‘It implies a caring nature,’ I said.
Joanna clung to my arm as if we were on lifeboat drill and on our way to lifeboat number ten. She was definitely the worse for wear and tear. I was sorry about the necklace but I’d never had any real jewellery. Even James had never given me anything and we had become close at times.
‘It’s worth thousands,’ she flung back as I guided her out of the Olympus theatre towards a lift to the Delphi dining room. I didn’t think she could manage the sweep of curving stairs to the lower deck. A trip would be disastrous. And I might get blamed.
‘I’ll make a note of that,’ Geoff Berry said, opening his notebook again. At least he could still write.
Joanna slumped into a chair at our dining table and the waiter immediately poured her a glass of ice cold water.
I nodded my thanks but he was going round the table with the same intention. I don’t think I’d had more than half of my glass of low vintage bubbly. I was very sober.
*
Sometime later I left Joanna in the Olympus theatre, now transformed back from cocktail party to being a theatre, watching a late night revue. It was good. But I wanted to get away. I had been chained to her for the best part of the day and the cuffs were beginning to rub.
I grabbed my scarlet pashmina and wrapped myself in the warm folds. There was already a coolness on deck. We were nearing Norway, country of fjords and snow and glaciers. I had never given Norway a thought before. All I knew about it was that Norway was occupied during World War Two by the Germans and there had been an active underground resistance. Many books had been written about their courage and heroic exploits.
No time to go to the cinema. The last showing of a film had already begun, but then I wasn’t on board to enjoy myself. I was here to steer an alcoholic female from one show of hysterics to another. Then I thought of the money in the bank and decided it must be worth it.
‘Stavanger tomorrow,’ said a voice I recognized. It was the staff captain that I had bumped into twice. He sounded tired and reminded me of James. Perhaps he’d had to steer the Orpheus while the captain wined and dined his table. Both sittings.
‘What’s Stavanger like?’
‘Clean and pretty. No litter anywhere. Harbour water so cool and clear and blue with reflections. You might see swans with little cygnets paddling after their parents. It’s walking country, everywhere in Stavanger. Norway is magical with spectacular mountains. You’re going to love Norway.’
It was not the sort of reply I expected. He sounded like a poet. An officer on a cruise ship who thought like a poet? No, it couldn’t be possible.
‘I’m Jordan Lacey,’ I said.
‘I know,’ he said.
‘You know?’ What was going on? How did he know?
‘I looked you up. Officers are allowed access to the passenger list. I know you are travelling with Mrs Joanna Carter and have communicating staterooms. Rather unusual. You must be important or very wealthy.’
‘I’m neither,’ I said, but refusing to elaborate. ‘So who are you?’
‘I’m Staff Captain Hamish Duncan, one step down from the captain. But still learning. An apprentice captain.’
I was impressed. Still learning was a modest admission. ‘We don’t want any practice steering on this cruise,’ I said. ‘Mrs Carter will demand the best.’
‘I am the best when the captain is asleep or entertaining.’ We had begun to walk along the deck and that was pleasant in a vague, no-stress way. No one else was about. It was too windy. There was a moon lurking somewhere in that clouded sky but very few stars. It might rain tomorrow.
‘So why are you cruising with Mrs Carter, a lady who has assorted problems, I understand? I won’t mention the diamond necklace or the bridge table.’
Word spread fast. I didn’t know exactly what he had heard.
‘I don’t know what you have been told,’ I said. ‘But I am Joanna Carter’s paid companion, or friend, depending on what mood she is in. It’s two weeks out of my life when I have to concentrate on her safety but I do have another life.’
‘Her safety?’
Mistake. That word had slipped out. I was beginning to feel tired. ‘No, I meant her welfare, making sure she has everything she wants.’
‘Enough gin and tonics?’
I laughed. That would do. If everyone on board thought I was looking after a recovering alcoholic, the easier it would be for me to assume that role. DI Berry might be right with his snide nursemaid remark.
‘And double brandies,’ Hamish Duncan went on. ‘I’ve seen her bar account. She’s way ahead of everyone in the consumption stakes. We’ll have to call in somewhere to replenish stock.’
‘Oh dear. I’ll have to watch her ashore.’
‘Don’t worry, the Norwegian prices will put her off buying alcohol ashore. They are sky high.’
‘Can we talk about something else?’ I said. ‘This is my time off.’
‘Would you like a drink somewhere?’
We both laughed. It was not what he meant. He meant shall we go somewhere and sit down and talk but it had to be couched in other terms. He leaned on a rail and stared down into the dark, rushing sea. The ship was gathering speed. The power was there, the throbbing, the pulse, a great floating machine thrusting forty-three thousand tons of steel through the waves.
‘Sorry, wrong thing to say.’
‘But walking is fine.’
‘Let’s walk then. Are you warm enough?’
‘Yes, thank you, staff captain.’
‘Call me Hamish.’
It was easy to talk to him. We talked about everything and nothing. He didn’t ask any probing questions about what else I did for a living or my status. He took it for true that I was a paid companion. It was not unusual aboard ship. Older people liked cruising. It reminded them of their youth when they could travel and see the world without a stick or a Zimmer frame. They often brought a carer.
‘Do you ever get any time off?’ Hamish asked.
‘I don’t really know. I’m expected to be at her beck and call, day and night. Maybe if she’s having a facial or having her hair done, I might be free.’
‘I get some shore leave. It would be fun to show you around. Norway is a beautiful country. You’ll love it, even when it’s raining.’
‘Does it rain a lot?’
‘It rains a lot. The port of Bergen has become a verb, meaning to rain.’
Some passengers were coming out on deck. That meant that the stage show was over and they were catching some air before retiring for the night. That also meant that Joanna Carter would be prowling around, looking for me.
‘I’d better go,’ I said. There was a bar at the entrance to the theatre. She might have stopped there, having a nightcap.
‘Back in harness?’
‘Something like that.’
‘This is my mobile number if you ever need to talk to someone,’ he said, writing it down on a card. ‘Of course, I could be steering the ship through some tricky fjord but I’ll always find time to rescue you.’
‘I could help with the steering. I once had a rowing boat,’ I said, putting the card in a safe place. I had a feeling I might need a friend one day. I must try to memorize the number. ‘Thank you, staff captain.’
‘Hamish.’
‘Hamish.’ It was difficult to say. I’d been saying James for so many years, it seemed disloyal to say another man’s name.
*
Joanna was propping up the bar. She had a double brandy in front of her and did not seem to notice that I had been absent. There was hope for me yet.
‘Did you enjoy the show, Jordan?’ she said, all smiles. Her lipstick had vanished and the careful hair was losing its shape.
‘Brilliant,’ I said.
‘That nice security officer says he’s sure he’ll find my necklace. All diamonds you know, worth thousands.’
‘What a relief,’ I said.
‘Someone stole it. Took it off my neck with
out my noticing. So easily done in such a crush. I told the captain that there were too many people. He should have smaller and more select parties. Not invite everybody in sight. After all, not everyone is interesting. Not every single passenger on the ship deserves an invite. Like some media circus.’ She was getting carried away.
The ever attendant barman came up to me. I didn’t really want anything. ‘A glass of tap water,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry but that’s all I should like.’
‘Ice, madam?’
He served it with as much aplomb as serving the most expensive drink. That was style. He looked at my nails.
‘Leila did them,’ I said.
‘She good worker,’ he said. ‘Nice lady but lonely.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Joanna interrupted, propped on her elbows. ‘What are you saying?’
‘The Beauty Box, where you had your hair done this evening. We were talking about the staff there.’
‘It was so slow,’ said Joanna, draining her glass. I had no idea what she was drinking now. Double vodkas with lime? ‘I was there ages. Still, my hair does look great. I was pleased and it was perfect for the captain’s cocktail party, even if my necklace was stolen.’
‘It could be lost,’ I put in.
‘Rubbish. That clasp was checked by the jewellers before I came away. I’d had it cleaned. Still, it is insured. I shall claim as soon as we get back.’
Small bells rang. I’d heard this all before somewhere but I couldn’t remember where. Some other investigation. Was it an early case of Alzheimer’s? Don’t give me any tablets, doctor. Don’t resuscitate. Just let me go.
The loss of James suddenly hit me straight between the chest muscles. That awful time when I thought I had lost him. It was a physical pain. I wanted him so badly. I had thought, for a blissful moment a few months ago, that he was mine, but he had slipped away again, like a silvery fish. No fishy smell. Only the tang of his aftershave and the sharp feel of his cropped hair under my fingers was enough to quicken my senses. He filled every corner of my life. He filled a milky, silky stillness that was impossible to describe.
‘Are you awake, Jordan? I feel like dancing. Let’s find a band that is still playing. There must be one somewhere.’ Dancing? Could I call this overtime?
FIVE
Stavanger
It’s called landfall. A local pilot came aboard in the early hours, long before anyone in their right mind was up and on deck, to steer the Orpheus Odyssey through the passage of Byfjorden. The ship was manoeuvred into the harbour.
Hamish told me he swung the ship over 180 degrees before coming astern on to the berth. I don’t know why he told me these technical things. The first lines went ashore and the ship was fast by eight a.m. It was a foreign language but I was learning. All I knew was that Orpheus Odyssey was tied up alongside a dock that was surrounded by brightly painted houses and cafes.
It was sunny with only a few clouds and a light breeze. Where was this famous Norwegian rain? It was supposed to be drenching the place by the bucket load. The harbour water was clear and smooth with hardly a ripple. Swans and their cygnets were reflected in the water, just as Hamish said.
A message came to the room that the necklace had been found. And found in a most unexpected place. In a towel by the pool, among the crumpled towels, on its way to the laundry. In celebration, Joanna booked an excursion and we waited in a lounge for our coach number to be called and to be escorted to the dockside. It was all very smoothly organized but there was a lot of waiting. I started to get itchy to move, wanted to get off. One of the stewards was entertaining the tour operators with sleight-of-hand tricks, balancing a coin which disappeared, swallowing it, then making it reappear on the back of his neck. He must have practised for hours.
Stavanger was a clean and pretty place. Not a scrap of litter anywhere. Even the younger generation put their litter tidily into bins. When I thought of Latching’s sour streets, the littered sea front promenade and the daily dumping of fast food wrappers, cans and bottles, plastic bags, it made me shudder.
Joanna was hiding behind big dark glasses. They hid nothing but the expression in her eyes. Her hair alone was a landmark.
‘We are going ashore,’ she said. ‘Keep close to me. I don’t trust anyone.’
We piled on to a coach waiting at the quayside, fastened our seat belts, signed a form giving name and cabin number. Joanna tried to write illegibly. The guide introduced himself, rambling on, but I was too busy to listen. There was so much to look at, the new world outside. This country was fascinating.
‘This was the country of the Viking warrior, King Harold the Fair-Haired. The Old Norse name was Stafangr and it was founded in 1125,’ began the guide, a short man who leaned heavily on a stick.
The coach took us through a long tunnel under a fjord. It was pretty claustrophobic. Joanna began to get nervous. The guide pointed out a large hotel that was called Under Arm by the locals because it looked like a deodorant tube. We saw a monument of three swords in the ground by a lake which was about not wanting to fight any more. The fields were full of white plastic bags of grass which the Norwegians called troll eggs. They obviously have a good sense of humour.
Joanna was tiring. She yawned. ‘How much longer is this going on? His voice is sending me to sleep.’
‘Look, Joanna, there’s a huge strawberry farm. And they found an old Junkers in the fjord over there. And we are only one and a half hours away from the ski slopes. Apparently they use roller blades to train for skiing.’
I was parroting the guide. The views were beautiful, fjords and hills and islands of trees. There were sea houses with water right up to their lower storeys so they could offload straight from ships.
He pointed out ‘cleaning-up straights’ where farmers used to change clothes before going to church. Joanna was nodding off as the guide’s voice drifted in and out of her ears.
The coach returned to Old Stavanger through the preserved white houses that dated back to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. One hundred and seventy-three were saved from the disastrous fire that swept through the old town, and they were now a National Heritage site.
Joanna was asleep, hung-over by her night’s drinking. I tried not to notice, to appear normal, but the other passengers kept glancing back, annoyed. She was mildly snoring.
‘It’s her medication,’ I explained. ‘Seasickness pills. They make you drowsy.’
They nodded, as if understanding.
We were back to the quayside in time for lunch. Joanna woke up. In time for lunch meant in time for a Pimm’s Number One on deck in her schedule. We climbed the gangway and showed our swipe cards for an electronic check. Our bags were passed through a security scan but we had bought nothing.
‘Take my coat to our stateroom,’ said Joanna, heading for a deck bar. ‘I’ll see you in the dining room for lunch.’
I went straight on deck after taking her coat to the stateroom. No dining room for me, I was going to catch a salad in the lido cafeteria. It was buffet style so I could help myself to a little or a lot. But I was seduced by the choice and had spinach and ricotta cheese tortellini, then some rum ice cream and fruit salad. I would be as fat as a pig at this rate.
The afternoon excursions were assembling on the quay, ready to go.
There was some sort of commotion going on at the front of the ship. The pointed end. Passengers were leaning over the rail and peering down. Was it whales or dolphins? Hardly, we were still in harbour.
I scraped up the last fragment of sliced strawberry and hurried outside. They were looking down at the heaving water. It wasn’t easy to see anything. Several women were turning away, their faces white with shock.
I suddenly thought of Joanna. Surely she hadn’t jumped overboard? She was certainly depressed and acted unstable at times, especially after a few drinks.
Officers were coming on deck in droves and moving passengers away from the rails. Crew were rigging up screens and cordoning off the area. The
y were moving swiftly.
‘Better not to look, miss,’ one said kindly to me.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked.
‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ he said.
‘I’d like to know.’
‘We’ll soon sort it out.’
That kind of evasive answer got me really curious. I darted down stairs to a different deck, the promenade deck. The same sort of camouflage was being rigged up below. There wasn’t a chance of seeing what was going on. But I did know it was something to do with the forward hull. I think I’d got the term right.
They could hardly be casting off as then the ship would veer away from her moorings, leaving a lot of passengers behind. They were winching down some sort of platform, probably a maintenance platform, which they used to paint the ship or clean portholes. Orpheus Odyssey was pristine white so she got painted a lot.
Craig Quentin was trying to peer round the rigged screens, his eyes bright with macabre curiosity, the way motorists slowed down to look at an accident. Did they really want to see a mangled body?
‘It’s a woman,’ he said excitedly. ‘She’s caught up on some sort of emergency rope ladder. God knows how she got there.’
I didn’t want to know. It sounded too awful. I turned away, not wanting to see. It was time to rescue Joanna from whichever bar she was chained to and steer her towards the dining room.
Chained to. The phrase had flashed into my mind. I began to hurry. I didn’t like those kind of premonitions. Geoff Berry, the security officer, was also hurrying along the deck towards me. For once he wasn’t looking supercilious or condescending.
‘Jordan,’ he said. ‘I need to speak to you.’
I stopped politely but not politely enough to answer him.
‘Are you travelling with Mrs Joanna Carter?’
‘Yes, you know I am.’
‘Is this her handbag?’
Now I am not the world’s best advised on couture handbags, those costing hundreds of pounds with masses of straps and buckles and fancy leather. I buy my tiny shoulder bags from charity shops. A lipstick and a pen is all I need to carry about. And a notebook.
Fold and Die (Jordan Lacey Mysteries Book 8) Page 5
