Page 49 of The Cruise Club

‘At least you had a lovely afternoon.’ Fran turned to Don. ‘You were going for the jet ski speed record when we saw you whizzing around the bay.’

Fran remembered the look of terror on Debbie’s face when she slid off the back of Don’s jet ski at the end of their ride. Crawling through the water to the beach, her skirted swimsuit trailed heavily in the sand. No wonder the woman had downed a stiff drink. Don was deadly at the controls and had watched far too many action movies. He hadn’t a clue what he was doing, Fran thought, unlike her safe and steady Sid.

Betty banged her cane. ‘Can we please get moving!’she griped. ‘I can’t sit here watching this nonsense, this is supposed to be a cruise, not a pub crawl.’

Carmen’s fingers were firm as she began to steer Betty towards the ship.

‘Shall we meet up later?’ Theo asked, falling into step.

‘That sounds like a plan,’ Carmen replied with a smile. ‘Betty has a date with Holden Jackson, and I’d hate to play gooseberry.’

‘I’ve got to prep for my talk tomorrow,’ Theo said, ‘so I’ll probably have dinner in my room. But how about we can catch the show in the Neptune Theatre?’

‘Perfect,’ Carmen said. ‘Save me a seat.’

Dicky was in his dressing room. Pacing nervously around the cluttered area, he could feel beads of sweat form on his forehead as he rummaged in pockets and opened drawers. Dressed in his stage clothes, Dicky sifted through the tubes and bottles strewn over the table, pushing aside half-empty water bottles and notes with scribbled jokes.

‘Where the hell is it?’ he muttered, his fingers repeatedly going to his neck to search for the gold chain that had been gifted by the wealthy widow. She’d told him it would be his good luck charm and expected him to wear it when he was on stage. The chain had been missing for twenty-four hours, seemingly vanished into thin air, and despite his assurance that he’d forgotten to put it on, Dicky knew that he couldn’t fool the lady further.

The door swung open, and Melody strode in.

‘Stealing my stuff again?’ she asked, her voice edged with sarcasm as she tugged off her wig and removed her heels before sliding onto her chair.

‘I haven’t touched anything of yours, but I could ask the same,’ Dicky snapped. ‘Have you seen a gold chain?’

‘Hardly,’ Melody said, ‘do you mean the one that looks like it should be anchoring a ship?’

‘Yes,’ Dicky nodded, mentally agreeing that the chainwasquite chunky.

‘It’s not my style,’ Melody yawned.

Dicky checked his pockets for the third time, his gaze flitting around the room.

‘I presume it was a gigolo gift from that portly diamond on legs that you’ve been servicing since you came on board?’ Melody looked at Dicky’s reflection in the mirror and raised her painted eyebrows.

Dicky was about to add that there were many more gifts in the pipeline if he played his cards right, but Melody’s reference to a gigolo stopped him. Was that how others saw him?

‘You’re the human equivalent of an expensive sports car,’ Melody said, ‘always ready to hit the road but with a hefty price tag. Don’t you ever tire of laughing at her unfunny jokes and bowing to her every command?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Dicky shrugged.

‘Do you enjoy dishing out compliments that aren’t true? You’re a freeloader, Dicky, creating questionable services that are paid for by the hour.’ Melody began to spread cleansing cream on her skin.

‘You’re imagining things.’ Dicky tugged on his shirt sleeves to fasten the cuff buttons, then turned to the mirror and examined his stage-ready face. ‘Most people would describe me as more of a life coach for passengers, a multi-tasker.’

‘More like a Swiss Army knife for lonely old hearts, always ready with the right tool.’

Dicky scowled. ‘Why do you dislike me, Melody?’ he asked, genuinely perplexed as he stared at the singer. ‘I’ve done nothing to offend you and have tried to be civil both on and off stage.’

Melody slowly wiped at the cream with a tissue. Tossing it in a bin, she pushed back her chair and turned to face Dicky. ‘You don’t have a clue, do you?’

‘Eh?’ Dicky was confused.

Melody crossed her arms and stared coldly. ‘Benidorm. The Starlight Bar. Impersonation Night,’ she said flatly. ‘July 19th, 2014.’

Dicky scratched his cheek and frowned. He hadn’t a clue what Melody was talking about. But as his brain unscrambled the years, trying to connect the dots, various gigs fell into place, and he was suddenly back on a dimly lit stage in the crowded room of the Starlight Bar in Benidorm…

‘Tonight, for one night only!’ Dicky announced. ‘We invite you to our event, the Best Impersonation of Danni Del Rio!’

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