Chapter 3
We followed the crowds after dinner and found ourselves in the Ocean Spray theatre, which was a huge auditorium furnished with red and blue velvet seats and a large empty stage.
There was a lot of excited chatter as people rushed to find seats at the front, and almost as soon as they had sat down, stood up again to order drinks.
‘Things have changed a lot since I was last on board ship,’ Diana said.
‘I only got Eddy to go on one cruise and that didn’t really amount to much,’ I replied.
‘I remember. And remind me, when was that?’
‘1988. We went on a trip around the Channel Islands the year after we got married. The weather was horrible, the food was dull and looking back on it, there was no reason why he should have enjoyed it. He got seasick every time we took the ferry to France. Cruising then wasn’t half as sophisticated as it is now. He’ll be much happier at home with his paving slabs and a cement mixer.’
I knew this was true, and in a way, it made me sad. This beautiful ship with all its comfort and opportunity was marvellous. I could just imagine us, sitting in comfortable armchairs with a brandy after dinner, people watching and laughing together like the couples on the website. Surely he would have enjoyed it too? Diana had been all over the place, visiting countries in every part, while Eddy and I had hardly been anywhere. We had missed out on so much of the world. It seemed such a shame.
‘I’m sure you could both have come with us in the past; travel is so interesting,’ Diana said, ‘there’s such a lot to see. I hadn’t realised how much I had missed it until now. I went to so many interesting places with Casper. It got to the point when if he suggested the Caribbean, I would roll my eyes and joke. Not there again, darling.’
And that was another thing. Casper and my sister always called each other ‘darling’. Eddy never called me that. I would probably have laughed if he had. And Casper was always very liberal with charm and compliments when we went out together as a foursome. I wondered what it would be like to have a husband who did that. Eddy once told me when I was all dolled up to go somewhere that I ‘scrubbed up well’, which wasn’t the same at all.
‘That man spoiled you,’ I said, remembering my occasional feelings of envy. Diana looked sad for a moment.
‘I know. I do miss him, even though it’s been nearly five years. When we had time together he was good company, you see, despite everything. That’s the worst thing about being a widow. If I have some good news, or a problem, he’s still the first person I expect to talk to and I can’t.’
I could understand this part. Eddy might not have been the most demonstrative of husbands, but he always listened to my problems without mansplaining, and he made a mean margarita.
I squeezed her hand. ‘But you’ve done so well, and you’ve still got Sam, and there might be grandchildren soon.’
‘I know, I shouldn’t complain. But Sam and Fizz are so busy with their own lives. And to be honest, we don’t communicate as much as I would like. He’s not like Joe and Luke, always popping back, raiding the fridge. And Eric might mean well, but he’s such an old grouch. Do you know, sometimes it feels as though I don’t have a life of my own like I used to,’ she added with unexpected heat, ‘I’m just pottering around on the edge of everyone else’s.’
Yes, I could see she might feel like that. Perhaps I should have insisted she get out more, taken her with me, offered her the support she needed. I’d still been working until a few months ago, but that was no excuse. I felt guilty all over again.
‘Anyway look, something’s happening,’ she said.
A short, energetic man strutted out onto the stage to the accompaniment of ‘Keep On Truckin’,provoking a splattering of applause and some choreographed whooping from the bar staff. He stood in the spotlight for a moment, a microphone nestling on his cheek like a stray Rice Krispie, rubbing his hands together.
‘Welcome! On behalf of the Bretagne Voyage Première shipping line, welcome everyone. Thank you for travelling with us. New friends and old, bless your hearts. I’m your cruise director and my name’s Dick Dainty. You won’t forget that will you? Dainty by name and Dainty by nature. Your entertainment is my passion. You’ll never guess; I was stung by a bee as I was coming on board.’ He paused to nod at the sympathetic noises from the audience. And then widened his eyes. ‘Twenty quid for a jar of honey. I mean, I ask you?’
There was appreciative laughter, some groans, and even some applause.
‘And we have such a lot to get through on this voyage, I don’t know how we are going to fit it all in, really, I don’t. The Avantidancers are limbering up behind me, it makes my joints ache just looking at them. Then on Thursday there’s Carol Cusson, a singer straight from Broadway where she has been starring in the musical extravaganza Birds and Bees – she’s been positively buzzing! Did you see what I did there? Then later in the week, a big Avanti welcome to Max Mastero, a supremely talented ventriloquist from Argentina…’
He carried on listing the many delights which we could look forward to on our way to Athens until it sounded as though we were in for a Royal Variety performance every night.
‘…So all you need to do it sit back, enjoy yourselves, keep watching for your daily updates on the cabin newsletter so you don’t miss anything. It’s a wonderful, fun-packed day at sea tomorrow. And if you want to learn to dance with us, look out for our newest stars, Alasdair and Daphne Pool-Bucket, they were Latin American champions of Des Moines no less.’ He tapped his earpiece and looked puzzled for a moment. ‘Oh yes, I mean of course Alexander and Daphne Prule-Brocket. Silly me! The midnight buffet will be open at midnight on deck 5, and tonight it’s everyone’s favourite; burgers, ribs and hot dogs with all the fixins’ as they say in America. Vegetarian and vegan options also available. Though what that would be is anyone’s guess. And if that’s not enough for you, tune in to channel 100 Avanti Gossip, on your television. Conversations, information, and in-depth interviews. Now then, without more ado, it’s time for our first show. And you’ll be amazed really you will, bless your hearts. Have a great Avanti evening!’
He smoothed his hair down, gave a triumphant fist pump and scurried off backwards, nearly falling over a sound cable and we watched as the curtains drew back to reveal a set decorated like derelict street and a puff of dry ice.
Diana nudged me. ‘I think we are in for a salute to the 1980s.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’ve just seen a chorus member in leg warmers, and I bet you twenty quid there will be a tribute to Michael Jackson.’
‘How do you know that?’ I asked.
‘I’ve seen them all over the years, remember. And now I’m afraid the eighties really is vintage stuff to these young things.’
‘That makes me feel old.’
‘You are old, Jill. We’re in our sixties. Aha! The music to “Billie Jean”. I told you I was right.’
It was really good. A very thin young man did some impressive backflips onto the stage and some excellent moonwalking. Followed by a troop of girls in leotards and legwarmers who gave a nod to the Jane Fonda workout movement. Everyone was in a holiday mood by this point and the theatre was rocking in no time. People clapping along to the music and cheering. I don’t think I had seen an audience so appreciative for years. Perhaps the free alcohol at the sail away party had something to do with it? Perhaps Dick Dainty was really good at warming up an audience.
Waitresses in blue and white uniforms were dashing up and down the steps, delivering cocktails in neon-coloured glasses which were generously festooned with paper umbrellas and fruit.
‘Those dancers must work terrifically hard,’ I said, as we applauded the girls off the stage. ‘I read they have to do all sorts of other things, not just dancing – they hardly get any rest, and when they get a day off they tend to sleep.’
Diana nodded. ‘Casper said they were always going on, even if they were ill or injured. And they don’t get much time off. Eight shows a week, can you imagine it?’
‘Doesn’t sound much fun,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose your photographer friend will see daylight either.’
‘He’s not my photographer friend.’
‘Of course he’s not,’ I said airily. ‘We should get him to take a proper studio photo of us though. To celebrate.’
‘I’m not the most photogenic person, you know.’
‘Nor am I but I’m sure he has filters and stuff. We’re definitely doing it.’
When the show finished we dithered about what to do. Considering it was nearly ten thirty at night, I would normally have been in bed, and I think the same went for Diana. But somehow, we were swept along with the crowds leaving the theatre and found ourselves in the Lautrec cocktail bar.
It was small place, decorated with French café posters advertising things like pastis, Le Train Bleu, and cheese. There were several little booths which were upholstered in red velvet, dim, rather intimate amber lights on each table, and they were all occupied by couples. We heaved ourselves up onto bar stools and I reached for the cocktail menu.
Diana took a menu and scanned it, muttering.
‘Gin. Vodka, rum. I can’t drink rum; it makes me ill. And I can’t touch anything that’s been near a bottle of Cinzano Bianco. I had a very unfortunate experience with that when I was at college. Everyone had that, don’t they? A drink you got a bit reckless with and now the very thought of it is horrible. What’s yours?’
I thought about it for a moment. ‘Pernod.’
She pursed her lips and nodded and then went back to the cocktail menu. ‘What about…’
She stopped suddenly and stared at the laminated booklet in front of her.
‘I don’t believe it!’
‘What?’ I tried to peer over her shoulder.
She stabbed at the menu and made some gasping noises.
‘Look at this! On page five. They’ve named a cocktail after him. After Casper!’
I turned to look, and there it was. Captain Casper Wedderburn – and then some ingredients. Which started with whisky, which had been Casper’s favourite tipple, and went on to add various other things. There was a little note underneath it.
This cocktail was created and dedicated to honour Captain Casper Wedderburn, one of the longest serving officers on the Voyage Première line. Admired by all, respected by his crew, a true sailor who deserves to be remembered.
Diana turned to me, and she scrabbled up her sleeve for a tissue.
‘Oh, would you look at that! How absolutely marvellous. He would have been so proud. We must have two!’
I felt the tears come to my eyes, seeing how moved she was, and we both did some discreet sniffing and wiping away of tears. After a few moments, a concerned bar steward shuffled up to us.
‘Are you alright, mesdames?’ he murmured.
‘We’re fine,’ I said, ‘she’s a bit overcome. There’s a cocktail here named after her late husband.’
‘Tom Collins?’ he said, frowning a little.
Diana gave a shaky laugh and blew her nose.
‘Casper Wedderburn,’ she said, and gave a little gulp, ‘he was my husband.’
The bar steward, name badge ‘Pierre’, took a step back, his eyes round with amazement.
‘But madame, I knew him! I served with him for several years on the Pirandello. He was quite a character! Not a man to tolerate anything but the best service.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make a fuss. I’m fine now. I think we’d better have two. He would have liked that.’
‘It would be my honour, madame.’
Pierre flicked a couple of cocktail napkins onto the bar in front of us and with a great deal of flourishing and jolting of a silver shaker, concocted two Casper Wedderburns.
Placing them proudly in front of us, he obviously felt something else was needed to celebrate the event and pushed two little dishes of cashew nuts towards us.
And then he was called away to the other end of the bar where a tall American in a Houston Astros baseball cap was asking loudly about bourbon.
‘Well. Cheers,’ Diana said, raising her glass towards me. ‘How amazing is this?’
We clinked glasses. Whatever was in there made our eyes water, and on top of the emotion, it was a pretty damp few minutes.
I wondered about the impression my brother-in-law, Casper, had left behind him with his crew. It must have been a good one by the sounds of it.
Not a man to tolerate anything but the best service.
Well, that was true from what I knew about him. He’d been the one to do a lot of fussing about place settings when we went round to their house for Christmas dinner, and the lawn always had to be mowed into precise stripes or he would do it again. Heaven knows how Diana was managing that now.
‘The tales I could tell,’ Diana said at last. ‘Casper knew all about his ships, every crew member. And we had so many photos from those days. One of the last things he did before he died was transfer them all on to my laptop. He met royalty, dignitaries from every part of the world… But he always said it was the everyday holiday makers that mattered the most to him. Especially first-timers. I wish he was here, so I could tell him.’
‘I’m sure he knows, in a way,’ I said, patting her hand.
That was the sort of kind, hopeless attempt at comfort that I’d heard a lot of people say to her since Casper died. But then, as I have thought on more than one occasion, what could anyone say to console someone whose husband had gone so unexpectedly? One minute he was trying to put up a shelf in the kitchen, the next he was dead.
We went to bed after that, tottering down the long corridor to our room, where we had another tussle with the electronic key card.
Inside, the curtains had been closed, someone had turned our beds down, and placed a thoughtful chocolate on our pillows. There was also a printed newsletter on the desk, telling us all about the following day’s activities.
‘Day at sea, cruising the Bay of Biscay,’ I read, unwrapping the chocolate, ‘but we can do an orientation tour of the ship, meet the crew for coffee, line dancing, wine tasting, fruit carving, and there is a cookery demonstration, ballroom dancing, introduction to Cadiz, a bridge club, a talk on sea birds, and a piano recital. And look at this, there’s a talent contest for the passengers later in the week. That’s to give the dancers some time off – I expect by then they will need it.’
‘Then we can hit the gym, go to the spa or enter the shuffleboard competition on deck 12. Or just eat?’ Diana said, ‘I think that’s very popular too.’
I went to brush my teeth and got into bed.
‘This is very comfortable,’ I said happily, pulling the bedclothes up around my chin.
‘Can we have the curtains open a bit,’ Diana said, ‘I don’t like sleeping in the dark. I always think more. And I don’t like doing that. I often turn the television on to help me go to sleep. It’s not as though anyone is going to see us. And there aren’t any streetlights.’
I pulled them halfway back and got back into bed.
And then we turned off the bedside lights after a lot of fiddling with various switches which seemed to turn on the lights in the bathroom, the entranceway, and the balcony before we found out how to turn everything off.
A faint glow illuminated the room.
‘This is nice,’ she said. ‘Thank you for inviting me. I’m glad I said yes.’
‘We wouldn’t even be here without you! And we’ll have fun, I’m sure,’ I said. ‘I can feel it in my water.’
There was a few minutes of quiet, before Diana got out of bed again and stumbled into the bathroom, grumbling.
‘You shouldn’t have mentioned water; it always makes me want to go.’
Then she clambered back into bed and rustled around for a bit, thumping her pillows before she was settled.
‘Don’t forget, if you’re not comfortable, there is an extensive pillow menu,’ I said.
‘Cheese and onion,’ Diana said.
‘Salt and vinegar,’ I replied.
There was a long silence, and then Diana added.
‘Do you remember when there were only plain crisps, and they came with a twist of salt in blue paper?’
‘And very rarely you got two?’
‘That was always exciting,’ she agreed, ‘but not as good as a faulty KitKat where it was solid chocolate and no wafer.’
‘We were easily pleased back then,’ I said. ‘Today everyone wants everything all the time.’
‘And then complains about the cost.’
‘We are getting old. Listen to us. We sound like our mother.’
Diana shifted about a bit and sighed.
‘Fancy Casper having a cocktail named after him. He would have been so pleased.’
The motion of the ship was very gentle, almost as though we were being rocked to sleep.
‘Are we in the Bay of Biscay yet?’ I asked.
‘Maybe not yet.’
‘I thought it would be rough? Tom said it would be.’
Diana tutted. ‘Tom knows nothing about it, he’s never been on a ship in his life. And it’s generally not too bad at this time of year, it’s worst in the winter. When the storms come in from the Atlantic and hit the shallower water over the Continental Shelf. But more ships are sunk in the Pacific, or the Indian Ocean.’
‘What about the Bermuda Triangle?’
She laughed. ‘Barry Manilow. I love that song. Casper used to give a talk on it sometimes when we were in the Caribbean. Apparently shipping disasters there are no worse than anywhere else, just more famous. And it gets more hurricanes. And electromagnetic storms. And there’s some theory about the increased magnetism from the volcanic flow causing problems.’
‘You know a lot about strange things, don’t you?’
Diana yawned. ‘I suppose I do.’
‘I expect that’s why you’re so good at quiz nights.’
We were quiet then for a while, the only sounds the occasional faint burst of laughter from somewhere down the corridor, or a door closing. I thought Diana must have gone to sleep, and I closed my eyes and relaxed.
Then she gave a huge sigh, and I heard the rustle of her bedclothes as she turned over, and some thumping noises as she pummelled her pillows.
‘Thanks a bunch. I’ve got ‘Bermuda Triangle’ going round my head on a loop now. “Look at it from my angle”…’