Chapter Thirty-Two
The sea stays behind but the memories sail on forever …
On the final day, the weather was pleasantly calm as the Emerald Dream glided through the steely waters of the North Sea, her bow pointed southwest towards Newcastle. Seagulls wheeled lazily in the breeze that blew through the decks as early morning risers prepared for the day.
In Henry’s cabin, Henry and Joy ordered breakfast. As they sat by the window looking out, both grinned as the Deck Mile Club made its final round, led by Jack and Judy, who were hand-in-hand as they marched determinedly ahead, setting a brisk pace that left many fleece-covered walkers struggling to keep up.
In their suite, Leticia and Jim were in bed. Leticia, snuggled in her onesie, cuddled cosily next to Jim as they studied a new brochure and planned their next cruise.
As a weak sun shone through the panoramic windows of the Royal Emerald Suite, Margaret sipped a coffee while seated comfortably beside Lady Eleanor.
Feeling tired from all her exertions, Lady Eleanor reclined, propped up in her bed.
Margaret held a copy of Horse she was dangerous and had a smartphone full of ammunition. And that ammunition needed to be destroyed. He’d already decided that somehow, he had to get hold of her phone.
‘I’ll think of something,’ Simon said with confidence he didn’t feel. In truth, he hadn’t a clue what to do. ‘You better get out there, they’re baying for your blood.’ Simon gave Kyle a reassuring hug, then headed back out to the deck, where Nora led a chorus of ‘Why are we waiting?’
Suddenly, to whoops and cheers, Kyle appeared with the flourish of a West End finale and strode onto the deck in metallic shorts and a matching vest. ‘All right, my glacier-busting-babes!’ he called out. ‘Let’s thaw those joints and tighten those glutes!’
And as the Lido Deck became the most energetic dance floor south of the Arctic Circle, Simon continued with his morning preamble.
In the Atlantis Spa, serene panpipe music caressed the eucalyptus-scented air and a faint burble from a decorative fountain could be heard as Simon stepped into the reception area.
He was keen to replenish his supply of tinted moisturiser, especially as he was due on stage that afternoon for An Audience with the Captain, and Simon wanted to look his best.
Before he could reach the desk, a small, monk-like figure barged past and slammed a designer tote bag on the counter. ‘I demand to speak to the manager!’ the figure shouted and removed a smaller bag of Atlantis Spa skincare products.
Simon winced and took a cautious step back to hide behind a large potted palm. He recognised the voice with cut-glass vowels. It was Barbara Montgomery Jones, shrouded in a hooded towelling robe.
‘I spent a fortune in here with the aim of looking younger,’ she yelled, when the manager appeared, her voice echoing angrily throughout the spa, ‘not to emerge looking like a bloody beetroot with hives!’
Heads turned, and a woman relaxing in a mud mask, dropped her magazine.
Barbara dug into the bag to clutch a jar of anti-ageing seaweed-infused cream and held it up as though it were radioactive. ‘I asked for rejuvenation, not inflammation!’
The spa manager spoke soothing words and with a click of her manicured fingers, summoned a therapist to guide Barbara into a treatment room to see what might be done.
As Barbara continued to rant, Simon saw his moment.
Her bag, gaping open, was perched on the reception desk.
With everyone fixated on the drama, Simon slid out from behind the plant, and moved to the counter, his body shielding the bag, and as he pretended to study a list of treatments, he slipped his hand neatly in.
Bingo! His fingers found her phone, while Barbara, still in full indignant mode, was being swept into the treatment area.
Simon sidestepped into a vacant bathroom and stared at the screen of Barbara’s phone.
Passcode. But would it work?
Earlier, Simon had checked Barbara’s passport on file and memorised her date of birth. Was the woman likely to be that stupid? He tapped in the numbers and held his breath. YES! Simon almost punched the air. There was a god, and it had worked!
Within seconds, Simon accessed Barbara’s photo stream. He deleted the incriminating images and, just to be sure, wiped them from her cloud backup as well. Quickly returning to reception, he carefully returned the phone just as the manager reappeared.
‘I think the lady forgot something,’ Simon said smoothly, holding out the bag.
The manager rolled her eyes and leaned in. ‘That woman …’ she whispered and took Barbara’s bag.
Minutes later, Simon, with his tinted moisturiser replenished, left the spa. As he reached halfway to the stairwell, he tapped out a text for Kyle.
Code Red. Mission Accomplished!
Jennifer moved quickly through the corridor as she pushed her housekeeping trolley towards Henry’s room.
The door hanger indicated that the room was ready to be made up, and using her housekeeping keycard, she stepped in.
In the bathroom, she wiped down every surface and polished the chrome fixtures until they gleamed.
She was surprised to see that Henry had used all the toiletries, including the shampoos and body lotion.
‘First time, Mr Henry,’ Jennifer muttered, knowing that shower gel had been his only choice throughout his cruise.
She took care to fold the toilet paper end into a neat triangle and finally, with practised hands, smoothed a fresh set of towels into place.
Jennifer was methodical and always noted the slightest hint of a fingerprint on a glass or a hair on a surface, anticipating details that the fussiest guest might notice.
Checking the minibar, Jennifer was puzzled once again.
The miniature bottles of wine had been emptied for the first time during Henry’s stay.
On his hospitality tray, all the coffee had gone.
Mr Henry had had a party by himself, she thought as she began to strip the bed.
But it was as Jennifer folded the used linens that she suddenly caught an unusual scent. It was light and floral and unlike anything she’d smelled in Henry’s room before. Holding the sheet to her face, she closed her eyes and suddenly everything became clear.
Mr Henry had not been alone last night.
A cold knot tightened in her stomach, and Jennifer’s hands began to tremble as betrayal burned in her eyes.
The room suddenly felt suffocating, and Jennifer’s heart pounded against her ribs.
She had to get out of there, to get away, back to the cabin she shared with three others, to lie on her bunk, draw her curtain around her, and take in the realisation that she hadn’t captured Mr Henry’s heart.
Choking back tears, she reached for fresh sheets and snapped them over the mattress. Arranging the pillows to fluff them with a series of punches, she proceeded to hurriedly vacuum the carpet and finally, spray a light citrus mist in the air.
Before leaving, Jennifer opened the wardrobe door and reached for Henry’s reindeer jumper.
Hugging it to her face, she let her tears flow as Henry’s smell engulfed her.
Then, folding the fabric, she placed it back and with a deep sigh that wracked her little body, Jennifer left the room with her memories of Henry locked inside.