Page 55 of Old Girls on Deck
‘Very much, it’s a while since I have done a cruise like this. I’ve done many trips over the years, but I’m enjoying this one in particular,’ Diana said. ‘I hope you are too?’
‘It’s fine,’ Betsey said, ‘much better than the last one we went on. A ship full of – well, let’s say younger people who thought a good breakfast was cocktails. The one before that was very enjoyable, the Caribbean, including the Bermuda Triangle. We almost wanted to hide under the beds while we were sailing through, didn’t we Blake?’
‘Wouldn’t have done no good,’ Blake said wisely, polishing off his cocktail, ‘if them aliens want you, they’re gonna get you.’
‘My husband used to say the Bermuda Triangle was no worse than anywhere else,’ Diana said, ‘just more famous.’
‘In fact, you might be interested to know that Diana knows a lot about that very subject,’ I said. ‘She’s going to be giving a talk on it.’
Betsey’s eyes lit up.
‘When? We would definitely be interested.’
Diana tried to protest that it wasn’t actually certain yet, but I interrupted her.
‘I expect one of the sea days, when we are on our way to Naples,’ I said confidently. ‘You need to keep a look out for the morning news-sheet.’
‘Oh, we will,’ Cyn said, ‘we won’t miss that. We saw Barry Manilow twice in Vegas, didn’t we, and he sang that song both nights. Such a showman. It was going around my head for days afterwards. Look at it from my angle.’
‘Yes,’ I muttered, ‘I know the feeling. Oh, and he’s back. I wondered when he would show up.’
I gave a nod towards the door where Raphaël was standing, his camera in his hands, talking to the steward. After a moment he looked across at Diana and smiled, and then he started taking pictures of the Texans with the captain, when there was a great deal of lively chatter and laughter from Betsey and Cyn, and their husbands stood with their chins up looking proud.
‘Seems to me that talk about not wanting any sort of relationship didn’t work,’ I murmured, ‘but perhaps kissing him sent the wrong signals? You need to refine your technique when it comes to repelling men.’
‘Oh God, what am I going to do? I feel such an idiot,’ Diana said.
‘Play it cool. Pretend it was nothing, and don’t mention what happened.’
Raphaël beckoned us both forward to have a group photograph taken, all of us clustered in front of an oil painting of the Avanti ploughing attractively through sunlit waves. Behind us, the real sea slipped past, dark and unfathomable.
At that moment, Charles the dashing first officer and owner of Chic the dog, came in through the door from the business area of the ship. He was looking exceedingly dashing in his uniform, his blond hair gleaming, and I wondered how old he was. Early thirties perhaps.
We enjoyed a lively discussion with Charles, about life on board the ship, his favourite cuisine and interesting things that had happened during a voyage. Meanwhile, Cyn and Betsey were praising the flowers, asking the captain about his home life, and generally being charming.
It must be exhausting being a good corporate wife, I thought. I’d been to a few business events with Eddy over the years, and always been bored to tears. On one occasion we had been talking to some big cheese and a very young woman walked past us with her bosom almost falling out of her dress, and I said, “she didn’t think that through, did she, someone needs a bigger frock” and the big cheese said very stiffly, “that’s my wife.” It turned out he was the CEO. Eddy was waiting for the call to head office for weeks.
I refocussed on the conversation. Stone and Blake nursed their drinks and discussed port congestion and the shortage of containers.
‘And don’t talk to me about warehouse logistics,’ Stone said sadly. ‘All those empty spaces and no trucks, no drivers and machinery standing idle.’
I thought back briefly to my box sets. That would explain it then, why the Reagan family were always turning up at deserted warehouses for their shoot outs.
Blake huffed. ‘Panama disease,’ he said, ‘and chilling injuries. Keeps me awake at night.’
‘Chilling injuries? Do people get locked in the freezers? That sounds awful. Surely there should be some safety mechanism. I mean how long could someone survive locked inside a refrigerated container?’ I said, trying to sound intelligent.
‘Chilling injuries to the bananas,’ Blake said. ‘Below thirteen degrees and you might as well give up. And people don’t know, do you see? Or they don’t care. The problems we have to deal with. I should have gone into manufacturing reefers.’
The face of the snarling drug cartel boss flashed into my mind, a huge joint clamped between his teeth.
‘But of course, you’d face prison if you were caught, wouldn’t you? I mean drugs are such a problem everywhere. I think you’re safer with bananas, surely?’
Blake frowned. ‘Reefers are refrigerated containers. I don’t think they would land me in prison.’
Behind me I could hear Diana chuckling.
‘Ah no, probably not. Do excuse me, I’ve just remembered…’