Page 53 of The Cruise Club

Sid was in the front row. Fascinated by Theo’s talk, he listened intently as the chef began to describe hilarious episodes from his travels as he cooked his way around the world. Recalling many of the chef’s escapades, Sid thought that Theo had aged well, despite a girth that had expanded over the years; his hair, once tied back in long dreadlocks, was now closely cropped, and the grey tinge an attractive contrast to Theo’s smooth dark skin. Always smartly dressed, Theo was known on TV for his colourful shirts, often worn with a contrasting waistcoat, which he wore today.

‘Over the years, I modified so many recipes from the people I met in far flung destinations,’ Theo said, ‘most had never seen a TV show or read a recipe book nor weighed or measured an ingredient. Their timings came from the early call of a cockerel or the sun setting over a hillside.’

Fascinated, Sid wanted to make notes and was pleased to see that Fran, sitting beside him, had her pen and pad at the ready. Sid knew that their own cooking style wasn’t a science but more an appreciation of nature and well-prepared local ingredients. Theo epitomised everything the couple admired and passed on to their guests.

‘I loved my job,’ Theo continued. ‘Whether sitting on a mat in a mud hut eating with my fingers or dining in Michelin-starred splendour, food is love, and when, as Winston Churchill once said, you find a job you love, you’ll never work again.’

Sitting comfortably at the table with his long legs crossed, sipping his wine, Theo held the audience in the palm of his hand. No one shuffled in their seat or fidgeted as they absorbed the culinary tales.

‘You know, television has the effect of lessening our expectations,’ Theo said, ‘I’ve travelled to some amazing places and cooked in stunning locations. The glowworm caves of Waitomo, in New Zealand, the Grand Canyon, the Danakil Depression in Ethiopia. I’ve seen so many wonderful sights… and as marvellous as these sights are, when you see them on the screen, you think, “Oh yeah, that’s so and so,” and the grandeur is lost.’ He shrugged. ‘However, there is a place that I can honestly say blew my mind. But I also thought it might take my life…’

Sid was fascinated as Theo described Meteora, in central Greece, near the town of Kalambaka. Renowned for its breathtaking beauty, he’d visited the monasteries of Meteora, perched perilously on top of towering rock formations.

‘I was terrified as I stood close to a sheer rock face, and it felt like I was cooking suspended on a cloud,’ Theo said. ‘My stew was simmering in a primitive pot, and as I stared at the breathtaking view of the valley, I wondered if I was going to fall from the face of the cliff and die. It was difficult to comprehend how on earth they’d built these incredible buildings using only pulleys and ropes.’ He shook his head. ‘Health and safety wasn’t top of my producer’s agenda at that time, and I needed more than my regular tipple that day.’

Sid grinned. He remembered that episode and the white bean and vegetable soup that Theo had also cooked, served with a garnish of stir-fried dandelions. Fran had replicated the dish in Blackpool, winning favourable reviews from their customers.

Sid relaxed as Theo continued to entertain, with talesfrom as far away as Thailand and as close to home as his beloved Donegal.

‘So that’s it for now, folks,’ Theo said, picking up his glass. ‘If you see me around during the rest of the cruise, I hope that you, dear friends, will come and chat,’ Theo raised his glass. ‘Now don’t forget to spread a little sparkle wherever you go!’

Chapter Twenty-Two

Betty had relished her morning at the library. She’d crushed the other Trivia participants, and when Carmen arrived, Betty was buried under a pile of prizes.

‘What on earth am I supposed to do with this?’ Betty said, holding up a T-shirt emblazoned with theDiamond Starlogo.

‘Why not wear it?’ Carmen suggested as she wheeled Betty out.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Betty snapped, ‘but I can find a home for these,’ she added, stuffing a cruise-themed cap, mug, magnet and keychain into a tote bag.

‘You’ve done well. Shall we go and get some lunch?’

They returned to Betty’s cabin after a buffet in the Deck Café, and to Carmen’s surprise, Betty casually told Carmen that Holden would be accompanying her to the afternoon tea dance. He was due to arrive at three.

‘Dad would be pleased that you are enjoying some company,’ Carmen said as she carefully styled her mother’s hair.

‘Your father? Don’t be ridiculous, he wouldn’t give me a second thought.’

Carmen was about to argue that Des had given Betty a very good lifestyle but knew that any mention of her father would only set Betty off. Her mother never had a good word for her deceased husband; she’d nagged him constantly, publicly and behind closed doors and Carmen hadn’t been surprised that her dad spent so much time at the shop.

As Carmen fastened a string of delicate pink pearls around Betty’s neck, she watched her apply a fresh coat of lipstick, her lips pursing in satisfaction.

‘Be careful with my necklace,’ Betty said as she thrust the lipstick into her bag and caressed the pearls at her throat, ‘they are from the Queen Conch and are rare and very valuable.’

Carmen had heard the story of her mother’s pearls a hundred times and knew that the vibrant pink tones of the necklace made it highly sought after. They had been gifted to Betty on her wedding day by Des, who, at that time, was in the merchant navy and had come across the pearls when visiting the Caribbean.

‘Now, don’t get in the way,’ Betty said sharply, pinning a brooch to her lapel.

‘I haven’t seen that brooch before,’ Carmen remarked, leaning in closely to study the enamelled pin. ‘Is it new?’

‘Holden gave it to me, so you can keep your hands off it.’

‘It’s very nice.’ Carmen smiled. ‘How thoughtful of him.’

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.

‘That will be Holden,’ Betty said, her voice brisk. ‘I don’t want him seeing you in that ridiculous outfit. You’re past your prime so don’t pretend otherwise. And he certainly won’t want you to ramble on about chefs, and ageing authors who think they can write bestsellers.’

---