Page 56 of The Cruise Club

‘Carmen, wait,’ Ruskin spoke firmly. ‘Sit down.’

She blinked. ‘But…’

‘I know that you think I’m a smug bastard.’ Ruskin’s eyes scanned her face. ‘My books sell like hotcakes, and I make a lot of money. It all seems to come to me so easily.’

Carmen sat. He was right. At that moment, shedidthink that.

She wondered how soon she could put an end to this torture. Ruskin must be inwardly laughing at this excuse of an author who acted like a groupie. She braced herself, glancing towards the door.

‘All of that is true,’ Ruskin continued, ‘but I didn’t start off that way.’

Carmen waited for the inevitable lecture on her lack of progress, laziness and stalling.

Ruskin placed his elbows on the table and made a pyramid with his fingers. ‘I was like you once, full of ambition and writing dreams, hoping that one day my dreams might come true.’

Carmen’s chest tightened. Ruskin’s words echoed those of her father’s talk of dreams.

‘But no one helped me, and it was a lonely life. I hadn’t a soul to turn to in the early days and only my own determination kept me going.’

Carmen bit her lip and nodded.

‘I was married to a woman who was deeply committed to lost causes.’ He paused. ‘I found it inspiring initially, that Venetia could give her time to battles only she saw as winnable.’

‘Did you have a family?’

‘Yes, two boys, grown up now with families of their own.’ Ruskin stared absently at a wall. ‘It wasn’t that she didn’t love us, more that her heart always prioritised whatever do-gooding mission she was leading. Even though we craved her presence, Venetia’s full attention was reserved for others.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Ruskin turned to Carmen. ‘My point is that despite the circumstances, I felt determined, like her, to be passionate about a subject too, and writing not only gave me an escape from tolerating Venetia but became myultimatepassion, filling the gap in my marriage and eventually taking over.’

‘I see,’ Carmen said, ‘and does Venetia support you now?’

Ruskin gave a slow smile. ‘We’re divorced. I’d had enough. Strangely, Venetia misses what she took for granted and is keen for us to reunite.’ He shrugged. ‘But tell me, how doyoufeel when you write?’

Carmen didn’t hesitate. ‘I feel alive.’

‘How badly do you want this?’

Carmen thought of the career teacher at school, who’d smirked when she told Carmen that she didn’t have the talent to write novels. ‘More than anything,’ she said, ‘I write because there are stories within me that I want to be heard. Stories provide that escapism, for both the writer and the reader.’

Ruskin studied her, his furrowed brow smoothed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Then I’ll help you,’ he said.

‘What?’ Carmen tried to process Ruskin’s words.

‘I said that I will help you.’

‘B… but how?’

‘We’ll work together.’ Ruskin stood. ‘Early mornings, no distractions.’ He pushed his hands into his pockets and began to pace the room. ‘We’ll meet in my suite at five tomorrow and begin to map out the framework of your novel. Beginning to end.’ Ruskin stopped and faced her. ‘You’ll have your plot revitalised before this cruise ends, and when you get home, you’ll rewrite the damn thing.’

‘Oh….’

Ruskin’s words sank in, and Carmen’s astonishment suddenly gave way to joy. Clasping her hands, she raised them to her flushed face.

Ruskin picked up his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. ‘My suite is on the Bridge Deck, a steward will show you. Don’t be late!’

Without a backward glance, he left the room.

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