Chapter Twenty-Five #2
‘Being alive at my age is a privilege,’ Lady Eleanor continued, ‘you people mustn’t waste a moment doing things that don’t please. Embrace life with both hands and breathe it in.’
Joy digested the words and, as their eyes met, knew that Henry had too. His gaze lingered with kindness and warmth, and she longed to reach out across the table and wrap his fingers in hers. But Audrey, the wretched Audrey, sat like a ghost on her shoulder, and Joy tore her eyes away.
Before the main course arrived, they pulled their crackers with theatrical pops, then donned paper crowns and took turns to read aloud the silly jokes.
From the menu, Joy chose the turkey ballotine, which was served with chestnut stuffing and cranberry-orange relish, while Leticia tucked into the seared Arctic salmon, and everyone else picked the Christmas tasting plate, featuring turkey, beef, and pheasant.
The restaurant’s sommelier hovered, and Lady Eleanor insisted that at her expense, he match each course with the finest wine.
Traditional Christmas pudding followed, dramatically flamed with brandy by Jhamille and Ryan, before the ma?tre d’ wheeled a trolley to the table, piled high with international cheeses.
By the time coffee, liqueurs, petit fours, and hand-dipped truffles were served, the guests patted their stomachs and leaned back in their chairs.
‘Good heavens,’ Leticia sighed, ‘I don’t think I could possibly eat another morsel.’
‘I’m certainly saddled with a few extra pounds.’ Margaret unbuttoned the looped belt on her dress.
‘It was a splendid meal and company,’ Henry added.
‘My dears, you have all made my Christmas Day very special,’ Lady Eleanor said as she reached for her clutch bag, ‘but now I shall leave you and retire for a nap before the crew show this evening.’
Jhamille and Ryan rushed forward to help Lady Eleanor from her seat, and the ma?tre d’ extended his arm to escort her from the restaurant.
‘I might have forty winks myself,’ Margaret said, ‘I shan’t be requiring a nosebag for the rest of the day.’ Unsteadily rising and moving away, guests heard the cry of ‘Tallyho!’ as Margaret trotted through the tables and made her way out.
‘Well, that just leaves the four of us,’ Leticia grinned, ‘and as Santa will be visiting the Lido Deck shortly, shall we all head up there?’
For a moment, Joy and Henry hesitated, their eyes meeting across the debris of the meal and half-drunk wine glasses. They could sense the other’s uncertainty, and the weight of things unsaid. But Henry rose and offered his arm to Joy, and she took it.
Jim adjusted the controls of his chair, then straightened his paper crown. ‘Lead the way, Leticia,’ he was heard to say. ‘Christmas Day is a time of goodwill, and it just gets better and better.’
On the captain’s table, goodwill was thin on the ground and for Barbara, the day couldn’t get any worse.
It had begun with Kenneth mistaking Captain Lindholm for a steward as they were seated at the table and insisting that he fetch a wine list. Kenneth casually assumed that the man in the dress uniform was there to serve.
Barbara’s cheeks burned, and she wondered if her husband was deliberately being thick-headed, as she heard the captain politely tell Kenneth that wine was already chosen and paired to each course.
Kenneth, blissfully unaware of his blunder, flicked out his napkin and told the lady to his right that if the captain was on wine duty, he hoped he was better at pouring drinks than navigating the ship.
‘It was a rough old ride the other night,’ Kenneth laughed.
‘Oh, my husband likes to tease.’ Barbara gave a girlish giggle. ‘Always having a joke or two. Please pay no attention.’
But it was difficult for the guests to pay no attention when Kenneth, who’d once done a day’s sailing course in Kefalonia, began to argue with the captain about their route. Taking a pen from his breast pocket, he reached for a linen napkin and drew a map.
‘If you’d taken the fjord split earlier today, and missed the Seven Sisters, we’d have been forty minutes ahead.’ Kenneth stared at his squiggles and nodded.
Barbara sank lower in her seat. Kenneth was too far away for her little legs to kick out at his shins, and with the captain’s gaze fixed icily on her husband, she was beginning to wish that she could disappear back to table twenty-eight.
Beside her, Simon, smart in his uniform, sat with his head tilted to catch the discussion which had taken a sharp turn.
His eyes flicked between the captain, who was drumming his fingers on the table, and Kenneth’s oblivious grin.
Turning to Barbara, Simon asked, ‘And how are you enjoying yourself, so far?’
Barbara’s eyes narrowed and she reached for her wine, but before she could retort, Simon intervened and turned to the guests to switch the conversation to the evening show.
‘I do hope you all experience the entertainment tonight,’ Simon said. ‘Crew members have spent hours practising to provide a performance worthy of Christmas Day.’
To Barbara’s relief, guests began to question the captain about his career at sea.
As the main course progressed, they learned that he’d started his working life on cross-channel ferries and when the Diamond Star Cruise Line bought two new ships, he signed up and worked his way through the ranks.
The gentlemen were interested to know that the Emerald Dream cruised at fifteen nautical miles per hour and could travel up to twenty-five and currently, was one of the fastest cruise ships in the world.
A lady asked if he’d experienced anything unusual during his cruises, and the captain told a story about finding a man in a rowing boat, in the middle of the Atlantic, travelling from France to the Caribbean.
‘I asked if he needed anything and he just wanted water, so we supplied forty litres, and he rowed away.’
When asked if anyone had ever jumped overboard, Kenneth chipped in. ‘No one on a cruise full of oldies like this is capable of getting their leg over the railing,’ he guffawed, ‘think of the dislocations!’
Barbara sipped her drink and prayed that he wouldn’t launch into another ridiculous joke. By the time desserts were served, Kenneth was pie-eyed and plastered, and knocked over a glass of red wine, which splashed across the captain’s pristine white jacket.
‘Sorry, old boy.’ Kenneth dismissed the incident with a wave of his hand as stewards rushed to assist. ‘Don’t fuss,’ he snapped.
Barbara wanted to crawl away and, tugging on Simon’s sleeve, she whispered, ‘Do something!’
‘A little too late, I fear,’ Simon remarked, but he pushed back his chair and went towards Kenneth. ‘Why don’t we take a breather? Let’s leave the ladies to enjoy the captain’s company over Christmas pudding.’
Kenneth, tilting his empty glass, read Simon’s comments as an invitation to the bar and, with a nod of his head, which loosened his toupee and almost sent it sliding into his neighbour’s brandy sauce, he rose unsteadily.
‘Drinks are on me!’ he called out to the captain as Simon took his arm and led him away.
Barbara didn’t flinch and was porcelain calm. She felt duty-bound to apologise for her husband’s behaviour, but it was beyond Barbara to debase herself with apologies. She had the captain to herself and was going to seize the opportunity over dessert, cheese, and coffee.
‘Don’t mind Kenny,’ she said. ‘His blood pressure medication is strong and doesn’t mix with spirits, but as it’s Christmas, I’m sure you’ll all forgive me that I allowed him a drop or two.
’ Barbara looked at the remaining guests and smiled sweetly.
‘And now that the entertainment has taken an intermission, might I ask how everyone is enjoying the cruise?’ She reached out and placed her diamond-decked fingers on the captain’s sleeve.
‘With our immensely capable captain at the helm, it’s no wonder that this ship runs as smoothly as it does. ’
Back on form, Barbara sailed through the rest of the meal.
She noted a flicker of appreciation in the captain’s eyes and perhaps even a touch more than that, as he leaned in slightly whenever she spoke and nodded with a lingering smile.
He was attentive now, asking follow-up questions to her comments and laughing warmly at her witticisms. Ever the tactician, Barbara responded with girlish giggles.
Inwardly, she thought how gullible some men were.
A little bit of flattery, a hint of cleavage and a flutter of one’s eyelashes, and he’d be eating out of her hand.
She steered the conversation carefully, guiding it away from Kenneth’s earlier chaos, and back towards the captain, keeping him in the spotlight.
Convinced that he was charmed, Barbara was quietly delighted.
Serene as a swan on the surface, Barbara paddled furiously, knowing that when everyone drifted away, she would return to her suite ready to face the storm that was brewing.
Kenny had gone too far this time, and she was ready to kill him, not with fists or fury but with far more devastating means.
Kenny might play the fool, but she wasn’t joining in with the game and would make her blundering lump of a husband realise that she meant business.
When coffee was served, Barbara turned to the captain with a sugary smile, her fingers brushing his jacket again. ‘Let me pass you a truffle,’ she asked, ‘or are you sweet enough?’