Chapter Eighteen
Gliding gently through winter’s fjords, the ship whispers secrets to the silent snowy world.
The Emerald Dream glided gracefully into the fjords south of Troms?, the next port of call, which would be reached by late afternoon.
Captain Lindholm took to the PA and assured passengers of a smooth voyage ahead, adding that there would be a pause mid-fjord at midday, to allow everyone to soak in the beauty of the Norwegian winter landscape reflected in the mystical blue twilight at that time of day.
On the promenade deck, the Deck Mile Club were out for their morning routine.
Jack and Judy now took charge together, the pair guiding the group confidently past early risers who stood by the rails to let them pass.
It was clear to all that a closeness had begun between the two that went beyond the daily exercise.
‘Best foot forward!’ Judy instructed, pausing to gather any stragglers at the back who’d taken the liberty of pausing during the walk to catch their breath.
‘Plenty of time for dilly-dallying once your heart rate recovers. Let’s move!
’ She clapped twice, then spun on her heel to power off again with Jack, leaving no room for resistance.
Henry was in his cabin when the Deck Mile Club appeared outside.
Opening the sliding door, he heard Judy issuing instructions.
With a full day ahead on the ship, he knew she would also be asserting her authority at the book club, and, if they’d scheduled another meeting, God help the Women’s Institute members too.
Judy would oversee both, whether they liked it or not.
He waited for the group to pass, then taking in the icy air, Henry’s breath formed soft clouds as he exhaled.
The fjord was silent save for the low hum of the ship’s engine, and time seemed to suspend itself, the stillness thrilling as he absorbed the grandeur of what he imagined beyond the darkness.
Henry felt like a mere speck of humanity in the shadow of something ancient and vast. If the mountains could speak, what centuries of stories they would whisper to the historian over the water?
Fascinating tales carved out of stone and not written down on parchment.
Henry remembered Audrey’s tales of Norse folklore and fables of trolls lurking in the mountains. It was easy to see how such myths took root in such a mysterious landscape. Henry didn’t believe in trolls, but in that moment, he felt a shiver of wonder and thought that anything was possible.
‘Mr Henry!’ Startled, Henry turned to see Jennifer at the doorway of his cabin. She held up her hand and waved. ‘You get cold out there,’ Jennifer called out, ‘put coat on!’ She reached into the wardrobe for his jacket and scarf.
Realising that Jennifer was about to tidy his cabin, Henry had no wish to get in her way. Nor did he intend to engage in conversation; their chats were starting to feel a little too familiar.
‘Splendid,’ Henry said and stepped forward to place his arms in the jacket sleeves as Jennifer tucked the scarf carefully around his neck.
‘You take pictures?’
‘Er, no …’ Henry was hesitant. ‘It’s too dark, and I can’t take any photographs for Audrey until there’s some light at midday.’
Jennifer scowled. Before Henry had time to move, she swivelled around, whipped out a phone from her apron pocket and took a selfie of them both. ‘You send Miss Audrey our picture,’ she said, ‘better than silly mountains.’
Jennifer held up her phone, and Henry realised that she wanted to exchange numbers. Flustered, he patted his pockets. ‘I don’t have my mobile … and I should let you get on.’ Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and, with a vague wave, quickly moved off to hurry along the promenade deck.
‘See you later, Mr Henry,’ Jennifer called after him.
Henry thought he caught a trace of amusement in Jennifer’s voice.
Puzzled, he checked the buttons of his coat, adjusted his scarf, then ran his fingers through his windblown hair.
‘All in order,’ he muttered and opened the door to the forward deck where a number of passengers, including the Deck Mile Club, had begun a floodlit game of shuffleboard.
But the moment he stepped forward, Henry looked down, then froze and uttered a curse. ‘Hellfire,’ he hissed.
Henry was still wearing his slippers.
Joy sat in her cabin, her head tilted slightly as she studied her painting from Lucinda’s art class.
It’s quite good! She felt a quiet satisfaction.
There was something gratifying about this small creation that she would take home as a keepsake, a reminder that this cruise had given her something of herself.
Tracing a finger over the hardened surface of the acrylic paint, she realised that Lucinda had been clever to suggest violets and greys to shadow the mountains, colours that captured not just the mood, but a sense of serenity woven into the landscape scene.
Joy looked forward to finding a place to display the painting at home, knowing that it would stay there for as long as she wished.
She set the painting carefully to one side and then picked up the Daily Times. The schedule was packed with activities for the day, but it was the evening excursion which she’d pre-booked that caught her eye.
A cruise highlight, it was hellishly expensive, but the cost would hopefully be worth it.
An Evening with the Sámis promised a warm welcome from a local reindeer-herding family, and Joy couldn’t wait to soak up the culture and meet their stock of over one hundred and fifty reindeer.
But first, a whole day at sea stretched ahead.
After six days on the ship, Joy was beginning to feel the tight knot of tension she carried start to loosen.
Thank goodness she hadn’t had a reoccurrence of her panic attack.
The ship had become a sanctuary where she felt her burdens ease.
She’d been helped by a newly formed friendship with Leticia and was beginning to hope that they might stay in touch after the cruise had ended.
Henry, too, was proving to be great company, and perhaps, Joy admitted to herself, something more than that.
She was surprised to realise that she found him attractive, not in a dashing, movie-star sort of way, but something more enduring.
There was kindness in his manner, the way he was interested in what she had to say, and Henry had a definite twinkle in his eye.
Joy couldn’t remember when she felt this sort of pull.
She must have done with Tom, but that was decades ago, a faded memory from pages of another life.
But then there was Audrey. Henry’s friend and the woman he spoke so fondly of with a tenderness that needed no explanation. Joy was sure that Audrey would be counting the days until Henry returned. Besides, it wasn’t as if Henry had shown the slightest interest in Joy.
Not in that way.
Joy sighed and thought of Susan and yet more calls.
She’d reluctantly given in to the Wi-Fi package, if only to ease Susan’s fears that Joy hadn’t jumped overboard.
Now, with the connection open, Susan had access to her mother and made sure to check in relentlessly.
Not that Joy always picked up. Susan had been her daddy’s girl, and their closeness often made Joy feel like an outsider.
But she was grateful for her daughter’s concern.
It reminded her that she wouldn’t be entirely alone when she returned, and the calls and occasional visits would continue, keeping their fragile family bond alive.
There was a loud knock, and Joy turned. ‘Coming!’ she called out.
A representative from guest services stood in the doorway and handed Joy an envelope. ‘A message for you, Mrs Bradley,’ they said.
Puzzled, Joy went to her bed and sat down to read it.
She stared at the envelope, letting her fingertips drift over the writing, lingering on the letters.
Sliding her finger under the flap, she pulled out a sheet of duck-egg blue paper, its edges trimmed in soft gold.
A crest of a rearing stag encircled by the wording: Dunmore Hall, County Kildare.
As Joy studied the elegant looping script, she realised that it was an invitation from Lady Eleanor.
‘Good heavens,’ Joy exclaimed, ‘I’ve had more invitations in two days than I’ve received in a year.’
Lady Eleanor wrote that it had been a pleasure to meet Joy at the captain’s table and that she would very much like the chance to become better acquainted. Would Joy consider joining her for a small Christmas Eve soirée in the Royal Emerald Suite? A plus-one was most welcome.
So, it was official. Margaret had been right.
Lady Eleanor genuinely wanted Joy’s company.
A smile crept across Joy’s lips, but moments later, panic set in.
What on earth was she going to wear? She couldn’t possibly ask Leticia to lend a gown again.
Nothing she owned felt remotely worthy of such an event.
But then, Joy remembered that there was an exclusive boutique onboard where one could book a consultation with a personal stylist. Joy couldn’t imagine the cost of such an experience, but with a whole day at sea, wouldn’t it be fun to make an appointment and see if there might be anything remotely suitable for a schoolteacher from Lancaster to wear?
Before she could change her mind, Joy picked up the phone on her desk.
‘Hello?’ she said nervously. ‘I’d like to be connected to the boutique …’