Page 6 of The Cruise Club

Tipping her broad-brimmed hat, Fran gazed over rainbow-rimmed sunglasses to see Peter, the purser, move amongst the new arrivals, dispensingDiamond Starhospitality as he mingled. He welcomed a middle-aged man and grinning, vigorously shook hands as they greeted each other.

Turning to her husband, who lay on a lounger alongside her, Fran commented, ‘Sid, have a look at this. The ship is about to fill with new passengers.’

Straightening his shorts, Sid reached for his T-shirt, then tugged it over his shoulders before joining his wife. ‘That looks like the comedian Dicky Delaney,’ Sid said as they watched the two men below. ‘His photo is inDiamond Star Daily News. It said he’d be joining the cruise in Kefalonia.’

Sid recalled the printed newspaper placed beneath theircabin door each morning, informing passengers of the day’s events.

‘That’s quite a tan he’s got.’ Fran said.

‘Do you think he dyes his hair?’ Sid asked.

‘I think he’s clinging on to the fountain of youth,’ Fran replied as she gazed in wonder at Dicky’s hair. ‘He reminds me of Elvis.’

‘That lass pushing the wheelchair looks exhausted.’ Sid’s eyes followed Carmen as she struggled to manoeuvre a cane-waving Betty along the walkway.

‘The lady must have mobility issues,’ Fran said. ‘Perhaps it’s her daughter who’s taking charge, let’s hope the cruise will do them good.’ Fran’s sculpted eyebrows knotted together as she watched the younger woman battle with the wheelchair as though it were a stubborn shopping trolley. ‘The poor love looks frazzled,’ Fran added, noting Carmen’s rumpled outfit and bulging bag, weighing her down.

‘The more passengers, the merrier,’ Sid said and turned away to resume his position on the lounger.

The band was playing a selection of Greek tunes, and as Fran listened to the lively strumming of bouzoukis, she wriggled her ample hips beneath her colourful sarong and tapped her fingers to the infectious rhythm of drums and cymbals.

‘Eh, it makes me feel like dancing,’ she said and turned to Sid as a band member called out, ‘Opa!’ Fran held her arms aloft and swayed from side to side. ‘Aren’t we lucky?’ she cooed. ‘I still can’t believe we’re here.’

Had it been a year since they’d opened their fine-dining restaurant in Blackpool and watched food lovers flock to the Fylde Coast? After years of success with their fish andchip business, they’d finally fulfilled Sid’s dream of putting Blackpool on the culinary map, and Fran’s exquisite cooking and celebration of Northern cuisine had earned them many awards. This cruise was their well-deserved reward for countless gruelling days and the effort of training their staff to be competent in their absence. It marked the culmination of years of hard work and offered a chance to unwind and enjoy the fruits of their labour. Now, in their mid-sixties, Fran and Sid Cartwright reckoned they deserved a memorable break.

‘I never thought we’d be living the high life like this,’ Fran continued.

She grabbed Sid’s hands and tugged him to his feet. Tossing her hat aside, Fran’s brassy blonde hair spilled loose from her animal print scrunchie, and she urged him to dance. As the head chef and co-owner of their restaurant, Fran was accustomed to being in charge, but on this cruise, she was determined to let loose and enjoy herself.

‘Opa!’ Sid exclaimed, shuffling around Fran with his arms outstretched in a Zorba dance-like fashion. Narrowly avoiding the table, they spun in a circle, then collapsed in an embrace to lean over the railings as the music ended.

‘It’s likeMamma Mia!’ Fran waved to the band, who held up their instruments and bowed before the applauding crowd. ‘I can’t wait for tonight. Do you think the musicians will come on board?’

‘Aye, theDiamond Star Daily Newssays we’re having a Greek night to welcome those joining today,’ Sid informed. He touched his smooth bald head, which felt hot, and wondered if he should apply sunscreen.

‘It will be a cracking event, and everyone will get to knoweach other.’ Fran reached for her factor fifty and began to slather it on Sid’s head. ‘Now, you’d better stay in the shade for the rest of the day, or we’ll be frying calamari on that sunburned noggin of yours, Sid Cartwright.’

‘Yes, boss,’ Sid mumbled. Stretching out on his sunbed, he picked up theDiamond Star Daily Newsand placed it over his face.

As the ship gently swayed in the Argostoli lagoon, Fran sat down and found herself mesmerised by the sapphire blue water and the lush green hillsides. The whitewashed houses with their terracotta roofs stood out vividly against the Mediterranean sun, where distant mountains had an almost ethereal quality, and a gentle breeze carried a holiday scent.

‘It’s like a picture postcard,’ Fran said, ‘who’d think we were on a ship and not in a dream.’

Sid snored and, smiling, Fran turned to her husband of many decades. ‘You deserve this holiday,’ she whispered, ‘sleep soundly, my lovely man.’

Fran inhaled the soothing scent of pine and salt water mixed with a hint of grilled seafood from the nearby cafés and bars. With a contented sigh and entirely at peace in this idyllic setting, Fran lay back and began to snore gently, too.

Propped up on a pile of fluffy pillows, Ruskin lay on his bed in his suite on the Bridge Deck of theDiamond Starand held a glass of whisky. He swirled the crystal tumbler and watched the amber-coloured liquid catch the light. Taking a sip, Ruskin tasted the smooth smoky flavour and stared outof patio windows which offered a perfect view of glittering sunlit mountains.

He’d boarded the ship two days ago and had so far enjoyed catching up on sleep and relaxing in the sunshine while theDiamond Starnestled in the bay of Argostoli. Today, as more passengers joined the ship, the ship would be at capacity with 900 passengers and 370 crew. Ruskin considered a small ship the perfect environment for Detective Inspector Blake to unravel a new mystery, and he would enjoy research and plotting during this trip.

Ruskin thought about the talk he would give during a sea day, and other than a quick rehearsal in his cabin, he was confident that it would go well. After all, he’d rolled it out at events a hundred times during his writing career. His workshops were well practised, too, and Ruskin knew that he gave the cruise line good value for money in return for his complimentary cruise.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he reached for a decanter and poured himself another whisky. His favourite tipple was helping him unwind. With his mobile switched off, it was a relief to be free of the barrage of messages and calls from Venetia, who stubbornly clung to the hope of reviving their defunct marriage.

Stepping onto the balcony, where the sun was fierce, Ruskin reached for his Ray-Bans and yawned as he scratched his naked chest. Coaches below were being unloaded, and he could see new passengers enjoying a welcoming drink as they waited to board.

A man greeted the purser, and Ruskin observed their easy manner as the two chatted. He wondered if they weremates catching up or had they worked together before? Ruskin noted the man’s swarthy manner when a pretty crew member offered him a drink, his head turning to the sway of her hips as she moved away.

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