Chapter Twenty-Five
The sea stirs slow, the Arctic winds blow, as Christmas cruisers gently go …
In their Dream Suite, the Montgomery Joneses were preparing for the highlight of their cruise, and Barbara sat at her dressing table holding a thin, cream-coloured card.
A beatific smile lit up her face as her fingers touched the lettering for the umpteenth time while she gazed at the printed words.
Kenneth, lying alongside, stretched full length on their king-sized bed, yawned as he peered over his reading glasses to study his wife.
‘For goodness’ sake, Babs, put the damn thing down. Anyone would think it was a love letter from George Clooney, from the way you’re swooning over that invitation.’
‘In my mind, Kenny dear, it might as well be,’ Barbara sighed happily, ‘I’ve waited all week to get this.’
‘I told you it would arrive,’ Kenneth said and peered at his fingernails. Reaching for a file, he began to neaten a rough edge. ‘The captain was just waiting for the right occasion, and you couldn’t have anything finer than the formal Christmas meal.’
Barbara turned slowly to look at her husband, who was more stupid than she thought. Did he really have no idea that his wife had engineered the invitation through stealth and careful negotiation?
She stared at the man whom she married decades ago.
Barbara often wondered if he truly knew her, or if he ever had.
Kenneth had turned a blind eye to her ‘dalliances’ over the years, as she had of his.
Barbara had been discreet with a golf club pro in Zurich, unlike Kenneth, whose clumsy lingering glances over waitresses half his age were irritating to say the least. But nothing was as humiliating as his affair with the yoga instructor in Hong Kong, which had put his back out for the best part of a year.
Long ago, they had settled on an arrangement that included mutual tolerance, but if truth be told, despite his air of arrogance, misplaced contentment, and total reliance on his wife, Barbara still had some feeling for the silly old devil, and she knew that he felt the same.
When the chips were down, Kenny didn’t flinch.
He always stood by her side, through thick and thin, and that counted for a lot.
When she accidentally had too much to drink or made a social faux pas, he defended her honour with a loyalty that touched her.
She studied him now and sighed as he flicked the nail file to the floor, closed his eyes, and fiddled with the waistband of an appalling pair of underpants that he refused to part with.
His toupee was lopsided and in need of a good comb, and his once proud body that had given in to good living, appeared flabby and mottled in the bright cabin lights.
‘Time to find your trousers, dear,’ Barbara said gently, ‘and we should dress to impress.’
Turning back to the mirror, she adjusted her sequinned top and eased on her diamonds.
She leaned in to study her face, adding a touch more blusher and highlighter to her cheeks.
As she fluttered her eyelashes, she saw the determination in her eyes.
Polished and poised, Barbara was perfect, as she reached for a jewelled headband and secured it in place.
Shuffling about behind her, Kenneth had begun to dress.
‘Not the Union Jack!’ she called out.
Kenneth muttered to himself then set about replacing the waistcoat, peering into the wardrobe to dig out a bright scarlet cummerbund.
Barbara reached up to straighten Kenneth’s matching bow tie, and as her little fingers poked and tugged, she nodded. So often she’d coached him through multiple charity dinners, and many formal occasions, and today, Barbara prayed that he would behave and do her proud.
Taking his arm, Barbara turned to the mirror and smiled. ‘Showtime, darling,’ she said. ‘The captain’s Christmas table awaits!’
Joy closed her cabin door and decided to take a circuitous route as she made her way through the ship to the restaurant, soaking in the Christmas cheer.
Twinkling lights guided her, and a faint medley of carols and festive songs played from performers strategically placed in cocktail bars and lounges.
Crew members were jovial, with Santa hats and smiles, and passengers paused to take photos by glittering trees and snowy displays.
Gripped in her hand, Joy held a carrier containing small gifts that she’d wrapped for her table companions, and when she reached the threshold of the Terrace Restaurant, she paused to smooth her dress and straighten her shoulders.
‘Mrs Bradley,’ the ma?tre d’ came forward. ‘Happy Christmas! Allow me to escort you.’
As Joy entered the softly lit room, her steps slowed as she approached table twenty-eight. She blinked once, then again.
Leticia, looking beautiful in bright emerald-green, raised both hands and waved. At the same time, Henry, resplendent in his formal wear, stood up the moment he saw Joy. Jim, with Leticia’s assistance, raised himself courteously and smiled his welcome.
To Joy’s amazement, on either side of Henry sat Lady Eleanor and Margaret, who both grinned in greeting.
‘But where are …’ Joy began.
‘Barbara and Kenneth?’ Margaret called out. ‘They’ve got their bums on plush seats and blagged a place at the captain’s table,’ she grinned. ‘Lady Eleanor and I should be down there, but we’ve swapped places. Fait accompli!’
Margaret didn’t mention that after Barbara had accosted her with spiteful gossip about Joy, she had been only too happy to put the dreadful little woman in her place, warning that if Barbara hoped to gain any favour with Lady Eleanor, she must first stop her malicious tongue or Margaret would see to it that any chance of a relationship with Lady Eleanor was derailed entirely.
All eyes peered over the upper tier to stare down at the elevated table in the centre of the room below, where a party of ten smartly dressed guests and senior crew circled the captain.
As though sensing the stares, Barbara’s bejewelled head shot up.
Having switched place cards, she was seated next to the captain.
She wriggled to get closer then, with a smug smile towards her former table companions, raised her glass and gave a wave.
Jhamille pulled out a chair for Joy, and Margaret’s voice boomed out. ‘Settle your rear in the saddle and we can get the party started.’
‘Gorgeous gown,’ Leticia whispered as Joy sat beside her. ‘Gold is a perfect choice for Christmas Day.’
‘I wondered if it was too much,’ Joy confided, ‘and almost took it back.’
‘You can never have too much glam.’ Leticia patted Joy’s hand, then held up her finger to flash her new ring.
‘Wow, that’s stunning,’ Joy said as she studied the beautiful ice diamond that gleamed against Leticia’s dark skin. ‘It looks fabulous on you.’
‘Divine dress, my dear,’ Lady Eleanor commented from Joy’s left. Her smile was wide, and a bold red sweep of rouge lipstick clung to her teeth, undetected by her Ladyship, but impossible to miss.
‘A toast!’ Margaret announced. ‘To Christmas at sea and glorious company!’
Glass clinked and laughter bubbled as Margaret told a horsey story about an over-keen Olympian who was so inebriated they’d mounted the wrong horse and performed an entire routine on a disqualified animal. ‘He still scored higher than he did in Tokyo, such a shame he was banned,’ she grinned.
Joy sipped her champagne and avoided Henry’s glance.
Catching his eye made her chest tighten, and in her heart, a tug-of-war pulled between longing and loyalty, between the past she’d shared with Tom and the unexpected attraction to someone new.
The feeling was almost painful. Could it be right to let herself feel for another so soon after loss?
But then she remembered Audrey, a constant presence in the background, and knew that there was no room for anything more.
Joy bit on her lip. She must bury her feelings!
Having made up her mind, she straightened her back and, smiling at happy faces all around her, began to look forward to the meal.
Leticia distributed gifts, and everyone opened the neatly wrapped parcels. They oohed and aahed at the pretty Christmas baubles depicting a miniature Emerald Dream ship that could be hung on a tree.
Joy reached into her bag and produced her parcels too. ‘Only a small keepsake,’ she said, as she handed the gifts out, ‘something to record memories of this cruise.’
‘But this is lovely,’ Lady Eleanor exclaimed as she opened a notebook, the cover an arty design of the route of their cruise as it sailed through the Arctic. ‘I must show it to Lucinda; it might inspire an abstract piece of art.’
Joy remembered Lucinda’s rusting herring tin installation and wondered what the eccentric artist might create.
Their meal commenced with lobster medallions served with citrus butter on microgreens, accompanied by a pink peppercorn drizzle.
As they ate, Henry mentioned the talk he’d attended earlier.
Jim was intrigued by Henry’s explanation of the coronal aurora, which, he’d learned from Bill Zhang, is one of the rarest and most breathtaking types of auroral displays.
‘It must be spectacular,’ Henry said, ‘and a dream come true for the one per cent of aurora chasers who are fortunate to have seen it.’
A porcini soup followed, and as everyone tucked in, Lady Eleanor was questioned on the cruises she’d enjoyed most.
‘At this moment, my dears, it is this one.’ She carefully tilted her plate in the old-fashioned way to scoop her soup from the opposite side of the bowl.
‘Getting older teaches one to live in the moment. My Christmas gift is being given time, which I know is running out, so I value it more. Every minute I have is worth a hundred.’
‘That’s a lovely sentiment,’ Leticia commented softly and reached for Jim’s hand.
As their plates were cleared, Joy looked up. For a moment, she saw that Henry was staring at her.