Here Come the Girls (40 page)

The four of them were up early the next morning, determined to squeeze as much enjoyment as they could out of the precious last days, so they went down to be served posh breakfast in the Ambrosia restaurant. Elvis was their waiter, fresh-faced and smiling a ‘Good morning,’ as he delivered their order.

‘I am never going to fit back into normal life,’ said Frankie, who had got very used to being called ‘ma’am’ and having her meals made, her room cleaned, and the most taxing thing about her day being to decide what she should wear to dinner.

Ven opened her mouth to speak then stopped herself.
No, not yet
. She glugged down some orange juice and watched Dom Donaldson and Tangerina being led to the next-but-one table. ‘I must get his autograph before I leave,’ she said. ‘I wonder if he’d sign this serviette . . .’

Roz stopped her quickly. ‘No, not now,’ she advised. ‘He’s having his breakfast. I bet he gets interrupted all the time. Ask at the end of the cruise.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Ven agreed, to Roz’s relief.

But Ven did notice, as they stood up to leave, how Dom Donaldson clicked his fingers at Elvis for attention, and gave his order without a nod to the word ‘please’.

Olive went off for her fourth massage of the cruise. She hadn’t been able to get Leo and his strong hands this time, but still she hoped that ‘Romana’ would have a firm grip on deep-tissue massage. She didn’t want a drippy kneading that made her feel she was merely being wiped down with a tea-towel.

Despite having enough dresses to wear, there was always time for more shopping, and rails of gorgeous gowns and suits had been wheeled out that day and were drawing a crowd. A long stall with perfumes and aftershaves had been set up as well and the girls were squirting themselves liberally with fragrances that they liked the sound of but had never tried.

‘Isn’t this just a slice of heaven,’ said Frankie, before wincing at the pong she had just released from a beautiful-looking bottle. ‘I smell like a sweet shop. Christ! Who’d wear that?’

‘The youth of today,’ said Roz. ‘Put it down and pick up something more suited to your age. Here, look, there’s a fragrance called “Cardigan”.’

‘Very funny,’ ha-ha-ed Frankie, her chuckle drying up as once again Vaughan crept into her vision. She tried not to watch him wander over to the aftershave counter and sample something from a bottle that was the glass equivalent of himself – long, strong shoulders and a lean waist.

‘What do you think?’ Ven came over holding against herself a glittering gold dress in one hand and a silver one in the other.

‘Wow!’ whistled Frankie. ‘They would look gorgeous on you.’

‘I meant for you,’ Ven told her.

‘They would be too long for short-arse me,’ said Frankie.

‘You can get alterations done on board. You could choose one and have it sorted for tonight if you hurry up and buy it. Go on – treat yourself,’ urged Ven.

‘You mean “go on, let the poor sods paying your bill treat me”,’ smiled Frankie.

‘Okay, yes, that’s what I mean,’ Ven said. ‘They’ve got matching accessories in the shop – handbag, shoes. Get yourself totally gelded up for tonight and feel a million dollars.’

‘Gelded? Gilded, isn’t it?’

‘Whatever,’ sniffed Ven, inclining her head sharply in Vaughan’s direction. ‘You show
him
what he’s missing out on.’

Frankie stole a glance towards Vaughan. He still looked like a big blond Viking who had been teleported a thousand-plus years into the future. Her heart made a lurch in his direction and to counter the feeling she grabbed a coat-hanger from Ven.

‘Let’s go gold then,’ she said, heading towards the fitting room. ‘No one remembers silver.’

They had arranged to meet Olive by the small Neptune pool. The area they were sailing through was renowned for its many dolphin pods and Ven, Roz and Frankie hoped to spot some. They were richly rewarded. Lots of teenage dolphins joined the passage of the ship, showing off by playing in the froth of the bow wave – alas, just when Ven had disappeared to the toilet and missed the lot.

Olive hobbled towards them like a crippled old woman.

‘I have never been as manhandled in my life,’ she explained, sinking gratefully onto a sunbed. ‘Romana turned out to be a Hungarian sadist with thumbs like corkscrews. I feel like I’ve been run over by a combine harvester.’

‘But did you enjoy it?’ enquired Ven.

‘It was bloody marvellous,’ said Olive, with a cringe of pain. ‘But I need a gin and tonic and quick.’

‘Hello, ma’am, can I get you something to drink?’ said the friendly voice of Buzz doing deck duty.

‘Four gin and tonics, please,’ said Ven, checking that was okay with everyone.

‘And those are just for me,’ groaned Olive. She could still feel Romana’s thumbs pressing under her shoulderblades. Olive wondered if she was slightly masochistic to have derived so much pleasure from being battered for an hour. Then a nasty little voice reminded her that she must indeed be very masochistic for putting up with a lot more than one Hungarian masseuse subjected her to, namely years of drudgery from the Hardcastle clan.

‘Ice and lemon?’ asked Buzz.

‘Oh yes please, my love,’ said Ven, as Buzz buzzed off to get them.

Then up the stairs came Eric and Irene, dressed like twins in blue shorts and white tops.

‘Hello, ladies,’ Eric waved. ‘I thought you might be ashore today.’

‘Ah, we thought we’d give it a miss,’ said Roz with good humour. Eric wouldn’t be Eric without that stupid joke following him around.

‘Look at that mist rolling in.’ Olive nudged Ven. It was the weirdest sight. They were sailing into a low-sitting dry-ice of a mist that clung to the almost-smooth glassy surface of a very calm sea. Coupled with the silence, it was spooky to say the least. Like something out of a
Tales from the Crypt
Hammer Horror film.

‘Not sure I like this,’ shivered Roz. ‘It’s a bit weird.’ Then she started to ‘der-der’ the theme tune to ‘The Twilight Zone’.

‘Ah look, here come the girls!’ Eric pointed out into the distance. Three shapes were forming, becoming more defined with every passing second. ‘Look, Irene, the
Duchess Alexandra
. There she is, bless her.’ His voice crumbled and to everyone’s surprise, Eric pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose loudly on it. He was man-crying. Coughing and shaking his head trying to disguise it, but there were glittery water traces on his cheeks.

Olive noticed how he then reached for Irene’s hand and held it tightly.

‘We met on that ship forty-six years ago,’ Irene explained in her whispery soft voice. ‘It has some lovely memories for us.’

A loud blast from the
Mermaidia
’s horn scared them all to death. Then, when it was answered by the deep mellow sirens from the three old swans swimming ever more closely, it felt incredibly touching, as if they were all benign sea-creatures calling to each other.

‘It’s like they’re saying hello,’ said Olive.

‘Or goodbye,’ sniffed Eric. ‘What a lovely old girl the
Duchess
is. Solid as a rock. Never budged in a force twelve. Beautiful, beautiful. God bless her.’

By now the decks were crowded, everyone watching the hypnotic sight of the huge black-and-white painted
Duchess
with the bright orange funnels, flanked by the two smaller ships, like ladies-in-waiting. They looked as if they were gliding on the strange mist like ghosts. People on the decks weren’t cheering, but stood in a silent reverence reserved for the graveside.

The three old Grandes Dames of the sea, laden with their passengers, sailed alongside the
Mermaidia
for a short while, then they turned again into the mist and plunged onwards at a speed that the much bulkier
Mermaidia
could not hope to emulate. Their horns called an echoey farewell, to which the young cruise ship eagerly responded. No one on the deck moved until the three old sea queens were totally out of sight. Some people were waving goodbye, Eric included. His hand made a slow, sad arc in the air. Reactions ranged from the awestruck to the tearful. Even Roz was seen wiping at her eyes.

‘Well, if someone had told me that I’d be upset because I’ve just seen a few old ships, I would have laughed them out of town,’ Olive said, also dabbing at her tear ducts.

‘Come on, love,’ said Irene, taking Eric’s arm. ‘Let’s go and have a stiffening brandy.’

‘Aye,’ sighed Eric, sniffling into his giant hankie.

Venice wanted to hug him. ‘Make sure you each get a double,’ she called after Irene.

Half an hour later, the girls wandered up to the side of the Topaz pool to watch the ice-carving demonstration. A member of the galley crew, armed with what looked like a big chisel, hacked away at a huge slab of ice and revealed the most beautiful detailed sculpture of a mermaid. He made it look as easy as peeling a banana. This was carried downstairs to form the magnificent centrepiece for the Mermaid’s Sea Food Buffet in the Ambrosia restaurant that lunchtime, which the four girls felt delightfully obliged to attend. There was the most amazing display of fruits de mer – plump prawns and flaky salmon, squid, scallops and hot seared slabs of white fish and accompanying salads to die for. Ronnie and Reggie Tray were there, obviously, their plates piled as high as the Eiffel Tower. It was gluttony’s finest hour.

Olive pushed her fork into the baked cod. Turbot’s fish-and-chip shop would never have the same appeal after this feast, she thought, then quickly threw out all thoughts of home before they spoiled her day. She tried not to acknowledge how easy that was to do.

Amazingly, when they returned to the Topaz, they found four free sunbeds right by the pool with a great view of the giant sea-screen.
Mamma Mia
was about to start showing on it in ten minutes. And they were at the side nearest to the bar. The downside was they were very near to a loud man with a Brummie accent.

Frankie slathered on her factor forty whilst Roz, Olive and Ven dripped on their factor thirty that smelled of coconuts. They had bronzed beautifully and sensibly, unlike some of the daft teenagers who were sporting very red shoulders.

Nigel’s voice came over the Tannoy warning people that the sun was much stronger at sea and that people should take extra care.

The Brummie was talking to a couple behind him. ‘I don’t need suntan lotion, me. I could cover myself in vegetable oil, me, and I wouldn’t burn. I’m a Sun God, me.’

Buzz waved hello to the ladies. He had obviously done his stint on the top deck and was on ‘shade’ duty for a while. He wended over with his usual big boyish smile that suggested he was genuinely pleased to see them yet again.

‘You following us, Buzz?’ teased Ven.

‘Of course,’ replied Buzz. ‘I am your devoted servant.’

‘That’s what we like to hear,’ smiled Roz. ‘I think that calls for a champagne cocktail.’

‘Make that two,’ said Ven.

‘Three!’ put in Olive.

‘Oh, go on then – four. I was going to have a healthy sparkling water but you’ve twisted me around to your way of thinking,’ Frankie laughed.

‘Champagne
is
a sparkling water,’ said Buzz. ‘But special grape water.’

He didn’t need to see Ven’s cruise card because by now he knew the cabin number to charge it to.

‘He’s a lovely boy,’ sighed Ven as he scooted off. She adjusted her head on her towel pillow so she was comfortable. Her brain emptied of everything but the sounds of children splashing, teenagers shrieking, the clink of glasses. Then, just as she was drifting off to a sleepy place, she heard an irate voice to her immediate right.

‘I said, if you’d listened correctly, this is not a Mai Tai!’

She opened her eyes but it took a few seconds of adjusting to the light before she could make out that Dom Donaldson and Tangerina were standing nearby holding out their cocktails to Buzz with stiff aggression.

‘A Mai Tai is vodka-based, not rum,’ Dom Donaldson was saying, none too quietly either.

‘No, no,’ Buzz was protesting quietly. ‘Mai Tai is rum and orange—’

‘I know what a Mai Tai is, for God’s sake. And this
isn’t
a MAI TAI. Take. It. Back. Do you people understand English?’

Venice felt a bolt of adrenaline rush through her. How dare he talk to lovely Buzz like that? Then she saw Dom Donaldson, her heart-throb, stick out his finger and poke Buzz in the chest, repeating the words: ‘Take. It. Back.’

Mild, sweet Ven flew off her sunbed and pushed in between Dom Donaldson and Buzz.

‘Don’t you dare talk to him like that!’ she snarled at the actor.

Dom Donaldson was stunned that anyone would challenge him. And so it took him a few moments to find his voice.

‘And who the hell are you?’

‘Never mind who the hell I am!’ said Ven, not cowed at all by his height or perfect, fit physique. ‘Don’t talk to Buzz like that!’

Dom Donaldson did not know how to react in this situation, because he was too used to people bending to his will and agreeing with him and fetching him whatever he wanted. So he reverted to the last time he had been countered and threw his toys out of the cot. Or rather batted Buzz’s loaded tray to the side. The glasses narrowly missed a small child trotting by, and the ones that didn’t land straight in the pool with their contents, shattered on the tiles at the side of it, the shards bouncing into the water. Not that Dom Donaldson cared, for he was too busy towering above Ven and turning purple. When his finger came out ready to poke her as he had done Buzz, Frankie leaped up from the sunbed ready to do what was necessary to stop him laying a hand on her friend, but she was still steps away when a large white sleeve dropped as a barrier between Ven and the irate actor.

‘I think it would be a good idea if you came with me, sir,’ said Nigel, calmly and politely.

‘Yes, I most certainly will, thank you, Captain,’ said Dom Donaldson with a sneer, following Nigel away from the pool area with a haughty swagger to his walk because now he was with the Master of
Mermaidia
and a company apology of the highest order was surely in the offing. And possibly a free holiday.