Chapter 9
Rapha?l was waiting for us in the Art Lounge when we arrived just before six o’clock that evening. He greeted us both with a lovely smile and a warm handshake which I thought for a worrying moment was going to develop into those cheek-kissing rituals that the French go in for. Instead, he took us through a linen-covered door into a very unimpressive room, filled with computers and printers and piles of paper stacked up against the wall. There was a strong smell of hot cables and chemicals.
‘Now then, I have put together some of the pictures I took, Radio Wonderful are very keen to get hold of some to put on their website. Apparently, there has been quite a lot of interest from their listeners in this trip.’
‘How amazing,’ I said, leaning over the desk and peering at some photographs of the crew dressed as pirates. ‘These dancers are stunning, aren’t they?’
Rapha?l pushed his lower lip out in a very French way and nodded. ‘They are hard workers, they will not last more than a couple of seasons on this boat, then they move on to new contracts with other cruise lines. They see the world that way.’
‘But what if they meet someone and want to get married and have a family?’ I asked. ‘That must be difficult.’
‘Then they leave, I suppose. It’s not easy when your partner stays on the ship. Well, Mrs Wedderburn will know this better than anyone.’
‘What does your wife think?’ I asked casually.
‘I no longer have a wife,’ he said, turning away to look through a filing cabinet, ‘the pressures of it all were too much for her. She preferred someone who always came home for dinner every evening.’
Aha!
‘That’s sad,’ I said. ‘Did you have any children?’
Diana dug me in the ribs with her elbow at that point, but I pulled a face at her.
‘I have a son who works for a cruise line in Australia, and a daughter who is married and lives in Paris,’ he said, turning round.
‘Oh that’s?—’
‘So, show us the pictures,’ Diana said, interrupting me before I could ask any more embarrassing questions.
He pulled out a folder and put it down on the desk.
‘These are the ones I have pulled out. I have many as you may imagine, but I think these are the best. Please feel free to disagree. And do sit down.’
He moved a pile of papers from the two chairs on the other side of his desk, and then couldn’t find anywhere to put them, so eventually he dropped them onto the floor.
I opened the folder and there we were. In all our glory.
The first one was as we arrived on the ship, standing looking over-excited under the balloon arch. No one would know that a few moments later Diana had gone flying and almost demolished the thing.
Then a picture I hadn’t known he had taken, the two of us sitting in the Ocean Spray theatre, our faces illuminated by the lights from the stage. We looked enthusiastic, laughing at something.
Then a wider view from behind us, showing more of the audience, Dick Dainty on the stage in front of us, but out of focus. It felt a bit strange to know Rapha?l had been there, and we hadn’t known it. Taking pictures. Perhaps this was how celebrities felt when the paparazzi were out in force.
Then the fruit carving and the truffle making. Mercifully a picture could not tell a thousand words, because he had managed to take pictures of us smiling and having fun, and not splattering ourselves with food. Perhaps those had been edited out?
‘I love that one,’ Diana said, pointing to a picture of the two of us in the line dancing class.
I remembered that moment, when both of us forgot which foot to start off on, and we had trodden on each other several times. The picture showed us laughing at each other, Diana’s head thrown back, me slightly wild-eyed, my hair coming loose from the combs I had used to keep it out of the way.
‘We looked like we were having fun,’ I agreed.
‘And dare I say it, we look so young.’
‘Oh, come on, you’re hardly in your dotage,’ I muttered.
We did too, she was right. And Rapha?l had captured Diana’s energy very successfully. She certainly didn’t look like a woman who would pass unnoticed any more. She looked bright and beautiful. Full of fun. Which she hadn’t been for a long time.
I’ve never been very good at having my photograph taken. I never knew what to do with my face and I usually ended up pulling an odd expression. Worrying about my smile and whether I had a double chin, or something stuck in my teeth.
‘Perhaps that’s what having fun does for us,’ I suggested.
Then the pictures taken at the captain’s cocktail party. A couple of formal ones with the captain, where I had assumed one of my shall I smile or not expressions. But then a couple where Diana and I had been sipping cocktails, looking at each other over the rim of our glasses, eyebrows raised. He really had done a great job.
‘They are awfully good,’ Diana said. ‘Did you use Photoshop?’
He shook his head. ‘There was no need. And anyway, what is so terrible about a natural picture? A happy expression?’
‘You haven’t seen some of the pictures my husband took over the years,’ I said.
‘I do have some where your face is covered in chocolate smudges,’ he said, his eyes twinkling.
I bit down a chuckle and Diana snorted with laughter rather inelegantly.
‘Right then, I think they are brilliant, and I am sure Radio Wonderful will like them. I’m heading off to meet up with Evelyn,’ I said, ‘and after, there is always the late show if I’m stuck with nothing to do. It’s Cabaret night, so I am expecting a lot of high kicks and moodiness. I’ll see you two crazy kids later.’
Before Diana could say anything, I gave her an exaggerated wink and turned to leave.
‘Dinner then?’ Rapha?l said.
I pulled a silly face behind his back and gave Diana two thumbs up and then I hid behind a pillar and watched them walk away. I felt rather triumphant at that moment, and more than a little bit thrilled.
I found Evelyn exactly where we had arranged to meet, in the Lautrec cocktail bar.
She was in one of the more secluded booths, dressed in a lavender dress and jacket that were slightly dated but very stylish. She was reading the menu using the light from her mobile phone. She looked up as I reached her side and gave me a lovely smile.
‘There you are. Isn’t this exciting? Did your sister really go off to dine with that handsome fellow? She did? Well back in the day so would I.’
She patted the seat next to her. ‘You’re younger than I am, Jill, you can shimmy in, whereas I would have a heck of a struggle with my bionic hip.’
I slid in beside her and picked up a menu.
‘It’s too dark, isn’t it?’ she said when she saw me squinting. ‘Why do they do that? Is it so we can’t read the prices? I had something very nice the other day, now what was it? Something to do with Shirley. I remember that because I had a friend called Shirley at finishing school.’
‘A Shirley Temple?’ I suggested.
‘Goodness, no, we need something stronger than that. Ah here is it. Bend Over Shirley. Raspberry vodka and something. What do you think?’
I gaped a little as Evelyn flagged down a passing waiter.
‘Two Shirleys. Bent over,’ she said sweetly. ‘Now then dear, what have you been up to?’
‘I’m blowed if I know,’ I said, ‘apart from the chocolate tasting and the other opportunities to eat. Have you really been on this ship for three months?’
‘I have. Nearly four, actually. It was just after all that to-do with the Norman virus and the flooding on board. What a lot of fuss about nothing. As I understand it from my butler, there were two cabins with a bit of a leak from the shower, and three people came down with tummy upsets. One would think there had been an outbreak of bubonic plague. People today love to make a drama out of a crisis, don’t they?’
‘And go to the papers about it.’
Evelyn laughed. ‘You’re right. All those sad faces in the newspapers, droning on about the impact on their lives, how badly they had been affected and of course the price of their houses. They knew they would be compensated but it didn’t stop the media from whipping up a frenzy, or the tragic victims from their fifteen minutes of fame. I didn’t get on with Andy Warhol, but he had some interesting ideas.’
‘You knew him?’
‘I met him twice. In the early days before he was really famous. He was a strange character, even then, but he did love cats, and his mother. He drew a rude picture on a dinner napkin for me once, and I used it to mop up some cat sick. It would have been worth a fortune now I expect. Now then, what I really want to talk about is Diana.’
I sighed, ‘I hope she’s having a good evening with Rapha?l.’
‘Will she spill the beans afterwards, do you think?’
‘I hope so. I’ll make her. It’s the first time she has been out with a man for years.’
‘What was Casper like? Oh, I know everyone says how marvellous he was, how everyone on the ship loved him. But what do you think?’
The waiter returned with our drinks and a bowl of pretzels and that distracted us for a few minutes, but then Evelyn’s blue eyes fixed me with a compelling look over the rim of her cocktail glass.
‘I think he was very controlling,’ I said, ‘perhaps because he had to be so disciplined at work, but he was the same at home. My sister taught for years and loved it, but eventually she was persuaded that their son would go to Casper’s old boarding school, and she would spend most of her time travelling with him. At first, we all thought how lucky she was, but now I can see it did a lot of damage to her relationship with Sam. She really needed him when Casper died, but by then he had gone to live in Scotland; I think he had adopted the MacLeod family as a substitute for his own. And now Diana is stuck, living alone. She has friends of course, she’s a really lovely person, but no real fun in her life.’
‘Hmm. She has that look in her eyes. She’s lonely and – to use a nautical phrase – rudderless. I think I was the same when Douglas died.’
‘I can’t imagine that,’ I said.
For a moment I tried to imagine my life without Eddy. If he, and not Casper, had been the one to die unexpectedly. It didn’t bear thinking about and I gave a little shudder.
I wondered what he was doing at that moment. I could almost see him, digging away in the garden with his brother and a couple of friends, and I realised how lucky I was to still have him. And Joe and Luke too. They both lived nearby, they were always coming round to cadge a free meal or borrow the lawnmower when theirs broke down. They would come into the kitchen, treading mud all over the floor, laughing at each other, giving me a hug, affectionately patting Eddy’s bald spot. We were just a normal, noisy family, which was priceless, I could see that now.
Evelyn nodded. ‘Believe me, I was. I was so used to being part of a couple, I didn’t really know how to be me on my own. I’ve often thought that a married couple is like a favourite pair of shoes. Eventually one gets lost or damaged, but what does one do with the one that is left? It’s no use to anyone, but one can’t just throw it away. Grief can be like living two lives at the same time. One where one pretends everything is fine and the other when your poor heart is breaking, and one doesn’t want to get out of bed. It takes effort, and courage to move on. Which is why I started doing this.’
‘How long are you staying on the ship? And where are you getting off?’
‘I have a younger sister, Wendy. In the late sixties, as soon as she was twenty-one, she went to be an air hostess. I know they aren’t called that any more. My father was furious. But she said she could only do the job for ten years so what was the problem? He said she would be an old maid. At thirty-one, can you believe it? When she was twenty-eight she married an Australian sheep farmer called Bill and went to live out there. I haven’t seen her in person for nearly ten years, so I am staying on this ship until it reaches Sydney, and I’m going to see her.’
‘How wonderful,’ I said, ‘but that’s a long time to be apart. I’d hate not to see Diana for ten years.’
‘Oh, we have Skype and the Zoom thing so we have chatted nearly every week. She was busy, I was busy, the time just slipped past. She’s such fun, she still has a thing about hats. She had several different styles when she was a stewardess, but her favourite was the first one. A little blue cap perched over one eye. She often puts it on when we chat, to make me laugh. The other day she was sitting at the kitchen table talking to me and Bill came in and shouted at her. “Take that bloody hat off, Wendy, the sheep need drenching and there are fourteen thousand of the bastards queueing up.” Couldn’t be less glamourous, could it? We were in stitches. She still has her vintage BOAC flight bag; it must be worth a fortune these days. Bill uses it to keep old beer bottle caps in. He used to just chuck them in the cutlery drawer, and it made Wendy so cross.’
‘You’re very brave to be making this journey on your own,’ I said.
Evelyn made a funny little shrugging gesture.
‘There is an old saying: every journey has destinations of which the traveller is unaware. I would hate your sister to lose ten more years of her son’s life, maybe this trip will help her think things through. And you might think sixty is too old for taking chances and making changes, but it’s not. It’s only young people who think that. There is always time for all of us to start again, to find happiness, to accept new challenges, to have fun. We must persuade her.’
‘How?’ I said, realising that the same advice could be applied to me.
‘Well, this is a start, isn’t it? Being here on this ship. She must have such mixed emotions; it must be such a different experience from the days when she travelled with her husband. And it must be rather annoying to have people going on about him all the time. Golly, I hope she and the photographer man are getting on well, it might be just the boost she needs.’
I thought about it. Yes, it was all true. Diana needed to be taken out of her safe existence and shown that her life was not over. There were possibilities out there. And suddenly I realised the same thing did apply to me. Perhaps this was the time to do that thing that young people did when their time at school had finished, take a gap year. After over fifty years of school, university, work and routine and responsibility, Eddy and I deserved some fun too.
Evelyn tapped my hand to get my attention back. ‘Now let’s have another drink, you can choose this time.’
‘But didn’t you want to go to the show?’
Evelyn shook her head. ‘It’s very good but I’ve seen it twice already. But I’d be pleased to watch it again if you really want to?’
‘I’m quite happy to sit here and chat, actually,’ I said.
‘Good, and then you can tell me all about yourself.’
‘There’s not that much to tell, I’m afraid,’ I said.
‘Nonsense, you can’t get to your age without doing something naughty. And if you haven’t, you should be ashamed of yourself.’
Evelyn shooed me away towards the bar and I went.
As I leafed through the menu of drinks, I thought about what Evelyn had said. Never too late to start again, to find happiness and accept new challenges. Did that apply to me too? What did I think of my life so far?
I’d been to university, had a bit of a wild phase, met Eddy at a freezing rugby match in Coventry, married him, had two sons, and worked in the passport office shuffling paper. And now Eddy and I were both retired. We might live for a long time, with me just doing housework and Eddy looking for something to fill his days, lifting his feet when I hoovered past him. It sounded dire. And unlike Diana, I still had my husband and was on good terms with my sons. But ironing and housework, escaping into television dramas and counting birds in the garden couldn’t possibly sustain me for the rest of my life, could it?
I thought back to my university days when I had been a bit of a loose cannon. Staying up all night, knocking back cheap Liebfraumilch, the highlight of my week a Brown Derby dessert at the nearby Wimpy bar. Shopping at CA for miniskirts and not giving my future a second thought.
I was always going to be young, wasn’t I? Always part of the generation that was centre stage, which mattered. To us back then, the older generation were faceless and boring. Always trying to stop things and assuming they knew best. Garnering a certain amount of respect because of their age and experiences.
But now it seemed there was suddenly a generation above me, two generations below me, maybe even three, and unlike my age group that generally did as they were told and didn’t answer back, young people all had voices, ideas, problems and demands. I felt as though my generation’s opinions on fashion, on music, on everything, didn’t matter any more. Almost as though people my age had fallen through the gap between our parents and our children, not knowing quite what to do next.
This was perplexing. How did women my age matter again? How could we protect ourselves from the juggernaut of prejudice heading towards us?
‘Can I help you, madame?’
Ah, it was Pierre, the same bar steward as before.
I flipped the pages of the menu over and stabbed with one finger at random.
‘I’ll have two Fresh Starts,’ I said, my voice faltering at the coincidence.
Vodka, Campari, Peach brandy. That sounded healthy.
‘I will bring them over,’ Pierre said, and I went back to my seat.
‘What are we having?’
‘Two Fresh Starts,’ I said.
‘Excellent news,’ Evelyn said with a mischievous twinkle.