Second Sitting

by Stella Whitelaw

  ‘Good morning, heartache,’ I said to myself. It was nearly midnight. The bewitching hour.

  When it was all over, I was always on my own. Everyone went their own way, forgot the young woman who had chatted to them for a few minutes. They probably thought she had a busy social life, partied every night. Ahmed, my steward, knew better. Sometimes he left a snack in my cabin, carefully wrapped in cling film, in case I hadn’t had time to eat.

  When we were homeward bound and making tracks for cold and rainy Southampton, it would probably be a thermos of soup.

  We were heading for Huatulco, a tiny man-made coastal resort that was perfect for shopping and swimming. It was so compact, one could walk everywhere in town and then sit on a fine white beach. It was ideal for swimming. And traffic was banned to the back of the town. A sensible idea. All towns should ban the traffic.

  I went up on deck for my last walk around, shaking off the day, breathing in the pure, still warm air, unclipping my hair and letting it blow around my neck. The silver-topped waves were thrashing against the side of the ship as she put on speed through the night. It was a magical sight to lift the heart.

  ‘Penny for them, Casey?’

  ‘I was thinking how beautiful it is out here at night, the sea, the velvety sky and all those twinkling stars. And we have three passengers who will never see this sight again. It’s so very sad.’

  ‘Maybe there are seas and oceans, waves and stars, on the other side.’

  ‘The other side? What do you mean?’

  Samuel rested on the rail, alongside me, gazing down into the depths of the sea. ‘We don’t really know, do we? I’ve seen death so many times, and heard of near-death experiences. Patients tell you about things they could not possibly know. Sometimes strange things happen and then I don’t know what to believe.’

  He was talking to me from his heart, but I didn’t want to push him. I wanted his thoughts to come voluntarily so that I could learn more about him, strip away a few of those superficial layers, find the real man beneath all the charm.

  But Samuel was having none of it. ‘No more gloomy talk, Casey. We ought to be making the most of this romantic moment. Supposing I were to put my arm around your waist, would you object?’

  He was grinning at me, eyes full of mischief.

  ‘I should think the two crewmen swabbing the far end of the deck would be highly amused. Perhaps we could put on a little late-night revue for them? You dance so well. We might manage a sedate samba or cha-cha without falling over.’

  ‘I think I could manage a sedate cha-cha as long as you don’t expect me to do those fancy twirly bits.’

  ‘No twirly bits.’

  He started humming Tea for Two, an almost unrecognizable tune but it was the right rhythm. This was more a touching-hands dance, rather than holding-on-tight dance. This suited me. I did not want Samuel holding me tight for any reason. Even the briefest touch of the palm of his hand was electric enough.

  It was a few moments of uncomplicated pleasure, enhanced by the magical night sky and the seductive sound of the waves. When we finished with an elaborate flourish, there was the sound of muted clapping from the far end of the deck.

  ‘I’ll walk you back to your cabin,’ said Samuel. ‘In case you get waylaid by an inebriated passenger desirous of your company into the small hours.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I shall feel very safe in your company.’ A touch of sarcasm goes a long way on occasion.

  I thought about telling him of Joan and Helen but did not want to spoil the tranquil mood. It could wait. But I suddenly thought that on-board was yet another passenger with a motive. Helen could have been waiting for years for this opportunity.

  ‘Would you like me more if I was just called Sam?’ he asked as we walked the endless corridors.

  ‘What a ridiculous question.’

  ‘Sam sounds more streetwise.’

  ‘But there are no streets on board the Countess.’

  ‘I’d forgotten that.’

  Twenty-Two - Huatulco, Mexico

  By early morning we were entering the Gulf of Tehuantepec and took on the local pilot. The coastline was the edge of the Oaxaca Mountain range. This was an area that had a lot of localized storms with funnel winds. But today it was mainly calm.

  Huatulco was a man-made resort along a spectacular coastline of nine bays and thirty-six beaches. They had built on four of the bays and everything was geared to sailing and swimming and water sports. The marina was thriving, almost surrounded by brick-paved walkways with yachts and sailing boats flying the flags of all nationalities.

  Playa Santa Cruz was in sight of the new pier where the Countess was berthed, not far to walk. It was named after a wooden cross that was found when the Spanish landed a long time ago.

  ‘They tried to destroy the cross.’ I was talking to Mrs Fairweather on deck, watching passengers disembark. ‘They chopped it up, set fire to it, hauled it into the sea. But still it survived and so it’s thought that it has divine powers.’

  ‘So what’s happened to the cross now?’

  ‘It was made into four smaller crosses. There’s a delightful open-sided church right on the beach just over there. The breeze blows straight through, from one side to the other. It’s next door to a café and bar and you can sit in the church listening to a pianist playing Sinatra.’

  ‘Sounds a delightful combination. Sinatra and God.’

  It was getting very hot, climbing up into the eighties. The sun was high in a cloudless blue sky. I hoped everyone had their factor thirty-five, a sunhat and a bottle of water. We’d been at sea for long enough and still there were passengers who never learned the basic sun protection.

  I saw Estelle Grayson going ashore with Joe Dornoch. She was wearing a striped turquoise and pink caftan and an enormous straw hat with matching ribbons. He was slim and debonair as always, white slacks, open-necked shirt and panama hat, almost a dancing Fred Astaire. They didn’t look as if they were going swimming, probably making for one of the many bars or seafood restaurants.

  If I’d had time, I’d have gone to one of the wildlife reserves to see the lush, canopied jungles and all the amazing birds, pelicans, hummingbirds, hawks and herons, or on a sea trip to see the reef fishes and coral plates, dolphins, sea rays and turtles. There was so much wildlife along this coast. I’d be lucky if I got a quick swim in the azure sea. The last time I’d swum here, I’d lost a tiny silver ring on the beach. I wondered if I would find it on this visit. Perhaps someone else had found it or a mermaid was wearing it. I had a thing about mermaids. I checked my toes for webbing.

  Samuel Mallory was already going ashore. He looked as if he was going sailing, bag of gear, jeans and dark T-shirt, peaked cap, sunglasses. He looked up and waved. I waved back, glad to see that he was on his own. I didn’t want to think of him enjoying Huatulco surrounded by a bevy of near-naked beach beauties.

  Then I saw her running. She was panting as she hurried down the gangway to the pier. It was Susan Brook, my deputy, laden with bags and gear, baseball cap, flat sneakers and enough snacks to feed an army. Samuel was waiting for her on the pier, staring into the water. He took some of the bags from her and she thanked him effusively. Her voice floated up. They began walking towards the marina. Perhaps he had hired a boat for the day.

  I hoped they would remember departure was timed for 6 p.m. I’d checked it three times already. No repeat of Isla Margarita for me. If I ever got ashore. If I ever finished the paperwork in my office. I was starting to regret that I’d given Susan the time off. I thought she’d be in the beauty salon all day.

  The routine paperwork took longer than usual. My brain was too busy delving through the facts I was collecting about the Fosters. Why had Joan Foster bought all those mediocre prints? And why had Darin Jack been on-board? It couldn’t be a coincidence, simply the means of a free trip to Barbados. He had to have another reason. And why had Rosanna stowed away?

  I phoned Richard Norton. ‘Can I take Ros
anna Hawkins on deck for twenty minutes? I know that she is in custody but even UK prisoners are allowed to walk outside in a yard every day. I won’t let her jump ship.’

  ‘She won’t be able to. We’ve put a tag on her. It’s a bit similar to the kind they put on clothes to stop shoplifters. It’ll go off if she tries to pass the security at the head of the gangway.’

  ‘Brilliant. Then I can take her for a walk round the Promenade Deck? That’s all I shall have time for.’

  ‘Thanks. The officer will be glad of a break.’

  Rosanna was still in the medical centre. It was easier to keep an eye on her there, but she might have to be moved if there was a rush of patients this evening. Passengers often came back from trips with injuries.

  She was looking much better. The rest and meals and treatment for her sunburn had made a difference. Samuel had told her about her father’s death and she had taken it with resignation.

  ‘He was so scared of something,’ she’d said. ‘I knew something would happen.’

  ‘Hello, Rosanna. How are you? I thought you might like a walk on deck, a breath of fresh air. Richard Norton says it’s OK,’ I said. ‘This part of the Mexican coast is beautiful. Lovely mountains. They’re called the Southern Sierra Madre.’

  ‘Yes, I’d like to see them,’ she said. ‘Will I be all right in the sun?’

  ‘I’ve brought a hat for you. It’s one of mine. And some sunglasses.’

  She flashed an uncertain smile at me. ‘H-how kind, Miss Jones,’ she said. ‘Thank you. I’ll be glad to get out of this cabin. These four walls.’

  They had found her some loose cotton trousers and a T-shirt. The tag was on the hem of the trousers. She seemed very uncertain as I took her up in the lift to the Promenade Deck. One side was in the shade and both ends of the ship were shaded. She was very wary of the sun now.

  ‘It’s very hot, isn’t it?’ she said, flinching.

  ‘In the eighties and climbing.’

  ‘I’m glad I’m not out there,’ she added, nodding towards the beach. ‘It looks scorching.’

  ‘There’ll be some burnt feet tonight,’ I said. ‘I’m very sorry about your father. It must have been a shock for you. But I’m sure it was an accident.’

  ‘I dunno. I knew something would happen to him,’ she wailed. ‘I warned him not to come.’

  ‘Why did you think something would happen to him?’

  She seemed to want to talk or I would not have asked. ‘It was all the phone calls that upset him. Someone kept phoning him, threatening him. I haven’t got a job at the moment. I’m out of work, unemployed, so I’m at home, keeping house for Dad and me.’

  ‘And your mother?’

  ‘No Mum now. She went off with someone when I was small and Dad looked after me. Now I look after him when he’s at home, between shows and cruises, only fair. But not any more … I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

  She stopped walking and I let her wipe her eyes on a tissue. ‘These calls?’ I prompted.

  ‘Always the same voice, saying he’d better do it or there would be trouble. It wasn’t nice. I got quite frightened. No good going to the police, they wouldn’t listen to someone like me.’

  ‘So why did you stow away on the Countess?’

  ‘To warn him. Dad had already left the night before to join the ship at Southampton. He always goes early because of making sure all his gear gets safely on board. Then this bloke phones again and says if Dad doesn’t do what they ask, they’d torch our flat. Now, I know it’s not much, not posh, but it’s all we’ve got. And there’s all of Dad’s magic stuff stored in it. Some of it really valuable.’

  ‘I’m sure. I’ve seen many of your dad’s shows. He’s a great magician.’ We kept using the present tense. Neither of us could accept the past tense. ‘He always has the audience guessing and yet he’s working right up close to them. It’s amazing.’

  ‘Timing, you know,’ said Rosanna, nodding, her voice warming. ‘He’s started teaching me, you know. So I can go along with him. That disappearing box is a real con. Got so many compartments. The locking is diabolical.’

  ‘Do you know how it all works?’

  ‘Sure. Well, nearly all of it. You have to be ever so quick. And thin and supple. And not breathe a lot.’ There was a glimmer of a smile. We were doing the shady side of the ship now and she was walking with more confidence. The glorious fresh air seemed to be doing her some good.

  ‘Could it have been an accident?’ I asked.

  ‘I dunno. Maybe.’

  There were small sailing boats leaving the marina every minute. I wondered which one Samuel was skippering with Susan as his galley slave. I hoped she wouldn’t get hit on the head with a boom. You had to move quick on these small boats.

  We did three circuits of the Promenade Deck before I reluctantly said that I had work to do. Rosanna seemed to have enjoyed her breath of sunshine and freedom, and the sight of the sparkling sea.

  ‘Thank you, thank you ever so much. It’s nice to do something normal.’

  ‘It’s been a pleasure.’

  ‘Can we have a walk again?’ she asked, tentatively. ‘Like tomorrow? I need to get out and I won’t be any trouble, I promise. It’s easy to talk to you. Makes a change from those posh officers who don’t say much.’

  ‘Of course, and I’m sure it’ll be OK. Tell me, what do you think you’ll do when you get home?’

  ‘If we’ve still got a home,’ she said bitterly. ‘They might have burned it down by now, for all I know. Rotten lot.’

  ‘Richard Norton can make some enquiries for you. Give me the address. We’ll find out. We can email Scotland Yard and get it checked.’

  Rosanna seemed relieved that something could be done. I wrote down the Bermondsey address. If Reg Hawkins had not been able to do what this person wanted him to do, then the threat might have been carried out. And Reg Hawkins was dead. So he couldn’t tell us.

  Rosanna thanked me again as I handed her over. She gave me back the sunhat and sunglasses. ‘Don’t forget me down here, will you?’

  ‘I won’t,’ I promised. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow for another walk.’

  It didn’t take long to explain to Richard Norton and give him the address. Then I was free, free, free. I raced down the gangway and walked quickly to the welcoming beach of Playa Santa Cruz. Mrs Fairweather and Maria de Leger were in the beach church, listening to soul jazz. They smiled and waved. Ray Roeder was hanging over the piano in the bar next door, singing Sinatra. I wished I could have stayed to listen but I had my swimsuit on under a sundress, my towel in a bag with a bottle of water and another of factor thirty-five.

  It might not be for long but a swim in the sea was worth any amount of inconvenience. It was clear and blue and deep almost immediately. My silver ring was here somewhere. Perhaps my toes were touching it now as I skimmed the sand at the bottom. I turned on my front and began to swim lazy strokes.

  The swim was pure joy. Clear, clean water. They are not allowed to dump waste black water into the sea at Huatulco. It has three water treatment plants. I turned on to my back and floated, arms moving wide, closing my eyes to the bright sunlight. The Countess was so close, moored alongside the pier. I could see her white shape. She was like a motherly white hen, watching all her baby chicks frolicking in the sea.

  He was there, treading water beside me, before I realized who it was. How come he could always find me in the sea? It wasn’t as if I had red hair. It was darkish, unruly with that blonde streak at the front. A quirk of nature, nothing out of a bottle.

  ‘So the intrepid explorer is home from the seas. What are you doing here?’ I asked, rolling over on to my front and doing an inelegant doggy-paddle. ‘How did the sailing go? Did you find a deserted island for your packed lunch?’

  ‘It was fine until we hit a bit of a wind. Nothing too rough, I assure you. But Susan was feeling a bit under the weather so we turned back. Still it was a good sail, very bracing. Spectacular coastline.’
<
br />   ‘Is Susan all right?’

  ‘She’s gone to lie down.’

  ‘Very sensible.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. So I decided to make sure you caught the ship this time and didn’t have to jump on-board from the pilot’s launch. Though you could do with the practice.’

  ‘How very kind. You have such a thoughtful nature.’

  We were both laughing by now and began to swim back to the shore. It was so easy being with him. He was so generous with laughter. He was the toast of all the ladies on board, and yet he’d come looking for me. It was difficult to understand when sometimes I was not very nice to him. Perhaps I wasn’t a threat.

  We clambered up the steep bit of the beach, the hot sand burning the soles of our feet. We jumped on to towels which took away some of the discomfort, dried ourselves of a sort and struggled half wet into clothes. But the sun was drying us by the minute. My hair looked like a backcombed haystack.

  We strolled back towards the ship with plenty of time to stop at a beach bar for a long, cool local drink called Mezcal. It was close to a tequila and pretty potent. Lots of passengers, returning from tours, spotted the pair of us, smiled and waved. They liked seeing me with the handsome doctor in tow. I started telling Samuel about Joan and Helen’s chequered past, and my talk with Rosanna.

  ‘It’s a complicated puzzle,’ said Samuel. ‘But I think you are getting somewhere. At least, motive-wise. You can’t solve everything. There are officials for that, at Southampton. And they will be only too glad to hear anything that you have to say that might shed light.’

  Then he stopped by the red-brick open-sided church on the beach and a fleeting look of worry crossed his face. There was a whiff of sweet scent from the bunches of lilies on the altar. A couple in black were on their knees in front of the altar. He took hold of my arm.

  ‘Seriously. Casey. You ought to write all this down on your computer, just in case, and put a copy on a floppy disc which you’ll give to me. Will you do that? Promise? This evening? And watch your back.’

  ‘That sounds ominous. What do you mean, watch my back?’