Chapter 16
Marjorie was tall and statuesque and dressed very stylishly in a green linen dress and a chunky metal necklace which clinked and clattered as she sat down.
‘Here she is at last,’ Evelyn said, ‘now I can introduce you. This is my friend Marjorie.’
‘Sorry to be late to the party,’ Marjorie said, ‘I’ve been having a Necessary Adult Pause.’
‘A what?’ Harriet said, bemused.
‘An NAP, a nap,’ Marjorie said, ‘I recommend them. Now then, have I missed anything? What’s the gossip? What are we talking about?’
‘I was just about to tell our new friends how we have known each other for donkey’s years.’
‘Nearly sixty,’ Marjorie said. ‘I was working it out. We met in London when we were at the Lucie Clayton school, and Evelyn was about to get married. My word, those were the days. We had such fun, I learned all sorts of things. And to this day I swear no one can get out of a sports car better than I can. Knees together, legs at a slant.’
‘Were you both models?’ Anna asked, evidently impressed.
Marjorie laughed as she unfolded her linen napkin and laid it across her lap.
‘Goodness me, no, in those days people wanted Twiggy and Jean Shrimpton. Not a six-foot hoyden like me. And I never did get the book-balancing thing right, and at the end of the course I had put on half a stone and got a hard stare, didn’t I, Evie?’
‘You did.’ Evelyn nodded. ‘They were very strict, but we had discovered a wonderful place to eat, Au Pere de Nico in Chelsea. They did the most wonderful steak Diane, and some fabulous desserts that did nothing for my waistline. But we did meet some fascinating people. I have a menu somewhere signed by Harold Pinter.’
Marjorie nodded. ‘That’s where I met my starter husband, Lionel. And through him I met Julian, my follow on, and then Henry, so it was worth it in the end.’
‘A starter husband,’ Harriet murmured. ‘I hadn’t thought of Bruce like that.’
Marjorie shrugged. ‘No one expects to be an expert at anything to begin with, do they? And I think that includes being married. Sometimes it takes practice. And when you do find the right person, then it’s easy.
Life is too short to spend with people who suck all the joy out of life, isn’t it?
Henry was the right person for me. Oh dear, I do miss him. ’
‘When did you lose him?’ Anna asked sympathetically.
Marjorie looked puzzled. ‘Oh, I didn’t lose him; after all, he’s not a sock that’s gone down the back of the tumble drier.
He’s just not interested in water that is deeper than his waders.
He’s in Scotland trout fishing. He’ll be back the day before we get home.
I fully expect the washing machine to be filled with his muddy clothes and bits of twig.
And then as I come in through the front door, he will yell that it’s not draining properly and we will have an argument about cleaning the filter out and then I’ll give him a big kiss and all will be well with the world. ’
‘Ah, I see,’ Anna said uncertainly. ‘I’m sure he’s having a lovely time.’
‘Probably,’ Marjorie said, ‘but messing about trying to double cast with dog nobblers in the rain isn’t my idea of fun.’
‘I would ask what a dog nobbler is, but I don’t think I dare,’ Harriet murmured.
‘A trout fly,’ Evelyn said. ‘Ah, here comes the captain with his safety briefing. Are we going to get any food this evening do you think? I’m ravenous.’
‘Safety is the most important thing,’ Rocco said loudly, having rapped on the table with a spoon for silence, which took some time as everyone in the dining room had found the complimentary wine on the tables and were taking full advantage of it.
‘But in the day if we encounter a problem you will know. Because there will be several blasts on the ship’s horn. Then you must find your life jackets. Ivan here is going to demonstrate how to use one.’
Ivan, whose knowledge of English was enthusiastic but evidently limited, came forward, a bulky orange life jacket around his neck, and showed us how to fasten the straps, which was probably unnecessary, but entertaining as he wrestled to tie the straps around himself and got into a muddle.
He then blew the whistle several times, which he said was to attract attention when we were in the water.
‘The blue strap is for tying rope if out at sea. All together. No one float away sta annegando – to drown,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Lifeboat, plenty of room, very comfortable and nice. You will like it very much.’
‘I think we would rather not find out,’ Anna murmured.
‘Is there a light on the life jacket too?’ Harriet wondered. ‘So the rescuers can see us in the dark?’
‘No light needed,’ Ivan said firmly, but unconvincingly. ‘If boat sinks in nighttime we should be in port, the coast guard will be alerted. Everyone sees. From the side.’
‘That makes no sense at all,’ I said.
‘Perhaps the life jackets without lights were cheaper,’ Anna said.
Having dispensed with the life jackets, Rocco then explained about meals on board which would be at eight, one and seven o’clock most days.
Meanwhile, behind him, we watched, delighted, as Mila helped Ivan untangle the life jacket straps, and he twisted and turned and whimpered his distress, eventually stepping out of it with a disparaging kick.
‘There will be entertainment tomorrow night,’ Rocco added with a roguish twinkle. ‘I love to dance.’
He held out his arms and did a little shimmy to reinforce the fact.
‘We all dance and sing.’
The woman in the tight leather trousers and an expression like a bulldog eating a pickled onion appeared behind him, slamming down a tray of cutlery onto the table at the far end of the room.
‘Dance. Sing,’ she muttered and stamped out again.
‘My beautiful wife, Anjelica,’ Rocco explained. ‘She is assisting in the kitchen as the chef has failed to appear.’
‘Assisting?’ came a screech from behind the door, where Anjelica had evidently been lurking. ‘Kilos of onions I have chopped. Kilos of rice I have washed. Is not assist.’
‘She is a wonderful cook,’ Rocco continued smoothly, ‘better even than my mother.’
‘Not difficult,’ Anjelica shouted, sticking her head around the galley door again, ‘your mother could burn anything. Pudding, salad, water.’
‘A little joke.’ Rocco chuckled. ‘We love to laugh.’
Anjelica left, muttering darkly to herself.
‘I will leave you in the helpful hands of our ma?tre d’ Bernardo, who will be here momentarily,’ Rocco said, and he hurried after her.
More guests had arrived and settled into their places. On the table next to ours, Roy the retired CEO had already helped himself to some red wine and his wife Eileen was gazing out at the view and fidgeting with her pashmina. Craig the car dealer was on their table too, studying the menu card.
‘Turkey risotto,’ he said, and his wife Dawn looked worried. ‘Chicken salad, some sort of couscous extravaganza or spareribs.’
‘Yes, but do you think the turkey and the chicken are free range and organic?’ she said, tugging at her husband’s sleeve.
‘Of course it is,’ Craig said firmly, ‘I’m sure it said in the brochure.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ she said. ‘I hate to think…’
‘It probably led a better life than we have, with clean sheets every day and trips to the cinema at the weekend.’ Roy chuckled.
Dawn looked even more concerned, her sculpted eyebrows disappearing into her fringe.
‘Perhaps I’ll ask.’
A young couple arrived in the dining room and Roy raised his wine glass in salute.
‘You must be the honeymooners! Welcome to married life. Come and introduce yourselves now you’ve managed to find daylight. I remember what it was like when we were first married, don’t you, Eileen?’
‘Yes,’ she sighed unenthusiastically, ‘I do.’
‘Peter Evans,’ the young man said, ‘and this is my wife, Paige.’
He was a short stocky man, his wife a pretty brunette, and at the introduction they turned to each other and blushed.
‘Aw, now isn’t that sweet,’ Craig said. ‘“My wife”. You’ll get used to saying it, lad. The novelty will wear off.’
‘Come and join us,’ Roy said.
‘Actually, we booked a table for just the two of us, and my wife has said she would like to sit over there,’ Peter said, squaring his shoulders. ‘So perhaps we’d better.’
‘There you go. Now it begins,’ Craig chortled.
Evelyn rolled her eyes at me and I tried not to giggle.
A new couple arrived at the table next to us. He in slacks and a blazer with a flashy badge on the breast pocket, and she in a rather elegant grey dress.
‘Evening, everyone,’ the man called out. ‘I’m Don Marshall, this is my wife Belinda. Nice to meet you all. We’re really looking forwards to this. We’ve been just about everywhere apart from the Dalmatian Islands. It will be a new experience. Now then, does anyone play bridge?’
Belinda gave a tinkling laugh and patted the back of her hair.
‘Give them a chance, Don.’
Don looked unabashed.
‘Just putting it out there. Planting my flag. Putting my ducks in a row. What about you, ladies,’ he said, turning to Evelyn and rubbing his hands together. ‘You look like bridge players.’
Evelyn smiled up at him very charmingly.
‘I’ll be honest, Mr Marshall, I haven’t got a flag, none of my ducks is in a row and they haven’t been for years. In fact, I’m not sure where some of them are, and I think one of my ducks might be a seagull, but I’ll let you know.’
‘Excellent, excellent,’ Don said, ‘but call me Don. We’re going to be great friends, I can tell. Come on, Belinda, we’ve got a table over there by the window, let’s get settled and get another drink.’
The crew member, Mario, who had helped us with our bags earlier, came in. He was holding a notepad and a pen, so we assumed he was going to take our orders.
Dawn piped up first.
‘Is the chicken organic and ethically sourced?’
Mario looked regretful. ‘A thousand pardons, ladies and gentlemen. The chickens is – how do you say it – è scomparso – gone.’
‘Gone? Gone where?’ Dawn said, confused.