters.
‘And the key to unlocking a great campaign is working out what’s stopping young people booking a cruise right now and meeting them where they are. Leaning into their reality.’
What’s their problem? Heidi wrote next to it. ‘Uh-huh, sounds good. Which is what?’ she asked from over her glasses. ‘What exactly is their reality?’
‘It’s obvious from the data, isn’t it?’ She nodded and wrote down D-A-T-A. ‘The young people think it’s too expensive and for old people and we need to convince them otherwise.’
‘Well, yes. That’s the brief. But how?’
‘That’s the part I’m percolating.’
She clicked her pen off, exasperated. ‘Well, let me know when you’ve got something. We haven’t got forever.’
There was a flurry of excitement as Barbie Queue emerged poolside in full Bridgerton regalia: a pale pink bustled-up skirt and a corset that left little to the imagination. She lifted her petticoats to walk through the bar, then delicately cleared her throat.
‘Alreet, kids?’ she shouted into a megaphone.
‘Who’s lookin’ the business then, eh? Maureen – that tan’s comin’ on super, love.
And them yellow speedos are gorgeous, Eddie; wish I was wearing my bikini.
It’s bloody hot in this get-up I can tell yer.
Now then, why am I here? Oh yes, touting for customers to come to my show.
Anyone fancy enterin’ the DRAG DEN? It’s like Dragon’s Den but the roles are reversed. ’
There was a lacklustre cheer from around the pool.
‘You’re the ones with the cash and I’m the terrified, sweaty one trying to remember me lines,’ she called, faux-dramatically, staring off into the distance. ‘Stood all alone, desperate for one of you – just one – to give me a smile. And then inevitably… all yer money.’
There were a few smiles at that.
‘Youuu miserable bunch!’ she said, throwing up the Vs. ‘Forget it then. If you can’t be arsed to join in, why should I bother? I’ll take Marge Simpson’s wig off and save me-self the trouble.’
Everyone laughed then gave a collective ‘aaaaaahhhhhh’ in sympathy.
She pretended to strop off then turned. ‘Is that really what you want?’
‘No!!!’ they shouted.
‘What you really, really want?’
‘No!!!’ they shouted again. She had them in the palm of her hand now.
‘You’ll come then? For the love of a good sausage?’
‘Yes!!!’
‘I should bloody well think so, too, yer lazy lot. Get dressed and I’ll see you upstairs in half an hour.’
She flounced off, her platform boots thundering along the deck as people rose from their sunbeds like the walking dead.
It was impossible to see the man behind the act in amongst Barbie Queue’s costume layers.
Lashes on top of lashes and contouring to such a degree that her face looked like an envelope.
It must be like having a split personality to put on that level of showmanship –
and make-up – day after day. I couldn’t wait to see the full act.
‘That’s tonight’s entertainment sorted then,’ I said, finishing my digestif. ‘There might be a pitchable moment in there somewhere.’
‘Really? What?’ Heidi asked, desperate for a confetti cannon of creativity to explode so she could write down an idea.
I shrugged. ‘Impossible to know in advance, but there’ll be something. That’s the beauty of a holiday like this. Is there an angle in Barb’s joie de vivre vibe? The freedom to be whoever you want to be. Feeling free in every way. Free to travel, free to do as little as you like?’
Heidi snorted. ‘I could not feel any less free right now. We’re trapped. There’s nowhere to go and hide and rest. And so many people are filming – it’s putting me on permanent alert. I daren’t close my eyes in case I end up as the accidental star of some creep’s
TikTok.’
‘Yeah, I get it. It hasn’t been very freeing for us. You’ve also hit the nail on the head for why a lot of people won’t fancy going on a cruise. Getting stuck with the same people day after day and not being able to get away.’
‘But you can end up having dinner next to the same annoying family every night in a hotel in Crete.’
‘What if we flip that thought to a positive. The possibility of new friends, new experiences, who knows what might happen – that kind of thing? The ultimate adventure.’
Heidi rolled her eyes. ‘Worryingly interpretable. You could end up overboard… left behind on an island… eaten by a shark – who knows? Anything goes! Hashtag ultimate adventure.’
Life’s a Pitch Group Chat:
Brooke: Drag supper is starting soon. Where are you all?
Heidi: Just coming!
Leo: At the bar behind you ?
Zach: Oh no we’re not.
Leo: Oh yes we are.
Heidi and I ran up to the top deck, which had been transformed into a palace, with gilt-framed portraits hanging on strings and a gold carpet leading up to the stage.
A chandelier twinkled from the ceiling and there were candelabras on every table.
Barbie Queue sat on a throne of sausages with her eyes closed as everyone took their seats.
We were the last in and I spied Leo and Zach at the very front, sitting either side of Brooke.
‘Sorry, sorry. Excuse me, sorry.’ Heidi and I squidged through the maze of chairs, knocking into every single person on the way.
‘Just in time, gals,’ Brooke said, with a bright smile, as we took our seats.
Zach held up a bottle of champagne and we both nodded as the pianist plinky-plonked a pub-style intro to ‘Dancing Queen’ and it was a relief to be in and settled before the show started.
The five of us cheers-ed then sat back to enjoy the show.
Leo looked relaxed in his Pink Floyd T-shirt and tailored jacket, smashing his image as ‘PR man on cruise’ while Zach was giving out Oscar the Grouch in sage green.
There was the ting of a triangle and Barbie Queue opened her eyes, smiling broadly before she stood up and twerked into the audience, showing us all her bloomers, then launched into the song.
‘Who fancies a dance?’ Barbie Queue shouted and everyone cheered. The waiting staff were circling with mini sliders, halloumi kebabs and hot dogs, to complement the champagne, and we all scoffed happily while she taught us the dance for the chorus.
‘Digging the Dancing Queen looks like THIS,’ she shouted, pretending to dig a spade into the garden, then putting her hands on her head. ‘Now YOU TRY. Go!’
We had a one-handed go while we held on to our food and drink, then sat back down for the next instruction.
‘Stop, stop. This isn’t working,’ Barbie Queue said, exasperated.
‘You’re not getting it quick enough. I need some volunteers up front.
’ She stalked around pointing a sharp talon at innocent people.
‘You, and you, then the lady with the pink blouse, yes you, and the gentleman with his mouth full? Both of you, please. And one final lady…’ She scanned the audience until her eyes landed on me.
‘Kat! Perfect. Up you come.’ I swallowed a chunk of halloumi and felt it stick in my throat.
I didn’t want to be a spoilsport, but I wasn’t really one to put on a show…
I was more of a behind-the-scenes type of dancer.
Heidi gave me a nudge and Brooke started clapping. ‘Go girl!’ she called as I found myself standing up.
‘Show us how it’s done!’ Heidi shouted, while Zach slow-clapped and Leo whistled.
There wasn’t much freedom in this situation, that was for sure. Trapped and forced to dance, but I had to show willing for the client’s sake. I faked enthusiasm as I danced onto the stage and started copying Barbie Queue’s moves.
‘Get up off yer seats!’ she shouted, and everyone jumped up as the chorus played again and I danced and jived with the other ‘volunteers’ and everyone followed along.
Leo caught my eye and dug at the same time as me and we both laughed.
He looked quite cute, throwing himself into the dancing and I felt myself thaw a little.
Barbie Queue clapped her hands like an angry gym teacher, in-between hitting the high notes.
I tried to concentrate on the moves, but my gaze kept wandering back to Leo, laughing with Brooke and Heidi as his hair fell in his eyes.
‘Alreet, that’s enough of that!’ Barbie Queue hollered, and the music stopped.
I jumped down, gratefully and shrank into my seat. No more public dancing for me.
‘You’re a good sport, Kat,’ Brooke said, gleaming.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve got a lovely little surprise for you this evening. Because not only do you get my glorious voice in your ears, but for one night only I am being joined by my backing singers. Please give it up for… The Cruising Crustaceanssss!’
Arlo, Oliver and Dahlia coughed their way through the smoke machine in identical lobster outfits. They each stood behind a microphone, looking distinctly uncomfortable, while Barbie Queue whipped off her top layer and transformed into Cher.
Leo wolf whistled as she belted out the first line of ‘The Shoop Shoop Song’, and The Crustaceans did their best to harmonise the chorus.
Within seconds we were up and shooping left to right like one big happy family.
After three champagnes even Heidi cracked a smile and I was stuffed full of burgers when Barbie Queue came to do her finale.
‘This is my favourite song, this one.’
‘Aaaaaahhhhh!’ The audience were really getting into it now.
‘No! It is, like. As you can probably tell, I’m from up north… near Leeds. Ilkley Moor baht ’at for those of you who know it. And growing up as just a small-town girl, I had a massive crush on that there Robbie Williams.’
‘Wooooooo!’ we all chorused childishly.
She raised a pencilled eyebrow the ugly sisters would’ve been proud of. ‘D’yer know him?’
‘Yessssssss!’ I glanced at Leo who was joining in enthusiastically.
‘I’ve got a song I like to sing that reminds me of him. Can I sing it for yer?’
‘Yessssssss!’
‘Alright, alright, if you insist. I must give the people what they want, after all,’ she said, a hand to her forehead, resigned to her duty.
‘I’ll need a volunteer.’ Leo’s hand shot up before she’d got the words out, keen to earn his volunteer credits.
‘Yes my love, you with the thick hair. I love a man with nice thick hair. All the more to grab onto, amirite, ladies?’
We laughed as she beckoned Leo up on stage and sat him down.
‘Now there are just one or two props that’ll help me to… er… get myself there, if you know what I mean?’
There were a few sniggers, but Leo nodded innocently, and Barbie Queue popped a halo on his head and slipped a pair of wings over his shoulders. He easily pulled off the angelic look with his chiselled face and cherubic dimples. Clean-cut and clean-living, like a grown-up choirboy.
Barbie Queue launched into ‘Angels’, crooning intensely in Leo’s face as he stared adoringly into her eyes. He could certainly put it on, that was for sure, and he barely flinched when she straddled him. Was that allowed? I side-eyed Brooke who seemed to be enjoying the show.
‘Should we rescue him?’ I asked, lightly.
‘Hell, no, he’s having a great time. Look at that smile.
’ She waved over coquettishly while he put his hands under the chair.
He was starting to look uncomfortable, which wasn’t surprising – Barbie Queue must weigh at least fifteen stone.
She got off him eventually and picked up an armful of fairy-lit halos for the last chorus, spinning them out into the crowd and one by one the audience put them on and turned into angels. Glowing and happy and singing along.