Chapter 13
That evening we had a message delivered to our cabin from Captain Lebrun: would Diana and I please join him for drinks and refreshments, in his suite at seven thirty.
‘Hell yes, we would be delighted,’ I said. ‘Thelma would be so jealous if she knew. What shall we wear? I have a lovely green dress I’ve never worn; I think I’ll give that an outing. What about you?’
Diana flicked through her wardrobe. Eventually she decided on some black evening trousers she said she’d had for over twenty years, and a fairly new silk blouse in her preferred shade of navy blue with a daring white collar.
We sent a message back to say we would be delighted to join him and spent the rest of the time getting ready and wishing we hadn’t eaten quite so much at the afternoon tea.
‘That’s cruises I suppose,’ Diana said, looking at her side view, asking if she looked fat, which she didn’t. ‘These days I would never eat three proper meals a day, let alone four. But it’s such a treat to have meals made for me and cleared away afterwards, it’s seductive.’
‘The same goes for booze,’ I agreed from my armchair where I was watching the netcam from the ship’s bridge on the television. ‘We’ve already had a bottle of champagne between us, and no doubt there will be wine at this do. We can say no and be sensible. Just have mineral water.’
‘I will if you will,’ Diana said.
‘It’s a deal, I wonder who else will be there. You don’t think we will just be having room service meals on trays on our knees, do you?’
‘I doubt it. Casper had a beautiful cabin on the Pirandello. Right near the bridge. Two bedrooms with a dining room and a kitchen. It was fantastic. Although most nights he got woken up by someone on the bridge banging on the door, wanting something. He never really got away from work; it must have been very stressful. And to be honest we never seemed to have any time just for us.’
‘Did they ever catch you – you know – in an embarrassing position?’ I asked.
‘Trust you to ask that,’ Diana giggled. ‘Once or twice. It sent Casper off to work in a very bad mood. I could hear him shouting through the door. My word, that man could shout when he wanted to.’
‘Right, shall we go?’ Diana said at last, after she had changed her lipstick twice and her shoes three times.
She had also taken off the navy-blue blouse and chucked it into the bottom of the wardrobe on top of Tom’s cardboard folder. Instead, she had borrowed something of mine; a pink and white striped shirt which gave her an unexpectedly ‘sexy secretary’ vibe. She looked marvellous.
‘It’s only just before seven,’ I said. ‘But we have the length of the ship to walk, and in these shoes, it’s going to take a long time. Perhaps we should have worn trainers?’
‘I am wearing flats,’ Diana said. ‘I’ve learned my lesson.’
‘Oh yes, the evening sandals you chucked away. I wonder if anyone found them?’
We made our way along the long corridors, which were becoming familiar now, and up in the lift to the top deck. Here there were some of the senior officers’ quarters, the bridge and of course, the captain’s cabin. The door was open, and a white-jacketed steward was waiting to greet us with a tray of filled champagne flutes.
Diana and I exchanged a meaningful look and accepted one each.
‘It’s alright to have fun. Remember? Perhaps we can be sensible tomorrow,’ Diana murmured.
The captain’s cabin made all the glories of our Picasso suite look rather tame. There was a large sitting area decorated with prints of sailing ships, two sofas covered in blue linen covers, and several comfortable-looking chairs where some of the other guests were already seated. Through an open door I could see a dining room, where a dark wooden table was set with a buffet.
The captain came forward when he saw us and bowed gracefully over our hands.
‘Mesdames, how charming to see you again. Mrs Wedderburn, could I just give you this message from Dick about the talk you are going to give.’ He handed over a crisp white envelope stamped with the BVP crest. ‘Please let me introduce you to everyone.’
There were eight of us altogether. The other guests were two couples from Texas – the wives had seemingly brought all the jewellery they owned with them.
‘Betsey and Blake DeGroot, who are joining us again from Houston and their friends Cynthia and Stone Marco.’
We all shook hands politely, me trying not to stare at Betsey’s emerald necklace which had stones the size of broad beans and must have cost a fortune.
‘Howdy,’ Blake said, wringing me by the hand, ‘I’m Blake DeGroot.’
‘He’s big in bananas,’ Betsey added.
‘I certainly am,’ Blake said proudly.
Next to me I heard Diana make a gulping noise as though she was trying hard not to laugh.
‘And this is my dearest friend, Cyn, and her husband, Stone. Stone’s big in nuts,’ Betsey said, causing me to splutter and pretend my champagne had gone down the wrong way.
‘Well, isn’t this just the darndest thing? We have been checking our travel log – Betsey keeps one. Where we’ve been and who we met. And what we did, so we can catalogue our photographs. She discovered we sailed on the Pirandello with your late husband three times,’ Stone said. ‘He ran a very tight ship. Always immaculate, nothing got past him. Cyn and I always wondered if he was like that at home?’
‘Well, he had his moments,’ Diana said.
We exchanged a quick glance. I now knew something of the truth behind this evasive statement. And I felt another pang of sympathy that yet again, Casper was taking centre stage. Not actually here of course, but certainly here in spirit.
‘And what do you do now, Diana?’ Betsey asked. ‘Tell me all about yourself.’
She had the easy charm and perfect hair of a practised society hostess and I warmed to her immediately. It was nice that she should focus on my sister, not just ask about Casper and his illustrious career.
‘I was a teacher some years ago,’ Diana said, ‘but I’m retired now.’
‘So important,’ Cyn cooed, ‘teachers are angels, aren’t they? After all, the liddle ones are our future. And you, Jill?’
I pursed my lips. ‘I’m married to Eddy, who has just retired from a long career in international finance.’ Eddy had in fact been a bank manager. ‘And I worked for the government, dealing with travel restrictions, but obviously I’m not at liberty to discuss that, I’m sure you understand.’
I had worked for the civil service, with responsibility for some obscure department of the Passport Office. But telling people that usually made their eyes glaze over or start on about how long it had taken them to get their passport renewed. Our new friends looked at me with new respect.
‘Sure, sure,’ Stone nodded, ‘isn’t that wonderful. Keeping our borders safe.’
‘Trying to,’ I agreed, attempting to look inscrutable and knowing.
‘And how are you both enjoying the journey so far?’ Betsey asked.
‘Very much, it’s a while since I have done a cruise like this. I’ve done many trips over the years, but I’m enjoying this one in particular,’ Diana said. ‘I hope you are too?’
‘It’s fine,’ Betsey said, ‘much better than the last one we went on. A ship full of – well, let’s say younger people who thought a good breakfast was cocktails. The one before that was very enjoyable, the Caribbean, including the Bermuda Triangle. We almost wanted to hide under the beds while we were sailing through, didn’t we Blake?’
‘Wouldn’t have done no good,’ Blake said wisely, polishing off his cocktail, ‘if them aliens want you, they’re gonna get you.’
‘My husband used to say the Bermuda Triangle was no worse than anywhere else,’ Diana said, ‘just more famous.’
‘In fact, you might be interested to know that Diana knows a lot about that very subject,’ I said. ‘She’s going to be giving a talk on it.’
Betsey’s eyes lit up.
‘When? We would definitely be interested.’
Diana tried to protest that it wasn’t actually certain yet, but I interrupted her.
‘I expect one of the sea days, when we are on our way to Naples,’ I said confidently. ‘You need to keep a look out for the morning news-sheet.’
‘Oh, we will,’ Cyn said, ‘we won’t miss that. We saw Barry Manilow twice in Vegas, didn’t we, and he sang that song both nights. Such a showman. It was going around my head for days afterwards. Look at it from my angle.’
‘Yes,’ I muttered, ‘I know the feeling. Oh, and he’s back. I wondered when he would show up.’
I gave a nod towards the door where Rapha?l was standing, his camera in his hands, talking to the steward. After a moment he looked across at Diana and smiled, and then he started taking pictures of the Texans with the captain, when there was a great deal of lively chatter and laughter from Betsey and Cyn, and their husbands stood with their chins up looking proud.
‘Seems to me that talk about not wanting any sort of relationship didn’t work,’ I murmured, ‘but perhaps kissing him sent the wrong signals? You need to refine your technique when it comes to repelling men.’
‘Oh God, what am I going to do? I feel such an idiot,’ Diana said.
‘Play it cool. Pretend it was nothing, and don’t mention what happened.’
Rapha?l beckoned us both forward to have a group photograph taken, all of us clustered in front of an oil painting of the Avanti ploughing attractively through sunlit waves. Behind us, the real sea slipped past, dark and unfathomable.
At that moment, Charles the dashing first officer and owner of Chic the dog, came in through the door from the business area of the ship. He was looking exceedingly dashing in his uniform, his blond hair gleaming, and I wondered how old he was. Early thirties perhaps.
We enjoyed a lively discussion with Charles, about life on board the ship, his favourite cuisine and interesting things that had happened during a voyage. Meanwhile, Cyn and Betsey were praising the flowers, asking the captain about his home life, and generally being charming.
It must be exhausting being a good corporate wife, I thought. I’d been to a few business events with Eddy over the years, and always been bored to tears. On one occasion we had been talking to some big cheese and a very young woman walked past us with her bosom almost falling out of her dress, and I said, “she didn’t think that through, did she, someone needs a bigger frock” and the big cheese said very stiffly, “that’s my wife.” It turned out he was the CEO. Eddy was waiting for the call to head office for weeks.
I refocussed on the conversation. Stone and Blake nursed their drinks and discussed port congestion and the shortage of containers.
‘And don’t talk to me about warehouse logistics,’ Stone said sadly. ‘All those empty spaces and no trucks, no drivers and machinery standing idle.’
I thought back briefly to my box sets. That would explain it then, why the Reagan family were always turning up at deserted warehouses for their shoot outs.
Blake huffed. ‘Panama disease,’ he said, ‘and chilling injuries. Keeps me awake at night.’
‘Chilling injuries? Do people get locked in the freezers? That sounds awful. Surely there should be some safety mechanism. I mean how long could someone survive locked inside a refrigerated container?’ I said, trying to sound intelligent.
‘Chilling injuries to the bananas,’ Blake said. ‘Below thirteen degrees and you might as well give up. And people don’t know, do you see? Or they don’t care. The problems we have to deal with. I should have gone into manufacturing reefers.’
The face of the snarling drug cartel boss flashed into my mind, a huge joint clamped between his teeth.
‘But of course, you’d face prison if you were caught, wouldn’t you? I mean drugs are such a problem everywhere. I think you’re safer with bananas, surely?’
Blake frowned. ‘Reefers are refrigerated containers. I don’t think they would land me in prison.’
Behind me I could hear Diana chuckling.
‘Ah no, probably not. Do excuse me, I’ve just remembered…’
I dragged Diana off into the dining room where she opened the white envelope and I investigated the elegant buffet of tasty nibbles, hoping to find someone else to talk to, and inevitably we found ourselves face to face with Rapha?l.
‘Good evening,’ he said.
‘Hello,’ Diana replied airily, still scanning through the message.
Then she picked up a little bruschetta and the prawn fell off the top of it and onto the floor. Hoping he hadn’t noticed, I nudged it under the table with my foot.
‘Are you both having a pleasant evening?’ he said, bending down to pick it up.
We dithered about the stray prawn for a few seconds, until he wrapped it up in a paper napkin and left it on a plate.
‘Yes, very nice indeed,’ Diana said. ‘You?’
That’s my girl. Play it cool. Pretend nothing happened.
‘I was just leaving, I have all the pictures I need,’ he said, ‘and there is always editing to do in my studio.’
He gave us a polite smile and turned as though leaving. Feeling I needed to make myself scarce I went to the far end of the table and pretended to examine some cheese straws.
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ I heard Diana say suddenly.
‘What for? The prawn?’
‘For last night. I didn’t mean to – you know.’
No, Diana. I thought we talked about this?
‘Kiss me? Trust me you don’t need to apologise.’
‘But after everything I said, about not wanting to – about you being too charming. And then to do that. I don’t know what I was thinking.’
‘Diana, no man needs an apology when a beautiful woman kisses him.’
Oh goodness, that was a great line.
‘Um,’ she said.
‘Please don’t give it a second thought. I enjoy your company. I like talking to you.’
‘I won’t,’ Diana said, taking a bite of the bruschetta to show how unconcerned she was. It was unexpectedly spicy, and she huffed a bit, I moved on to look at a china bowl of olives and stabbed about with a cocktail stick, trying to spear one.
Eventually I picked one up and popped it in my mouth, not realising it still had a stone, and I bit into it, my teeth jarring with the impact. Not wanting to distract my companions from their increasingly interesting conversation, I stifled a yowl of pain, pulled a silent face of despair, mouthed bloody hell silently, and turned away, spitting the olive into a paper napkin. And then I checked my teeth with my tongue to check I hadn’t broken anything.
Diana was still talking. ‘I’ve had a note from Dick Dainty. He says there is a space in the itinerary tomorrow morning before we reach Naples. He wants me to give a talk. In the Debussy conference room. He’s going to put up notices around the ship to publicise it.’
Rapha?l’s face lit up. ‘But how wonderful. I will be sure to come along.’
I didn’t think it was physically possible for my ears to actually twitch like Jill’s part-time cat, when he heard a tin being opened, but I wouldn’t have bet on it. It would give away the fact that I was shamelessly eavesdropping.
How did she feel about that? I bet she was secretly pleased to think he would be there, but at the same time understandably nervous in case the talk didn’t go well. What if no one turned up but me, Diana, Dick Dainty, and him? That would be mortifying. Perhaps I should go around the ship nagging people?
Then Betsey and Charles, who were now apparently her new best friends, came into the dining room, laughing, also looking for the buffet.
‘My talk is going to be at eleven o’clock,’ Diana said, ‘and I’m really nervous. What if no one comes to listen?’
‘They will,’ I said, hurrying up to join in. I grabbed Betsey’s arm as she went past, nearly knocking a mini quiche and half a tomato which had been cleverly carved into a rose off her plate. ‘I’m sure our new Texan friends will be there won’t you, Betsey. And I’m sure Dick will announce it this evening in the Ocean Spray theatre. Before the Songs from the Shows event. And probably on Dick’s Diary tomorrow morning.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it,’ Betsey said, anchoring her tomato with a cocktail stick.
‘Oh God! He didn’t mention that in his letter!’
‘You’ll be fine, Mrs Wedderburn,’ Charles said kindly. ‘I know you will.’
‘Ooh I say. They’ve just brought in some sausage rolls! You like those, don’t you? When the party breaks up, we still have time to catch the nine thirty performance,’ I said.
‘Not a chance,’ Diana replied. ‘I’ve eaten more than enough for one day. You can go to the show with Betsey and Cynthia if you like. I’ve got to go over my notes. For tomorrow.’
‘Oh yes, do come with us,’ Cynthia cooed, ‘we always sit in the second row, there’s a place there with a table and plenty of leg room. Stone has tipped one of the waiters to reserve it for us.’
The following morning I woke up to find Diana was already awake, sitting up in bed with her reading glasses on and her laptop on her knees.
She looked over at me very briefly.
‘Something awful is about to happen. This talk is going to be a disaster.’
I pulled myself up and looked at the time, it was six thirty.
‘We’re supposed to be on holiday. Do you think we could sleep in just once past eight o’clock? Look don’t get stressed out about it. It’ll be like being back in teaching again, in front of a class. We agreed it was okay to have fun, didn’t we?’
She sent me a hard look. ‘I wish I’d never agreed to this. It’s okay for you, thinking it’s all just a bit of fun. To me it’s very worrying. It was all very well in the days when I was teaching a class of five-year-olds the alphabet, but I probably couldn’t even do that any more now that the new phonics have been introduced. All of my training and experience is out of date.’
‘Nonsense, don’t be so down on yourself. You’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘Remember how that talk to the WI went down? And the Dick’s Diary thing? You were great.’
‘The WI thing was to a room full of people I knew, and half of them were deaf,’ she said crossly. ‘Anyway, how was the show last night?’
‘Very good. That singer from Broadway was on, Carol Cusson. A cross between Shirley Bassey and Dolly Parton. I think her bosom arrived on stage five minutes before she did. And she certainly had a powerful voice. I think our drinks were shaking when she hit the high notes. Like in Jurassic Park when the T-Rex makes an appearance.’
I went to have a shower and took extra care with my hair, taming it from its usual chaos. And then I spent some time in front of the unforgiving bathroom mirror applying make-up.
My goodness, I looked old. Why couldn’t there be a dimmer switch or something. Hollywood actresses always say good lighting is important, I’d love to know what they mean. I’ve never found lighting that I would consider ‘good’ unless all the lights are switched off. And I definitely needed to visit the spa for a haircut. A quick morning glance in the hall mirror at home was one thing, staring at my own reflection for twenty minutes in a well-lit bathroom was quite another. Where did those wrinkles come from? And those sagging bits?
I smoothed my fingers under my jaw line. I had jowls? And had my neck always been that saggy? Perhaps I should have paid attention to the magazine experts years ago; cleanse, tone, moisturise. And use sunscreen. And don’t smoke or drink.
Instead, I had grabbed whatever was nearest when I washed my face, sometimes even coal tar soap, and only sometimes used a dab of body lotion on my face. I’d been known to wash my hair with washing up liquid. And I had smoked when I was younger, and used what was basically scented olive oil when it was sunny. Now it had all come back to haunt me.
I pulled a face at myself in the mirror and my mother grimaced back.