Page 43 of The Cruise

‘Dicky will come to your cabin, if you pay him cash,’ Nancy said as she sucked on her straw.

‘He’ll personally sign it too.’ Harold smiled. ‘We’re going to give it to our son, it’s his birthday next month.’

Selwyn had finished Dicky’s book the evening before and could think of better birthday gifts. He wondered if Diane, the shop manager, knew that Dicky was flogging his books on the side? Not that it was any of his business.

‘Transport for theDiamond Star!’ A driver stood at the bar’s entrance to round up his passengers. ‘Anyone responsible for this person?’ he pointed towards the Captain, who was sleeping soundly. The logo on his T-shirt readIf Lost, Please Return to the Ship.

‘Another day in paradise,’ Selwyn said as he and Harold helped the Captain onto his wheelchair, and Bridgette began to push.

With the Captain on the coach, Bridgette sat beside Selwyn. ‘Are you going to the festive meal in Fort-de-France this evening?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I like French food and Diwa recommended it.’

‘Jolly good, me too.’ Bridgette’s face softened, and she sighed. ‘Hugo and I had some wonderful holidays in Brittany. I do miss him.’

Selwyn was about to ask Bridgette about her late husband, but her eyes had closed. Her head drooped onto his shoulder and in minutes, Bridgette was sound asleep.

ChapterEighteen

In cabin 1101, every little thing was far from all right. Dicky, who’d spent the night in the infirmary, lay on his bed cursing the day he met Melissa Montana. Whatever he had taken, which she’d willingly given, had severely reacted with his skin. Although the blotches had begun to fade, his skin was now a vivid shade of orange. He’d overheard a nurse sniggering that the comedian looked like a giant space hopper, which, she suggested, might improve his comedy act. Neither was the doctor sympathetic; he scolded Dicky for taking unprescribed medicines and threatened to keep him in quarantine for the rest of the cruise.

But Dicky’s pleas were persuasive. As he posed no immediate threat to the passengers, he was dispatched to his cabin to remain in solitude for the next forty-eight hours. At that time, he would be reassessed before returning to duty.

His condition meant he would miss performing and, at best, only be allowed back for the concert on Christmas Day. During an uncomfortable conversation with Peter, he learnt that, for the time being, Melissa would be taking over Dicky’s schedule.

‘To hell with you, Melissa,’ Dicky cursed.

When questioned, Melissa denied giving Dicky the medication. She said that he must have got hold of it in Saint Vincent. To make matters worse, Peter reminded him that due to a clause in his contract that Clive had agreed to, his self-inflicted sickness would automatically trigger a salary reduction.

‘Shite,’ Dicky exclaimed as he lay staring at the ceiling. Clive would have a fit if his agent’s commission tumbled too. Dicky closed his eyes and thought of the money he’d miss from illicit sales of his book and DVDs. Would his winning streak in the casino now be jinxed? Other crew members were stacked like cards to take Dicky’s place in the wooing of wealthy widows. Nathaniel, the restaurant manager, would soon be wearing a Tag Heuer watch if Dicky didn’t get his act together and fast.

Dicky leapt off the bed and began to pace. His brain was racing, and he fantasised about hanging Melissa off the ship’s bow and dropping her slowly into deep and deathly waters, never to sing at sea again.

But at least Anne had been on his side.

Faithful to her new acquaintance, she’d phoned and asked if Dicky was all right. Her soft voice assured him that everyone was missing him, and Melissa would not be a match for his talent. Dicky was the star of the show. He reached for a bottle of scotch and poured a stiff measure, and as the rich amber nectar slid down his throat, he began to feel calmer. All was not lost. Anne was an attractive woman and if she could afford to stay in the Hibiscus suite, she must have money. Lots of lovely lolly could quickly come his way if he upped his game. It wasn’t difficult. He’d need to increase the charm, take her to bed, fill her pretty head with pillow talk, and then invent a sob story of monumental proportions. It would ensure that Anne’s bank transfer arrived in his account before they returned to Barbados.

Dicky stood in front of the mirror and leaned in to examine his face. As he turned from side to side, he saw that the blotches were less pronounced, and the livid colour would fade with any luck. He might even be able to tone it down with Melissa’s makeup. It was the least she could do to let him use her products. He glanced at his watch and knew that the passengers had returned from their excursions and would be getting ready for dinner. Peter had arranged a meal in Fort-de-France, and he was sorry to miss it. French food was his favourite, and it would have been easy to tag along, crack a few jokes and let someone else pick up the tab.

With a sigh, Dicky strolled over to the porthole window. He stared out at the sky where the sun was sinking like a stone over the horizon. Dicky marvelled at how this happened in the Caribbean. One moment the sky was a mass of rainbow flames of red and gold, and the next, velvety night. Sometimes, he’d witnessed the extraordinary flash of green light at sunset. As Dicky held his forehead to the glass, his eyes lit up as a brilliant emerald burst of dazzling light momentarily lit up the sky.

‘Wow,’ Dicky breathed, ‘that’s lucky!’ He remembered his day with Anne at Wallilabou Bay on thePirates of the Caribbeanset. The guide had told them that the pirates referred to this phenomenon as a soul coming back to this world from the dead and that person would be successful in matters of the heart.

Feeling cheered by the sighting, he poured another scotch. Sitting comfortably on his bed, he whispered to himself, ‘Well, Dicky, that’s a sign of you coming back from this experience and winning the heart of Anne.’

At that moment, the phone beside his bed began to ring.

‘Hello, Dicky Delaney speaking.’

‘Dicky, it’s Anne.’

Yes!Dicky punched the air.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Oh, you know, up and down.’ Dicky rolled his eyes and took a slug of his drink.

‘I’ve left a tray outside your door, with sandwiches, savouries and a bottle of wine.’

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