Table For Eight

by Tricia Stringer

  That was another thing he liked about Josie, she looked like a fluffy blonde but she cut to the point. He’d been physically attracted to her, still was, but he was discovering there was more to her than just a pretty package.

  “I should meet up with Christine and Frank,” he said.

  “Of course. Why shouldn’t you?”

  “It’s complicated. My daughter can be…”

  “Protective?”

  He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and took her hand. “Chrissie thinks I’m a bit of a flirt.”

  “A bit.” She raised her eyebrows at that.

  “I enjoy the company of women, I’m the first to admit it. I know we’ve only known each other a few days but I really like you and I’d—”

  “Steady up there, Bernie.” She slipped her hand from his and placed it against his chest. “You’re not about to propose are you?” She laughed.

  He laughed too. “Of course not.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Bernard looked the other way through the window where the coconut palms had given way to thicker bush. What had he been trying to say? Josie was the first woman since Della that he’d felt more than a flash of attraction for. There had been Gloria and then Kath but neither of them had worked out and since then, well, it had all been about having fun, no strings. Even though they’d only just met he felt a strong connection to Josie.

  She slid her hand up and patted his cheek. “No need to complicate things.”

  “No.” Bernard turned back. Her hand was soft and warm on his skin. “I’ve been a widower a long time.”

  “And I’ve divorced two husbands.”

  “Do you have children?”

  “Three sons.”

  “How are they, when you, if you…” Bernard knew he was spluttering but he couldn’t get it out.

  “When I meet other men?”

  “Yes.”

  “My first husband was violent and my second a womaniser.” This time it was Josie who lifted her glasses to study him closely. “I’ve worked hard to raise three young men who I hope are neither of those things. They are happy for me to have my own healthy relationships.”

  Bernard flopped his head against the seat. “I have one daughter and I’m afraid I haven’t managed to instil such liberal ideas in her mind.”

  “Oh, I see.” Josie slid her glasses back onto her face. “You think she won’t approve of me.”

  “Nothing personal but yes, I know she won’t.”

  “And here I thought her cool manner with me last night was because she didn’t like my dress.”

  He gaped and she laughed, placing her fingers softly against his lips.

  “You’re an adult, Bernie.”

  “I know that, so is Christine. Maybe it’s different with daughters.”

  “Perhaps.”

  They travelled on in silence a moment then Josie spoke.

  “Look Bernie, I’ve been having fun with you but if this is going to be a problem for you we can cool it. You spend some time with your daughter. We can catch up again for a drink at some stage, see how things go. There’s still plenty of cruise time left.”

  “Would you like to stop for photo?” The taxi driver glanced in the rear-view mirror.

  “Oh, look at that view.” Josie took out her phone. “Yes please.”

  Bernard tugged his own phone from his pocket. They had been wending their way downwards catching only glimpses of the sea between the trees but now the panorama before them was extensive. The varying greens of the lush vegetation met the iridescent blue sea on which their ship sat at anchor, the only craft visible from their vantage point. Further away, smaller islands appeared as if they were green broad-brimmed hats floating on the ocean.

  Josie threw out her arms. “Our own tropical island and there’s our personal yacht waiting for us.”

  He stepped up beside her and took a selfie with the ship behind them.

  She threw an arm around his neck. “I feel like I’ve escaped reality.”

  He understood what she meant. It was easy to forget the world and enjoy the moment. This was a beautiful island but he suspected he felt this way more because of Josie’s company than the setting.

  She planted a kiss on his cheek and he snapped another picture.

  Josie laughed. “Aren’t you worried your daughter might see that?”

  He kissed her lips. She tasted sweet like berries. “No.”

  “Quick, get in quick.” The driver tooted his horn. “Another car coming.”

  They jumped into the back seat and slammed the doors as a jeep hurtled past them, heading down the road.

  Josie laughed and clutched his hand as their driver sped off at a similar breakneck speed. Bernard grinned and reached across to cover her hand with his other. There was no way he was going to miss spending time with Josie. He was more than keen to see where this might lead.

  “I feel terrible.” Christine groaned and put her head in her hands. They’d come back to their room to freshen up after the beach. She was still in the chair she’d slumped into as soon as they’d entered the cabin, her bag by her feet on the floor. Frank had been through the shower and put on the palm tree-patterned shirt he’d bought on the island. It hurt her eyes to look at the bright colours.

  She’d felt miserable all day with a queasy stomach and a headache. Frank had hinted that perhaps it had been the number of drinks she’d consumed but she wasn’t admitting that, not even to herself. She’d said it was something from dinner the night before. You often hear about fish causing upsets, and she’d had the fish.

  “Have some water.” Frank offered her a bottle now from the fridge.

  She took it from him then eased back into her chair. “Could you get me some headache tablets as well?” She managed a wan smile. “Please.”

  He retrieved them from the bag in the bathroom and watched while she swallowed them.

  “Thanks.” She leaned back in the chair, her eyes closed.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and she could feel his stare. She peered at him through one partly open eye.

  “Why don’t you read a book or go for a walk? Give these tablets time to work then I’ll have a shower and I’ll be fine.”

  He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “I need to tell you something.”

  Christine’s breath caught in her throat. “Not now, Frank.”

  “Yes now.”

  She opened both eyes. What was he going to say? She wasn’t strong enough to deal with whatever had him looking so serious. “I don’t feel well. Later we can—”

  “Later doesn’t come with you, Christine. Last night I’m sure you drank too much so you could avoid me.”

  “I didn’t drink too much and anyway I could hardly avoid you. We share a room and a bed.”

  “You were snoring before I’d finished cleaning my teeth.”

  “We’re on holiday, Frank.” She put her hand over her eyes and settled back against the chair again. If she could get rid of this headache and the queasiness, then she could focus. “Whatever it is that’s so serious can wait.”

  “I’m thinking of applying for a new job.”

  Her hand dropped as a wave of relief swept through her. “That’s your important news?” She’d imagined another woman or an illness.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s great, Frank. What is it? Head of garbage now instead of second in command?”

  Frank lurched back as if she’d punched him, his face crumpled in a scowl. “Why is it that what I do is never good enough for you?”

  She sat forward slowly and reached for his hand. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, only she was feeling so miserable. Headache or not, she had to try harder. “I was only joking, Frank.”

  He glowered at her.

  “Tell me, what’s this new job?”

  “Waste management will be part of it but it’s a much broader department with—”

  “That’s great, Frank. I’m pleased for you. I gues
s it will mean a pay rise as well. The extra money will come in handy.” Perhaps they could put something towards the extensions and her father might be willing to put up the rest.

  Frank gripped her hands tighter. “There’s more.”

  Once more her stomach dipped. He looked worried. Perhaps he was planning to leave her after all.

  “It’s a different council.”

  “What?” Her head thumped. She really was having trouble keeping up.

  “We could sell and move south. You’ve always wanted more room. Our place is small and we could buy something bigger and still be paying the same mortgage.”

  “Wait, stop.” She put up a hand. “You want to sell our house?”

  “It would save renovating.”

  “But I love that house.”

  “You want to do a total makeover.”

  “But it’s still our home. The only one we’ve ever had together.” Her stomach roiled. Surely he didn’t want to leave the haven they’d created and its sixteen years of memories.

  He reclaimed the hand she’d held in the air. “We’ll still be together.”

  “But it’s in such a good area and easy for me to get to my work in the city.”

  “Your firm has that new office in the south. It’s close to where I’ll be based. You said yourself they wanted staff for it.”

  “But I’m in charge of everything where I am, and what about the kids’ school?”

  “They travel now. It’s about halfway between where we are and where we’d move to. They’d simply be travelling in the other direction.”

  “You can’t do this to us, Frank.” Her fear slid away replaced by anger. She yanked her hands from his and stood up. “You’ve planned all this and not a word. How could you keep such a secret?”

  “I’ve taken my time to look at what a change would mean for us and I think it would be good but I haven’t applied yet. I might not get the job.”

  Her legs felt wobbly. She sat down again. He was only thinking about it. “That’s all right then.”

  He crouched down, wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head.

  “I want this job, Christine. It’s a fantastic opportunity and a big step up.”

  She stiffened as the resolve tightened around her heart. “I don’t want to move, Frank. Everything works where we are.”

  “What?” He pulled away.

  “No harm done if you’re only thinking about it. Something will come up where you are. You won’t be second in command forever.” She had to smooth this over. She reached up a hand to pat his cheek but he intercepted it, gripping her hand tightly in his.

  “You’re not listening to me. If we move we can get a better house with the features you want. It won’t affect the kids’ school and—”

  The thumping in her head grew stronger. “And you’re not listening to me. We’re not moving.”

  “We can make it work.” He dropped her hand.

  She could see the hurt in his eyes but she wasn’t giving in on this. Everything she cherished was tied up in their home. They’d bought the house together when they’d become engaged. They hadn’t had a honeymoon but spent their first week of married life there without letting on where they were or leaving the house for anything. That week was one of her treasured memories. The roses her friends had given her after her mum died bloomed there. Their children had been conceived there and started their lives in rooms prepared with care and love. When they’d repainted a couple of years back she hadn’t let the painter go over the patch of wall in the little store room where they’d marked the kids’ heights each year on their birthdays. The house was everything to her even if he no longer felt the same. “No Frank, we can’t.”

  “Then I’ll have to commute and you’ll have to be the one to get home on time for the kids and run them around.”

  “What do you mean? I do that most nights. You haven’t thought this through.”

  “I’ve done nothing else but think about it for months. I’m tired of your digs that I’m only in charge of garbage.” He stood and folded his arms across his chest. “You know what would happen if no one was in charge of removing the rubbish, Christine. You’d be up to your neck in it. This job has a larger portfolio and I’m going to apply. I think I’ve got a good chance of winning it.”

  He glared at her with such a determined look she was speechless. She’d not seen him this resolute before and it bothered her to think perhaps she wouldn’t be able to get him to change his mind. She’d not realised her teasing about rubbish collection had been such a sensitive issue. It was hard to think straight with her head pounding and their argument had made her stomach churn harder. They needed some space. “Good luck then,” she said sadly and got up from the chair. “I’m having a shower.”

  She shut the bathroom door then slumped against it as she heard the door to their cabin bang shut. She put her head in her hands. So much for lighting the fire in their marriage. There was heat all right but not the kind she’d hoped for.

  Jim leaned on the rail at the front starboard side of the ship and studied the beach. He hadn’t planned to go ashore today but his steward, Ricardo, had chastised him when he came to drop off the bottled water and found Jim still in his cabin.

  “Mr Jim, why aren’t you on the island? It’s so beautiful there,” he’d said.

  Jim had no good reason. He’d made his way downstairs, eaten a late lunch, wandered the ship then had decided he should go ashore and had taken one of the mid-afternoon tenders with half-a-dozen other passengers. Once there he walked among the stalls then back along the beach, paddled in the shallows and caught the next tender back to the ship. At least he could say he’d been to Champagne Beach if anyone asked, but instead of the delight he saw on other faces he felt hollow, as if he was viewing it all through grey-coloured glasses.

  Now he leaned forward to watch the tenders returning the last few passengers to the ship. He took out his phone and snapped some photos. He hadn’t thought to do it during his brief journey ashore. Tam would want to see some pictures when he returned home. He’d better have something to show her.

  Music began to play from the pool deck behind him and his thoughts wandered to Celia and Ketty. He’d seen no sign of anyone he knew among the people spread around the beach and in the water. No doubt they’d made the most of the day like he should have but being on that tropical beach made him long for Jane again and he’d come back to the ship as quick as he could. He didn’t want to slip into the terrible state he’d been in on the first night aboard.

  After that first dinner he’d taken himself outside. It had been stupid to climb on the rail. He’d been mesmerised by the ocean swirling past, feeling so desperately lonely for Jane, then Celia had come along. He shuddered at the recollection of slipping. He’d given himself quite a fright realising how close he’d come to falling overboard. Sad as he’d been at that moment he knew he didn’t want to die.

  He squared his shoulders and focused on the present. A few people began to spread out along the rail watching the preparations for departure. Jim noticed a man in a bright shirt walking towards him. It was Frank and he was waving one of the bottles he was carrying.

  “Would you like a beer?”

  Jim took the offered drink. “How did you know I was here?”

  “I didn’t.” They clinked the necks of their bottles together and took a swig.

  The beer was icy cold and refreshing. Jim licked his lips. “Thanks.”

  “I’d planned to drink them both,” Frank said. “But there’re plenty more at the bar.”

  “I’ll get the next one.”

  Jim and Frank both leaned on the rails, sipping their beers, gazing towards the land.

  “Did you go to the beach?” Jim asked.

  “For a couple of hours.” Frank shook his head. “Christine didn’t feel well. She sat up under the trees most of the time. I swam. The coral and the fish were worth a look. I bought myself this shirt thinking we might make it to the
Pacific night deck party later.”

  Jim glanced at Frank. The orange shirt with the green-and-brown palm trees was certainly bright. Frank’s expression was gloomy in comparison.

  “Not in the mood for dancing now?” Jim asked.

  Frank shrugged. “Tell me, Jim. You were married a long time. How did you manage?”

  Jim took another swig of his beer. “My motto was always ‘happy wife, happy life’.” He was selling his dear Jane short but he was trying to make light of Frank’s dark mood. Jim was in no position to be counselling anyone on relationships.

  Frank’s gaze remained towards the coast. He laughed but the sound was mirthless. “What if there is no way to keep her happy.”

  They drained their beers.

  A blast came from the ship’s horn and the music behind them cranked up. Jim took Frank’s empty bottle from his hand. “I’ll get the next one.”

  Fourteen

  Night Four – At Sea

  Ketty sat with her back to the porthole-styled window, giving her a view of the entrance, and settled into the plush leather couch to wait for Leo. The low mahogany table at her knee shone in spite of the soft lighting and the scent of wood polish lingered. She loved the atmosphere of this more intimate bar, tucked away off a small corridor near the front of the ship. In the past she’d witnessed others meet here, their clandestine nature revealed by the positioning of furniture away from the door, the surreptitious glances, the furtive caresses. This time she was having her own meeting rather than being a bystander. She smiled. All those years ago her meetings with Leo had been in secret but she had been too caught up in her own happiness or too naive to realise it. When they’d gone out together it had always been to late-night jazz concerts in poorly lit clubs or back corners of eateries. Then she’d simply relished having him to herself.

  This meeting was similar in a way. They’d planned it without letting Celia hear. They hadn’t had any time to talk alone on the beach and by the time they’d returned to the ship Ketty’s lack of sleep and time in the sea and sun had caught up with her. It had been the strangest of days. She had been anxious about meeting with Leo but she needn’t have worried, Celia hadn’t given them a moment to themselves. The other woman’s behaviour had been furtive at times and openly flirtatious at others. Ketty couldn’t work her out at all. She suspected Leo was becoming a little fed up too by the time they’d returned to the ship. Celia had wanted to have drinks on the pool deck but both Leo and Ketty had declined and had managed to make a time when they would meet for pre-dinner drinks alone.