by Celia Imrie
And, not realising that they had anything in common, they could not know that that factor was a person.
Nor did they realise that, when the Blue Mermaid sailed out into the vast and lonely Atlantic Ocean, this person would unite their lives in a most unexpected and chilling way.
PART THREE
Southampton to the Porcupine Abyssal Plain
8
On the night the Blue Mermaid sailed out of Southampton, Amanda took her place at the dinner table, and saw that she had a completely new set of companions.
‘Myriam La-Grande-Motte. That’s Myriam with a Y,’ announced a large lady in a frilly top which exposed slightly too much bust. Her accent was a bright Californian. ‘And this is my darling nephew, Tyger. He’s also a Tyger with a Y. We’re all Ys in this family.’ She burst into song: ‘ “Y y y the beat is crazy!” ’
Tyger gave a quiet groan.
‘He’s very shy,’ said Myriam with a Y, running her plump fingers through her bright orange hair. ‘Quite the blushing violet. Don’t worry. He’ll groan out of it.’ She gave a throaty laugh.
Amanda glanced at the very striking boy, who must be around thirteen. He had long auburn hair, a fancy quiff and the most piercing green eyes.
‘Good evening, Myriam.’ Amanda unfurled her napkin and placed it on her knee. ‘Good evening Tyger!’
The boy grunted and disappeared behind the menu.
‘I’m Amanda, by the way.’
‘Oh my! English!’ sighed Myriam, laying her chubby hand on her wrinkled décolletage. ‘How darling. That accent! I’m going to insist that you talk and talk and talk.’
‘I always think it’s you Americans who have the accent,’ said Amanda with a smile.
‘Really?’ Myriam threw her head back and laughed loudly. ‘So, my deary, from which part of the old country do you hail?’ she asked.
It took Amanda a few seconds to realise that Myriam was asking where she lived. Naturally she replied: ‘London.’
‘London.’ Myriam elongated the word as though it was a ravishing poem to everything heavenly. ‘Tyger and I did a day trip this time round. Actually, I used to live there for a little while in my youth. So many happy memories.’
‘Which part of London?’ asked Amanda.
‘Hertfordshire,’ beamed Myriam. ‘Do you know it?’
Amanda shrugged. Without appearing rude, what could she respond? So instead she busied herself, flicking through the menu.
‘Tyger and I adored London, didn’t we? We saw all the sights, Bucking-ham Palace, Piccalilli Circus, the Grenadine Guards. We had a marvellous time!’
Myriam grinned at the dark-haired lady on her other side. ‘What a table we have here – with Amanda and her “oh so English” accent, and the lovely Liliane here talking her divine Francaisies, I shall be in parody each and every mealtime. Not to mention the ravenous food. La fooda divina! Ooh la la la!’ Myriam reached down for her evening bag, a small drawstring pouch heavily studded with multicoloured jewels. She pulled out a smart leather notebook and sparkly pen. ‘Why don’t we all swap ship addresses now? Day one.’ Myriam beamed. ‘Then, if ever we need each other on the rest of the voyage, we’ll know which locale of cabin to direct our messages.’
‘Why would we need zem? We see each other at mealtimes.’ Liliane, the epitome of French style, elegant, beautifully coiffed and dressed, with pale, fine skin, a red slash of a mouth and heavily kohled eyes, gave an enigmatic smile and took a sip from her water glass.
‘Ah but sometimes things pop up suddenly – we might fancy being part of a quiz team or want to invite one another to a party, or whatever. Which reminds me, were any of you invited to Dorothy’s party?’
‘I don’t know Dorothy, I’m afraid,’ said Amanda.
‘Nor me,’ added Liliane.
‘Me either,’ said Myriam. ‘I just saw it in tomorrow’s newsletter and wondered. Oh, my dears, there are always so many enchanting things happening onboard. And you know this ship is so big – Tyger has found out it’s longer than four blocks in New York City. Imagine! It’s possible never to meet someone at all on a week-long cruise. It happened to me once before.’
Amanda took a pen and pad from her handbag, scrawled notes and handed the two ladies her cabin number. Myriam ripped two pages from her notebook and passed them over. Amanda offered her pen to Liliane, but, before she received it, they were interrupted.
‘Chris McConaughy,’ said a lank-haired highly-tanned man, who pulled out a chair next to Amanda. There was no doubting where he came from, as he spoke with a strident Australian accent. ‘And this here to my right is the lady-wife, Jennie.’
Amanda wondered whether it was possible to have a gentleman-wife. She smiled at Jennie, who took her place beside her husband, gave a timid nod and immediately looked down at her lap.
‘Me and the little lady are new to cruising,’ Chris added proudly, whipping his table napkin out as though it was a matador’s red cloth. ‘Cruise novices, as it were. Are you lot cruise virgins too?’
‘Au contraire, Chris,’ said Myriam with a chuckle. ‘When it comes to cruises, I’m practically a lady of the night. La Dame aux Croisières! In fact I’ve twice circumvented the globe.’
‘It’s my first time too, Chris,’ said Amanda. She noticed that Jennie did nothing but nod in agreement with her husband. ‘The little lady’ certainly knew her place.
‘I absolutely adore the ocean, dear. Don’t you?’ said Myriam, wafting the menu so widely she narrowly avoided clipping Jennie across the head. ‘Are you, Amanda, like me, a lone traveller?’
Amanda looked quizzically at Tyger.
‘Oh, the boy doesn’t count. He’s a mere child. But don’t he brush up swell in his Little Lord Fauntleroy suit? We bought it yesterday at Harrods. I guess that, wearing that dinky blue velvet, he could pass for a real Lord of the manners.’
‘Zis room is so beautiful,’ said Liliane. ‘I add-mire zis ceiling, don’t you? It reminds me of Paris – les grands magasins, Du Printemps, Galeries Lafayette.’
They all looked up at the domed stained glass above them.
‘A bit too reminiscent of The Poseidon Adventure for me,’ said Chris. ‘Let’s hope that glass ceiling doesn’t end up being the floor, eh?’ He crossed his fingers and winced. ‘Shouldn’t have said that,’ he added. ‘It’s one of those “don’t mention the war” things, I expect, on a boat …’
‘Ship,’ murmured Tyger just loud enough for Amanda to hear.
‘And no talk of that other film …’ Chris bowled on as though he had not heard the correction, and maybe he really had not. ‘As you know, I’m talking about the one starting with a T followed by an I and rhyming with Hispanic.’
‘I loff zat film,’ said Liliane. ‘I have seen it many times. He is exquisite, zat man, Leonardo DiCaprio.’
‘You call that little squit a man?’ Chris had a way of cutting the end of people’s sentences while topping the volume of the previous speaker, and thus seeming to make his own comments more important. ‘When I first saw a photo of him, I took him for a lesbian … Excuse my French.’
‘I have to admit it right now, Amanda …’ Myriam lowered her head and peered at Amanda through her heavily pencilled-on eyebrows. ‘I’m here onboard this beautiful vessel looking for love. It’s romance, romance, romance all the way to the U.S. of A. You too?’
Amanda realised that romance was the last thing on her agenda. She hadn’t considered such a thing for years. But, here she was, for the first time in her life, on a ship. Perhaps that was the point of sea travel. She thought back to pregnant afternoons lying on the sofa watching The Love Boat on TV and felt her blood pressure lurch. She certainly hoped that the Blue Mermaid wasn’t just a glorified version of The Dating Game. Finding a man during these few days afloat was certainly not her goal. She just wanted a bit of peace and quiet before moving into her lovely new London flat.
*
Suzy spent the day that the ship was docked at the port of Sout
hampton in her cabin, working at her computer. She was making notes for the morning acting classes and perfecting the talks she had already given.
Today’s work marathon she knew would not be in vain. If she planned things out now, her workload for the voyage would be much easier, less frightening, and she would have some relaxed time to enjoy the facilities of the ship and to socialise, meet new people. Also, having landed the job, she couldn’t afford to get another telling off from Blake.
Since Genoa, Suzy had spent most of her time either in the ship’s library, doing research, or in her cabin writing it all up and shaping it into proper talks.
There was serious pressure too, as she had been warned by Andy that, once they left the shores of England, internet and phone prices would be ferociously high, so she needed the Southampton day to look up all the things she wanted online, especially if it involved downloading.
There was a knock on the door and Ong came in, bearing a Hoover.
‘Do you mind, madam? Or would you prefer me to come back?’ he asked, heading for the corner to plug in the vacuum cleaner.
‘Should I put your phone on the bedside table?’ He had had to unplug Suzy’s mobile, which lay on the floor, charging.
All day it had been bleeping. Suzy decided not to pick up. She knew how distracting it could be once you got sucked into the world of messaging, Facebook or Twitter. Once hooked in, the hours vanished into the social-media black hole, so Suzy was strict with herself, ignored it and kept on working at her desk. There would be time enough later to catch up with the trends and friends.
Ong laid her phone on the desk top, and turned on the Hoover.
‘You are enjoying your time on the ship?’ he asked, raising his voice over the noise of the machine.
‘I love it,’ she replied.
‘Too much working,’ said Ong. ‘You should treat yourself to some happy time in the spa.’
‘Do you get happy time onboard, Ong? You and your fellow stewards?’
Ong nodded. ‘We have a crew bar and cafeteria. We often stay up late, drinking, singing. It’s good company.’
‘Do you have family?’
‘My parents are still in the Philippines. I send them money. But my wife is onboard, so we have a cabin together.’
Suzy hadn’t even imagined this – family life below the decks. ‘Is your wife a stewardess?’
Ong laughed. ‘No, Miss Marshall. She is a beautician in the spa.’ He unplugged the Hoover, gave the tops a quick wipe around and made his way to the door. ‘Don’t forget, if there’s anything you need, simply ask me!’
And he was gone.
Though it had been only a couple of days ago, Zurich now seemed like a dream or a long-lost, shadowy memory. Suzy still wanted to get to the bottom of what had really happened between Jason, Reg and the backer, but the quest now felt much less urgent than it once had. She and Jason had seen little of one another for the last few days. Their schedules were in direct opposition. Suzy worked in the day, while Jason started dancing at teatime and was still at it in the early hours. Every time they met, colliding in the entertainment corridor or the entertainment office, Jason had kept up his cheeky-young-man act. It was starting to disturb Suzy. Why was he showing no sign of worry or upset about what he had brought about in Zurich? Either he didn’t give a damn that his actions had put a whole load of people out of work or he was a psychopath or sociopath or whatever the terminology was these days for those who didn’t care about others and their feelings. Perhaps if she had been a young man in Jason’s place, she might have behaved the same way. She herself might be over the whole episode and stuck into the next job, but she still wanted to know what had happened, and in what way Jason had been involved.
As Suzy typed she could hear all kinds of announcements coming from the speakers in the corridor. The new America-bound passengers had been welcomed aboard, told about the events on offer this evening and been summoned to lifeboat drill. The hooters had gone off and the ship was already moving serenely down Southampton Water.
Suzy looked at her watch. Only five minutes till she was due at dinner, and here she was looking like a right scruff. She saved her documents and grabbed her make-up pack, then started pulling smart clothes from the wardrobe and throwing them on to the bed.
It was amazing how a life in the theatre meant you could tart yourself up in minutes. All those hasty costume changes in the wings finally had a practical use in the real world.
She dressed, made-up, plumped up her hair, gave herself the once-over and left the cabin.
‘My word, Miss Marshall!’ It was Blake. ‘You’ve scrubbed up well.’ He held out his arm. ‘May I lead you to the lifts!’
Suzy wasn’t sure whether this was a compliment or an insult, but smiled anyway.
‘Are you bearing up OK?’ he asked. ‘Properly prepared for the next informative offering?’
‘Thank you for the job,’ Suzy replied. ‘I’m presuming it was you who kept me aboard to New York?’
‘Oh, better the devil you know …’ Blake pressed the call button for the lift. ‘It was easier to use someone who was already aboard. Have you met the new magician?’
Suzy shook her head.
‘Arturo. He’s quite a hoot. I believe he’ll be at your dinner table tonight. Prepare yourself. He’s something of a character. Stiff competition for you.’
And with that, the lift arrived and Suzy stepped inside, leaving Blake turning to stroll off in the other direction.
Suzy had no idea how to read Blake. Did he really think she was terrible, or was he one of those people who kept you in control by being contrary? Whichever, she knew she had to keep on her toes. She simply could not afford to let Blake think she was hopeless one more time, otherwise he could make her life very difficult for the remaining weeks of her contract. And on a ship there was nowhere to run!
While she was in the lift, Suzy took the minute to inspect her phone. She’d been called by both India and Emily. No doubt Reg was coming up with all kinds of plans to transfer the show to some dreary room above a pub in Croydon or Penge.
She slipped the phone back inside her rather-too-tiny evening bag.
As she strolled the length of the ship, Suzy sensed a whole new atmosphere. In the couple of days coming back from the Mediterranean she had thought the entire enterprise tacky, though fun. But now there was a sense of excitement. The new set of passengers were more smartly dressed, and the open areas buzzed with animated conversation. It was electric.
In the dining room too the difference was palpable. The previous assembly had chomped their dinner as though it was something of an ordeal to be got through, attempting to cram as much of your money’s-worth into your mouth as fast as possible. Consequently, any conversation was dull and sporadic. Now laughter and a keen hubbub surrounded Suzy as she edged her way to her new table, very near the centre of the room. There was so much animated chatter that it sounded more like a glittering aviary than a dining room. Even the lighting seemed to be different; each separate table looked more intimate and sophisticated.
‘Good evening,’ she called to her dining companions as she took her place.
‘Good evening,’ replied an elegant grey-haired man opposite. ‘It is smooth so far, no?’
‘Like a millpond.’ Suzy picked up the menu. ‘But it’s pretty cold outside.’
‘What do you expect for December?’ The man, a sleek silver fox, shrugged.
‘We met before, didn’t we?’ Suzy knew the man was familiar but could not place him.
‘Yes. We met, for a second or two, on your first day onboard in Genoa. Tony Hanson. I’m lecturing on the Atlantic Ocean.’
It all rushed back – the first meeting in the Interact lounge, when the ship was still moored, where Mike Turner had been so rude to her. She couldn’t believe she had not recognised him, but a man slumped down in a rumpled old sweater and corduroy slacks looked quite different when sitting up in an impeccable dark green velvet jacket and matching
silk dicky bow.
‘Forgive me. Of course, Tony. I remember now.’
‘So – it seems Blake’s got a thing about you.’
Suzy was so shocked by this statement she couldn’t think of a suitable reply. She rewound all her meetings with Blake in her head and couldn’t imagine why Tony should say this.
‘Are you sleeping with him?’ Nursing his wine glass in one hand, Tony leaned back in his chair, looking her in the eye. ‘Bit of rumpy-pumpy in the Ents Office?’
‘Certainly not. I have only ever encountered him in corridors and lifts!’
‘A lot you can do in a lift. Didn’t you see Fatal Attraction?’
‘I did, but absolutely not.’ Having said this in such an explosive manner, Suzy realised she needed to wind back. ‘Blake is nothing more than a colleague.’
‘So you don’t like Blake, then? You one of the sisterhood, perhaps?’
‘I didn’t say that, Tony. But I am simply shocked that you would think such a thing.’
‘There must be some explanation why someone with no experience of this world of maritime entertainment, whose only presentation was cancelled halfway through, should land the plum job of delivering the star lectures on the transatlantic crossing.’
‘My first one was only cancelled because someone was taken ill.’ Suzy was desperate with desire to put things straight and to defend herself. ‘I didn’t even ask for the job. He got on to my agent …’
‘There, there! Calm down, dear!’ Tony smirked and poured himself another glass of wine. ‘No need to get het up about it.’
Thankfully at this point another man arrived at the empty chair. He had a look of the mad professor about him. His hair seemed to be modelled on Albert Einstein’s, his bow tie was askew and the top button of his shirt undone. ‘Allora! Finalemente!’ He threw his arms up, patted his pockets then sat. ‘Arturo,’ he announced, holding his hand out in the direction of Suzy. But before she could reach it, he clapped his hands and a bunch of flowers appeared in the centre of the table. ‘I think it’s nice to have a decorated table, don’t you?’
