Here Come the Girls

by Milly Johnson

  ‘Sometimes they have spare cabins on following cruises and you can pay and just stay on,’ said Royston. ‘We’ve done that a couple of times, haven’t we, Stell?’

  ‘Alas, not on the next cruise on this ship,’ announced Nigel. ‘We’re docking for a few days for some decorating before we head up to Iceland.’

  ‘Will you stop off at Morrisons?’ Eric quipped, proud that everyone joined in with his laughter.

  ‘Are you staying aboard, Captain?’ asked Royston.

  ‘I’m making a flying visit up to Ayr to see my mother and stepfather actually,’ replied Nigel. ‘I haven’t seen them for over six months and I’ll be in trouble if I leave it any longer.’

  As dessert was served, the waiters began to gather at a table of eight nearby and sang ‘Congratulations’. Olive noticed they were serenading the couple who had got married earlier on. The snow-haired bride was in the most beautiful white suit, the groom in a white tuxedo. Even the little boy had a mini-tuxedo on.

  ‘Did you marry that couple this morning?’ Ven asked.

  ‘Yes, indeed I did,’ replied Nigel. ‘Lovely people. Actually, they’re from Yorkshire too. He’s a dentist.’

  ‘Do you do lots of weddings, Captain?’ asked Irene.

  ‘It’s becoming very popular,’ said Nigel.

  ‘There you go, Venice,’ began Royston, and Ven closed her eyes against what embarrassing thing he was going to come out with next. He didn’t disappoint. ‘Any chance of getting you married off before we dock? You married, Captain?’

  Oh God, I am going to kill my friends and their big mouths, thought Venice and leaped in to change the course of the conversation before Nigel ended up as red-faced as she was becoming.

  ‘Is there any way of trying to find a pair of passengers just by their first names, Nigel?’

  Nigel asked her to elaborate and Ven explained about Florence and Dennis and being unable to find table one in the Ambrosia restaurant.

  ‘There is no table one – the head waiter wasn’t making it up,’ said Nigel. ‘It was considered unlucky after what happened.’

  Eric was nodding, looking like a little kid in class with his arm raised to breaking-point, desperate to tell Teacher the answer.

  ‘We were on the maiden voyage of this ship, weren’t we, Irene?’

  ‘Yes, we were,’ affirmed Irene. ‘And in the Ambrosia restaurant, first sitting.’

  ‘The couple on table one were both dead before we got to Gibraltar, which was the first port of call on that cruise.’

  ‘Such a shame. They were due to celebrate their Diamond Wedding on the Black-and-White Ball night, but she had a stroke on the first night.’

  ‘And he had a heart-attack when they told him she’d died,’ continued Irene.

  ‘Ships are fraught with superstition,’ said Eric. ‘Which is why there’s no thirteenth floor on a lot of them. The powers-that-be decided that table one would be unlucky so they don’t have one in that restaurant. Because of what happened to that poor old couple.’

  Ven was confused now. ‘What were they called?’

  ‘Haven’t a clue,’ said Eric. ‘I dare say there will be a record of it somewhere. Internet maybe?’

  ‘Someone’s spinning you a yarn, girl,’ Royston grinned at Ven. ‘Either that or you’ve been talking to ghosts.’

  ‘I don’t believe in ghosts,’ said Ven. She took a loaded spoonful of her ice cream, but it wasn’t that which made her shiver.

  The ship’s photographers then approached and announced they were doing table shots.

  ‘Oh yes, we’ll have one of those!’ Royston spoke for them all. The girls were expertly arranged behind the two couples, Nigel standing in the middle, his arms around Ven and Olive. Soon that’s all she would have left to remind her of him – a wispy memory of his arm around her and this photograph and two handkerchiefs that she kept promising to return to him. Chuffing hell, Ven, cheer up, will you? said a voice inside. You aren’t half a miserable cow, considering you’re on a cruise ship with a couple of million quid in the bank! She drew a little comfort from the fact that the posed party seemed in no rush to disassemble. Nigel’s arm stayed around her for seconds longer than it did around Olive, though it felt much longer. God, you’re a saddo, analysing everything like this, Ven Smith!

  During coffee, Royston asked, ‘Will you be dining with us tomorrow night, Captain?’ Ven waited for the answer, heart in her mouth.

  ‘I very much hope so,’ replied Nigel. ‘I can never say for definite, alas. It all depends what is happening up on the bridge.’

  ‘Oh, it would be a shame not to see you on the last night,’ said Irene.

  ‘It most certainly would, wouldn’t it, girls?’ said Royston, giving Ven a big juicy wink. It was like having an embarrassing uncle hell-bent on trying to make her blush.

  Nigel stood to go. ‘Well, have a very enjoyable evening, everyone. I hear the theatre company’s production tonight is very, very good.’

  ‘Aren’t they all?’ said Royston. ‘That little gay-boy dancer is an absolute star. I could watch him all night.’

  ‘You can’t say “gay-boy dancer”!’ shrieked Stella. ‘You don’t even know he’s gay for a start!’

  ‘Oh, come on, love,’ said Royston. ‘Poncing about on stage like that, he makes Larry Grayson look like Bruce Willis.’

  Everyone was laughing – even Nigel, though he was trying not to. Royston was a dear maverick both in his speech and dress. Ven, especially, found that she was going to miss him very much, despite his rubbish attempts at matchmaking.

  ‘Come on.’ Frankie nudged Ven, watching her watching Nigel leave the restaurant. Her friend had it bad and Frankie wished she could do what they did when they were younger – tell the boy in question that ‘my mate fancies you’ and force the issue out into the open. But all the money in the world couldn’t take them back into the past.

  They all trooped down to the theatre together to watch a musical extravaganza based on West Side Story. How the actors changed so quickly was anyone’s guess. One minute they were in everyday fifties-style gear, the next in flamenco costumes. Roz thought she might try flamenco dancing next. It was so fluidly beautiful and passionate. She would never have believed that a bit of dancing could have awoken her from the inside so much. Then again, Manus still had not returned her text. Maybe there would be no one to be passionate for when she got home.

  Frankie left them straight after the show to meet Vaughan. She moved so fast up the Grand Staircase she looked as if she were flying. Ven tried not to think that she would have moved as fast, if she knew Nigel was waiting for her outside her cabin.

  ‘Packing tomorrow,’ said Ven, sticking out her tongue as she flumped on one of three plump upholstered stripy seats in Beluga.

  ‘Aye,’ sighed Olive. ‘Ven, I have to say, this has been the most wonderful two weeks of my life. Thank you.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure, my love,’ said Ven. She smiled at Olive, who looked a totally different woman to the one whom she had picked up crying the night before they set off. Her hair was shimmery and golden, her lovely face tanned, her eyes shining like green gems in a mine. She had blossomed on board, watered with rest and fed with some Greek attention. But she worried for Olive because she knew what was in store for her. She would go home, buy a big house with her money, and all the bloody Hardcastles would move in with her. She would give up her day job and instead have to pander to them 24/7. Nothing would change for her except the number of bedrooms she had to clean.

  ‘Olive, I think you should bugger off to Greece,’ said Roz, mirroring Ven’s thoughts. ‘I know I’m hardly Mrs-I’m-So-Great-at-Relationships, but if you go back home, I’ll kick your arse from Barnsley bus station to Bridlington beach.’

  Olive laughed. Roz giving out reckless advice was just too funny. Boy, she had changed during this holiday.

  ‘Let’s not even think about life beyond the ship,’ chirped Ven, clapping her hands. ‘We’ve got a full day left yet
. And I want an Irish coffee and some chocolates. And I want them now.’ Right on cue a waiter arrived and took their order. And the three of them snuggled back in the chairs, chilled out to the pianist, and watched a beautiful black-and-white world go by.

  DAY 16: AT SEA

  Dress Code: Smart Casual

  Chapter 72

  Frankie stretched awake, opened her eyes and saw that she was being stared at. By a naked Viking with a tattooed shoulder.

  ‘Morning,’ he drawled, with a cheeky grin. ‘You slept well.’ The emphasis on his words inferred that she’d been snoring.

  ‘You tired me out,’ she grinned. ‘It’s your fault if I made noises or dribbled.’

  He pulled her towards him tightly and kissed her. The sea was choppier this morning and the boat was rocking a little more wildly. They lay back, not saying anything, just letting the sea buffet them along, enjoying the closeness, the feeling of being held.

  ‘Do you ever worry it will come back?’ Vaughan suddenly asked.

  ‘It crosses my mind occasionally, but I try not to dwell on it,’ replied Frankie. ‘If I thought about all the bad things that could happen to me, I’d never get up in the morning. Vaughan, I hid myself away for too long. I got too scared to live and make plans because death cast this massive black shadow over everything. This past couple of weeks have really done wonders for me. I’m going to live until I die and look forward to the lovely things that might happen to me. Like going to your house.’

  ‘Not changed your mind about coming back with me then?’

  ‘Why would I?’ Frankie snuggled into his chest, the fine blond hairs tickling her cheek.

  ‘I still can’t believe you’re not put off.’

  Frankie pulled away. ‘You’re not defined by one missing bollock, Vaughan.’ She snuggled back into him as he shushed her, in case they heard next door through the wall.

  ‘You have such a way with words,’ he laughed. ‘Honestly, you should have been a poet.’

  ‘Are you put off by the fact these are replacements for ones I lost?’ She nudged her breasts into him.

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ he replied.

  ‘Do you feel you’re going to catch cancer off me if you touch them?’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  Frankie grabbed his hands. ‘Then touch them, you stupid man. Can’t you take a hint?’

  Ven had packed most of her things before breakfast. She made as short a job of it as possible then called for Olive and Roz, who were both up early doing the same. They pushed a note under Frankie’s door. She had a Do Not Disturb sign in her key slot which they all grinned at. They were in time to go to the Ambrosia for a waiter-served full Mermaidia breakfast and lots of coffee.

  Then it was up to the now-open Topaz pool where people were swimming, lying on the sunbeds and watching Moulin Rouge on the big sea-screen, determined to enjoy every last second of their holiday. There was a definite increase in the number of clouds in the sky, but they were white and wispy and didn’t take much of the heat away when they drifted across the face of the sun.

  Frankie joined them at half past eleven, looking as if she had just bathed in a fountain of youth.

  ‘You had an injection from some rejuvenating spring?’ asked Roz.

  ‘Yeah, and you should have seen the size of the needle!’ snorted Frankie, throwing herself down on the sunbed next to her. She had a bright green bikini on which could have been seen from a space station. She ordered a Brandy Alexander from the waiter when the others were ordering mineral waters.

  ‘Sod it, I’m on holiday,’ she explained. ‘And I haven’t had any breakfast, so I’m going for the biggest burger I can find as soon as the clock strikes twelve.’

  Ven grunted and sat up. ‘This new costume is far too big around the boobs,’ she said, adjusting it. ‘I’m sure the label is showing the wrong size.’

  ‘I’m going in for a swim,’ said Frankie. ‘Coming anyone?’

  The four of them slid into the waters of the pool and sighed with pleasure.

  ‘We’ll have to do this again,’ said Ven. ‘Caribbean next time?’

  ‘In your dreams!’ laughed Olive. ‘How will I be able to afford—?’ She stopped herself mid-flow and looked gob-smacked at the others. ‘I still can’t take it in.’

  ‘I could quite happily do this again,’ gushed Roz. ‘It’s been brilliant, Ven. Forget the money thing for now, I mean the holiday. Getting us all together again, especially me and Frankie. You’ve made it all so special – it’s been a dream come true.’

  ‘Roz, you’re starting to worry me,’ said Frankie. ‘Have you been taken over by an alien?’

  ‘Bugger off, Carnevale.’

  ‘Much better,’ said Frankie, submerging herself.

  ‘Totty alert!’ said Olive, giving Ven an underwater kick. Captain Nigel was making a slow friendly walk towards the pool.

  ‘Morning, ladies,’ he saluted. ‘Are you coming along to the Chocolate Factory this afternoon in the Olympia? Chocolate as far as the eye can see. I do hear it’s every woman’s dream.’

  ‘Some women have different dreams, Captain,’ said Frankie, smiling sweetly and kicking Ven from the other side.

  ‘Yes, we’ll be there,’ said Ven, pulling herself up to rest her arms on the side of the pool. She saw Nigel twitch slightly and turn his head from her.

  ‘Ok-ay,’ he said quickly. ‘See you all at dinner if not before.’ And he strolled off in the direction of mid-ship.

  ‘So he will be at dinner!’ gasped Ven aloud, though she meant to say it to herself.

  ‘Er . . . no wonder, Ven,’ said Olive with a pained look on her face. ‘I think you just made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.’

  Ven followed to where Olive was pointing. Her breasts had escaped from her costume, her nipples were bobbing on the surface of the pool. Ven sank to the bottom of the pool in shame. Was there anything left for her to embarrass herself with?

  They bought four copies of the photograph taken of them all at the dinner-table the previous night. Nine smiling people in black and white captured in a happy bubble of time. It was a lovely picture. Nigel looked impossibly handsome with his smiling grey eyes and military-cut hair. Ven wasn’t sure she would ever meet a man who could live up to that complete package of gorgeous voice, kind heart, fabulous body, brilliant uniform and discretion in the face of her Ronnie Biggs tits. Her head dropped into her hands at the thought of it.

  ‘Stop thinking about Nigel seeing your knockers,’ said Frankie, hitting the nail right on the head. ‘Let’s go and eat chocolate and be total pigs.’

  The Tray Twins and young Lighthouse were at the front of the very long queue waiting for the restaurant doors to open.

  ‘I hope they leave us some,’ sniggered Olive. But she had nothing to worry about because when the Olympia opened, there were tables with chocolate cakes, truffles and gloopy fountains as far as the eye could see. The only thing missing was Willy Wonka and a couple of Oompa Loompas. There was a huge mermaid made out of chocolate and a cake replica of the ship. The Tray Twins family were in orgasmic delight, transporting two heaving plates each back to a table within reaching distance of one of the chocolate fountains.

  Eric and Irene waved over. They had a shared plate of four tiny cakes and a pot of tea.

  ‘Ah, bless them,’ said Olive. ‘I’m so going to miss those two. Aren’t they a lovely couple?’ As soon as she said it, she realised that no one had ever called her and David ‘a lovely couple’. Where did it all go wrong? Once upon a time he was going to build them a big house with an indoor pool. She had been lonely when she met him and ripe for being seduced by big talk and the slightest bit of affection. She watched as Eric pulled out the chair so that Irene could sit down and gave her the first choice of cake. That small action showed her the difference between a true relationship and the sham she had.

  As they lumbered out of the restaurant, stuffed as teddy bears in an over-generous kapok factory, they spotted a ver
y happy Stella who had just won the snowball prize on the bingo.

  ‘I was determined,’ she said through her trout pout. ‘Some of these bleeders only turn up on the last day and I wasn’t going to let them win. Come and have a drink with me, girls!’

  They drank Bellini cocktails and Frankie made them all laugh by reliving the story of Ven’s mischievous bathing costume. People were coming in from the outside decks now for cardigans. Clouds were thickening in the skies and the sun was switching down a few gas marks with every passing hour.

  The afternoon seemed to whiz unfairly past. Children had to leave the pools because the water was sloshing violently from side to side now, and safety nets had been cast over them. All over the ship people were packing or doing last-minute laundry. Cases were appearing outside cabins to be taken away by the crew for transportation to the Southampton terminal building. The girls changed into casual wear for dinner and walked down to Café Parisienne for their last ice wines.

  There was a strange serenity about the ship as they sat there in silence, just watching the Mermaidia forge her way towards England. It was as if they were all cygnets on a mother swan’s back who had made a safe and warm crossing over the water and would be delivered gently home.

  ‘Got your tip envelopes for Elvis and Buzz?’ asked Ven.

  ‘Safe in my handbag,’ replied Roz. ‘Eric says we don’t have to tip the wine waiters because they get a commission from everything we order.’

  ‘Chuffing hell,’ said Frankie. ‘Angel will be richer than you, Ven.’

  ‘Well, I’m still giving her something,’ put in Ven. ‘She’s looked after us something rotten. I’ll give Jesus his tip in the morning before we go.’

  ‘Are you giving the Captain anything?’ Frankie winked.

  ‘I think he got enough this morning,’ laughed Ven, although she knew her cheeks would start to smoulder as soon as she saw Nigel at dinner.