Bon Voyage

by Michelle Betham

  Andy stared at Danny, silently daring him to carry on, to say exactly what was on his mind, although he secretly hoped that he wouldn’t take the bait. Because that fear that Danny may know something that none of the other lads did was coming back to haunt him, and if he was right, and Danny did somehow know something, then now really wasn’t the time to bring all that up. But Andy still couldn’t work out how Danny could know. He certainly hadn’t told anyone, and all those involved had been determined to keep the whole incident secret. As far as Andy was aware only a handful of people had ever known the truth so Danny couldn’t possibly know, could he? Andy tried to batter down those feelings of paranoia again. The two of them had never got on, that was all. It was a personality clash that was never going to be resolved, simple as that.

  ‘But people think we are, Danny,’ Andy said slowly and purposefully. ‘It’s all part of the image, all part of the master plan to get us back up there, where we need to be.’

  Danny finished off his beer, slamming the empty glass down on the table. ‘I think you’ll find that most of our fans have grown up now, Andy. They’re not the gullible teenagers they were back in the day. They’re really not that stupid, so don’t pretend that this clean-cut image is gonna cut it anymore because, trust me, it won’t. So let’s not take them for idiots, okay?’

  ‘All I’m saying is…’

  ‘All you’re saying is what, Andy? What are you saying? Why has any relationship I might be having right now got anything to do with the success of this band’s reunion?’

  ‘Because you’re still fucking married, for Christ’s sake!’ Andy said, banging his fist down on the table, and that was it for Cal who stood up, grabbing Frankie’s arm and pulling him up too.

  ‘Hey! This was just getting interesting!’ he complained as Cal began to drag him away with one hand, pulling Barry back with the other.

  ‘Come on, Steven Spielberg. Let’s go find Ross and shoot something interesting out on the Lido Deck, like a lot of drunk cruise passengers doing the Timewarp or something… Move it! Come on!’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Danny sighed, sitting back, pushing both hands through his dark hair.

  ‘Enough of me caring about this band’s future?’ Andy said, sitting forward, clasping his hands between his open knees.

  ‘You see, the thing is, Andy, is that you talk about this band as though it’s your band. As though you’re the one who’s in charge…’

  ‘Is that what all this is about?’ Andy asked, turning to face Danny head on. ‘Is this what the attitude is for? Because you think I’m trying to take charge of everything?’

  Danny just stared at Andy as he got up and made to go, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘You know what this is all about, Andy.’ His eyes locked onto his band mate’s, the message sent loud and clear this time. ‘Don’t you?’

  9:00pm

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Jemma giggled as her and Aimee settled themselves down at a table in The Pub along with Bob and Barbara, watching Engelbert shoot daggers in the direction of the bar as Brendon helped Marcie – whose eyes were covered by a pair of extremely over-sized sunglasses – gather together the drinks order. ‘I’ve never seen anything so hilarious in all my life! Your mam’s still pissed from this afternoon and Brendon can’t even string a sentence together.’

  ‘It’s embarrassing,’ Aimee said, sucking the last of her second Long Island Iced Tea – today’s Cocktail of the Day – up through a sparkly silver straw. ‘This is lovely, by the way. What’s in it?’

  ‘Everything,’ Bob muttered, accepting a handful of bingo cards from a passing member of the entertainment staff. ‘Any more of those and you’ll be on your back, lass.’

  ‘It won’t be the first time today,’ Jemma said under her breath, and both her and Aimee burst into a fit of the giggles as Marcie and Brendon approached the table with top-ups for everyone, Marcie obviously sober enough to have changed into a multi-coloured kaftan and head scarf, both of which clashed terribly with her pink hair and lipstick.

  ‘Are you alright, Aimee, darling?’ Marcie asked, practically throwing herself down next to Engelbert, fanning herself with a copy of that days Cruise News.

  ‘I’m fine, which is more than can be said for you, Mam. You look like you’re having a hot flush.’

  ‘Oh, I’m alright, sweetheart. I’m just a bit warm, is it warm in here? I thought they had air conditioning…? It is awfully warm in here, isn’t it?’

  ‘Would you like to get some air out on deck, Marcie?’ Engelbert asked, only for Brendon to reach into the pocket of his blazer, producing one of those mini-fans, handing it to Marcie.

  ‘She doesn’t need to go outside and miss all the fun. Here you go, girl. This’ll cool you down.’

  ‘A breath of fresh air would be much better for her,’ Engelbert persisted.

  ‘And I don’t think she needs to go outside, do you, Marcie? It’s a bit breezy out there tonight and we don’t want this lovely lady catching a chill now, do we?’

  ‘Well I disagree. She could pass out if she overheats. I’ve seen it happen.’

  ‘Overheats?’ Bob said, raising both eyebrows. ‘You’re making ‘er sound like a chuffing fan oven! Get ‘er to sit over there, by the door. That way she’ll get the draught every time someone comes in. Now, who’s got me dabber?’

  Aimee and Jemma couldn’t stop laughing. It was probably the Long Island Iced Teas that were doing it, but everything just seemed incredibly funny tonight, especially this surreal situation they appeared to have found themselves in – sitting in The Pub about to play bingo with Bob and Barbara from Barnsley, her mother, the bloke from Fantasy Island and a half-cut Irishman who carried endless odds and ends in his seemingly bottomless blazer pockets and was never more than two feet away from a bar. Whether he was on the ship or off it.

  ‘Excuse me,’ a very well-to-do sounding woman dressed in an elegant evening gown asked as she approached their table. ‘Could anyone tell me where I can find the ladies’ powder room?’

  Bob turned round in his seat, a pencil stuck behind his ear and a bingo dabber sticking out the pocket of his short-sleeved shirt, which was showing off every one of his old-school tattoos. ‘Do I look like a chuffing tour guide, love?’

  Aimee couldn’t help bursting into more fits of laughter, almost spilling her Long Island Iced Tea in the process.

  Barbara threw them all one of her “looks that could kill” before smiling at the rather stunned middle-aged woman. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Barbara hissed in the direction of her husband and a giggling Aimee and Jemma. ‘I do apologise. One’s an ignorant northerner and the other two have overdosed on cocktails of the day. The ladies’ toilets are over there, to the left of the bar.’

  The elegantly dressed woman smiled her thanks at Barbara then rushed off at a pace not really befitting somebody dressed in a long cocktail frock.

  ‘Honestly,’ Barbara said, folding her arms and looking at Bob, Jemma and Aimee as though they were naughty schoolchildren. ‘I can’t take you lot anywhere.’

  ‘Well,’ Bob smirked, winking at Aimee and Jemma. ‘Look at ‘er. Where does she think this is? The chuffing QE2? You see, this is what ‘appens in a recession when the likes of ‘er can’t afford their luxury ‘olidays – they ‘ave to slum it with the rest of us. Come on, kids. Eyes down, bingo’s about to start.’

  ‘Bingo?’ Engelbert asked with an element of surprise. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever played bingo before.’

  Bob looked up, staring at Engelbert. ‘You’ve never played bingo.’ It wasn’t a question – more of a statement.

  ‘No. I haven’t. I guess the kind of hotel’s I’m used to staying in never really saw it as fitting entertainment.’

  Bob looked at Aimee and Jemma again, indicating Engelbert with his head. ‘Is he for real?’

  ‘Engelbert, darling, it’s really quite fun to play,’ Marcie said, edging closer to him – much to Brendon’s disdain. ‘Here. Let’s share this ca
rd and we can play together. You’ll soon get the hang of it. I’ll guide you.’

  ‘Engelbert?’ Bob mouthed at Jemma and Aimee, which only set them off laughing again.

  ‘Jesus, I’m going to wet myself in a minute,’ Aimee giggled, putting her drink down on the table. ‘I’m going to the loo before I do something really embarrassing.’ She stood up, straightening her top. ‘I’m gonna nip back to the cabin, Jem. I’ve forgotten my lip gloss and you know I can’t stand the thought of naked lips on a night out. Keep my seat warm. I’ll be back in a bit.’

  ‘Please hurry,’ Jemma groaned, looking around the table as everyone got their heads down and their dabbers ready. ‘And bring another couple of cocktails with you on your return. I think we’re going to need them.’

  Aimee smiled, steadying herself in her stiletto boots before she attempted the walk back to the cabin. ‘We’ll sneak off and check out the Barry Manilow Copacabana Tribute Show in the Vegas Show Lounge when I get back, how does that sound?’

  ‘It sounds a hell of a lot more appealing than sitting here with the cast of Last of the Summer Wine.’

  ‘Back in a bit then.’

  After a fleeting visit back to the cabin – thankfully accident-free, now that she was getting more used to walking in heels on a not-always-steady surface – Aimee took a detour through the rather impressive main atrium, enjoying the chance of a bit of peace and quiet away from the madness over in The Pub to look around the shops, take in a bit of the atmosphere, watch the different kinds of people aboard this ship all going about their evening. It also gave her a chance to sober up slightly as the effect of too many Long Island Iced Teas in too quick a succession was beginning to take its toll.

  It was when she decided that she’d better go and rescue Jemma before she lost the will to live that she saw him, standing by the entrance to the cinema, leaning back against the wall, staring into space.

  ‘Hey. I thought you were rehearsing with the rest of the guys tonight,’ she said, leaning back against the wall beside him.

  He turned to look at her, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. ‘Hi.’

  She smiled back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Hi… So, what happened to rehearsals then?’

  ‘I think we’ve got about as good as we’re going to get,’ Danny sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets and staring straight ahead of him. ‘Besides, Frankie’s done his hamstring in. Nothing serious, but best to let him rest before tomorrow’s show.’

  ‘No Barry?’

  ‘Cal, Frankie and Ross are with him up on the Lido Deck, I think.’

  Aimee wasn’t stupid; she could tell something was wrong. She may not have known him all that long but she considered herself someone who was pretty good at reading people’s moods, although, she hadn’t been all that good when it had come to reading her own fiancé, had she?

  ‘Are you alright? You look a bit – I dunno – angry. Is everything okay?’

  Danny turned to look at her again. ‘Yeah. I’m fine,’ he sighed, his hand slipping into hers, swinging her round so she was facing him. ‘But you have no idea how much seeing you has cheered me up.’

  ‘If you’re okay, why do you need cheering up?’ Aimee asked, all thoughts of rescuing Jemma disappearing from her mind now a much better option had appeared. ‘We had such a fantastic day, Danny…’ She suddenly thought about his wife – maybe she’d been in touch? Maybe they’d had some kind of discussion about their future, maybe that’s why he looked the way he did. ‘Have you been speaking to Davina?’

  Danny looked at her with a confused expression. ‘Davina?’ he frowned. ‘Why would I be speaking to her?’

  ‘I dunno. You just seem a bit weird after the fab day we had.’

  ‘And the totally amazing night last night,’ he smiled, pulling her against him, his mouth so very close to hers. ‘Not to mention this afternoon. That was pretty amazing too.’

  Aimee smiled back, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck, her stomach flipping over as she remembered what it had felt like being with him, touching him, making love with him. Yeah. It had been pretty amazing.

  ‘And no, I haven’t been talking to Davina. It’s just something to do with – it’s a tiny disagreement within the band, okay? Nothing to worry about, nothing that’s gonna jeopardise anything but I guess I let it get on top of me. So it’s probably best I take a bit of time away from the rest of them. And now you’re here… well, your timing couldn’t have been more perfect.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be in The Pub playing bingo with Jemma.’

  Danny raised an eyebrow. ‘Bingo? You and Jemma? You don’t strike me as the bingo types.’

  ‘We’re not, not really. But we had one too many Long Island Iced Teas and somehow ended up in there with my mam and… Look, you really don’t want to know all the ins and outs…’

  ‘How many is one too many Long Island Iced Teas?’ Danny asked, quite amused by the whole thing. Funny how two minutes in her company had completely made him forget what a tosser Andy Crabtree was.

  ‘One,’ Aimee replied. ‘And I’m supposed to be rescuing Jemma. I promised her we’d go watch the Barry Manilow Tribute act in the Vegas Show Lounge.’

  ‘Barry Manilow?’

  ‘Will you stop looking at me like that,’ she laughed, playfully punching his arm.

  ‘Look, do you really want to go and watch some bloke from Didsbury shaking his maracas wearing a frilly shirt and singing about showgirls called Lola? Because I’ve met the man, he’s called Clive, and he’s only here because it was the last option left open to him after Britain’s Got Talent gave him four no’s.’

  ‘You making me a better offer then?’ Aimee smiled, running her hands up and down his incredibly toned and tattooed upper arms, his muscles hard and taught beneath her fingers and, quite honestly, she didn’t really care what offer he made her, she was going to accept it. Jemma would just have to amuse herself.

  Danny threw her that killer smile, leaning forward to kiss her quickly, and it was all she could do to stay upright as she literally felt her knees go weak. Again. For about the fortieth time that day. What a blast this cruise was turning out to be!

  ‘I’ll get Cal to go rescue Jemma,’ Danny said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone, quickly typing out a text. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I definitely know Jemma won’t mind.’

  Danny slid his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and took Aimee’s hand, leading her away from the entrance to the cinema, which was starting to get steadily busier with people looking for ways to avoid Clive from Didsbury and his Bazza tribute act.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Aimee asked, although she didn’t really care. Anywhere was fine with her, as long as she was with him.

  ‘We’re going for a quiet walk, then we’re going to grab a drink, and after that – well, that’s up to you. Whatever you want to do, kidda, I’m game.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go giving me carte blanche, Danny. Not after two Long Island Iced Teas, there’s no telling what I might make you do.’

  Blimey! She was getting rather forward, wasn’t she? It had to be the Long Island Iced Teas talking though because, under normal circumstances, Aimee would never say anything like that to a man she’d only just met. But, the thing was, because of who Danny was, and because of how she’d felt about the band back then, well, it felt as though she’d known him for years.

  He stopped walking for a second and looked at her, a grin spreading across his face. ‘Is that a promise then?’

  Aimee tried to ignore the light-headedness she was beginning to feel, not really sure whether it was still the effects of the cocktails or the fact she was close to him again that was making her head spin.

  ‘Is what a promise?’ She really had to start concentrating, but she’d been somewhat distracted by the sight of his arse in those jeans he was wearing. For a bloke his age he had the most incredible body.


  ‘You, threatening to make me do all sorts of things.’

  ‘Huh?’ She looked up at him, still holding onto his hand. ‘Did I say that? Sorry. Blame the alcohol. I’m not usually that forward.’

  He laughed that gorgeous, low laugh that she was beginning to think of as one hell of an aphrodisiac. ‘Don’t dare apologise. I’m quite looking forward to submitting to anything you might have in store for me.’

  ‘Really?’

  His piercing blue eyes stared deep into hers. ‘Do you want to skip the walk?’

  ‘And the drink,’ she whispered, thinking that if they didn’t get to either one of their cabins as soon as possible then she was just going to throw him down on the nearest available surface and get started right here, right now because – be it the effects of the cocktails or not – she was desperate to touch him again. Desperate to get him out of those clothes and into her bed. And she was so glad she’d chosen to have her legs waxed for this holiday because that was one less thing to have to worry about. Not that she’d been planning to have spontaneous sex with ex-pop stars or anything.

  ‘I hear you,’ he grinned, slipping his hand back into hers as they made their way to the nearest lift. ‘Sex first, drink later. Sounds like a plan to me.’

  CRUISE DAY 7

  Barcelona

  11am

  Jemma and Aimee sat outside on the terrace of La Rotonda Restaurant and Café up on the ninth floor of El Corte Ingles – the famous department store situated in the Plaza Catalunya area of Barcelona – taking in the panoramic views of the city as they drank a couple of particularly lovely, frothy cappuccinos on another beautiful, warm and sunny day.

  The heat bore down on their shoulders as they shielded their eyes, looking down at the Plaza below them filled with people – locals and tourists alike – all going about their business in this bustling city. Aimee and Jemma had heard about the view from the café here in this huge, almost institutional department store, which had many branches throughout Spain – not to mention here in Barcelona itself – with this one in the Plaza Catalunya being the biggest, so they’d headed straight to the top floor armed with maps and cameras ready to plan their day and check out what everyone was talking about. And they hadn’t been disappointed. The view was simply stunning!