CHAPTER 30
ABI
“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Give a smile and pull the plug and become a submarine.”
“Rosie! Those aren’t the right words.”
“But the man said they were.”
“Which man?”
“Mister Doctor who chopped Mummy up.”
I want to laugh, but my throat hurts too much. I’m lying in bed in our cabin. The bed’s been pulled over to the open doors, and I can feel the wonderful cool night breeze coming off the water. Rosie and Genna are sitting on the balcony, entertaining themselves.
“He didn’t chop her up. He helped her. What are you doing now?”
I can see the thin beam of Rosie’s stolen torch shining out across the water. Not that it is powerful enough to reach the water, but she is swinging it in that direction.
“I’m keeping watch like Mister Doctor Chopper Man said to.”
“Keeping watch for what?”
“Pirates.”
“Rosie, we’ve talked about this.”
“Mister Doctor Chopper Man said that there was pirates in the waters. He was talking to the captain when you was kissing Mummy. He said pirates was in the waters. Then he told me to keep a watch.”
“He meant to look out for your mum.”
“Why? She’s sleeping.”
“I think he means when she’s awake.”
“So I’ll watch for pirates until she wakes up, then.” I can just picture her face from the tone of voice. It’s the “grownups are so stupid” look. She’s perfected it before even reaching puberty. Impressive.
“Hey, you’re awake,” Genna says, smiling at me.
I try to talk, but the bloody tube stops me.
“You can’t talk, baby. Do you need something? There’s some paper and a pen here. It’s not perfect ’cos it’s pretty dark now, but we’ll manage.”
I take hold of the pen and paper and write Why here?
“In our cabin?”
I nod.
“The doctor said you need rest until we can get you to a hospital to get the tube removed. The sickbay was so hot that they were trying not to keep anyone in there. They hooked you up to a drip so that you can keep hydrated and stuff, and so they could give you antibiotics too, but there was no real reason for you to stay in that awful little room. It was just a sweat box. So we agreed to have you come here. The nurse is going to come and change your drip every so often, and it’s cooler here than on the deck with so many other people. It’s better for Rosie too.”
You saved me, I write.
“No. Apparently that’s Mister Doctor Chopper Man.”
I tap the page again, and she blushes.
“I had to.” Her eyes well with tears. “I couldn’t lose you.”
I love you.
“I love you too.” She sits down next to me and starts to stroke my head. “I need to tell you something, and I’m really glad you can’t talk right now, so I know I’ll get to finish without you interrupting me.”
I point at my chest, in a “who me?” gesture.
“Yes, you. Now let me talk.” She kisses my head. “When we get back home, we need to look for a new house. One that’s big enough for the three of us and close to Rosie’s school, because I’ve learnt something in the last few hours.”
I raise my eyebrow, asking the question I can’t voice.
“You need someone to look after you. I mean, look at the evidence. You’re stuck on a burnt-out cruise liner, adrift, apparently pirates are breathing down your neck, and you decide to take a liking for prawns. You need someone around you all the time to make sure that you don’t get into any more trouble. Sort of a bodyguard, but with more responsibilities. You obviously need a full-time helper. And I want to help you. I want to be there for you. Always. If you’ll still have me?”
I’m smirking. I grab the pen again. Slave. I point at her.
“Very funny.”
I run my hand across her breast.
“Oh. That kind of slave.” She’s blushing furiously, but I know it isn’t embarrassment she’s feeling. “Just as soon as you’re better.”
CHAPTER 31
GENNA
Fourteen hours. It’s been fourteen hours since the fire knocked out all the power. Ten hours since Abi nearly died, and just three since I got her back into the cabin and into bed. It feels like it should be days, or weeks, not hours.
The shock’s wearing off now, and the tube in her neck doesn’t look quite as scary as it did before. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still scary, just not quite as I’m-going-to-shit-myself-every-time-I-see-it scary. Rosie’s curled up on the balcony in a nest of pillows, still looking for pirates. I told her that if she sees some to give me a shout and we’d pay them for a lift to land. I figure they’ll probably go for that. Easy money, right? I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We get taken hostage and I lose a shitload of weight. We could probably market that. Zero willpower required, but a high tolerance for stale bread and slightly stagnant water a must.
I feel totally isolated in here. The nursing staff keep coming to check Abi’s wound and change her drip. When they do, they tell us whatever they know about what’s going on, which is nothing. So far, we haven’t been able to contact anyone, because there’s no power for the radios. And we haven’t spotted or been seen by any other vessels (that we know of) because we are so far away from land. They think—think—that people will be starting to look for us by now because we have been out of contact for so long. But they don’t know how long it will take for them to find us, because A) they have no idea how far we have drifted, B) they have no idea where the nearest vessel is, and C) no one knows a goddamn thing. You might have already gotten that impression, though, hey?
It could be worse, though.
On the pool deck, the entertainers have been out trying to raise morale. Whoever came up with the idea of doing an a cappella version of “My Heart Will Go On” should seriously be shot. The nurses are also telling us about a game of charades that’s going on. First film out of the hat? Titanic. The second was The Poseidon Adventure, and the third apparently was Voyage of the Damned. I still can’t make up my mind if they’re pulling my leg or not, but it made Abi smile and took our minds off things for a few minutes. Who knows? Maybe they aren’t quite as idiotic as I thought in their morale-boosting quest.
Right now, I’d love to be back home telling Mum all about this. Maybe even Claire, if she can keep her mouth shut about Abi and me. I can just picture them rolling around on the floor laughing when I tell them about the little old lady sitting in the life raft, knitting, and singing “When the Saints Go Marching In.”
Bet they aren’t laughing right now, though. Mum’s probably worried sick, thinking we’ve sunk. She’s probably staring at the telly, waiting for news updates. That’s if they even know that something’s gone wrong. That’s a point. We might be rescued and saved before they even know anything was wrong. That makes me feel a bit better. The thought of Mum sitting at home wondering what the hell is going on does not make me feel good. It makes me feel pretty shitty, actually. She’s probably chewed off whatever’s left of her fingernails and has been pacing up and down her living room. She shouts at the telly when she’s upset too, tells the commentator off and stuff. It’s pretty funny really—well, to watch it is. I don’t want her to be worried about me like that, though.
How on earth did people cope before the invention of power? And telephones? And the frigging Internet? I’m ready to start looking for carrier pigeons to send messages home. Not that I’d find one round here. Do you think a seagull would work? Nah, probably not. It’d be just my luck that if the pirates get the message and turn up just before the rescue helicopter or something. I have millions of pounds sitting in the bank and right now, I can’t even make a phone call. I can’t get a decent meal. I can’t even get a drink with a frigging ice cube in it! I thought people were talking out of their arses when they said money can’t b
uy you happiness. Maybe not, I thought but then decided that I wouldn’t mind giving it a try. But they were right. It really pisses me off to admit that. And if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it. I swear. But, they were right. It isn’t the money that’s made me happy or miserable. It isn’t the money that has turned my life upside down and inside out and shat on me from a great height at times. Nope. It’s this little thing called life. And these annoying, frustrating, wonderfully brilliant things called people. They’re what make me happy. And sad. Pissed off. Annoyed. Ecstatic. Tearful. Hurt. Amazed. Terrified. Thrilled. Delighted. Shocked. Overjoyed. Aggravated. Euphoric. Loved.
A bit deep? Yeah, maybe. But I’ve been sitting here in the dark, thinking. There isn’t a lot else I can do without power, so thinking is what I’m left with. Scary, isn’t it?
CHAPTER 32
ABI
Rosie’s bored. Has been for ages, and it’s only getting worse. Genna asked her to write a story about what’s happening on the ship. Pretty good idea, but now she wants to read it to me. I’m a captive audience.
“The boat mens have tied a big string to the front of our boat and the back of another big boat and are pulling us through the water. When I saw them, I thought that we’d found some pirates at last, and I was looking for monkeys with money coins. But Genna says it is a fishing boat and that it will be two days before we can go on land and get a cold drink, some hot food, and Mummy to a hospital to remove the pain in her neck. She said that I wasn’t the pain in Mummy’s neck this time, that it was the thingy tube. Genna says we can’t go to the ball pool because it’s stinky. I opened the door just to check. It was very stinky. She said it’s because the toilets can’t flush and the food has gone off and people are sweaty and can’t have showers. I can’t go to the swimming pool either. It’s full of wrinklies what need ironing, and Genna won’t leave Mummy for that long in case the pain in her neck falls out or something. So I’m stuck. I’ve coloured all my pictures and drawn some new ones on the paper Genna had in her bag. She got upset about this. For ages. She said to Mummy that it was a first something book and that it was signed. Mummy wroted her a message. Then she gave it back to me and asked if I’d draw a cat on the other page with a big smile. And a tea party with a man in a big hat. I don’t know why, but this made her laugh then. She’s hidded the rest of her pages now, so I’ve runned out of paper, and I know I get in trouble if I colour the walls. Even when they are boring white. Genna’s read all my stories to me. Three times. I’m bored of them too now. And I’m hot. And I’m hungry. And I—”
“Rosie, can I talk to you for a minute, please?” Genna asks her.
“I didn’t draw on the boring walls.”
“I know you didn’t. Come here. Let’s sit on the balcony where it’s a bit cooler.”
“But I didn’t finish telling Mummy the story.”
“I think she’s really tired and needs a little sleep.”
Rosie sighs heavily. “Fine.”
Genna winks at me and takes hold of Rosie’s hand. “Rosie, can we talk about something important?”
“’Kay.”
“When we get home, how would you like to live in a new house?”
“What’s wrong with the old house?”
“Nothing.”
“So why do I have to live in a new one?”
“You don’t have to. But a new one might be bigger.”
“So I can fit more toys in?”
“Exactly.”
“Can I have two bedrooms like Dudley Potter’s cousin? I know Dudley Potter’s cousin isn’t a nice boy, but I think he has a very good idea having two bedrooms to fill with toys and stuff. Then when one room is dirty, I can just go and play in the other room until it gets clean again. Simples.”
“How about a bedroom and a play room? Then you have two rooms.”
“Okay.”
“Rosie?”
“Yes?”
“Would you mind if I came to live with you?”
“I don’t want to share my bedrooms. I only just got allowed another one!”
“No, no. I wouldn’t share your room. I’d share with your mum, like we have while we’ve been on the boat.”
“Oh. So I don’t have to share my new bedrooms with you and you lives with us?”
“Yes.”
“And will you read me stories and plays games with me and takes me fun places all the time?”
“Perhaps not all the time. But quite often, yes.”
“Okay. But you have to bring your own toys to play with. You can’t share mine.”
Laughing with a tracheotomy tube in is not a pleasant experience, but I can see Genna blushing from here. I’m looking forward to seeing Genna’s toy box. Again, sniggering at one’s own dirty jokes with a tracheotomy tube, not fun.
“So it’s okay, for me to come and live with you? For us to be a family?”
“We is already a family. You’re my spare mum.”
CHAPTER 33
ABI
It takes two days for the fishing vessel to tow us to the Seychelles. They plan to have us disembark at a small island called Desroches. But when we get there, the authorities say that the island can’t cope with over a thousand people invading them. Why didn’t they say that in the first place? Instead they add an extra hundred-and-something miles onto the journey for the detour. Nice. So we’re towed for another day to the main island of Mahé. Port Victoria is a bustling hive of activity. Apparently. I don’t see any of it. They stretcher me off the boat and shove me in the back of a helicopter. By the time Genna and Rosie get to the hospital, I’m already out of surgery and damn glad to have that bloody tube out of my neck. My throat’s killing like a bastard, and I still can’t talk. Stitches, bruised vocal cords, and a dry mouth all conspiring against me on that one. The doctor says it will be okay, that it’ll just take a few days or so.
The nurses are really good to us and let Genna and Rosie use the staff facilities to clean up and take a nap while I “rest.” This involves me closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep so that the nurses will leave me alone for a bit. I know they all mean well, but I don’t need my drip checked every five minutes. I still can’t speak, and I really don’t need help going to the bathroom again, thank you very much. I can hear Genna making phone calls to try and get us home and Rosie’s crayon’s scratching at some paper she’s found. I’m hoping it isn’t another of Genna’s precious books.
“Rosie, what are you doing?”
“Dots to dots.”
“With what?”
“Mister Doctor Chopper Man left papers on Mummy’s bed.”
“Rosie, you can’t draw on your mum’s medical chart!”
“Why not?”
“The doctors need that to keep a check on how your mum’s doing, that she’s getting better.”
Rosie’s sniffling now, a sure sign she’s about to cry. “I’m sorry, Spare Mummy.” Rosie has taken to calling Genna “Spare Mummy” since the talk. It still makes Genna blush adorably every time Rosie does it, but I love it. It’s just so totally us, you know? I hear tissues rustling and Genna moving around the room.
“It’s okay, but I think we need to start checking before you draw on paper that isn’t yours, okay?” I can’t hear Rosie’s muffled response. “Yes, I suppose it does look a bit like a boat, now you’ve joined the dots up.” More muffled talking. “Well, I think I’ve found a small aeroplane for us to go home on. Just as soon as the doctor says your mummy can leave here.”
The small aeroplane turns out to be a private Lear jet she charters a week later. With a nurse to make sure I’m fine and toys, new crayons, and colouring books for Rosie. It even comes with an on-board chef that serves pizza for Rosie—which she helps-slash-hinders in the creation of—soup for me, and the biggest cheeseburger I have seen in my life for Genna. I think there’s half a cow in that burger.
I sleep most of the way home. Drooling and snoring, Rosie assures me later. Boy, do I feel attractive right now. Addison and
Claire are supposed to be waiting at the airport to pick us up, and I have to tell you, I’m more than a little nervous. They both hated Ruth. I understand why Claire did, but I never understood why Addison hated her, and I’m scared it’s a no-one-is-good-enough-for-my-daughter kind of hatred. In which case, will she now feel it is her duty to hate me? I hope not. I like Addison. She’s funny, and I know it would be hard on Genna. She’s close to her mum. I hold my breath when we walk out through customs. Genna’s fighting a trolley with our luggage on it. And Rosie, who’s waving as she passes people, is balanced precariously on top of the cases. People are looking at us very strangely, but you know what? I don’t care. She’s enjoying herself, and that’s what I care about—that and avoiding getting run over as Genna tries to control the damn thing going down the ramp. “There they are!”
Addison’s voice reaches across the crowds, and they run towards us. Genna stops the cart and takes hold of my hand.
“I love you. This will be fine.” She kisses the back of my hand and smiles. Sometimes I swear she can read my mind. Then she is dragged away from me and enveloped in a bear hug that would have suffocated lesser mortals. Claire has Rosie slung over her shoulder and turns round, pretending she can’t find her. It’s the little things like that that keep her amused. Claire, not Rosie.
“You should have called me. I’m still your mother!”
“I did call you.”
“That was nearly a week later. You should have called me before that.”
“Mum, there was no power on the ship.”
“You’ve got a mobile. You should keep it charged.”
“There was no signal. We were more than two hundred miles out at sea.”
“Then you should get a better one. You’ve got money now.”
“Mum, unless I got a damn satellite phone, I don’t think it would have helped.”
“Then you need to get one of those.”
“Mum, you’re being ridiculous. I’m fine.”
“But I didn’t know that. No one knew anything for ages.”
Just My Luck Page 24
