Chapter Nine #2
‘For goodness’ sake, Mother, will you please buy a Wi-Fi package and stop being so tight? You know that I need to make sure you are coping.’
‘I’m coping very well, thank you.’ Joy bit her lip. ‘You don’t need to keep checking on me.’
‘On the contrary, I do. You’re so introverted these days, I’m sure that you’re hardly venturing out of your cabin.’
‘Right now, I’m actually in a café on the Atlantic Ocean Road.’
‘Oh, well, that’s good.’ Susan sounded surprised.
Henry returned with coffee and handed Joy a mug. ‘It’s not too bad, would you like a biscuit?’ he asked, producing a packet from his pocket.
‘Thank you, Henry. You’re very kind.’ Joy cupped the phone under her ear and sipped the creamy hot coffee.
‘Henry?’ Susan exclaimed. ‘Who’s Henry?’
Joy didn’t want to embarrass herself by explaining, within earshot of Henry. ‘It’s lovely to hear from you, Susan, but I really have to go now.’ She looked at Henry and shrugged. ‘I’ll catch you later in the week, take care, dear,’ she said and ended the call.
‘Everything all right?’ Henry asked as he dunked his biscuit.
‘My daughter believes I am useless on my own and feels the need to badger me constantly to ensure I’m not confined to my cabin.’
‘I’m sure she means well.’
Joy sighed and stared at her coffee. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’m sure she does.’ Turning to Henry she asked, ‘Did you capture all the photos you wanted?’
‘Yes, I think I’ve got some good shots. I’ll put them in an album to share the trip with Audrey. She’s unable to travel and misses her holidays to interesting places.’
As they returned to the coach, Joy decided to question Henry. ‘You mentioned that Audrey can’t travel. Is it her health?’
‘Sadly, her health isn’t what it was, but it doesn’t stop her zest for life. Audrey is a very vibrant personality and involved in many societies, including the Friends of Skipton Castle, the church craft circle, and of course, the U3A.’
‘U3A?’ Joy asked as she nibbled her gingerbread.
‘University of the Third Age,’ Henry explained, ‘a wonderful organisation for retirees that offers many activities. Audrey co-hosts their creative art classes.’ He smiled fondly. ‘She still insists on wearing full makeup and lipstick before she goes out each day.’
What Henry didn’t mention was that elderly Audrey, fully made up, bore an uncanny resemblance to Bette Davies in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? A sight that never failed to startle the more sensitive students in creative art.
From Henry’s description, Joy, however, visualised Audrey quite differently in her faux-fur coat, makeup immaculate, mouth painted a defiant red. Audrey’s legs were probably long and stockinged, balanced on high heels that clicked as she walked.
Audrey, Joy thought, was full of surprises.
‘But the main reason Audrey doesn’t travel far,’ Henry continued, ‘is because she’s broke and doesn’t have the funds.’
Joy was curious. ‘I’m sorry to hear that about your friend. Er, what caused the financial blip?’ she asked, hoping she wasn’t prying too much.
‘Oh, it was a complete disaster. You hear about being conned out of money when in love, but Audrey fell for it hook, line, and sinker.’ Henry shook his head.
‘I feel so terribly sorry for her,’ he added, still munching on his gingerbread, with a faraway look in his eyes.
‘She’s such a generous and decent woman. ’
Joy nodded. She’d read the stories. Lonely women in later life sending money to supposed army veterans stranded overseas, or suave widowers claiming business troubles before vanishing with their victim’s savings.
Some men weren’t what they seemed, and appearances could lie.
Newspapers reported stories of vulnerable women being drawn to a kind voice, a smart uniform, messages that made them feel wanted, and even the idea of being loved.
Wise women had been taken in by carefully constructed illusions, falling for someone who never existed.
Perhaps Audrey had been one of those rising statistics of catfishing or a romance scam?
The poor woman had trusted – and trust, Joy thought, could be the most dangerous thing of all.
But Joy wondered why Henry hadn’t offered Audrey financial help. He couldn’t be too badly off if he could afford a cruise holiday, and surely his pension was comfortable. But at that moment, Ingrid called everyone back to the coach, and there was no time for further conversation.
Henry reluctantly returned to sit with Lucinda.
With everyone’s belongings in place, changing seats on the coach was impossible, and as they made their way to the next stop, Joy stared out of the window and reminded herself that she mustn’t judge Henry.
If Audrey hadn’t joined him on the cruise, there would be a reason, and it was kind and thoughtful of him to ensure he kept a visual record for his special friend to enjoy.
The journey along the Atlantic Ocean Road was stunning.
Joy felt suspended between land and sea as the coach negotiated the many twists and turns of the spectacular drive, along the eight-kilometre stretch that connected a series of islands via eight bridges.
The rugged, snowy landscape and inky black sea were framed by jagged rocks, and the sky was an ever-changing canvas of grey and blue.
When they slowed and pulled into a steep, narrow road leading to a hill, snow turned to sleet and a stark, steepled building appeared.
Kvernes Stave Church overlooked countryside that fell away to a wide-open fjord.
Ingrid led everyone to trudge over the sodden, snow-covered grass and when they entered the rustic old building, there was a collective shiver as hoods and hats were removed in a damp Mexican wave.
It felt colder inside than out, and guests huddled together on pews as Ingrid pointed out the baroque pulpit, an ancient choir screen, and an altarpiece dated 1475.
A local man spoke of the church’s history.
He played an accordion, then a recorder, and performed Norwegian folk songs.
The screeching reedy sound of the latter pierced through the freezing cold air, and Joy noted that the sisters, eyes scrunched and wrapped in blankets, held their fingers to their ears.
As guests left the church and boarded the coach, Joy saw Kenneth and Barbara dozing in their seats. A silver flask lay on Barbara’s lap, and Kenneth snored loudly.
Besides Joy, Judy snuggled her hands into her pockets, lowered her head, and closed her eyes. ‘Wake me up when we get back to Molde,’ she said, and in minutes, like the travellers at the front, she was sound asleep, too.
The snowy countryside flew by, and Joy thought about her return to the ship.
She looked forward to a hot shower and speculated on dinner.
Later, she might watch another show. Last night’s entertainment, Colours, in the Triton Lounge, had been excellent.
Being on her own wasn’t quite as overwhelming as Joy had imagined.
She’d expected to feel lost and adrift without a partner, but there was something to be said for moving at her own pace.
To the backdrop of Judy’s gentle snores, Joy thought of her retirement.
Being at home with Tom had been all-consuming.
He was always there. Insistently so. Hovering beside her through every task, every shopping trip and even her quiet moments when sewing.
To others, it appeared as devotion, but to Joy, it had another name.
Her confidence had drained, and hobbies she’d enjoyed and the interests that gave her pleasure, such as her Women’s Institute meetings, had faded from her life as Tom gradually took up more space. Joy missed the woman she once was.
The coach travelled on, and Joy thought of Susan and her insistence that Joy take the cruise.
Joy knew that her daughter was right. The holiday was giving her a reason to get up and see what the day might offer, and there was so much to do; she would be foolish not to join in and make memories, even if they were on her own.
If Joy had gone first, she wondered if Tom would have travelled alone, picking up the scattered threads of life and stitching them into something whole again.
Joy’s memories slipped by like a reel in a film, and she knew that some questions would remain unanswered.
Still, after so much solitude, the cruise was just what she needed and with a wistful smile, Joy settled further into her seat and, to the rhythm of the coach, let her thoughts drift away as she lazily watched the wintery world go by.