Here Come the Girls (11 page)

‘I’m just waiting to see Saint Peter on port security,’ giggled Roz.

It turned out that it was Royston and Stella’s first cruise on the
Mermaidia
, so Eric looked pleased that he was the leading authority on the ship.

Ven took some almond and pistachio bread from the basket and buttered it liberally. The menu looked fabulous. So far she had narrowed her choice of main courses down to four.

‘If you don’t like what’s on the menu,’ said Irene, reaching a talon-nailed finger over the top of Ven’s menu and pointing to the lefthand side, ‘there’s always chicken, steak and salmon available.’

‘That’s me then, a sirloin,’ said Roz, snapping her menu shut.

‘You always have steak when we go for a meal!’ said Ven.

‘That’s because I like it,’ explained Roz with strained patience. ‘Soup, steak and a coffee, that’ll do me just fine. I’m a plain eater, as you know. At the end of the day, it’s only fuel.’

‘You never used to think like that,’ said Frankie. ‘You used to love your food.’

‘People change,’ replied Roz, trying to bat away the images attacking her brain of sitting at the Carnevales’ dinner-table and stuffing herself daft on pasta.

‘Well, I’m being adventurous,’ Olive decided. ‘I’ve never had John Dory so I’m trying that.’

‘If you don’t like it, they’ll bring you something else, you know,’ Royston jumped in. ‘You can afford to experiment on a ship, that’s what I always say.’

‘That sounds far too good to be true,’ said Frankie. ‘In that case then, I’ll have John Dory too.’

Roz bit back the snide comment about to rise in her throat that John Dory was a fish, not a man – was Frankie aware of that?

‘Going to the show this evening?’ asked Eric. ‘First one is usually a very jolly affair. Lovely theatre on this ship, but I advise you to get there by half past eight for a good seat.’

‘They’ve got a theatre on the ship?’ gasped Olive.

‘They’ve got two, actually. Broadway and Flamenco – which admittedly is half-nightclub, half-theatre. And there will be some sort of a show at each one every night,’ said Eric. ‘Didn’t you see the
Mermaidia Today
brochure in the post-slot outside your cabin door? It’ll tell you everything that’s happening on the ship tonight, and you’ll get another one before you go to bed about what’s going on tomorrow. Oh, and in case you didn’t know, the dress code for dinner is always formal on the second night. So if you ladies want to get your hair done, you’d better book up early because they’ll be busy in the salon.’

Two theatres!
Olive was open-mouthed with astonishment for the three-hundredth time since she came aboard. Three-hundredth-and-one, when Ven clicked her fingers as she announced to her friends, ‘Ah well, I might as well tell you, we’re all booked in at the spa tomorrow. Massage and then a hairdo and make-up.’ She tagged on a whisper for the other three alone. ‘Part of the package,’ and tapped the side of her nose.

‘You should get some highlights, Olive. Go platinum like me.’ Frankie picked up a shank of Olive’s hair and thought that with a good sharp cut and a splash of peroxide she could lose years.

‘Yes, you should. Go for it, Olive!’ said Ven. ‘I’ll ring up and speak to the spa people and amend the booking.’

Olive leaned back in her seat as her Moules Marinières starter arrived and felt that she was in a dream. Mussels, massages and make-up. How far away was this from her normal life?

‘What the hell. I just might,’ she said.

Chapter 19

Back in Land Lane, Kevin was putting fish and chips from Turbot’s shop onto three plates. They always got whopping servings from there – enough to feed even them twice over. David was trying to pull a big cushion out of the washing machine. It was the one his mother had soiled. Funnily enough, when she realised that Olive really had disappeared and wasn’t going to sort her out with a bowl of water and a flannel she managed to struggle not only to her feet, but into the downstairs bath by herself – albeit with a lot of groaning, huffing and puffing.

The cushion had split, and very lumpy filling was all over the drum. Doreen noticed that David seemed to be having no trouble bending down to scoop it all out. She was thinking that his back was very flexible when his wife wasn’t around.

‘Do you think she’s got another bloke?’ Kevin called to his cousin.

‘Olive? Give over!’ said David. ‘When does she have time?’

‘Where’s she gone then?’ Kevin dropped a fish piece on the floor and whipped it back on the plate before any germs leaped on it. He had always believed that it took ten seconds before it became ‘dirty’. Still, he wasn’t having that one.

‘How do I know? She’s playing silly buggers. She’ll get bored after a couple of days and come home and then we’ll find out why she’s gone doolally. But I know two things for sure: she hasn’t run off with another fella and she hasn’t gone on bloody holiday!’ Boy, would his wife get a mouthful and a half for having him run round like a blue-arsed fly after his mother.

‘I bet it’s the menopause,’ decided Kevin. ‘It’s always something to do with periods either stopping or starting when they go weird. Have you rung her mobile?’

‘Of course I have, I’m not thick,’ snapped David. ‘The bloody thing is switched off, isn’t it?’

‘Why don’t you ring that mate of hers? Venice. The one with the gorgeous bum.’ Kevin’s tongue snaked out lustily.

‘I’m not ringing and chasing her,’ David grumbled. ‘She’ll be home soon enough with her tail between her legs. She knows which side her bread is buttered best.’

‘David! Fetch me some clean pants!’ came a screech from the bathroom.

David thought that his resolve not to chase Olive and bring her back might crumble sooner, rather than later.

Chapter 20

After a magnificent three-course menu and then coffees, the four ladies excused themselves from the table, to bag some good seats in the theatre, leaving Eric, Irene, Royston and Stella comparing past cruises.

‘I feel like I’ve had a crash course in ship-life,’ laughed Ven. ‘How much information did those four cram into us?’

‘Quite interesting information in some cases, though,’ said Olive. ‘As in which trips to book. And to turn our clocks forward one hour tonight.’

‘We’ll have a look at the trips tomorrow,’ said Ven.

‘Formal night tomorrow, according to the knowledgeable ones. Long frocks at the ready, ladies,’ grinned Frankie.

‘Oh heck, I haven’t got a long one,’ said Olive. There was no way she had enough clothes for this holiday. That nightmare was going to come true and she would be walking around the decks starkers.

‘Olive, we’ll go shopping tomorrow. Before your hairdo – and your massage,’ said Ven, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

‘I’ve never had a massage before,’ said Olive. She was a bit nervous about it, though she didn’t want to make herself out to be a wimp and say as much.

‘Scared you’ll get turned on?’ joked Frankie. ‘It’ll be a bit different to having your David rub you down with chip fat.’

David. Olive wondered what he would be doing now, then she threw him out of her head. There was no point being on a ship if her thoughts were going to be stuck back in Barnsley. She had promised herself that she would try very hard not to think about what was happening in Land Lane. She wouldn’t see the Hardcastles again until after she had been to Cephalonia.

The
Mermaidia
had its own theatre company and they were very good. The six boys and six girls, all with perfect figures and beautiful faces, performed a musical tribute play to the ‘Rock Around the Clock’ era. Olive looked at one of the dancers, a long-haired blonde girl who was around the age she herself had been when she took off to work in Cephalonia for the summer. That girl had her whole life in front of her like a field full of freshly fallen snow on which to make her mark. Olive’s memories of those months were flavoured with the fragrance of lemons and slow-cooked lamb. And Atho Petrakis’s kisses.

Ven looked around at the eclectic mix of passengers. Lots of children, confidently strutting teenagers who seemed to have linked into friendship groups already, old couples, and a shaggy-haired, bearded and tattooed man, looking at odds with the rest of his conventional party. He appeared more as if he had been searching for the Southampton Hell’s Angel Chapter and taken a wrong turning at the docks. Or was he a wild Viking – with something like ‘Bloodaxe’ in his name? Frankie was thinking on exactly the same wavelength.

‘He looks wrong here,’ she said.

‘Maybe he’s part of the security team. Wouldn’t tangle with him, would you, Frank?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Shave off that beard and tidy up the hair a bit and I bet he’d be quite handsome. Are we exploring?’

‘I’m knackered,’ said Olive. ‘Do you mind if I turn in?’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Ven. ‘This is your holiday, you do what you want.’

‘I’m going as well,’ said Roz, affecting a yawn. She wasn’t that tired, but she didn’t relish the idea of trotting around the ship with Frankie pretending they were bosom buddies again. Bosom being the operative word now with Frankie’s new tits. No, there was only so much play-acting she could do in one day. So Roz and Olive said goodnight and headed back to their cabins.

They both made contented gasps when they went inside them. Jesus had switched on some subdued lighting, closed the curtains, turned down their quilts and placed a chocolate on their pillow.

Olive was too tired even to have a bath or a shower; she stripped off to her underwear then went to the drawer for her nightie. She was just about to put it on when she remembered she didn’t need to. If she got up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet, she wasn’t likely to bump into Kevin and his appendage-filled thong. She crawled between the starched white sheets stark naked, an extreme act of wantonness from her, and tried to remember the last time she had slept in the nude between sheets as crisp and cool as these. Her mind flew back twenty years and she saw herself rolling around naked with Atho Petrakis in his bed above the café, and though she was alone, Olive felt herself blushing. The ship barcaroled gently and made her feel as if she were in a giant cradle. Or Atho’s double hammock, strung between the olive trees behind his parents’ tiny villa. She slipped into sleep before she had a chance to savour her memories for long.

Next door, Roz lay on her bed staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Frankie. She wouldn’t have recognised her if they had passed in the street, with her hair and her weight loss and her enlarged knockers. She could almost have been a different person but for those big sloe eyes of hers. But she wasn’t. She was still the same Frankie Carnevale who had tried to seduce her man . . . then distorted and exaggerated pictures of Frankie and Manus passionately locked in each other’s arms loomed large and colourful in Roz’s head. Her mother was right, after all. Anything with a dick should never be given the benefit of the doubt.

Frankie and Ven caught the lift up to the seventeenth floor as they had decided to explore the ship from the top down, but once they had flopped onto a comfortable sofa in the beautiful Vista lounge on the sixteenth, they knew it would be their last port of call for the evening.

‘I’m so full, I don’t think I could even fit a drink in,’ said Frankie, feeling the curve of her stomach.

‘Drink, ma’am?’ came a waiter’s voice at her side.

‘A Classic Champagne Cocktail, please,’ said Frankie.

‘What happened to “I’m so full”?’ Ven grinned and ordered the same.

‘I am full, I’m just being a pig,’ said Frankie. ‘It’s not every day you get up from a dinner-table and swan off without paying the bill, is it? I could get used to this life very quickly.’

‘We’re right at the very back of the ship,’ said Ven, looking out to sea. ‘I bet this is gorgeous during the day.’

‘No doubt we’ll find out tomorrow.’

‘Sorry about Roz,’ said Ven, suddenly changing the subject. ‘I knew she’d be pissed off at seeing you. Not sure it was fair to risk it for your sake.’

‘Oh, don’t you worry about me.’ Frankie tapped her on the hand. ‘The ship’s big enough for her to get out of my way if she chooses. I shall make no such detours, though. How’s Manus? Still as lovely as ever?’

‘He’s wonderful,’ sighed Ven. ‘I wish I could find someone as nice as he is. But they’re having a rough time, Frankie. They’re on a temporary break.’

‘Aw, that’s a shame,’ said Frankie, with quiet sorrow. ‘I’m really sorry to hear that.’

‘We don’t know what to do,’ said Ven. ‘If she knew—’

Frankie held up a hand to stop Ven speaking further. ‘You can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to tell her now. You just can’t.’

‘That’s just it – I can’t tell her and I can’t not tell her, so I’m well and truly stuck,’ sighed Ven. ‘Things should never have got this far. You shouldn’t have made us promise.’

‘I know,’ said Frankie, shaking her head sadly. ‘I’m sorry, but I thought I was doing the right thing. I should have listened to you but I didn’t.’

They paused to thank the waiter for the newly delivered champagne and for Ven to sign the chitty.

‘I could murder you when I think about the mess,’ said Ven through impatiently gritted teeth. ‘But I could equally as easily murder Roz. She’s been punishing Manus for Robert’s antics ever since they met. She’s not blameless in all this, so don’t think I’m saying she is, but she’s like a pit bull with a bone when she gets going.’

‘And I didn’t help.’ Frankie’s fist crashed into her thigh. ‘I just wish I could turn the clock back to that night. He loves her so much. She’s blessed – if she could but see it. He’s fab, you can’t help but love Manus, but not in
that
way. He didn’t fancy me and I didn’t fancy him.’

‘I know you didn’t.’

Once upon a time Ven had ventured to tell Roz that, hoping to smooth some waves . . . it had only made matters worse. Sometimes, she and Olive felt that Roz was more comfortable with Manus’s mistake than with forgiving him.

‘S
he nearly broke up my relationship and she didn’t even fancy him!
’ Roz had railed, and Ven knew she had inflamed the situation whilst meaning to do the opposite. She was expert at getting things wrong when her heart was full of the best intentions, which was why she was worrying now that this trip was a disaster in the making.