‘Cocky cow!’ laughed Frankie. ‘Have Eric and Irene been on recently?’
‘They were on the Saint Petersburg cruise. Royston and Stella went on the New Orleans one. He and his wardrobe are as loud as ever, I’m happy to report.’
‘Look at that cloud – it looks like a flamenco dancer,’ said Frankie.
Roz put on her sunglasses and looked up. ‘That’s a hell of an imagination you’ve got there, Frank. How in the name of cock does that look like a flamenco dancer?’
‘Look.’ Frankie drew into the air. ‘That’s her skirt and that’s her arm up and there’s that comb thing on her head.’
‘Mantequilla,’ clarified Ven.
‘Mantilla, you fart,’ laughed Frankie. ‘Mantequilla is Spanish for butter.’
‘Oy you, don’t you dare start flashing your language skills about on my husband’s ship!’ Ven shook her finger at her friend. ‘Do you know, it took Nigel over six months to ’fess up to me how you’d taught me to ask for directions in Venice.’
‘Whoops,’ laughed Frankie. ‘Still, I like to think it endeared you to him a little bit more. And I bet you’ve said it again to him since,’ she added with a wink.
‘You still dancing, Roz?’ asked Olive.
‘Yep: belly, bhangra and I’ve just started flamenco.’ She leaned forward to the others and whispered, ‘Manus likes the costumes, if you know what I mean. I only have to pick up my castanets and he’s got that look in his eye.’ But Roz didn’t seem to be complaining.
Ven could see the dancer in the sky along with Roz. But she had never seen Florence and Dennis Thompson again, however many times she had been up on the top deck at night. Not even a shimmer of sequins in the shadows. Maybe they really had just been there to show her a little taste of the heaven she was now certain existed.
‘Eeh, you can’t buy this, can you?’ said Olive, with a contented yawn. ‘Well, you can buy the big houses and the nice cars and the olive groves and the cruises, but you can’t buy the babies or the lovely men or friendships, can you? You can’t buy us.’
‘No,’ sighed Mrs Ocean Sea with smiley dimples as deep as the Adriatic sea and a grin that couldn’t be bought. Not even on worldwide eBay. Not even for a billion pounds. ‘No, Mrs Petrakis, you most definitely can’t.’
Acknowledgements
There is a host of fabulous people I have to wave thanks to for both inspiring and helping me to write this book.
Firstly the P & O Cruises posse: to my lovely friend the angelic Michele Andjel who introduced me to ice wine – just when I thought life couldn’t get any better. And to Lorraine Sadowski, who looked after me so beautifully on board the Azura. To Captain Paul Brown who answered all my daft questions with generous patience and Captain Hamish Reid who is quite simply unforgettable. And members of their wonderful crew: ‘Ice-cream Jonathan’, Pete Diaz, Neil Lopez, Marshall, Malone, the ‘supreme’ Frankie, the charming Vincent in ‘17’, Bombay Bertie, Jerry, George, Rebecca, Brooke, ‘John the Perfume’ and the fabulous Neil Oliver – the presence of these people makes going on ships such an added joy for my family and me.
And to all the lovely friends I’ve met and made on my travels abroad including: the generous and mad Baister family – Wayne, Liz and Elle, Ian and Liz Barry, David and Sylvia Williams, Pete and Jean McCormack, Brian and Catherine Stevenson, ‘The Royle Family’ – Olive and Don, Margaret and Paul Richards, Pat, Sam and Keith Richards (not ‘that one’ but he’s still a damned good musician!), Julie, John and Will Hopcroft, Terry and Dave Wigham and the press pack on my last ‘essential research’ holiday who were such fun to break bread with – Peter and Joan Charlton, Richard and Emma Gaisford, Gerard Greaves and Lisa Sewards. Keith and Eileen Hamilton, Gary Buchanan – and so many others who have been a joy to mingle with.
To the sublimely talented James Nash at www.james nash.co.uk. An amazing poet, a sweet man and my friend.
To the bellissima Franca Martella at BBC Radio Sheffield who sorts out my Italian, however embarrassing the task! To the adorable Carnevale family who lent me their magnificent name. And to the wonderful Restaurant Rex in Corfu for converting me to olives.
To my cruise-buddy – the fabulous Jill Mansell who wrote my header quote and with whom it will always be a pleasure to drink a glass of bubbly on the high seas.
To ‘my team’ – my gorgeous agent and amigo Lizzy Kremer and all at David Higham and to EVERYONE at my publishers who have been such a constant support and a dream to work with, especially the superlative Suzanne Baboneau, Libby Yevtushenko, Max Hitchcock, Amanda Shipp and Grainne Reidy. You are the BEST and I am blessed to have you.
Last but by no means least – the biggest, fattest thank-you imaginable to my publicist par excellence Nigel Stoneman. He knows what for.
Table of Contents
Cover
Biography page
Also by Milly Johnson
Title page
Copyright page
Dedication
Epigraph
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Here Come the Girls Page 40
