Page 37 of The Cruise

‘Well, that’s Jane out for the count,’ Kath said.

‘I don’t suppose she’ll want any dinner?’

‘Hardly,’ Kath said, raising her voice above the loud snores from Jane’s slumbering body. ‘But I’m not going to miss a meal, and this wine is getting warm.’ Kath turned. A smile had crept across her face. ‘Shall we toast Jane’s awakening?’ she asked, ‘I have a feeling she’s coming out of her comfort zone at last.’

‘It’s cause for a celebration.’

They stood on the balcony and watched the sun collapse beyond the horizon in colours of orange and gold, the last rays before twilight called on the stars.

‘This cruise is heavenly,’ Anne said. ‘I feel so relaxed, it’s as though all my cares have ebbed away.’

‘Like someone turned on a light in your life?’ Kath asked.

‘Exactly, and we have to make the most of it because none of us know when our lights will be extinguished.’

Kath linked her arm through Anne’s and stared at the darkening sea. Had Jim known that his light would be snuffed out when he stood on the steps? Did he have any regrets or time to think of the wife who’d been loyally beside him for so many years? Probably not, Kath mused. Life can change at the flick of a switch, and her life had changed beyond recognition in the last few days. She nodded slowly and determined not to waste a single moment of whatever she had left.

‘This sunburn is killing me,’ Anne said and touched the tender reddening skin on her arm. ‘I don’t think I’m going to manage any dinner.’

‘I’ll have something for it in my bag.’ Kath began to rummage and soon found some lotion. Handing it to Anne, she suddenly announced, ‘I think it’s time we had our hair re-styled, what do you say? My treat.’

‘I’d say that would be fabulous.’ Anne cocked her head to one side and studied Kath. ‘What do you fancy?’

‘I’ll have the ten-years-younger colour and cut.’

‘Then I’ll go for a tousle and tease, something to encourage Dicky.’

‘He doesn’t need encouragement.’

‘But what about Jane? Do you think we can coax her into a new style?’ Anne turned and peered at their sleeping friend. ‘Getting rid of that short crop would take years off her, but I’m not sure how it could be styled with so little to go on.’

Kath walked ahead and picked up the phone. She pressed the salon extension. ‘I’ll make appointments. We’ll frogmarch Jane there if we have to.’

Anne raised her glass, ‘I’ll drink to that,’ she said, ‘and to the revitalised you!’

* * *

Dicky sat in his dressing room and stared at his face in the mirror. His skin was as red as a rooster, and he knew that he’d foolishly overdone things whilst larking about in the sun all day. He glanced over to where Melissa Montana’s makeup was scattered haphazardly and wondered if she had anything that might cool his burning skin and calm the redness. He’d look a complete tit on stage tonight if his face was on fire; the spotlights were hot and would exaggerate his problem.

‘You can keep your grubby paws off my stuff,’ a voice called out as the door opened, and Melissa strode into the room. She was appearing in the Neptune Lounge that evening and needed to prepare for her act. ‘Don’t think you can nick anything that will turn a frog into a prince,’ she added.

‘Good evening,’ Dicky said, deciding to be civil as he patted his skin with an ice-pack cloth.

‘Blimey, what have you done?’ Melissa laughed as she fastened a silk kimono, took a seat, and stared at Dicky. ‘You look like you’ve dipped your face in a deep fat fryer.’

‘Very funny,’ Dicky said, his voice muffled by the ice. ‘If you had a heart, you’d suggest something for this sunburn.’

‘A trip to the infirmary?’ Melissa said. She ignored Dicky and, scraping her hair into a band, began to apply foundation to her face.

‘I don’t know what to do, I’ve got quiz night and bingo in the Mermaid Theatre followed by a late-night show in the Neptune Lounge.’ He peeled back the cloth and winced at his reflection. His eyes were puffy, his head ached, and he was clearly suffering. ‘I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to get through it all.’

‘I’m sure you’ll manage. If you don’t, Peter will say it’s self-inflicted and reduce your contract fee.’

‘Like hell he will, I’ve got to do something, but I don’t know what, I’ve only got half an hour before I’m on stage.’

Melissa continued to ignore Dicky. She had no sympathy for the philandering comedian. She knew he’d spent the day on an island excursion with one of the passengers, most likely at the lady’s expense. Melissa knew all of Dicky’s scams, having worked on previous ships where they’d provided entertainment. She foolishly had a fling with him on a two-week cruise in the Canaries. But as she began to apply eyeshadow and false lashes, she furtively glanced at his face. He was obviously in pain and floundering like a fish as he tried to work out what to do. She’d done many silly things and imagined herself in a similar position.

Melissa knew that the show must go on and felt sympathetic. She reached into her bra, produced a little key, and sliding it into the lock, opened a drawer and felt for a jar of cream. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘use this. I got it from an old lady in Barbados who mixes up pills and potions. You can’t get this on the NHS, but it should do the trick.’ Melissa leaned in and gently removed the cloth from Dicky’s face. His eyes were closed, and trustingly, he tilted his head back.

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