Page 56 of The Cruise

‘It will s-set off m-my allergies at this time of night,’ she’d stuttered. At the door to the suite, Jane swiped the card so hard she almost sliced her finger. ‘G-good night, see you around,’ she’d said and disappeared to bed.

‘I was out for the count when Jane came back,’ Kath said, reaching for her hand cream. ‘I have no idea what time it was,’ she added, smoothing the expensive lotion over her fingers.

‘Before me,’ Anne noted. ‘Jane was snoring when I came in.’

‘Do you mean when you fell over my bed and collapsed on the floor?’ Jane corrected. ‘You were away with the fairies and stank of scotch. Had I lit a match near your mouth, the ship would have gone up.’

‘I may have had a little tipple.’ Anne looked sheepish.

‘I hope Dicky isn’t leading you astray.’ Kath frowned. ‘The last thing you need is another Barry in your life.’

‘I’m feeling hungry,’ Jane announced. Standing, she placed her hands in the pockets of her Rudolph onesie and rubbed her tummy. ‘Shall I order breakfast?’

‘I could do with a round of toast,’ Anne said. A hangover had hit her like a freight train, and her body was crying out for carbs.

‘Not for me, I’ll just have tea.’ Kath picked up a copy of theDiamond StarDaily. ‘As we’re spending Boxing Day at sea, I’ll study today’s programme and we can decide what to do.’

Kath read the headlines, but Jane wasn’t listening. She wondered what she would say to Selwyn. Anne was miles away too. Her gut feeling said Dicky was bad news, but how would she know if she didn’t pursue it?

‘There’s a panto in the Neptune Lounge later,’ Kath said. ‘If I could find my glasses, I could tell you what it is.’

Hearing the word ‘panto’, Jane and Anne turned to stare at Kath.

‘Have either of you seen my bag?’ Kath asked.

‘It’s behind you.’ They both grinned.

Kath fumbled about on the floor, ‘Oh no, it isn’t,’ she said.

‘Oh yes, it is!’

As Kath looked up, she saw that her friends were laughing. ‘I’ll reserve three seats for the panto,’ she said and, shaking her head, laughed too.

* * *

Dicky was exhausted and hadn’t had a wink of sleep. The previous day he’d endured a full schedule with the entertainment programme, and he’d hoped to wind down with a quiet drink and Anne’s sparkling company. Maybe have a flutter in the casino. But thoughts of an early night diminished when Dicky was dragged out of the bar by his wealthy widow. An impromptu performance followed and lasted for most of the night. Thank goodness he had his little blue helpers. Without the magical pills, he would have been in an embarrassing position. Now he was the recipient of a lovely bundle of cash doled out by his bedmate, who’d urged Dicky to treat himself.

It was a shame about Anne, he thought as he dragged his tired body off the bed and into the shower. She might be cross at being stood up. But if he gave her a couple of minutes of his most effusive charm, he’d no doubt she’d be eating out of his hand. Dicky rarely lost a woman to a sulk.

He had a busy day ahead and he needed to be on the ball. At the end of last night’s cabaret, Peter had nodded when Dicky left the stage to rapturous applause. It was a start. With a few more days of wooing the crowds and doing a good job, Dicky felt sure that he could talk Peter into forgoing the missed days and agreeing that he should be paid in full at the end of the cruise.

He had a final rehearsal with theDiamond Starentertainers in half an hour to put the finishing touches to today’s pantomime. Dicky hadn’t bothered to read his lines in the script ofCinderella; he knew the damn thing off by heart, having played Buttons often enough. He’d have no trouble ad-libbing when needed. He wished that Melissa wasn’t playing Cinders. The artiste was probably dreaming up some prank to upset Dicky during the performance. He knew he needed to be on his guard. But Dicky could give as good as he got, and years on the circuit of the working men’s pubs and clubs had taught him how to deal with difficulties and come out on top.

As he dressed, he ran through his schedule for the day. Rehearsals, a leisurely lunch, and a swim in the afternoon, then the panto performance this evening. But Peter would probably add an event to bugger up Dicky’s leisure time. Glancing at theDiamond StarDaily, he saw a festive-themed quiz in the Mermaid Theatre followed by reindeer racing.Reindeer racing?Dicky shook his head as he sprayed cologne. Sometimes he wondered if he was working in a holiday camp and half expected the passengers to call out ‘Hi-de-hi!’ whenever they saw him.

‘Not long to go,’ he said to his reflection as he styled his hair and made a mental note to find Anne and get in her good books again. Heading back at the end of the cruise to grim and grey Doncaster, where his grumpy, disgruntled wife would be waiting, held little appeal. Dicky had decided that a vacation in Anne’s comfortable home would suit him well before he took on his next gig. Then, he might even head over to perform cabaret on the Costas with the nest egg he’d accumulated safely stored away.

It was time for a change. Slipping the Tag Heuer onto his wrist, Dicky looked around his untidy cabin and then hurried out of the door.

* * *

Selwyn had decided to treat himself to a luxury Boxing Day breakfast. Having risen early to swim, he’d worked up an appetite and made himself comfortable at a window table in the stunning Atrium Restaurant on theDiamond Star’s Marquee Deck. The restaurant was smaller than the Terrace and provided a more intimate dining experience.

As he sipped a glass of champagne, Selwyn remembered the previous Christmas. Breakfast with Flo was a bowl of porridge with golden syrup and milk. A nourishing start to most of their winter days. A meal that rarely varied. ‘Oats are good for you,’ Flo chanted every morning as she scooped out a gloop that would secure paper to any wall. Picking up a silver spoon, Selwyn tucked into a cocktail of Caribbean fruits. He savoured each mouthful of mango, papaya, and passionfruit and imagined Flo shaking her head as he followed this with eggs Benedict.

Such decadence. Flo would turn in her grave if she had one to lie in.

He touched the bulging plastic pouch in his pocket and thought about the tin in his cabin, which was getting lighter each day. Susan had insisted that her mother’s ashes be interred at the crematorium close to their church. The good brothers and sisters of the congregation had stood alongside Pastor Gregory as he officiated over a ceremony of scripture and prayer. Thinking that Flo’s remains were secured for eternity, his daughters had little idea they’d all been praying over three kilos of sugar and sand.

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