‘Yes, this trip is supposed to be our hen thingy. It’s not really working out like that though. All we seem to be doing is drinking cocktails.’
Gabriel looked puzzled. ‘I thought that was what you were supposed to do on your hen weekend?’
I laughed. ‘Yes, you’re right. Anyway we get to Halifax tomorrow and then we set off across to England.’
‘Are you looking forward to it? The waves on the Atlantic can be very impressive sometimes.’
‘I love that!’
He grinned. ‘Me too.’ He held out his glass to me and we clinked them together. ‘Here’s to being a good sailor!’
We carried on in companionable silence for a while, watching the seabirds diving and swooping around the back of the ship. Gabriel shifted in his chair.
‘What are your hopes and dreams then, Alexa?’ he said.
My hopes and dreams.
I didn’t have a clue. No one had ever asked me that.
‘I suppose I hope my parents will carry on in good health. That my sister will be happy. That one day I will …’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know. I just sometimes wonder.’
‘Wonder what?’
‘Well, what it is I do that’s so wrong?’
I stopped, horrified at myself. He didn’t need all this ridiculous soul-baring. I hardly knew him and I’d already gone off on one about the magic of being an estate agent. God!
‘I’m sure you don’t do anything wrong, Alexa,’ he said after a moment.
‘Apart from chuck champagne over people at airports?’ I said, trying to lighten the moment.
He grinned. ‘Oh, I’ve forgiven you for that. You do realise I thought it was very funny, don’t you?’
My heart did a little judder. ‘I thought you were furious.’
He shook his head. ‘It was all I could do to not laugh out loud. Your face was a picture. But you need some dreams for yourself, you know.’
I turned back to my wine, wanting to change the subject. I was finding it increasingly difficult not to stare at him with his mesmerising grey eyes and his muscular shoulders moving under the cashmere sweater. I could remember how it had felt to have his arm around me, my hand on his as we moved to that awful music. Oh dear, not only did I fancy him something rotten, but I was starting to like him too.
Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.
Chapter Ten
Sidecar Named Desire
Calvados, Apple Schnapps, Lemon Juice, Sugar Syrup
So. Towel folding.
No, I didn’t know why I was going either. Particularly when, with a little bit more courage on my part, I could have spent a couple of hours with Gabriel, drinking wine, laughing and getting to know him better. He was, after all, the first man in a very long time I could honestly say I’d fancied. And why wouldn’t I? He was, even without the benefit of two large glasses of Merlot, gorgeous.
His voice was warm and low; he had impeccable manners; he didn’t bolt his food and then ask if I needed help finishing mine. He didn’t eat with his mouth open or look at other women with his mouth open either. He didn’t burp, fart or pick his nose. Have I known men who do such things? Yes, of course I have – Ryan did all of them and more besides.
I can remember being out for dinner with Ryan once to celebrate my birthday. (I’d organised it, booked it and paid the deposit by the way.) He deliberately ordered three courses that were different from mine so he’d effectively have more choice. Then he swapped his whitebait starter (bleugh) for my pâté. He ate half my steak. And then, when he’d finished his apple pie, he dug into my Eton mess. And he drank most of the wine. And half my Calvados on the pretext of never having tried it. And then claimed to have left his wallet behind. And did I say anything? No.
Anyway.
I caught up with India in the vast glass and gilt atrium where she was looking at the leaflets advertising excursions in Nova Scotia.
‘Where have you been?’ she said, sounding very aggrieved. ‘You’re supposed to be looking after me.’
‘I can’t do that if you go off without me,’ I said snappily, feeling a little put out. ‘I wouldn’t have minded going to see the bridge either. But we’re not joined at the hip, are we? Where have you been?’
‘Looking for you. Liam had to go back to work after we went to see the Captain on the bridge. It was brilliant. It’s the best view on the ship.’
‘Good. I wouldn’t want him to be steering if he was stuck behind a pillar or anything.’
‘And there were loads of dials and switches. I thought there would be a big wheel to steer with but there wasn’t.’
‘There aren’t any sails either.’
‘Very funny. So where have you been?’
‘Having a drink. With Gabriel Frost.’
India’s mouth dropped open. ‘No! Really?’
‘We went to a little wine bar at the back of the ship.’
‘Wow! And?’
‘And what?’ I was in far too good a mood to let India’s prodding get to me, and I was enjoying myself. We hadn’t bickered like this in ages. It was nice – kind of.
‘Well, is that it? There must be something more than that?’
‘Not really. I asked if he wanted to come to towel folding and he didn’t. And I asked if he was a writer and he said he was sort of looking after legal work for Marnie. But obviously he couldn’t go into details.’
‘You’re useless!’ India said, just like she always did.
‘But I did find out he’s not married.’
‘That’s something. But is he all loved-up with Marnie?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask. They work together.’
India rolled her eyes. ‘No wonder you’re still single,’ she said waspishly. ‘Come on, it’s five minutes to towel folding. We’ll just have time to get there if we hurry.’
*
Towel folding had already started by the time we got there. It was almost exclusively women. Evidently towel folding didn’t hold the same appeal for men as writing a bestseller or learning to waltz.
Jaresh the towel folder extraordinaire was standing in front of a pile of white towels, his hands busy as he created something that looked like a towel croissant but turned out to be a crab. Personally I thought he cheated by sticking on two cartoon eyes at the last minute. I mean, who was going to keep a stock of plastic eyes in the house for those last-minute touches when you were expecting guests? No, nor me.
Anyway, then we had a go. India, of course, was good at it, and won a prize of some cartoon eyes and a face flannel from an impressed Jaresh. She also received some pretty poisonous looks from a couple of Army veterans’ wives.
Then we watched him make an elephant from two towels. I had more luck with this and mine stood up too, which is more than India’s did. Finally he showed us how to make a monkey from a bath towel and a flannel. After sticking on more googly eyes he hung it from a coat hanger. That would frighten the crap out of your unsuspecting guests. By then of course I was in a mood.
I was fretting about Gabriel and properly starting to worry about my future – something I hadn’t really done before.
My hopes and dreams.
Was I going to end my days in the granny annexe at the bottom of my parents’ garden? Bloody hell, I was pushing thirty. My best years were behind me. Weren’t they?
If I’d had Wi-Fi I would have googled to find out for certain, but on board ship it was an expensive extra. And how shaming for the ship’s IT expert to know I’d been looking for Am I going to die alone eaten by cats? or Why don’t any men fancy me? If he told the rest of the crew they would all snigger at me.
I stopped and looked at India, who was still wrestling with her monkey’s legs, and suddenly I needed her to answer something, a question I’d been too afraid to ask my blunt-to-a-fault sister.
‘So why am I still single? What’s the matter with me?’ I asked and instantly regretted it.
India looked up and pushed a wis
p of hair out of her eyes.
‘Are you meaning anything specific or just generally?’
‘Oh, thanks so much. I meant why can’t I get a man? Why can’t I be like you are with Jerry?’
‘Don’t you dare!’
‘I didn’t mean specifically Jerry, you clown. I meant why can’t I get a bloke? A nice bloke?’
India pulled her monkey’s paws out a bit further and shrugged. ‘I dunno. Because you always go for the gits?’
‘I don’t!’
‘Well, Ryan was a git and so was Tom. I don’t know why you put up with either of them.’
‘But I didn’t know about Ryan and that woman till it had been going on for weeks. I think I was the last person in England to know,’ I choked out, not wanting to go back to that moment. God, it had been embarrassing.
India gave a sigh of exasperation, unravelled her monkey altogether and started again.
‘You turned down John Foster.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘Depends how desperate I was feeling. And thingy with the hair. What was he called?’
‘Narrow it down a bit?’
‘Blond, gormless, a bit of a piss artist.’
‘Ben? You make him sound so attractive now you’ve said that,’ I said, folding my towel into a small square.
India put her mangled monkey down and sighed, fixing me with a meaningful look. She looked pretty serious, and perhaps even just a bit frustrated. I gulped.
‘There’s nothing much wrong with you, Alexa. You’re reasonably okay. And –’ her expression became rather perky ‘– you have Gabriel Frost after you.’
‘He’s not after me. He was just passing the time while Marnie was busy having some part of her painted or massaged.’
‘Look, Alexa, are you ever going to see Gabriel Frost again? After this cruise?’
‘No, I doubt it.’
‘Then go for it.’
‘Go for what?’
‘Jeez, you’re slow. Have a bit of fun. It’s a masked ball tonight, isn’t it? So we’ll get dolled up and go for some excitement,’ she said, as if it was the most obvious solution in the world.
‘What if he’s not around?’ I said slowly, the idea of being rejected burning in my stomach.
‘He will be, trust me. And you can pretend to be someone else if you have a mask on, if that makes you feel better.’
‘Who am I going to pretend to be?’
India pulled a face. ‘Well, not Theresa May or Princess Anne obviously! I mean you can just be a bit mysterious. Flirt a bit.’
I thought about it. ‘Oh, okay. I suppose.’
Flirt? Me? Maybe with a mask on I could try? This whole thing was starting to sound a bit exciting, and wasn’t that just what my life needed right now? It wasn’t like Gabriel Frost would look at me twice in the real world. I mean the chances of us meeting at all had been infinitesimal. This being flung together on a ship thing might just be working for me.
‘Now help me make this monkey, then we’ll go and get started on your eyebrows.’
‘What’s wrong with my eyebrows?’ I said, startled.
‘You should have two separate ones. I’ve been meaning to say something for ages.’
‘Can we have a cocktail first?’
India sighed. ‘Yes, if it makes you happy.’
*
We had two. A cheeky Margarita and then we read the cocktail menu carefully to see which one was the strongest. We ended up with something called Mary Queen of Scots that seemed to be nothing but several different types of rocket fuel diluted with a cherry that lurked at the bottom of the glass like a dead sea anemone. And then we went back to the cabin to start beautifying. I needed all the fortification I could get, especially if she was plucking my eyebrows – which turned out to be far more painful than she’d told me it would be.
‘So, which dress?’ India asked, her speech somewhat hampered by her setting rejuvenating face mask.
‘Black sequins,’ I said, similarly encumbered. ‘I’m saving the bigger one for later, when I’ve expanded after eating my way across the Atlantic. What about you?’
‘Turquoise? And Mum’s evening bag.’
I nodded. I was feeling quite excited actually. It was nice to be here with India, even if she said things I didn’t like, or maybe just didn’t want to hear. For the first time in years it felt like we were normal sisters, getting ready for a night out. Maybe this cruise wasn’t such a bad idea of Mum and Dad’s after all. Or perhaps it was the umpteen units of alcohol sloshing around my bloodstream? It wasn’t just warm, fuzzy feelings towards my sister; I could even imagine myself slinking about, flirting with the waiters and being rather outrageous, while at the same time irresistibly remote and mysterious. India was right – I should have some fun, get out more. I’d wasted enough time being all wounded and crushed by Ryan and his shitty behaviour.
Bastard.
*
We reached the dinner table just in time. Our table companions were already there, masks on as befitted a masquerade ball. Caron looked very chic in blue velvet, Marion in red satin and Ike and Marty in rather snug DJs.
‘Well, aren’t I the lucky one, sitting with all these beautiful ladies?’ Ike said as we came to sit down.
I looked around the room. There was soft music playing. Each table had candles in huge, glass storm lanterns. The room, normally bright with chandeliers, was dimmed, throwing a mysterious glow across the room. The contented murmur of people enjoying the excitement of this enigmatic evening was everywhere. But Gabriel wasn’t there.
The tables were set with crisp white napkins, the cutlery sparkling silver. A woman walked across the room, allowing everyone to admire the bead-encrusted gold dress that shimmied around her slim figure. I felt suddenly dull in my black sequins and looked up through my mask to see India watching me, her eyes dancing with amusement.
‘Hmm, flashy!’ she murmured. ‘And so unsubtle.’
Instantly I felt better.
But Gabriel wasn’t there.
The meal was wonderful, and it went on for ages. We had wine and liqueurs and coffee afterwards and the room grew hot and the laughter noisier.
‘I need to go to the loo,’ I said, pulling my napkin off my lap and putting it on my plate.
‘Want me to come with you?’ India said, looking wistfully across the table to where Ike had just opened a bottle of brandy and was sharing it around with a generous hand.
I shook my head. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
I went to the cloakroom and washed my hands, letting the cold water run over my wrists. Looking up into the mirror I barely recognised myself. India had done a great job with my eye make-up. And my eyebrows looked pretty good too, despite the pain and all the yelping. My eyes were huge and filled with secrets behind the mask. I walked back towards the dining room, my high heels catching in the thick pile carpet. Then I hesitated for a moment. In front of me through the double doors was a wonderful snapshot of people enjoying themselves, dressed in their finery, the occasional gleam of jewellery glowing in the candlelight. I needed some fresh air. I needed to be outside, out there under the dark sky and drifting clouds.
I pushed the door to the promenade deck open; the air outside was wonderful. It was cold and crisp, and scented with the sea. I pulled my wrap around my shoulders and went and leaned on the rail. Below me in the darkness I could hear the ocean rushing past as we steered north towards Nova Scotia. Walking towards the stern, where there was shelter from the wind, I stood leaning back against a bulkhead for a moment, feeling the ship moving beneath me.
There was someone else there, as somehow I had known there would be.
Someone looking at the sea; tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a DJ, the black bow tie loose under his collar.
It was as though he had been waiting for me and now he could feel my eyes on him and the waiting was over.
He turned and looked at me for a long moment and then walked towards me, his dark hair gle
aming in the starlight above us.
Reaching for me, he pulled the mask off my face and dropped it on to the deck by my feet. Then he grasped my arms and pulled me to him and suddenly his lips were on mine.
I could feel his hands running down my back, pressing me in to his body, melding me against him. I was weak and breathless. Giddy with triumph and surprise.
He held my head between his hands and pulled away, looking down at me.
‘If you only knew,’ he said.
‘Gabriel,’ I whispered, my heart thumping wildly.
And then he kissed me again, deeper this time, greedier, his need urgent.
He held me against him, my body fitting so perfectly against his. I could feel the cool fabric of his jacket, the heat of his body underneath it, the hardness of him. He wanted me and I wanted him, in a way I had never, ever desired a man before. I wanted so many things. To fuel his passion, his need, his hunger. I wanted to always feel like this.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, his mouth against my temple, ‘I must –’
And then he stopped.
Must what?
He held my arms against my sides, his fingers biting into my flesh, and gave a low groan of frustration.
‘I wish,’ he said, ‘I just wish things were different.’
He walked away from me then, leaving me cold and trembling. A sob of disappointment rose in my throat. My exhilaration was replaced with utter despair.
It was a long time before I could move. The ship ploughed on into the darkness, the clouds above flying against the wind and thickening so the stars were blotted out and the night grew darker still.
I went back into the smothering warmth of the ship, thanking a waiter who held the door open for me, smiling at the maître d’ as he escorted me back to my seat and arranged my napkin across my lap with a flourish.
Ike passed me a glass of brandy and I drank it, not tasting it at all, just aware of the fire of the liquid as I swallowed.
India was laughing, her face flushed and pretty in the candlelight.
She raised a questioning eyebrow at me. I think I smiled, but I couldn’t feel it on my face. I was frozen with shock.
‘You’ve lost your mask somewhere,’ she whispered.
Come Away With Me Page 11
