Chapter 21
‘I’ve had such a lovely time,’ Anna said. ‘I fell asleep on the sundeck. I’ve been reading a book that everyone is raving about. A man with a false leg and insomnia confronting his demons in Patagonia. I have to say I found it very hard going. What have you been up to?’
‘I had a great time too. I went for a walk,’ I said, ‘and did some thinking. I have a plan.’
‘I thought I could smell burning brain cells,’ Harriet said. ‘I always think having a plan sounds brilliant until you have to actually get dressed and leave the house. Anyway, have you been having important thoughts or just wondering what colour to paint the kitchen?’
‘A mixture of the two,’ I said. ‘I’ve realised that at long last I’m in charge of myself now, and I’m going to act accordingly. Make my own choices.’
‘Good scheme,’ Anna said, raising her glass towards me, ‘and here comes your first opportunity to make a choice. Sit and have dinner with us or… Gosh, he’s rather scrummy, isn’t he?’
I followed her gaze and saw Jack coming towards me, looking very suave in a striped shirt and dark chinos. He smiled as he saw me.
‘Good evening, I hope you have all had a pleasant afternoon exploring?’
‘Absolutely marvellous,’ Anna said. ‘I fell asleep on the sundeck.’
She batted her eyelashes and smiled up at him. I’d seen that look a hundred times, always the incorrigible flirt, Anna had never been terribly subtle. I suddenly felt rather annoyed. She’d already stressed how much she missed Rupert; did she have to start her tricks with Jack?
‘And I had a little snooze too,’ Harriet said. ‘My knee has been playing up a bit and I wanted to give it a rest.’
‘And you?’ he said, turning to me. ‘Tell me what you’ve been doing.’
I saw Anna’s smile fade and felt unreasonably pleased. How silly of me.
I felt a bit fluttery inside, then I took charge of myself again.
‘I had a great walk along the coastal path and went into one of the posh hotels for a glass of wine before I came back. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I felt quite the explorer.’
‘Good for you,’ he said, ‘and tomorrow we reach Cres Island. It sounds as though there is a lot to see there. And Rocco tells me it is very picturesque.’
‘Does he know you are taking notes?’ Anna asked.
Jack grimaced. ‘No, not yet.’
‘So when do you tell him?’ Harriet said.
‘At the end perhaps or not at all, it all depends how things go.’
‘You probably shouldn’t have told us at all. We’ve probably blown your cover already.’
‘As if you ladies would do a thing like that,’ he said.
‘As if. It sounds like when we were at school and we had that awful wait for our end-of-year report to come in the post,’ I said. ‘One year I tried to hide mine because I knew it was going to be lacklustre and my parents always expected me to be top of everything, and I don’t think I ever was.’
‘My mother gave me all my old school reports years ago. I must have been such a tiresome swot,’ Harriet said.
‘The worst comment I got was in Chemistry, when the teacher said I should endeavour to follow instructions. That was the term when I set fire to a bit of magnesium ribbon on the bench. And do you remember how we used to try and scoop up balls of mercury from the sink traps? I kept some in a Tupperware beaker under my bed for months. It wouldn’t be allowed now. ’
* * *
I didn’t quite know how it happened but there was a bit of jostling around that evening, with people wanting to sit in different places.
Don and Belinda squeezed in next to Evelyn and Marjorie, evidently still hoping to persuade them to play bridge, leaving me, Anna and Harriet on another of the big tables set for ten people, and then Jack came to join us.
He politely pulled out a chair for me and then sat down. Anna and Harriet were opposite us, far enough away for them not to be listening to our conversation. At least I hoped so.
‘You look lovely, by the way. That’s a great colour on you. Now then, tell me what you think of it so far,’ he said.
He bent his head towards mine, so I could hear him over the chatter in the room. Other people had come to fill up the seats.
‘Are you secretly recording us so you can use our comments in your article?’ I said, amused.
I smoothed down the fabric of my new purple dress and then touched the jewelled neckline, reminding myself that I looked okay. I was not just some drab creature in the corner.
He laughed. ‘Not at all. I’m interested.
I went to the tourist information centre then I took a taxi to Volosko, the next port along the coast, and it was just beautiful.
Then I walked back through some interesting streets and just enjoyed the afternoon.
I’m hoping Cres will be just as pleasant.
I’ve heard there are some lovely restaurants around the harbour. Perhaps one evening you would…’
He stopped and I looked across at Anna and Harriet, who were busy pretending to read the menu, but quite obviously trying hard to listen to our conversation too.
‘Would what?’ I said, feeling unexpectedly mischievous. Was I even flirting a little? That was something I hadn’t done for years. I wasn’t even sure if I was doing it right.
‘Oh, you know,’ he said, and suddenly he looked unsure.
It was rather touching. I’d always somehow assumed that men knew what they were doing when it came to relationships. That they held the upper hand.
Why I should have thought that I had no idea.
Actually, it must be just as problematic for them as it was for women.
There was always the risk of rejection, being laughed at, particularly at our age.
I wasn’t sure if older men were concerned about their looks, their continuing appeal, in the same way women did, but it wouldn’t be unreasonable to think they did.
I knew they had fears about going bald, and some of them used special shampoo to gradually camouflage the grey.
Fred for one, and he had ended up looking very odd, with hair that looked twenty years younger than his eyebrows.
Did men that age worry about the competitive attractiveness of the younger man?
Fred had always been so sure of himself, making me feel that I was lucky to be with him.
And even my son Ben didn’t seem to concern himself too much about appealing to women.
Although he had asked me once if his hair was thinning, which it wasn’t.
And whether he had hairy ears. Which was such a weird thing to ask that I had laughed and he had looked very worried.
I realised that Jack was silent. Apparently he was reading his menu too, and over the other side of the table Harriet and Anna were unashamedly watching us over the tops of theirs. I decided I was going to be brave.
‘Have dinner with you?’ I said very quietly at last.
I was hiding my mouth behind my menu too, so that my friends couldn’t lip read.
Jack and I exchanged a look, and he grinned, relieved.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Yes, that would be nice,’ I said, trying to sound offhand and not give away the little spurt of triumph I was feeling.
Evidently we weren’t being discreet enough, because I saw Harriet and Anna exchange little smiles and fist bumps.
Honestly.
* * *
That evening the meal was a definite improvement on the one of the night before, and it seemed the replacement chef was taking his work extremely seriously.
There were little spots of jus on the plates, some sort of savoury foam and a few edible flowers in the salad.
But the most important thing about the dish I had chosen was its taste, a delicious lamb dish – kleftiko, cooked in individual parcels of parchment paper with subtle spices and herbs.
And somehow it felt as though I hadn’t really tasted my food for a very long time.
Fred had liked to watch those pretentious cooking programmes where experts prepared food and deconstructed it and messed about with it.
Giving it a new twist, they said. Why did anyone feel the need to deconstruct apple crumble?
And was adding strawberries to beef stew or Marmite to spareribs going to change the world?
And I firmly believed the only way to eat Marmite was on hot, lavishly buttered toast.
I’d felt slightly confused and not a little irritated by those programmes. But that night I knew what it meant to savour, to taste, to understand what all the fuss was about. It seemed another revelation.
Outside, we had seen people on the dock untying the ropes which bound the ship to the quayside, and then imperceptibly the ship began to move away.
We were off to our next island and to celebrate we were served ekmek kataifi, a delicious mixture of sweet custard and mascarpone cream decorated with crushed almonds and pistachios.
I took a small spoonful, the cool, creamy taste lingering on my tongue.
‘Good job there aren’t any walnuts,’ I said, realising he was watching me, and he nodded, seeming touched that I had remembered.
‘Indeed.’
After dinner there was going to be musical entertainment in the lounge bar. We had been told a member of the crew was a talented guitarist, and most people drifted off to listen to him and continue to take advantage of the free drinks.
So it was that Jack and I were left behind in the dining room, drinking little glasses of teranino, a sort of wine and fruit brandy mixture, which was delicious. Anna and Harriet had gone off, obviously trying and failing to be discreet about leaving us on our own.
‘So are you finding out everything you need to know about this ship?’ I said.
‘I think so, I can’t find much wrong with it,’ he said, ‘although there seems to be an occasional problem with the water temperature in the shower.’
‘Oh! I had that too,’ I said, ‘that first evening.’
‘I mentioned it to the captain and he was very apologetic. He said he would look into it. Though what he could do is anyone’s guess.’
‘Hit the pipes with a hammer?’