by Celia Imrie
As she read, Suzy started to feel very uncomfortable. She knew that she had to pass on the information that Jason was here with her, working onboard the Blue Mermaid, and that he had been here since the day they all left Zurich.
But knowing it was probable that Appenzell was also onboard was very worrying and made her hesitate. Finally, she came to the conclusion that honesty was the best policy. Maybe it was all true. Maybe Jason had somehow pulled off this enormous scam. She could not live with herself if she was protecting a felon. Suzy knew that the time had come and she had to let the police know Jason’s whereabouts, and then they could deal with it as they thought fit. So she wrote a quick reply to Barbara, explaining that Jason was onboard the Blue Mermaid. They would be docking in New York the day after tomorrow, and, if the police wanted to question Jason, that was where they could find him. She added a PS that she had reason to think it was possible Herr Appenzell might also be aboard.
Once the email had left her outbox, another one came in, this from India.
India was out for Jason’s blood, still believing that he had snatched all the money from her considerable allowance, dividends and savings. The police, she told Suzy, were on the verge of tracking Jason down, as they believed that he was in league with some bloke they had just picked up in London and were currently holding for petty larceny and possession of indecent images. India wrote that since he’d been back in London, Jason had been clever enough not to put in an appearance at his flat, but the police knew he had come back to the UK, because he had used his return ticket, as provided by the theatre, and had flown out of Zurich on the first flight to London at 6.50 a.m. on the very day when the rest of them had all been stranded, but before anyone else in the company knew a thing about the show being cancelled. Once back home, India continued, Jason had started lots of financial shenanigans with their money from somewhere near Victoria Station and, aided by this other bloke, he’d spent the subsequent three days moving money here, there and everywhere and leading the police a merry dance.
Suzy closed her internet connection and sat at the desk, putting on her make-up for the evening.
So the police believed that Jason had flown to London at 6.50 that morning and spent the next few days there!
But Suzy knew that Jason had done no such thing. Jason had been with her, and had travelled from Zurich to Genoa by train that morning, and then boarded the ship with her. There was no way Jason could have used his plane ticket to London. And that could only mean that someone else had used it.
Suzy herself was a witness to the fact that Jason had not been in London at all since Zurich, and that he had spent every day since Zurich with her, here, onboard ship, where escape or other alibis were simply not a possibility.
But now she had sent that email.
What had she done?
Suzy slipped on her dress, then applied her lipstick, turned off the lights and went out to pick up Jason.
She prayed that, thanks to her, when they reached New York, there would not be a posse of policemen waiting at the gate to arrest Jason.
From now on they really did have to stick together.
*
After her attempt at spending a relaxing time in the spa, Amanda returned to her cabin and went online. She picked up her emails, thereby destroying any benefits she might have accrued from her afternoon massage.
The solicitors’ letter was not only bleak, but vaguely threatening. Amanda had believed that your own lawyers were meant to support you, but their tone was frosty and, worse than that, accusatory. Now, it seemed, just to make things worse, the fraud squad was busy tracking the stolen money and it had come from the Swiss bank account of one J. Scott, and been transferred to her own account. Today that money had been moved again, this time into her son, Mark Herbert’s account. They implored Amanda to be truthful and not try to cover up for her own or her son’s transgressions, which, they told her frostily, would invariably lead to her being arrested on her return to London, if not when she docked in New York. Putting stolen money into her son’s account could lead to her having to face serious criminal charges. She would be tried as an accomplice, charged also with perverting the course of justice and, as a result, could be looking at a lengthy prison sentence. They wanted to know whether she or her son knew a man named Jason Scott.
By the time Amanda turned off the computer she was raging about the impotence of her situation. She knew nothing of any bank transfers. Why, she had not even thought of logging into her bank since they were docked at Southampton.
She cursed her son. How could he be so stupid? If he had received stolen money, why shove it into her account and thereby implicate her in his silly mess? He must know that by now the police would be watching his every move?
The name Jason Scott seemed vaguely familiar but she wasn’t sure why. She considered getting into her nightie and lying in bed in the dark, feeling sorry for herself, but she also knew that that wasn’t going to help.
In her present situation, she couldn’t do anything until they docked at New York.
If she stayed fretting in the cabin she would only crawl up the walls with anxiety and nothing would be moved further on.
To hell with it. She decided that there was only one thing to do.
She would put on her glad rags, and go down to join her friends and get plastered.
Why not?
Yes, she would get dressed up, and enjoy the sophisticated and eccentric company of her friends at dinner. They might even be able to cheer her up. Then she would go dancing with her elegant gentleman friend, Karl.
After all, this was the last formal night onboard on this crossing.
Tomorrow, from early morning, suitcases would be packed and left in the corridor to be taken away by the porters, ready to be offloaded at dawn the following day, immediately after they docked.
It was not the first time that Mark had got into trouble. Of course, she would do everything to help her son, but at the moment she simply couldn’t.
So, to hell with it, with him, with them and with the whole damned world.
She put on her red dress and went down for dinner.
She was walking through the central lobby, in the direction of the restaurant, when she bumped into Karl.
‘I’ve been worrying about you all afternoon,’ he said, leading her to one of the huge sofas in the central area. ‘I hope things are settling down now for you at home. Did you hear any more news?’
‘My son appears to have got into some money trouble and has now made it worse by implicating me,’ she said, not really wanting to go into the wretched details again.
‘Despite all your family troubles, Amanda, I have to say you’re looking stunning,’ he said.
She thought Karl looked pretty wonderful too, but she still had the disturbing image in her mind from this afternoon at the spa, of him out on the deck, in his shorts, stroking Tyger’s back.
‘I saw you out jogging this afternoon,’ she said, fishing for a response.
‘I like to keep fit,’ he replied.
‘You were with that young boy, Tyger.’ She left it at that, to see how he would answer.
‘Poor child,’ said Karl. ‘He was crying about the loss of life on the Titanic. I felt rather sorry for him. The young take these things very, very seriously.’
Amanda wondered why she hadn’t realised that was what it was about. She had seen the Titanic enthusiasts on that same part of the deck only minutes before. She felt bad now for being suspicious of Karl’s intentions and for seeing a picture without words and then writing her own macabre scenario to fit it.
‘Shall I walk you into the dining room?’ Karl stood and offered her his arm. ‘I might come to your table for coffee, if that would be acceptable?’
In the dining room, it was a full table for Amanda. Myriam and Tyger, Liliane and the two tiresome Australians, Chris and Jennie, were all present.
‘Anyone going to this magic show tonight?’ Chris asked.
; ‘We saw it the other night,’ said Amanda, taking a swig of wine. ‘It was very good.’
‘Oh yes, Chris, we adored it, didn’t we, girls? The magician made Liliane disappear in a box and wake up hypnotised,’ said Myriam, fanning herself with her menu. ‘It was enthralling!’
‘I shall go to see it again tonight,’ said Liliane with a laugh. ‘After all, I missed most of it last time.’
‘Speaking entirely for myself …’ Myriam laid down her menu and looked Chris in the eye. ‘I love a little lingerie-demain. I thought the Great Arturo’s show was superb. Asbsolutamento superba, as the Italians would say! Talking of Neapolitans, deary,’ Myriam leaned over the butter dish and patted Amanda’s arm, ‘I can highly recommend the special, ce soir, La Spaghetti Carabinieri with a sprinkle of partisan cheese and a dash of canine pepper. Deliciosa.’
Looking around, Amanda realised that Liliane, Myriam, Tyger, Chris and Jennie were already on dessert.
‘I think he’s a weird bastard, isn’t he, that Eyetie fella who does it? But then IMO Italians are pretty much all nutters anyway. Ever been to Rome, anyone? All those blokes parading around the streets in their poncy clothes, hand in hand, manbags to the ready.’ Chris gave a mock shudder.
Nobody at the table smiled, not even Jennie.
‘If they don’t speakah di English, frankly I don’ta have-ah di time for ’em,’ said Chris, pouring custard all over his apple pie. ‘Arrivederci Italia! Anyways, it’s well acknowledged that the English lingo is the language of the civilised world.’
‘Actually,’ said Tyger, ‘English is only the third most spoken language. More people speak Spanish and Mandarin.’
‘I said “civilised world”, my boy, and Spain and China hardly qualify for that,’ Chris snapped. ‘And I wonder if you have any of those ridiculous facts of yours to add contradicting the fact that the Anglo-Saxons are the greatest race on the planet?’
In a feeble attempt to change the subject, Amanda refilled her glass and spoke across them, asking Tyger if he was feeling more cheerful now.
‘More cheerful than what?’ he asked.
‘Earlier on this afternoon, Tyger. I heard you were upset over the Titanic.’
‘Who would say that?’ Tyger glared at her, his startling sea-green eyes lowering beneath his curved dark brows. ‘Why should I be upset about a silly boat which sank over a century ago? I couldn’t possibly know anyone onboard, even if they had been my great-grandparents.’
‘But I thought …’
‘Nor am I so raw that I think Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet were actually aboard. Frankly, I have no idea why the Captain made that announcement. I went out on deck to look, just because everyone else did. But what was the point of it? I stared and stared but all you could see was sea and more sea. It was so boring.’
‘That’s the trouble with these nippers. Got no sense of history.’ Chris took a bite of his apple pie. ‘Blimey. That pudding’s as dry as a nun’s nasty!’
He slid his plate away.
‘Oh, do shut up,’ said Amanda under her breath, as she allowed Liliane to top up her glass of wine. To be truthful, she hadn’t noticed herself finish the others. But she took another quaff anyway.
Liliane stood.
‘I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen. If I am to get a decent seat at tonight’s show I have to rush.’
Chris looked at his watch.
‘Don’t mind us, Lillian …’
‘Liliane,’ she corrected.
‘Same difference, old bird. Don’t bother to save us a place, will you, mate. The lady-wife and I prefer to sit somewhere at the back. Makes it easier to leave if the show’s a total cock-up, eh, Lillian. Nothing worse than having to sit through a crock of shite performed by a loony old wop.’
Amanda turned on Chris. ‘You go too far, Chris, with your ghastly opinions and your foul language. I think you should stop it. Now!’
Chris did a comic act of looking around himself.
‘Who you speaking to, Mrs? If I was to state things frankly, I’d say you’re five sheets to the wind, so you don’t know what you’re talking about. In my humble opinion, you lot of sad, desperate old scrags had better sit up and shut up. Talk about the three ugly witches cackling round the cauldron!’
‘Oh my!’ Myriam let out a whimper of indignation and dismay. Her lower lip started to quiver. ‘I’ve never been called a witch before.’
‘I think you should apologise to Liliane, Amanda and my aunt,’ said Tyger.
‘Who the hell are you to tell me what to do, you bloody little whippersnapper, poncing around in your swanky clothes like an old pooftah?’
Liliane held up her hands, backed away from the table, and swept towards the door.
‘How dare you talk to Tyger like that?’ Amanda swilled down the remains of her glass and turned to face Chris. ‘Actually, how dare you talk to anyone like that?’
Chris pulled a face and wiggled his head from side to side, while clacking his fingers together to mimic a yacking person.
‘You may think you’re funny, Chris, but you’re not. You’re a rude, crude, insufferable, obnoxious pig with odious, if not illegal, opinions. And, by the way, your breath stinks.’
It was only after she stopped talking that Amanda realised she herself had spoken those words. She topped up her glass and took another gulp of wine.
‘Come along, Jennie.’ Chris rose from his seat and threw his napkin on to the table. ‘We don’t have to listen to claptrap from a sad hoary sow like old Fatso there.’
As Chris strutted off, dragging his wife behind him, Amanda raised her voice to shout: ‘And I feel very, very sorry for poor Jennie, who clearly finds you as obnoxious as we do, but is too scared of you to say so.’
When Amanda turned back to the table Myriam and Tyger were laughing into their napkins.
‘Oh! My! Deary!’ Myriam sighed. ‘That was the best goddamned spectacle I have seen since we boarded this ship.’
‘Bravo, Amanda!’ said Tyger. ‘Thank you.’
Amanda poured more wine into her glass.
‘I’m going dancing,’ she said, offering the bottle around. ‘Anyone want to join me?’
Myriam stretched out and once more patted the back of Amanda’s hand.
‘Do you really think you should, sweetie?’
Amanda pulled her hand back.
‘I’m a free woman, Myriam. I’ll do whatever I want.’ Amanda wondered why everyone was suddenly turning against her. Didn’t they know how hard things were? She stood up, pushing the chair back. It was odd how the ship was rocking again. She took a few steps across the dining room.
Next thing she knew, Tyger was at her side, linking arms.
‘You’re a sweet kid,’ Amanda said to him. ‘Thanks for helping an old lady.’
When they arrived in the ballroom, Tyger pulled out a chair at a table not too far from the door.
‘This ship is in another storm, isn’t it? Is it a force eight?’ Amanda asked, sliding down into the seat. ‘I can hardly keep my balance.’ She looked around the ballroom. This wasn’t right at all. Not the plan. ‘I need to be nearer the dance floor,’ she said, tugging at Tyger’s sleeve. ‘With the sea this rough I’ll never get to dance. I’d fall down the stairs.’
Myriam was suddenly there, standing at Tyger’s side.
They both helped Amanda down to a table nearer the dancers.
When they reached the table and tried to sit her down, Amanda pushed them away.
‘Why are you two here, cramping my style?’ she cried. ‘I have a date. I’m going dancing.’ She put up her hand and tried to summon a waiter. She took a few steps forward and fell into the arms of a stocky little man of her own age, with a well-trimmed military-style moustache.
‘I can see you making eyes at Myriam.’ She waved a finger at the man. ‘But you’re dancing with me now.’
‘Of course, madam.’ He held her and took a few steps on to the floor. ‘But don’t you think you would prefer to sit
out for a little while? I can order you some coffee.’
‘You’re one of those gigolos, aren’t you,’ said Amanda, fingering his lapel. ‘I want to dance with the handsome one. You know, the sharp boy, who looks like a young dashing Charlie Chaplin. He’s got those enchanting black curls.’
‘He’s busy dancing with someone else right now. I’m sure you can get a dance with him later. Now let’s sit you down and get you a coffee.’
Amanda was aware of this dancer making signals over her shoulder. She didn’t like that. While these people were dancing with you they were supposed to concentrate on you and you alone. She grabbed him by the chin. ‘You’re not as good a dancer as him. We’re practically standing still.’
‘That’s because I think you need to sit down for a little, madam.’
Amanda suddenly caught sight of the handsome young dancer. He was only a few yards away. ‘I want to dance with him.’ She thrust out her hand, pointing.
The gentleman host looked over his shoulder. ‘That’s Jason. Jason Scott. I’ll get him for you when this tune is over, but, in the meanwhile, let’s sit down, and have a little chat and some coffee.’
‘I want to dance with Jason Scott!’ Amanda flailed her arms around. ‘What is wrong with this ship? Why is the dance floor rocking? It must be about gale force eight,’ she said. ‘I can barely stand upright.’
‘It’s like a millpond,’ said her gentleman host. ‘Misty out too. We could do with some wind to dispel it. Nasty for the sailing crew.’
Amanda couldn’t understand how her legs appeared to be walking back to the table, when she thought she was standing still.
