Chapter 22
When I woke up, the ship had docked in Cres.
I think I had been aware of something going on late the previous night. The sound of the engines stopping, the occasional shout from someone on the quayside, but it wasn’t as though I was needed to help, so I had gone back to sleep.
When I opened my curtains the morning was bright and beautiful, the view out of my window tantalising.
In the distance I could see dozens of little craft moored in the harbour, one or two stout little fishing boats chugging out towards the sea.
Behind the harbour walls there was a tempting view of pastel houses and shops with terracotta roofs.
Some with glassed-in seating areas outside them, just waiting for people like me to pay them a visit.
I quickly got ready, patting a bit of extra makeup over the small bruise that had formed on my forehead overnight, and wondered what this day would bring.
There was going to be a guided walk in the afternoon, perhaps to the Franciscan monastery, or the shingle beach we had been told about, although sitting on a beach wasn’t something I was inclined to do.
When I reached the dining room I saw Evelyn sitting with Marjorie enjoying some coffee and croissants. She waved me over to join them.
‘Good morning, and is it a good morning?’
‘Oh, I think so,’ I said, trying to ignore the quizzical looks from her companions.
‘Come and tell us all about it,’ Marjorie said, patting the chair next to her, ‘and don’t leave anything out.’
‘I don’t know what you are expecting me to say,’ I said, trying not to laugh. ‘I’m going to get some coffee and something to eat.’
‘Hurry back,’ Evelyn trilled.
‘Now then, did you enjoy the musical performance last night? Yuri playing the guitar and Anjelica singing?’
‘I didn’t hear them,’ I said, pulling out a chair next to hers.
‘No, we know you didn’t.’ Marjorie chuckled.
‘You missed it and they were quite good really. All things considered. Yuri has Russian somewhere in his blood, you can tell by those marvellous cheekbones, and Anjelica is – shall we say – a trier. She sang us a lot of Croatian things which all sounded a bit sad and angry, and then she had a go at Dolly Parton, which we hadn’t expected at all from her.
I always think dear Dolly must be such a nice person, always smiling and happy, and of course Anjelica isn’t either of those things. So what did you get up to?’
I looked up from stirring some sugar into my coffee to see both of them looking at me expectantly.
‘I went up on the top deck for a walk. It was lovely.’
‘And?’ she prompted.
‘And then I went to bed and slept very well.’
‘I told you,’ Evelyn said in a sing-song voice, ‘she’s not going to spill the beans.’
‘As far as I remember there are no beans,’ I said, ‘spilled or otherwise.’
‘You’re a terrible disappointment.’ Evelyn chuckled. ‘We were hoping you and your handsome companion might have enjoyed a few romantic moments up there.’
‘I remember an incredibly romantic evening off the Amalfi coast,’ Marjorie said, her eyes misty. ‘It was when I was twixt Lionel and Julian so it must have been about 1970 when I was still in my twenties.’
‘Was that Ralph?’ Evelyn asked.
‘Yes. Dear Ralph. And having been through my first divorce I almost felt that I was on the scrap heap. Which of course I wasn’t.
And there was Ralph, this charming man on board who worked for the Foreign Office; he was taking his mother on her first cruise and she was spending most of her time in her cabin she was so seasick, but apparently she was quite happy, a woman who thoroughly enjoyed ill health and doctors.
So, Ralph was left to entertain himself most of the time.
And he evidently found me very entertaining. We had such fun.’
‘Gosh, what happened?’ I said.
Marjorie widened her eyes. ‘Oh, nothing, of course. Shipboard romances never come to anything. Everything is so glamorous at the time, everyone is carefree and dressed up to the nines. Everything was much more stylish back then. I can remember buying a hat and gloves to wear on a plane to New York. Ah yes, the romance of the sea, the long warm nights under the stars, too many cocktails; it’s a recipe for disaster.
The minute we got back to Southampton he lost his allure and he somehow seemed shorter.
The last I saw of him he was bundling his mother into a huge Daimler and presumably driving her back to Virginia Water.
He was wearing a duffle coat too, which I’ve always found a bit of a turn off.
In my opinion only Gregory Peck in The Guns of Navarone looked attractive in one. ’
I felt a cold little pang of doubt.
Shipboard romances never come to anything.
Evelyn tapped me on the arm. ‘You missed a thrilling evening listening to Anjelica singing Jolene in Italian. Honestly, it was heartbreaking. Ti prego non prendere il mio uomo sounds so much more tragic than “please don’t take my man”.’
Marjorie nodded in agreement. ‘And then Rocco had to leave the dining room, I expect he was steering the ship into a parking space or something. Left hand down a bit, and Anjelica went storming after him. We could hear her shouting before the doors were closed, and then the sound of breaking china. She must be exhausting to live with, no wonder Rocco has chosen to be at sea for twenty years.’
I finished my coffee and went to get a refill, and by the time I had returned to the table, Harriet and Anna were there, dumping their handbags under it and making a fuss about the patchy Wi-Fi.
‘If I sit on my bed it’s not too bad, but in the armchair I have no signal at all.
Mila told me it’s because of the thickness of the steel hull of the boat, which I suppose is reassuring.
I wouldn’t want it to be any thinner just so I can play Royal Match.
I’m ashamed to say I am on level 5032, a life well lived I think you will agree.
So anyway, how did you get on with Jack last night?
’ Harriet said with a broad smile. ‘We left you to it after dinner. We thought it might be a good idea.’
‘Yes, your discretion wasn’t lost on me. You were so subtle, shuffling out giggling. We had a walk around the top deck and then I went to bed,’ I said.
‘There’s no point asking, she won’t tell us,’ Marjorie said.
‘So did you… you know… connect?’ Anna asked.
‘We had a nice chat and that was all,’ I said, trying not to laugh.
‘There’s something,’ Anna said, wagging a finger at me, ‘I can tell.’
‘So who is going on the guided tour this afternoon?’ I said.
‘You’re trying to change the subject,’ Harriet said triumphantly, ‘that’s a sure sign.’
Bernardo came hurrying up to our table.
‘Please, ladies, enjoy the shakshuka, special Croatian breakfast dish, you will like it. Eggs, tomatoes, onions, garlic, wonderful herbs and spices.’
‘I think we’re a bit full,’ I said. ‘The pastries are so nice.’
‘I can bring you just a little to try,’ he said encouragingly, ‘momentarily.’
* * *
After finishing our breakfast – and the shakshuka was delicious, if a bit unusual for breakfast – we made our way with several of our fellow sailors off the boat and into the little town.
It was delightful with a row of restaurants, souvenir shops and cafés, where the owners were busy putting out parasols and tablecloths ready for the day’s trade.
Everywhere was spotless, a thing that all of us remarked upon.
‘It’s not like this where we live,’ Belinda said. ‘Well, actually it is because we have a local community watch, a graffiti warden to report things to the council and a litter picking society.’
‘Belinda is president,’ Don said proudly.
‘Four purple bags full last time she went out. I’ve written to the council about it but you never get a sensible reply, do you?
Especially when it comes to graffiti. The only time they washed anything off was when it said something libellous about the mayor’s parentage.
I’m going to buy Belinda a new litter grabber for Christmas as a treat.
One with an extra-long handle so she can get in the hedges—’
‘Lucky Belinda,’ Evelyn murmured.
‘—and into the trees along our avenue. You would be astonished what people throw up there. Plastic dog bags filled with—’
‘This is such a pretty place, isn’t it?’ Evelyn interrupted smoothly. ‘And lots of things to look at. The Greeks were here, and the Romans. I read there is Venetian architecture, beautiful beaches, masses of unspoiled countryside and a conservation centre for griffon vultures somewhere.’
‘You wouldn’t want to find one of those in a tree, Belinda,’ Eileen said with a chuckle.
‘I found a bag filled with spent fireworks once, which I couldn’t understand. I mean, why collect them in the first place, and then throw them into a tree?’ Belinda said, looking nonplussed.
‘I hate fireworks,’ Dawn said. ‘They bring on one of my attacks. I suppose you would call me sensitive. When I was a child I used to go and hide in the cupboard under the stairs until it was all over. I’d be shaking and trembling for hours. Almost whimpering with fear.’
‘My poor little chihuahua used to do that,’ Evelyn said. ‘Are you part Mexican do you think?’
Dawn looked worried. ‘I don’t think so, my mother was from Uxbridge.’
We strolled along the harbourside, looking at the various menus for later, resisting the temptation to go in despite the enthusiastic welcome from the waiters.
Gradually the group split up. Evelyn and Marjorie decided to have coffee even though it was barely half an hour since breakfast; they said the garlic from the shakshuka was repeating on them.
Don and Craig wanted to see a Roman tower and were busy persuading their wives that it was barely a five-minute walk, which, looking at the street map we had been given on the boat, we could see was far from the truth.