Page 10 of The Cruise Club

Sid, dressed in one of Fran’s tunics over his shorts and belted at the waist, wore his faithful old leather sandals. Circling his head, he had a crown of plastic laurel leaves which Fran had found in the pound shop at the shopping centre in Blackpool. Fran, meanwhile, had fashioned a toga out of a sarong. She’d wound a length of braid that she used to identify their suitcases into an armlet and interspersed it with silver bracelets. As they waited for the lift to ascend, Fran glanced at Sid’s feet. She wasn’t sure the ancient Greeks wore white sports socks with their sandals but decided to let it pass.

‘Here we are,’ Fran said.

As the doors opened, her eyes sparkled with excitement as they stepped into the restaurant’s reception area. The lively strains of bouzouki music, played by the band from the quayside, filled the air. Soft white lighting shifted to a serene blue, while servers in striped shirts and cotton trousers welcomed guests. As members of The Cruise Club, they were offered a selection of complimentary Greek wine, ouzo and cocktails.

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Fran said as she took a Santorini Sunset.

Colin and Neeta sipped on Athenian Mules, a drink combining ouzo, ginger and lime juice.

Fran’s eyes popped at the potency of her own drink. ‘This has got a kick,’ she said, as fiery vodka, peach schnapps and grenadine hit the back of her throat.

They were shown into the restaurant, and when asked if they would like to join a larger table, the two couples happily agreed. Fran settled beside a woman who introduced herself as Carmen, with her mother, Betty, alongside.

‘I saw you arriving today,’ Fran said, ‘have you settled in?’

‘Yes, thank you, our rooms are lovely,’ Carmen nervously replied.

Fran made more introductions to a couple from Yorkshire who told everyone their names were Don and Debbie. Don owned a successful construction company, specialising in building new homes. Debbie’s makeup, in dark shades, covered most of her face, and in her hair she’d pinned numerous plastic snakes. Fran thought that Debbie’s rather scary look was an interpretation of Medusa, while Don, wearing a cape and carrying a helmet and plastic sword, told everyone that he was a gladiator. Fran noted Don’s cricket pads, improvised as gladiator shin guards above his Sketcher’s walking sandals.

‘And this is Colin and Neeta,’ Fran said, ‘we met them in the lift. Haven’t they got gorgeous outfits,’ she added.

‘Toga-ther forever,’ Don quipped as they studied Colin and Neeta’s flowing white gowns.

‘My daughter and I don’t go in for all this dressing-up nonsense,’ Betty announced.

Fran watched Carmen wince and grip her mother’s arm in a gesture to prevent further comment. But Betty was in no mood to be silenced.

Staring at Debbie, Betty said, ‘I didn’t realise we’ve paid good money to watch folk make fools of themselves.’

Wearing a formal dress with a row of pearls at her throat, Betty picked up a napkin and shook it over her knees.

‘I think you all look lovely,’ Fran soothed and smiled at Carmen. ‘That’s a beautiful dress you’re wearing.’

‘Oh… thank you.’ Carmen ran her fingers over the fabric of her plain navy dress. ‘But it’s quite frumpy in fairness. I only booked the cruise last week and didn’t have time to shop for more appropriate clothes.’

‘Nonsense, the colour is lovely with your gorgeous hazel eyes.’

Fran wondered what Carmen would look like if she removed her thick heavy glasses. She also wanted to ask if her mother was always so rude, but she could see that Sid had encouraged Betty to sample a Santorini Sunset. Fran hoped that a good slug of alcohol might soften the elderly lady into a warmer mood.

‘Cheers, everyone!’ Fran called out and held up her glass. ‘Here’s to a wonderful evening.’

Food was served, and the Greek-themed menu was a hit with the guests. Don was ecstatic over the moussaka and despite discovering that one of Debbie’s snakes had come loose and fallen into his dinner, he told Debbie she must make therecipe when they got home. Colin and Neeta meanwhile, raved over plates of souvlaki, spanakopita, and tzatziki.

Betty picked at a Greek salad but brightened when she tasted a sweet baklava dessert. She ordered more then turned to Sid: ‘And I want another of those orangey Santorini drinks.’

The head chef, Jaden Bird, appeared. Wearing neatly pressed whites, a colourful bandana and a starched apron tied at the waist, guests applauded his creative ice sculpture display of the Parthenon. Sid placed his fingers to his lips and whistled his praise.

‘The chef is from Trinidad,’ Sid explained to Fran, ‘they say he’s travelled the world.’

‘Very nice.’ Fran nodded as the chef stood beside his creation.

‘Why did the ice sculpture refuse to come to the party?’ Don asked everyone. ‘Because it didn’t want to melt under social pressure!’

As Don began to belly laugh, Debbie jabbed her elbow into his side.

At the end of the meal, Fran turned to Carmen. ‘We’re heading to the show in the Neptune Theatre,’ she said. ‘Would you like me to keep a seat for you and your mum?’

Carmen looked at Betty, and Fran noted a look of relief when they realised that Betty had fallen asleep. With arms folded, Betty’s head rolled as she released a loud snore.

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