Ship Ahoy! (A Cliffhanger Novel Book 3)

by T. J. Middleton

  ‘Well, this is bleeding marvellous, I said. ‘I suppose the whole village knows.’ Alice Blackstock shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘Even if they do, I wouldn’t worry. They all have a soft spot for you and Audrey, ever since you blew up that policeman.’ She took a hand-made out of her pocket, stuck it in her mouth. ‘Lighting up time again, I think,’ she said. I could see where this was going.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought you held with that sort of thing. Not that it was deliberate you understand.’

  ‘I don’t. And I don’t condone what both of you have done. But you’ve always been good to me, ever since I had that nasty fall down the stairs, so it’s only right for me to return the favour when the time comes. What goes around comes around. Anyway I don’t believe prison is always the right answer. There should be more imaginative ways of dealing with wrong-doing.’

  She lit up, took a deep drag. I’ve seen seals come up for air quicker.

  ‘You’re a very unusual human being, Mrs B.’

  She blew the smoke out, handed it over.

  ‘It’s the life I led,’ she said. ‘All this chaos around you, it makes me feel young again. Now where’s that glue. And Al, for God’s sake, this is thirsty work. We girls need another drink. ‘

  I went and got another bottle. And another. The thing is about art, is once you get stuck in, there’s no holding back. By the time we finished and Em had stuck it one of her spare frames, it looked the real business. Eye popping wasn’t in it. I turned Tovill round so that she was looking the other way, then propped it up on the mantelpiece.

  ‘Is that a statement,’ I said standing back, ‘or is that a statement? I mean my sharks are one thing, but this…’ Alice came and stood beside me.

  ‘That’s a statement all right,’ she said. ‘Definitely. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that is quite such a statement.’

  We fell silent, taking it all in.

  ‘I’m off to bed,’ Alice said. ‘Christ knows what I’ll dream of.’

  ‘Do you want Al to come over, see you safe up those stairs,’ Audrey asked, all natural and calm, like we was all neighbours again. Alice patted her on the back.

  ‘He’s got enough to take care of right now, don’t you think? And you shouldn’t stay here too long. You did a very bad thing, Audrey, the very worst. I can only forget about it for so long, for Al’s sake. Em’s. Understand?’

  And she left.

  ‘Well that was telling you,’ Emily said. ‘She was waiting for us when we came down from the caravan. What could I do?’ Audrey didn’t seem that bothered.

  ‘It’s strange, but I feel almost safer, knowing that she knows, knowing how she feels. Now, if only I could get on that boat of yours.’

  Time for the play act.

  ‘I might have the answer to that.’ I dug into my inside pocket. ‘I got this passport. Mrs Durand-Deacon, the woman staying at the Bindon? Don’t ask me how. She’s got complimentary tickets too, for the next cruise, doesn’t want them anymore. She’s had enough of the sea. Now, if we can get you on the boat under her name, no questions asked, if you stay away from prying eyes, have your food in your cabin, that sort of thing, we might get away with it. Look.’

  Audrey took hold of it, flipped open to the photo page.

  ‘I look nothing like her.’

  ‘If you screw your face up a bit you might.’

  ‘Can’t you replace the picture, me instead of her.’

  ‘They do that in story books Audrey. They’re franked see. You can’t just stick another one in. ’

  ‘Yes you could,’ Emily put in.’ All it needs is for the impression on the corner of the photograph to match the one on the paper. A potato stencil should do the trick. Have you got a photo of yourself, Audrey, passport size?’

  ‘No. Funnily enough they don’t have photo booths in prison.’

  ‘I got a photo. Passport size.’ They looked at me. I don’t know who was more surprised, Audrey or Em.

  ‘That bunch we took, before that holiday in Spain.’

  ‘That was years ago.’

  ‘I found them in the bungalow when I came back, out of prison.’

  ‘You kept them?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Where?’ Em was asking, her voice all distant.

  ‘Behind the sun-shade in the Citroën. So I got someone to swear at when the traffic gets bad.’

  ‘So you can look her every now and again.’ Em again.

  She picked the passport up, went out. We watched as she went first to the car, and then into the kitchen. We sat there, saying nothing, knowing that it were our show again, like it always had been. Audrey and me alone against the world.

  ‘This isn’t going to work is it?’ she said. ‘ It’s not going to happen, getting me on that cruise ship.’

  ‘I don’t know Audrey. It won’t be easy, I admit that. If we could get someone to go with you, as Mr Durand-Deacon, like a proper couple, that might help.’

  ‘Is there a Mr Durand Deacon?’

  ‘Funny you should ask that. He was the chap who fell off the cliff.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Our lodger Gerald. Now if I had his passport too.’ She repeated the name.

  ‘Gerald,’ she said, and there was that silence again. We could hear Emily working away, little mutters, drawn in breath. I could see her, all hunched up, intent. There was no one like her really, my Miss Prosser. I’d be a fool to let her go. Minutes passed, how long I don’t know, but hearing Em working next door made the silence even longer, deeper. Then Audrey spoke again, her voice strange, like it had been hollowed out, like it was the shell of someone speaking.

  ‘I know you did it, Al, pushed that man off. I just know it.’

  She was looking at me, all fearful and trembly. All the things she’d accused me of in the past was in that voice. Then it struck me, all the years I’d been telling her I hadn’t done this and I hadn’t done that, when I’d been as guilty as hell. Now I could turn the tables, fess up for something I hadn’t done, take the credit, make her feel she owed me, owed me big time.

  ‘All right. You want to know the truth? I did do him. Yes, that’s right. I rushed him up on the cliff, grabbed him round the arms and twirled him round and round until he couldn’t stand straight no longer and then pushed him over, watched him bounce down the cliff face like a rubber ball. Satisfied?’

  ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ She had her hand clutched over her mouth.

  ‘I chucked him over Audrey, killed him. And you want to know why?’

  She shook her head hard, frightened to hear any more. Now I had her.

  ‘Cause he’d found out about you,’ I said, ‘recognised you the moment you answered that fucking door, threatened to go to the police unless I paid up. Thousands he wanted or he’d shop you. What choice did I have? It was him or you, Audrey. Who did you expect me to choose?’

  She clutched at her chest, the weight of the words sending her stumbling back.

  ‘You did that for me?’ She put her arms about me. ‘Oh Al.’

  She hung there for a moment. And it felt good, knowing that for that moment she was all mine, every bit of her.

  I unwrapped her slowly.

  ‘Let’s not get too carried away, Audrey. We still got a way to go before everything is settled.’

  ‘Well I’ve settled one thing.’ Em was stood in the doorway holding the passport up. ‘Good as new.’

  I took it from her. It was too. It was hard to believe.

  Come here. Panda Woman wants to give Bamboo Girl a hug.’

  Panda Woman gave Bamboo Girl a hug. Went on for quite a long time. Too long some would say. When they broke off Em’s face was quite flushed.

  ‘You know what would be right, just now, ’ Audrey said, ‘ for the three of us, to forget all this nonsense, just be close?’

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear. Surely she couldn’t mean…

  ‘A nice game of Scrabble,’ she said.

  Em and m
e finally got to bed at one. I’d won, natch, but it had been closer than I’d thought. Audrey was surprisingly good. Just shows you what prison can do.

  TEN

  Then someone was prodding me.

  ‘Nice to see the love birds all sweet and cosy, like everything is hunky dory, not a care in the world.’

  Audrey was standing over us, red flouncy blouse, red tights, spiky hair sticking up. I sat up.

  ‘What’s up Audrey?’

  ‘This.’

  She flung Mrs Durand-Deacon’s passport onto the bed. I picked it up. The franking part had held up, but in the photo Audrey had something white dribbling out her mouth.

  ‘What’s that? she said, pointing. ‘Ectoplasm?’ Em took it from me, traced it with her finger.

  ‘The potato must have made the colours run,’ she said. ‘I’ve ruined it haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes you bloody have. Bamboo Girl my backside.’

  Em’s lips started to quiver. She was too sensitive that girl. Time to step in.

  ‘Not necessarily Audrey. You could be a medium, Mrs Durand-Deacon, the well- known clairvoyant, connected to spirits on the other side.’

  ‘Not on my bloody passport I couldn’t. God, I might have known you two would fuck it up.’ Her face was getting quite flushed.

  ‘Calm down Audrey. We’ll think of something.’

  ‘What? Two full days to go Al, and where are we? God I should have kept on that bicycle and kept pedalling. First it was nights on a desert island with a bucket and spade, now I’m a New Age traveller with a poltergeist in my handbag.’

  A little bell went off in my head.

  ‘Look, it’s not the end of the world. We got a spare photo haven’t we,’ I said. ‘There were two left on that passport page. You can have another go, can’t you Em?’

  Em brushed her hair out of her eyes.

  ‘I’ll cover it with greaseproof paper this time, so the colour won’t run.’

  I patted her head.

  ‘Well off you go than. Do your worst.’

  She hopped out of bed, wrapped her Lady Di dressing gown round her. Audrey tried not to, but she had a look.

  ‘You shouldn’t have talked to her like that,’ I said to her when Em had gone out the room. ‘She’s putting her life on the line, and she hardly knows you.’

  ‘I know, It’s just I’m so… I mean look at me. I’m ready to burst Al. I can just feel it.’

  ‘What you need,’ I said. ‘is a spot of Michaela. Have you been in touch with her at all.’

  ‘Course I haven’t.

  ‘Perhaps I should for you. Not from here. From a phone box. You have her number I suppose?’

  ‘Course I have her number. It’s written on my heart.’ She said it so simple, without hardly noticing it.

  ‘She could meet you, couldn’t she? Not on the mainland, natch, too risky. Somewhere on the Mediterranean. Can she sail at all? Hire a boat and that?’

  ‘She lived near the sea half her life, Al. Course she can sail. We owned a boat, she has a pilot’s licence. When we weren’t cycling we were in the sea. That’s what I used to call her, my little mermaid.’

  ‘Right. Well, go write her number down, then get dressed and see if Em needs anything. And say you’re sorry. We were getting on just fine until you came along.’

  She left. I could hear her in the kitchen with Em, talking low. I couldn’t really blame her. My nerves were on edge too. Truth was I was kind of glad the photo hadn’t worked that well. I was having second thought about this Lady-Di, Durand-Deacon caper. It would be hard to keep Audrey in the cabin without anyone realising what was going on. One or two might be up for a bung or two, but the whole boat? And if anything did go wrong it would come back at us, me and Em. There had to be another way.

  And then, guess what. Al Greenwood came up trumps. I thought of one.

  I drove over, parked the car. I didn’t recognise the address, but that wasn’t surprising. They’d been quite a lot of new housing going up Wareham way. This was new too, Casterbridge Crescent, new brick, new windows, and yes, the appropriate resident behind the new lace curtains.

  I rang the bell, only it wasn’t a bell, it quivered and rippled like someone was running fingers up and down my spine. I waited a bit, trying to see anything behind the frosted glass. Nothing. Then a woman in a black dress and white apron opened the door. She had a bun and a squint. The squint squinted at me.

  ‘Have you an appointment?’ I waved the card at her.

  ‘She gave me one of these, told me to come round, whenever I needed help. I need help.’

  ‘Yes I can see that.’ She stepped back. ‘If you accompany me to the waiting room, I’ll see if Madam is available. Your name?’

  I told her my name. I stepped in. I accompanied her to the waiting room, two paces behind. She was better from the back than from the front. The waiting room was surprising cosy, comfy sofas with photos of the sea and sunsets and that all stuck along the walls.

  ‘The toilet’s through that door, if you want to wash those hands,’ she said. ‘There’s a form on the table, you need to fill out.’

  She left. I tried to read the leaflets on the table, about all the services on offer, but I couldn’t concentrate what with this pesky gurgling sound coming from the ceiling, like someone washing his mouth out from a bucket of Listerine. Then more footsteps, softer, and there she was, standing in the doorway, bare feet, white jeans, and tight white t-shirt that read, Don’t Look At Me, Look at You.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ she said, wriggling her toes. ‘As I live and breathe. Al Greenwood. You haven’t wasted much time, have you?’

  ‘I never thought you’d have a maid,’ I said.

  ‘She’s not a maid. She’s an intern, learning the craft.’

  ‘Perhaps you should start her on the plumbing,’ I said, pointing upwards. ‘Hear that? You’ve got trouble with your drains.’

  ‘That’s a tape of the Pacific Ocean washing in and out. My patients find it very soothing.’

  ‘Not as soothing as they find you, I’ll be bound. Don’t Look at Me? Who are you kidding?’ She gave me a look of her own.

  ‘What bring you here? Personal or professional?’

  ‘A bit of both.’

  ‘Thought it might be. You better follow me then. To the consulting room. Where I do the consulting.’

  I followed her then. To the consulting room. Where she did the consulting. Two low chairs and a low table with notepad and a pencil to one side, and a bottle of water and two glasses in the middle, glass shelves full of spiky rocks and stuff behind. There was a door on the right hand side, half open, leading to what looked like a sort of study, a desk and filing cabinets and a horrible blingy handbag, size of a small rowing boat, on the top of the desk. On the other side of the room, opposite the door was a couch with a pillow and screen round the back. What a surprise.

  ‘So this is where it all happens then,’ I said. ‘The enhancing.’ She closed the connecting door.

  ‘Reflexology, crystal induction, life balancing tuition, whatever suits the individual’s needs, whatever they require to bring out their inner beauty. We’re all beautiful in our own way. Heard from that bitch Audrey at all?’

  She picked up the notepad and pointed to one of the seats. I tossed my hat on the couch and went to the window.

  ‘As if.’

  ‘Only when I met you, I’d never seen you so flustered.’

  ‘It was seeing you again, Tina. Wasn’t expecting it after all this time. Brought back memories.’

  ‘Memories of what?’

  ‘Uniforms, perky little hats, rides in taxis never taken.’

  She sucked her pencil.

  ‘You’re what we call an issue-led dysfunctional, someone who needs to bring closure to his past and move forward into prioritised life-affirming horizons. Working with you will take some time. And I’m not cheap.’

  ‘I thought you said the first consultation was free.’

  ‘Did I say t
hat?’

  ‘Yes. But for interest sake, how much are we looking at, all told.’

  ‘Well, it depends on how much of your life you want enhanced, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Let’s say all of it.’

  ‘Well, probably about £350 for a course of intensive therapy would do the trick.’

  ‘And what do I get for that?’ She put her hands together, rested her chin on them.

  ‘You get stripped down to the essential you, denial awareness, a ten-point psychic road-map and an emotional trajectory the like of which you haven’t seen since you were in short trousers.’

  ‘That’s what I need. You know I’m an artist now. The psychological problems we have to go through for the sake of our art. Relationships. Self-esteem. Intimacy problems.’

  ‘Are we speaking of the woman you were buying the red underwear for?’

  Her pencil was jiggling back and forwards in her fingers.

  ‘My fiancée, only I couldn’t tell the shop girl, that could I, not while I was chatting her up. I really fancied her you know, Trudi from Amsterdam. I shouldn’t have done it, I know but that’s me. Can’t resist it. Do you like whisky?’

  ‘Whisky?’

  ‘Only I brought a drop along. Just in case.’ I fished the bottle out of my pocket and put it on the table.

  ‘Alcohol doesn’t usually play a part in my treatment,’ she said, turning to look at the label. I sat down.

  ‘The thing is I have a proposition to make.’

  ‘Getaway.’

  ‘When I’m not being an artist, I work on one of the cruise ships, lecturing the punters on fish management, that sort of thing. I’m very thick with the entertainments’ officer, Johnny Caracas. Someone’s let him down, dropped out sudden like. He needs to find a replacement fast. This Life Enhancing thing of yours is just the ticket. I mean what else are they on the trip for, if not to enhance their lives. That and the shagging of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You’d be in your element, meeting all sorts, people trying to remember, people trying to forget, folk with money, folk looking for…’