Page 7 of The Cruise Club

A couple dressed in matching baseball caps, T-shirts and shorts, stood arm in arm, occasionally stealing a kiss or nuzzling each other as they accepted their cocktails, and Ruskin wondered if the couple were later-in-life honeymooners, basking in newlywed bliss.

Good luck with that, he thought and looked away.

A frazzled-looking woman pushed a wheelchair along the walkway. Her arms were taut and a bag, wrapped around her shoulder, hung heavily, while the occupant of the chair waved a cane at any passengers in the way.

Ruskin grinned. The elderly lady wasn’t going to make friends if she kept that up. He was tempted to shout down and tell the woman to stop, take a moment and enjoy the wonderful surroundings, but the elderly lady had reached the ship, and the pair disappeared.

Picking up his notebook, Ruskin sat down and thought about the diversity of passengers, knowing that each had the potential to become a character in his next novel. His mind wove details into his fictional world, turning observations into possible scenes as he jotted his thoughts. If his ideas for the next novel picked up during the cruise, his agent would be delighted.

Taking another slug of whisky, he settled into his seat and, resting his notebook on his knee, began to write.

Chapter Five

Onboard theDiamond Star, as new passengers settled into their cabins, crew members worked to decorate areas of the ship in preparation for the Greek evening. Blue and white banners lined the entrance to the Terrace Restaurant, where national flags had been hung over linen-covered tables decorated with Greek motifs. In the kitchens, the ship’s chefs prepared a culinary menu that included traditional dishes, and in the Neptune Theatre, the entertainment team were rehearsing behind closed doors.

In a Terrace Cabin, on deck three, Carmen admired the layout of her room, marvelling at the clever design that maximised both space and comfort. Placing her bag down, she sat on the bed and studied the artwork, soft lighting and soothing décor. Having unpacked for Betty and settled her mother for a nap in the adjacent cabin, Carmen was grateful that there was no interlinking door, and Betty couldn’t barge into Carmen’s space whenever it suited her.

A knock echoed and Carmen called out, ‘Come in!’

Carrying a tray with a half bottle of champagne in an icebucket, a cabin steward greeted her. ‘Welcome aboard,’ he said, ‘my name is Fernando, and I am happy to assist you throughout your holiday.’

Carmen watched as the young man skilfully popped the cork. With her curious author’s mind, she wondered about Fernando.

‘Are you far from home?’ she asked.

‘Oh yes,’ Fernando smiled, ‘my home is in the Philippines.’

‘Goodness, that’s a distance away, how long are you at sea?’

‘I work for six months then home to my family, then back on a ship,’ he said as he carefully poured the champagne.

‘Do you enjoy your work?’

Fernando’s face lit up. ‘I travel to different destinations and meet people from all over the world. I have the best job.’

Carmen thanked the steward and handed him five euros.

‘Efharisto,’ Fernando gave a slight bow, acknowledging her gratuity as he left the room.

Moving to the balcony, Carmen stepped out to enjoy the view. She felt a warm breeze and as she held her glass, stared at the bubbles rising slowly. The day’s tension suddenly dissolved as the gentle sound of the sea and the distant call of birds blended into a welcoming blanket that wrapped around Carmen, creating a peaceful haven amidst the bustling ship.

Carmen drank the champagne and felt at peace. Her holiday had finally begun, and it filled her with excitement. The shimmering water and solitude felt like liberation. She closed her eyes and thought about the days ahead. Wouldshe leave the ship and take part in any excursions? Would the cruise be the inspiration needed to kick-start her writing? Carmen imagined sun-kissed ports and, best of all, meeting Ruskin Reeve.

‘CARMEN!’

The sharp screech of Betty’s voice jolted Carmen and her hand jerked, spilling the remains of her drink on her trousers.

‘I’ve been knocking on the wall and wondered where you’d got to.’ Betty peered around the partition separating the terrace, her lips pressed into a thin line. ‘Don’t just stand there daydreaming. I’m ready for my afternoon tea.’

Betty’s neck stretched out like a turtle appearing from its shell. Her new perm had a feather-like quality in the sunlight, and she reached out to pat and pull at the curls.

‘This heat is ruining my hair,’ Betty complained, ‘don’t be so selfish, leaving me alone and helpless when you could be in here with a can of lacquer and a comb.’

Carmen was tempted to tell Betty that her hair could wait and, if she picked up the phone and called room service, Fernando would soon appear with a tray of tea.

Dabbing at the stain on her trousers, Carmen realised she hadn’t had time to change or unpack her own cases, but Betty would be unbearable in her demands until her daughter did as she was told. ‘Coming, Mother,’ Carmen replied.

She placed her empty glass on the table and stepped away from the terrace. Picking up her glasses and key, Carmen hastened to the adjacent room.

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