Did he have any hobbies? Did he follow baseball or American football? Did he like his steak rare or well done?
I didn’t really know anything about him at all. What a fool I was. I mean I hadn’t even asked him any of those questions. Just spent my time staring at him …
‘I’m looking forward to seeing Jerry again,’ India said. She paused to give me chance to roll my eyes at her as I usually did when she mentioned Jerry or the wedding. This time I didn’t. ‘I’ve really missed him.’
‘Good. You’re marrying him in December so it’s just as well,’ I said jokingly and she threw a sugar packet at me.
‘I’ll have to get back on to the wedding as soon as we’re back. Sort out those flaming flower girls. And you too I suppose. I mean did we ever decide what you were going to wear?’
I topped up my coffee and added more sugar. ‘Nope.’
‘Blue or pink? Or peach?’
‘I’ve no idea. You kept changing your mind,’ I reminded her.
‘I did, didn’t I? Well, what do you want? I’ll let you decide. No, I won’t. You’d turn up in jeans and a Zara T-shirt knowing you. How about lilac?’
‘Over my dead body.’ I grinned.
‘Green? No, green is supposed to be unlucky …’
She was on a roll here and, knowing my sister as I did, I could zone out a bit and not miss anything. Plus my brain still wanted to talk to me about Gabriel Frost.
There were so many things about him that I didn’t know. I mean basic things like what sort of car did he drive? Did he work from home or did he go to some glass and steel offices filled with clever women in sharp suits who watched him through narrowed eyes, waiting to pounce?
‘… terrific in orange with orange gerberas. Or even purple? That would be unusual, wouldn’t it? Sort of Christmassy too. Oooh, I know … a dark forest green? And the little flower girls in crimson …’
Did he like baths or showers? Did he use moisturiser? What side of the bed did he sleep on?
‘… brown, a sort of plain chocolate colour, you know?’
Perhaps he liked extreme sports? Did he like Marmite?
‘Alexa, are you listening?’
‘Hmm? Oh yes, of course. You want me to wear Marmite.’
‘What? No, I didn’t say that,’ she said, looking at me like I was mad. ‘I was just thinking about darker colours. We’ll have to go shopping. I mean as a matter of extreme urgency.’
I know what India on an urgent shopping trip meant. Flat shoes and a double-shot espresso for starters. Then a determined route march through every shop in town with bridesmaids dresses. We would have lunch at a wine bar where if you bought two glasses you got the rest of the bottle free. So the afternoon would go a bit blurry and we would end up buying something monumentally unsuitable that would need to be returned the following day.
‘Yes, great,’ I said with an enthusiasm I didn’t feel.
The waiter brought us more toast and some annoying little sachets of Marmite that needed the Incredible Hulk to rip them open. If I ever went on another cruise, which was unlikely considering the cost, I’d be sure to take my own pot with me. But I’d probably be stopped at customs where they would impound it and throw me off the ship.
‘And then we’d better see if Mum has sorted her outfit. Perhaps she could come with us?’
It was going to be bad enough going urgent shopping with my sister. The prospect of also taking Mum along was very worrying. The last time we went shopping with her was when she needed a smart outfit to go to Ascot. We ended up buying some champagne flutes, a pair of wellingtons with pictures of spaniels on and a new padded gilet for gardening. She’s easily distracted is our mother.
‘Yes, let’s do that,’ I said.
India looked at me. ‘Are you okay, Al? I mean you don’t seem quite with it.’
‘I’m fine. Just a bit, you know …’
‘It’s that bloody man, isn’t it? He’s really upset you. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind when I see him. Messing with my sister and upsetting her like this!’
I looked at her startled.
‘No, please don’t, I’m fine. I’ve been thinking about Marnie’s talk – spring-cleaning my life sounds exactly what I need to do.’
‘Well, okay, but if I see Gabriel bloody Frost …’
‘Forget about him. I’m going to,’ I said.
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely. I’m going to just chalk it up to experience, like you said. It was just a bit of fun after all. We were both consenting adults.’
India snorted. ‘Well, you were both consenting. I’m not sure I’d always describe you as an adult.’
‘Oh, thanks. Always have to have the last word, don’t you? What time is it?’ I said, distracting her.
‘Ten-twenty. Why?’
Because I could do with a drink. A double brandy. Or a stiff gin? No, I didn’t need a stiff anything.
‘We should be going soon,’ I said chirpily, ‘if you want to get a good place in the library.’
We finished our breakfast and left the restaurant past a few bowing and smiling waiters. They probably wouldn’t be quite so cheerful when they saw how much butter I had managed to smear on the tablecloth.
Chapter Twenty-One
Suffering Bastard
Bacardi, Martinique Light Rhum, Curacao, Sugar Syrup, Lime Juice
I left India in the library looking very determined and industrious, then I wandered around the ship for a bit taking in all the sights I could before returning to the cabin to do a bit of desultory packing. In the end I got into bed and had a nap. India came back to our cabin some time later, her laptop tucked under one arm and an expression of fierce enthusiasm on her face.
‘I’ve done nearly a thousand words,’ she said.
I sat up and pushed my hair out of my face. ‘Wow, that’s impressive.’ Or at least I thought it was. It sounded a lot anyway.
I swung my legs off the bed and waited for a moment for everything to settle. I felt decidedly odd and my mouth was like the Gobi Desert. I had never been very good at sleeping during the day. I tottered to the bathroom to get a drink of cold water, while in the main room India was still wittering on about something, but to be honest I didn’t pay much attention. I had a quick search for some paracetamol but seemed to remember we’d finished those days ago.
Instead I ran some cold water over my hands and held them to my hot face and looked at my reflection in the mirror over the sink. I looked really crap.
I came to a decision – I wasn’t going to think about, talk about or look for Gabriel Frost any more. I could be sensible about this, couldn’t I? I had enjoyed a bit of a holiday fling and that was all there was to it. People did this all the time, didn’t they? That’s why there was such a problem with teen pregnancy and STIs. At least I was on the pill. I’d better get myself checked out though, just in case. What a thoroughly depressing thought that was. I went back into the cabin where India had barely drawn breath.
‘… and that’s the best part about it. I said what I thought. Which quite often you don’t, do you? I mean think of the right thing to say at the right time. I can’t think of the number of times I’ve wanted to say something pithy and clever to Jerry’s sister and it’s only come to me at three in the morning. I swear I am not going to cave in to pressure and have her as a bridesmaid. Jerry keeps dropping hints and I keep ignoring them. I mean why would I …’
Ah, we were back to the wedding plans. Okay. I could handle this. It wasn’t the end of the world, and obviously it was a big deal to my sister. I could listen and nod.
‘So we are going to the show tonight? After dinner?’ India asked suddenly when I didn’t say anything.
‘Yes, sure. Of course. Don’t let me drink anything tonight though. I’m turning into a right lush.’
‘But it’s our last night!’ India said, her face creased with confusion. ‘Don’t be such a killjoy. We’ll be back home tomorrow afternoon; you can go on the
wagon then. I can’t wait to see Jerry. I hope he’s remembered to take the bins out. He’s quite capable of forgetting and letting it all pile up. And they only collect every fortnight so we’ll end up with a month’s rubbish in the hallway if he’s forgotten. And then we’ll get a stiff note from the residents’ committee. And he never recycles properly either.’
India carried on chattering while she brushed her hair, fixed her make-up and chose her outfit for the evening. We still had all our packing to do; we had to leave our cases outside the cabin by seven o’clock.
‘I’m going to wear some smart trousers and this shirt,’ India said. ‘What do you think?’ She held up a navy blue shirt patterned with white birds.
‘Yes, fab,’ I said.
‘What are you going to wear?’
‘I don’t know, that grey blouse? Or the pale blue tunic and leggings?’
Oh, who cared? It didn’t matter, did it?
‘Are you okay?’ India said.
She came and sat next to me.
‘Yeah, just a bit. You know. A bit tired. I know I shouldn’t be but I feel a bit … Oh, nothing really.’ I forced a smile to my face. I was being a selfish cow. We had one more evening together before we got home and India got swept away by Jerry and the wedding took over everything again.
‘Okay, I’ll wear this,’ I said, and I pulled out a dress that I always packed but never wore. It was flowery and rather short, two things I tended to avoid as a rule.
‘Great. And I’ll put some heated rollers in your hair and we’ll have a laugh, okay?’
‘Brilliant,’ I said. And I tried to sound as though I meant it. This holiday had definitely done something right: my sister and I were getting back to how we used to be. Not all the way there, but getting closer.
I now realised that, despite her prickly nature, India was still protective of me and could be unexpectedly kind. Maybe our relationship could improve after all?
India rubbed my arm and was about to say something, but then decided against it.
That evening we got to our usual table in the Champs-Elysées restaurant to find Marty, Ike, Caron and Marion already seated and tucking in to the basket of assorted bread rolls. Our waiter had long since realised it wasn’t worth taking them away.
‘There you are, girls,’ Marty said. He passed me a card. ‘That’s our address; if you’re ever in Washington, DC, look us up. I’ve written Ike’s on the back. Though why anyone would want to go to Boise I can’t imagine.’
‘Hey! Nothing wrong with Idaho! No other state has World Famous Potatoes written on the car plates,’ Ike said.
‘And there’s a reason for that,’ Marty muttered.
India was busily writing our address on the back of another of Marty’s cards, and he tucked it carefully into the pocket of his jacket. That in itself was rather touching, seeing as India and I had been just a couple of sisters sitting at their table, drinking their wine and getting variously merry, pissed and shit-faced.
‘Do you know Idaho law forbids a citizen to give another citizen a box of candy that weighs more than fifty pounds? Don’t you think that’s interesting?’ Ike said.
Caron tapped his arm. ‘The menu, honey. The waiter’s coming over. And let’s order some wine; I haven’t had a drink all day.’
‘You don’t count that Martini before lunch?’
She flapped a hand. ‘Oh, that …’
It might have been the last night on board but the meal was as excellent as ever. It was going to be a bit of a shock to my system when I got home and reverted to my toasted sandwiches and tins of soup.
I’ll admit, at the start of the holiday, I had been a little concerned to find out we would be sharing a table with four strangers, but it had proved a blessing, especially this evening when I didn’t feel like talking much. The other four were great talkers, had opinions on everything and didn’t mind sharing them.
They discussed the ship, where they were going for their next cruise (Alaska) and gave us more details of their children (one son each, both in the Army). All I had to do was sit there and nod and smile and occasionally ask a question. When we got on to India’s wedding plans we were treated to a blow-by-blow account of Marion’s son Kyle’s short, ill-fated marriage to Chanisse, who seemed to give new meaning to the term high-maintenance.
All the time I was battling with a stubborn little part of my brain that wanted to think about Gabriel. Every few minutes I had to give it a talking-to, and a metaphorical slap, so that I stopped thinking about the curve of his mouth, the way his eyelashes rested on his cheek when he was sleeping, the feel of his …
Shut up. Okay? Just stop it.
Half a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and a large Cointreau later we went to see the last evening show, the much-anticipated Tribute to the Sea. We made our way along the corridors, crowded now with guests enjoying their evening to the full.
We passed the casino, whose doors were temptingly open. Inside, the battery of fruit machines were flashing and jangling, promising all sorts of massive payouts. Beyond that a sultry-looking girl in a tight black dress stood behind a roulette wheel, flicking the ball around. Marty tried unsuccessfully to persuade Marion he would just be ten minutes before he was dragged away from all the excitement and forced into a seat around our favourite table in the theatre.
Of course, within minutes, a waitress came across and Ike bought a round of drinks. I didn’t want anything, except to lie down in a dark room, but I ended up with a Fish House Punch, which tasted better than it sounded. India had one called Nelson’s Blood, which was very orange. That’s all I can say about it.
Shortly afterwards the lights dimmed and the curtains were pulled back to reveal a stage decorated like the ocean bed. The girls toddled on somewhat hampered by their mermaid tails and the boys for some reason were dressed like extras from a Jean-Paul Gaultier perfume ad in stripy jumpers and sailor hats with red bobbles. Very strange.
Anyway, they launched into a rousing chorus of ‘Surfin’ USA’ followed by ‘Under the Boardwalk’. It was great for getting us in a jolly mood and the audience was soon clapping along and knocking back cocktails in fine form.
Then the curvaceous singer brought her bosom back onstage, this time in a blue fishtail dress with a ruffled lace underskirt to suggest waves. It was really clever. She gave us ‘Love Letters in the Sand’ and, rather oddly, ‘Mull of Kintyre’. Anyway, by the time she had finished, the stage had been redesigned as the deck of a pirate ship and the dancers came on dressed to match. Then there was a juggler who did a turn with some plastic (I hope) starfish. And more dances and songs until the place was rocking. I was slightly rocking too because, somewhere along the line, I had shipped another cocktail decorated with umbrellas and sparkly cocktail sticks (they should take those out; I poked myself up the nose with one and it really hurt) and India was standing in the aisle dancing; at least I wasn’t doing that. I didn’t seem to be in the mood.
At last the director of entertainment came out, his bald head gleaming under the spotlights, and thanked us for being so wonderful. He hoped to see us again soon and we all sang ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Which again was a bit otherworldly as by then all the dancers were dressed as French matelots. Anyway, they had done their best and I for one felt sudden gladness to be going home, mixed with sadness that our adventure was at an end.
*
We got back to our cabin to find our cases had been taken and Amil had left us a final towel crab and some extra pillow chocolates.
‘I wonder how Mum and Dad are getting on in Australia? We’ll probably never do this again,’ I said sadly as I lay in the dark a few minutes later.
‘Thanks ever so much for everything. I didn’t think it would be this fun, not really. But it’s been good, hasn’t it?’ India said, still chewing her chocolate. ‘You’ve been great company. You made sure we didn’t miss anything and you got me paracetamol, and you joined in with everything and we got pissed together. That’s all I needed.’
&
nbsp; Flipping heck. I heard her unwrapping her second chocolate. I suppose as the more sensible sister I should have demurred and told her to go and clean her teeth but I couldn’t be bothered. I was probably wiping what was left of my make-up on to the clean pillowcase so who was I to lay down the law?
‘It’s been fun,’ I agreed. ‘All those people who think cruises are for old people are so wrong.’
‘Well, we thought that too,’ India said, ‘when we heard about the trip.’
‘Yes, I know but …’ I tried to organise my thoughts but failed.
‘And we thought we’d be seasick. I only was once, do you remember? I had to lie down.’
Yes, and look where that had got me, I thought.
Gabriel in his DJ, his bow tie looped around his neck. Coming across the dark deck to kiss me.
Gabriel holding me in his arms as we tried to dance when all we wanted to do was make love …
No, that’s not what we did.
Oh, sod it. Who cared? It didn’t matter now.
‘And we learned to make towel swans. And what was the other thing? Strawberry Santas? You can’t put a price on that.’
‘No, you can’t. And no one misbehaved or made an exhibition of themselves. Well, not that I saw anyway,’ I said.
There was a long pause when I thought India must have gone to sleep. After about five minutes, as she rustled about trying to get settled, she spoke again.
‘Actually I nearly did,’ she said.
‘Did what?’
‘I nearly misbehaved.’
I sat up in bed and looked over at her in the gloom.
‘What?’
‘What happens on a hen holiday stays on a hen holiday, right?’ India said sternly.
‘Okay,’ I said nervously, ‘what have you done? Did you break something? Insult someone?’
‘No. Do you swear never to tell anyone?’
‘Yes, okay.’ This was like old times: promises, secrets – the scaffolding of sisterhood. I nearly grinned. ‘So? What did you do?’
‘I nearly made a fool of myself. And you’ll never guess who stopped me.’
Come Away With Me Page 22
