Chapter Eight
Live without excuses and chart your course with no regret.
In their comfortable suite, Leticia rummaged through the drawers in their bedroom, searching for the thermal underwear she’d purchased for the cruise.
Jim, on the other hand, was already dressed and ready for the day.
His expression was serious as he sat by the window, reading the Daily Times.
He wore his favourite sweater, a thick Shetland wool with an intricate cable stitch that Leticia had lovingly knitted for the trip.
‘I enjoyed the show last night,’ Jim said.
‘Fabulous entertainment,’ Leticia replied, ‘so clever to theme dance with colourful song titles and costumes.’ As she pushed a pair of Bounce Buster Support Briefs to one side, Leticia thought of the talented troupe who’d entertained the audience as they performed to songs that reflected their routine.
‘Purple Rain’, ‘Yellow Submarine’, ‘Black is Black’ and ‘Goldfinger’ to name but a few.
‘I’m glad we’re not going on the snowshoe walk today,’ Jim said, ‘it’s a four-hour hike over uneven ground with no facilities.
’ He studied the page. ‘No good for us, my darling, but I expect the participants will enjoy the “snow-covered landscapes, unique flora and fauna, and tales of centuries-old local traditions”’, Jim quoted, ‘and no doubt a lunch will be thrown in with authentic dishes from the Molde region.’
Leticia smiled. She stood in her bra and knickers, having located long thermal leggings and a matching top. ‘Now, should I wear two layers of these, or just the one?’ she asked.
‘Well …’ Jim turned to study his wife, ‘as we will be on a coach, then a ferry and finally a train, I think you can play it safe with just one layer underneath. You know you get overheated.’
‘Fair comment,’ Leticia said. She dug her toes into the thick fabric and tugged the garment over her legs.
‘Steady now,’ Jim grinned, ‘you’ll get me going in that sexy outfit.’
‘Sexy?’ Leticia raised her eyebrows as she reached for the top. ‘Jim, it’s thermal undies, not lacey lingerie.’
Jim smiled as Leticia pulled the vest over her head.
‘Lucky for you, I didn’t pack the fleecy knickers covered in snowmen,’ she mumbled through the fabric, ‘or you’d be unstoppable.’
Jim held up his hands in mock surrender as he watched Leticia manipulate her full breasts into place. When her head appeared, the braids were dislodged and covered her face, and they both burst into laughter.
‘Phew, that was hard work,’ Leticia said as she zipped up her fleece-lined trousers and wriggled her body. ‘I’ll need aircon on the coach despite the temperature outside.’
In the bathroom, Leticia stood by the his-and-her sinks and organised her hair under a snood, then began applying her makeup.
As she worked, she thought of the forthcoming excursion.
Assisting Jim onto the coach, the ferry, and finally the train would be challenging.
But as she applied eyeliner, Leticia knew they were both determined that Jim’s illness wouldn’t stop him from enjoying his bucket list while he could still walk, even for a short distance.
This trip had been one of the items on that list.
Metastatic spinal cord compression was a bitch of an illness to beat, and a battle that Leticia knew Jim wouldn’t win.
She pursed her lips to apply gloss and remembered the shock of learning that despite having treated Jim’s prostate cancer, the disease had spread to his spine, causing problems with mobility.
As the condition worsened, in Jim’s case, ultimately it would lead to paralysis and death.
Now, things were stable but not without problems, and Leticia knew Jim would deteriorate when The Beast, as they called it, returned.
As if the man hadn’t had more than enough grief in his life, she thought as she moved away from the mirror.
Smoothing her top over her hips, Leticia remembered the night before and the dinner conversation when Henry enquired about her job.
Henry seemed such a decent sort of man, but Leticia hadn’t wanted to dim the tone of the evening by relating their history and, of course, how she and Jim had met.
There was a time and place for everything, and some memories were too sacred to be casually discussed.
Now, as she readied herself for the day, she remembered how Jim had rested his hand on her knee as they listened to Joy talk about Tom.
Leticia had chosen not to speak of her own long working days at the hospital, to the backdrop hum of machines and the little girl she’d cared for in intensive care.
The little girl with too small limbs and eyes too wise for her years.
A single father sat beside her every day, hollow with exhaustion, clinging to hope as he held his daughter’s tiny hand, willing her to live.
The father was Jim. The child was named Grace, and Grace’s mother had died in childbirth.
Strange things happen in hospitals, especially at night when the corridors are quiet, and the rhythmic beeping of monitors is soothing.
Grief walks through the wards openly, but there are times when much-needed kindness can be found.
Jim had responded to Leticia’s kindness, and she made time for him long after Grace had gone.
Now, as Leticia stood in the doorway and stared at Jim as he read the Daily Times, she thought that there had been no rush or drama in their developing relationship.
Just two people, who’d been brought together in unbearable circumstances.
It wasn’t a lightning strike. Their love, a healing of a different kind, came quietly and steadily, and Leticia had never looked back.
Jim was her world, he was her rock, and she knew that she’d love him unconditionally, always and forever.
The modest, intelligent man, who ran one of the most successful IT companies in the country, had the sense to sell up as his condition worsened, and now they had the freedom to travel and do as they please.
‘I’m ready!’ Leticia sang out. She placed her hands in the air and, moving her hips suggestively, began to groove through their spacious suite until she came to Jim’s side.
‘Hi sexy,’ she cooed, running her fingers through his hair and planting kisses all over his face.
‘Are you ready for the Rauma Railway Rock?’
‘Oh, how I love you,’ Jim breathed as he returned Leticia’s kisses. ‘Take me anywhere you want to go.’
‘Well, if we don’t get a wriggle on, we’ll miss the coach, and with limited daylight hours we need to get going.’ Leticia grinned and, taking Jim’s hands, helped him to his feet.
With love oozing between them Leticia carefully led Jim to the door, where his wheelchair, piled high with outerwear, was waiting.
‘Let’s go and chase some fjords,’ Leticia said as she gently guided Jim. ‘I can’t wait to see where this wonderful day will take us.’
For the Montgomery Joneses, the wonderful day hadn’t started as well as it had for Jim and Leticia.
After a fitful evening of seasickness, like no other sickness the well-travelled couple had experienced, they’d spent a restless night tossing and turning on their king-sized bed, praying that the sea would calm and sleep become possible.
When sleep finally took over, they were woken abruptly by Simon’s voice booming through their suite.
‘What the hell!’ Kenneth shouted out as Simon began his morning greeting. ‘It’s the middle of the bloody night!’
Pulling herself into an upright position, Barbara peeled off her eye mask and blinked, then focused on the clock by the bed with one open eye. ‘Buggeration!’ she said. ‘It’s getting late, and we must have breakfast before our trip.’
Swinging her legs slowly and placing a bed-socked foot gingerly on the deep carpet pile, Barbara tested the floor level before she stood up. ‘All fine, Kenny, the sea is calm, you can rise.’
Barbara stared at her husband and sighed. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be sleeping, despite Simon droning on about the delights of Molde to be had that day.
‘Come on.’ Barbara reached out to shake Kenneth’s leg. ‘We’ve docked. The ship is in Molde, get up!’
‘Mohl-duh,’ Kenneth mumbled.
Barbara made her way to the bathroom. She was determined to get first dibs at her ablutions before Kenneth polluted the air. As she opened the door, she sighed.
Kenneth’s spare toupee lay beside the sink.
It reminded her of a small, bedraggled animal that had been abandoned and left to wither.
No wonder the housekeeper had been hysterical when she’d arrived to turn down the room on their first evening at sea.
They’d been lucky that they hadn’t been charged for a visit by the ship’s pest control, and it had taken several euros to calm the housekeeper down and convince her not to repeat what she’d seen, as Barbara explained to the horrified woman that the ‘unidentifiable creature’ was none other than Kenneth’s hairpiece.
Barbara washed her face and reached for a towel.
Holding it against her face, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Kenneth’s dreadful aftershave clung to the fabric; the spicy aroma was overpowering and made her eyes water.
She was sorely tempted to tip the entire bottle into the sink, but knowing that it was his favourite, Barbara restrained herself.
Now, she could hear Kenneth moving about.
Good, he was up, and she didn’t have to raise the dead after the dreadful night they’d experienced.
Barbara had forgotten to pack anti-sickness meds, and Kenneth had been none too pleased that they had needed to call out a medic during the night to administer medication to them both.
‘Could pay for a new hip for the cost of these tablets,’ he’d complained.
Thank God the tablets had worked and calmed things down, Barbara wearily thought as she scrubbed her teeth. But it was a pity that the same couldn’t be said for the terrible sea swell that had kept them awake all night.
Barbara picked up the toupee with two fingers and opened the bathroom door to see Kenneth waiting on the other side.
‘Hei! All ship-shape and tidy, old girl?’ he asked.
‘Don’t forget this,’ Barbara said.
‘Tusen takk.’ Kenneth nodded and snatched the offending hairpiece.
Barbara sighed. Kenneth could be such a tosser at times. She objected to being called ‘old girl’ and was sure that the many women whom he chose to address in that manner felt the same way too.
Wandering through their lounge, Barbara was about to style her hair when she noticed a note had been pushed under the door. Stooping, she studied the handwritten envelope.
Mr and Mrs Montgomery Jones – Molde Fjords Trip
Ripping it open, Barbara read the contents, feeling her face grow hot as she realised that the exclusive excursion that they’d booked for the day had been cancelled, due to unforeseen circumstances. A replacement excursion had been reserved for them. The note read:
We trust that you will accept our sincere apologies for the inconvenience.
Enjoy an interesting and rewarding day out with other passengers on the Atlantic Road Trip. The coach will leave at 9.30am.
‘Atlantic Road Trip! A coach?’ Barbara gasped. ‘And it’s leaving at nine-thirty? Kenny will have a fit!’
Fumbling for her vanity bag, Barbara extracted a small flask of brandy and took a large gulp. Moving back to the bathroom, she tentatively tapped on the door.
‘Kenny?’ Barbara whispered. ‘Sweetheart? There’s been a change of plan …’