Chapter Seventeen
The best part of any voyage isn’t the destination; it’s the company you keep on the journey.
Dinner that evening was good-humoured, with the artists still buoyed up from their impromptu boozy painting party and the chaotic whirlwind that was Lucinda.
Leticia recounted the scene in colourful detail to those at table twenty-eight who’d missed all the fun, and Jim, Kenneth, and Barbara were all wide-eyed.
‘Lucinda had finished the wine and was on her third cigarette when Simon appeared,’ Leticia recounted, as their appetisers were served.
‘He gently suggested that Lucinda save her cigarettes for when the ship was in port.’ Leticia smiled at Jhamille, who hovered with her prosecco.
‘He told her that onshore, she was welcome to disembark and smoke to her heart’s content. ’
‘Apparently, she’d disabled the smoke alarms in the art studio,’ Henry added as he tucked into a towering shrimp cocktail.
‘Simon didn’t want to upset the guests and to be fair, we were still rocking out moves to the seventies tunes,’ Leticia explained. ‘But I heard him tell Lucinda that smoking was against the rules and he was tired of telling her off.’
Henry chuckled. ‘That was all very well, but Lucinda had flung herself over a bench and lay back as though posing for a painting. She scoffed at Simon’s polite request and declared that he was nothing more than a “deck detective”, and couldn’t a girl have just a little bit of fun?’
‘I hope Lucinda’s days at sea don’t come to an end,’ Leticia concluded. ‘I thought she was entertaining and a great art tutor.’
‘The woman is off her head, if you ask me,’ Kenneth rudely added.
‘No one was asking you,’ Barbara snapped, secretly wishing that she had joined the art class and met the wine-guzzling artist herself.
Henry turned to Kenneth. ‘How was your day?’ he asked.
‘Oh splendid, splendid.’ Kenneth assured. ‘Naturally exhausting for some, but for Babs and me, it was exhilarating. There’s nothing like the crunch of ice underfoot as you hike up a twilight-lit mountain track. Excellent exercise and a true Arctic adventure!’ he exclaimed and raised his glass.
Leticia thought Barbara looked sceptical and wondered if the only crunch of ice she’d experienced was cubes dropping into her cocktail glass when they returned to the ship.
‘Did you enjoy the ice fishing and catch any Arctic char?’ Henry pursued.
Kenneth was now on a roll, and as he spoke, he topped up his glass. ‘Sitting by lantern light, on a thick slab of ice that groans every so often, you realise that the tiny round holes before you are a window into the dangerous world below.’
‘But did you catch any fish?’ Leticia asked.
‘Well, those little devils are elusive, but I soon had a few tugs on my line and was netting them like a cat pouncing on a mouse.’ He thoughtfully swirled his glass.
‘But of course, you haven’t lived until you’ve battled a twelve-pound brown trout in the shadow of the Andes with nothing but a bamboo rod. ’
Struggling to recall Kenneth’s fishing experiences and wondering if his sudden poetic turn of phrase was something he had read in a wildlife magazine, Barbara studied her husband, her fork paused on its journey to her mouth, eyebrows raised.
‘All in all, the most expensive excursion of the day was worth every penny,’ Kenneth bragged. He was oblivious to Barbara’s audible sigh and had forgotten her comment as they left the coach, that she’d hated every minute and had never felt so cold.
At that moment, Margaret, the former equestrian champion, made her way to their table.
‘I say, it’s Joy, isn’t it? I thought I recognised you, especially as you wore such a stunning gown for the captain’s dinner last night.
’ Gripping the back of Joy’s chair, she leaned in and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.
‘The captain is divorced, you know,’ she gave Joy a gentle nudge, ‘and stranger things have happened on a cruise.’
Joy smiled and introduced the newcomer. ‘Everyone, this is Margaret.’
‘Cracking night wasn’t it, such entertaining and enlightening company,’ Margaret continued, ‘and I have to say that none of us had any idea. You really outshone us all.’
All eyes turned to Joy, who suddenly appeared self-conscious.
‘Oh, no,’ Joy spoke up, ‘you were the star of the show with your equestrian achievements, and it was a pleasure to be in your company.’ Joy swiftly diverted the conversation from herself. ‘This lady is an Olympic gold medallist.’
Margaret dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand. Searching their faces, she recognised Kenneth and Barbara from the snowshoe and ice fishing excursion earlier that day.
Barbara, who’d sat up straight when she heard that the captain was single, didn’t say a word. But the slight arch of her brow and the thoughtful sip of her wine suggested that she’d quietly filed the information away.
‘Hello again,’ Margaret said, ‘bit of a rumpus with your hole today.’ She gave a nod to Barbara.
‘Our guide thought you were a magician pulling out a quart of Grey Goose while everyone else caught char.’ Margaret laughed.
‘I thought it was a shame they confiscated it, though; the Norwegians are quite strict about alcohol out of hours and away from a licensed bar.’
Barbara’s face burned, and she glared at Margaret.
Bored senseless by fishing and frozen to the bone, Barbara had taken out her illicit vodka and dangled it in her ice hole, banking on the science that alcohol doesn’t freeze.
Her plan had gone well until the guide caught her red-handed mid-swig and told her off.
Now, attempting to salvage her dignity, Barbara sat upright and tapped her nails on the table to ensure her dazzling diamond rings caught the light.
But Margaret was oblivious to Barbara’s show of wealth. ‘Shame about the weather too, and the excursion being cut short. We didn’t even get any money back.’ Margaret slapped Kenneth playfully on his back. ‘Despite your protests,’ she said with a grin, ‘you told them exactly what you thought!’
Barbara closed her eyes, willing away the memory of Kenneth bickering with the guide. The old fool made such a spectacle of himself at times.
‘Anyway, mustn’t keep you,’ Margaret said cheerfully and turned to leave. ‘Don’t forget Joy, cocktails and canapés in Lady Eleanor’s suite on Christmas Eve, for her soirée. Her ladyship rather took a shine to you.’
Barbara felt a fresh arrow of humiliation shoot through her carefully guarded pride. Lady Eleanor? Barbara stared resentfully at Joy. The titled woman had been topping Barbara’s must-meet list and so far, she’d failed to engage.
‘You know Lady Eleanor Fitzgerald?’ Barbara glared at Joy.
‘She’s a charming lady but doesn’t join in with many activities other than socialising for dinner with the captain and enjoying the evening entertainment,’ Joy politely enlightened Barbara.
Leticia turned to Joy with a glint in her eye.
‘And you’ve been invited to her soirée on Christmas Eve, Joy, how fabulous.
You simply must go and then report back to tell us all about the Royal Emerald Suite.
It’s the finest accommodation in the fleet and I’d love to know.
’ She paused, then added with honeyed sweetness, ‘Wouldn’t you love to know too, Barbara? ’
Barbara’s face stiffened. She had been out-suite-ed and out-soirée-ed. The Dream Suite that she shared with Kenneth, despite its opulence, paled when compared to Lady Eleanor’s accommodation and Barbara would flog her last diamond for an invite to the soirée.
Kenneth, sensing his wife’s distress, reached for her glass. ‘Top up, old girl?’ he asked.
Henry picked up the conversation and was soon engrossed in a cheerful account of his walking tour of Sortland and describing the merits of the town.
As Henry spoke, Leticia studied Joy.
The woman was like a butterfly, slowly emerging from its chrysalis.
Gone were the anxious glances, and Joy seemed lighter now.
With no more panic attacks to speak of, it was clear that the cruise was suiting her.
Her face glowed as she listened to Henry, laughing gently when he described their snowball fight.
A colourful silk scarf lay on Joy’s shoulders, which brightened her modest navy dress.
With delicately applied makeup, Leticia thought that Joy looked elegant and poised, and it was clear that she’d enjoyed her time with Henry that day.
As she watched their easy rapport, Leticia wondered, yet again, where things were going.
Stranger things happened at their time of life, especially at sea, where the confines of a ship often made for the most unexpected connections.
But there was something that puzzled Leticia. Margaret’s offhand comment that Joy had ‘outshone’ them all lingered. Beneath the sensible clothes and modest appearance, was there more to Joy than she let on? Leticia’s eyes narrowed and she wondered if more was to come.
After all, the sea had a habit of revealing things, and while they were on the cruise, if it did, Leticia hoped that she’d be there to watch it all unfold.
After dinner, guests gathered in the Triton Lounge, where the Emerald Dream string quartet entertained the audience with their fusion of classical and contemporary tunes.
Stepping onto the stage, the musicians began their performance with a graceful medley, and familiar songs from beloved musicals such as West Side Story, South Pacific, and The Sound of Music floated through the auditorium.
A gentle hum rippled as guests, filled with nostalgia, quietly sang along.
Barbara sat beside her husband in the centre of the front row.
Kenneth had dozed off, his chin resting on his chest and hair flopping over his face.
Although she hoped that no one had noticed, Barbara couldn’t entirely blame him.
Kenneth was exhausted from playing the part of a rugged adventurer all day and then overindulging at dinner.
Glancing sideways, Barbara hoped that his gentle snores wouldn’t swell and compete with the musicians, but everyone was away with The Sound of Music and even Julie Andrews might have forgiven Kenneth for not joining in with ‘Edelweiss’.
When there was a break in the music, Barbara thought about Joy, her dismay growing and bubbling away like an itch she couldn’t scratch.
It had been her intention from the beginning of the cruise to befriend Lady Eleanor.
The woman had a title and enough pedigree to elevate Barbara’s standing at the Ladies Circle and golf club back home, and Barbara had already rehearsed the stories she would share.
From drinks in Lady Eleanor’s suite and chumminess over canapés and, hopefully, a photo or two casually displayed on her phone and shown to girlfriends while waiting to tee off: ‘My best friend Lady Eleanor and I …’
But Joy had upstaged her, and Barbara could barely hide her frustration.
Not only had Joy received an invitation to the captain’s table but now she was on Lady Eleanor’s guest list!
How had Barbara been so overlooked? She’d sent two invitations, via guest services, to Lady Eleanor, asking her to join them for cocktails in their suite, but there had been no reply. Not even a polite decline.
Barbara seethed beneath her diamonds as the music started up again.
As they approached the end of their show, the trio explained that they would play a piece entitled ‘The Prodigal Son’. The haunting melody from the Philippines began with a single mournful note and as the lament played, Barbara suddenly felt a stab of sadness.
The cruise was not going as she’d planned.
Used to being Lady Bountiful in her own environment, Barbara couldn’t help but feel that she was constantly being outshone.
Despite her diamonds and show of wealth, she was being eclipsed by personalities onboard who had no right to outshine her.
Take Joy, for example, Barbara thought as the trio continued their sad lament.
The woman, a mere schoolteacher, was somehow beginning to take centre stage.
People seemed genuinely charmed by her, and it was infuriating.
Barbara wondered if the grieving widow was a deliberate act, a ruse to wriggle her way to the captain’s table and befriend Lady Eleanor for some ulterior motive – perhaps Joy fancied her chances with the eligible captain?
And what was all the intrigue mentioned by Margaret’s offhand remark about Joy having ‘outshone’ them all? The phrase had lodged in Barbara’s mind like a splinter. Something didn’t sit right, she thought as she raised her hands to applaud the trio, ensuring that her diamonds caught the light.
As the entertainment finished with a rousing tune and everyone clapped along, Barbara caressed her necklace.
Something had to be done. If Joy, the so-called grieving widow, was playing a game, Barbara would not be relegated to the wings.
She intended to join in, and one thing was for sure. Barbara would win.
Kenneth suddenly jolted awake and appeared bemused, blinking furiously. ‘What … where …’ he mumbled, his voice thick with confusion as he violently shook his head and looked around.
Barbara shot out a hand to steady him, fearing that his toupee might at any moment land at the trio’s feet.
‘It’s all right, Kenny dear,’ she cooed, ‘you were having a little nap. Nothing to worry about, I’m here.
’ She subtly nudged his hairpiece back into place, and Kenneth gave a grunt of approval as he slowly came back into the room.
Barbara made a mental note to limit his wine consumption at dinner tomorrow.
A couple of glasses of red and certainly no brandy.
She needed her husband compos mentis if she was to regain her status on this ship.
It was bad enough being upstaged by a schoolteacher, and now she had Kenneth snoring through the entertainment with his wretched hairpiece threatening a solo act.
No! Barbara vowed as she rose and took Kenneth’s arm to help him to his feet.
From tomorrow, they would both be on form and, more importantly, sober.
Barbara had a sabotage to plan. She tugged on the straps of her sequined top, ensuring plenty of cleavage, and lifted her chin proudly as they made their way from the lounge.
The game, Barbara decided, was on.