Page 58 of Old Girls on Deck

‘Don’t you dare!’ she said, laughing despite her nerves.

Diana opened her laptop and the folder of photographs she had downloaded over the years. I looked over her shoulder, pointing out a couple I thought looked useful. She looked so young, so slim. Even skinny. And actually, although she was smiling in most of them, not really very happy. How odd that I hadn’t noticed that before.

There was a picture where she was sitting on a beach in Jamaica, holding up a drink towards the camera. And a short video she had recorded on the same day. I knew that because she was wearing the same outfit, the same broad sunhat against the Caribbean sunshine.

Diana hesitated for a moment and then clicked on it.

Happy Birthday, Sam! Hope you are having a lovely day. I’m thinking of you and sending lots of love. Wish you were here in Jamaica with us. I hope the interview went well, and your flight to Paris is on time. See you very soon, I hope. Dad sends his love. He’s very tired, he’s been busy on the ship at the moment, there’s been some problem with the air conditioning and a lot of the American passengers are complaining. We are off to the Turks and Caicos Islands next. There are some lovely beaches there and great scuba diving. You’d enjoy that, I bet. Anyway, look, I hope you have a great day, happy birthday again. And when we get back next month, we must meet up and hear all your news. I can’t remember when you come home from France, I will be home on the 14th. It was going to be the 5th but they have asked Dad to take the ship to New Orleans when this trip finishes. There’s some problem with something. Isn’t there always? Right, happy birthday from the Caribbean, lots of love. See you soon.

She stared at the frozen image of herself, her mouth stretched into a smile, and I almost felt like weeping for her.

I knew Sam hadn’t come home any time soon after that; he had met Felicity there and stayed on in France while she did her research, and eventually they had moved to Scotland when they returned home. Had those trips around the Caribbean, across the Atlantic, and through the Baltic really made up for missing out on her son’s life? By the expression on Diana’s face, no, they hadn’t, and unexpectedly I felt a surge of anger against Casper.

He had been so insistent that she should be with him, that Sam was perfectly alright at boarding school, didn’t need her, didn’t mind, and I could see now that the infallible Casper Wedderburn, well respected leader of men had been terribly wrong. Diana had gone along with it to keep the peace, but at what cost? Thousands of miles of travel, no matter how luxurious, didn’t make up for both of them losing out on so much of Sam’s teenage years.

I went out on the veranda and looked at the sea rushing past us. In comparison, Eddy had been a great father when our boys were growing up. He had endless patience with them, taking them to football and rugby practice. Helping them ride their first bikes and teaching them how to mend a puncture. I couldn’t count how many spoons they had bent over the years, levering the tyres off. Surely in the grand scheme of things, Eddy had done a better job, had been a better father? I felt very thankful for that insight.

Instead of running though her talk, Diana wrote a long email to Sam, telling him what she was doing. The places where she was going, how she had been asked to give a talk to the passengers. And then she attached some photographs: me with a huge panini in my hand, a selfie of both of us with glasses of wine, the view from our suite overlooking the docks at Cadiz and Barcelona, the view down the main staircase to the marble floor of the reception area.

There was new determination in her face.

‘I’ve told him I want to see him when I get back, how much I’ve missed him. I want to apologise but an email isn’t the place to do it. I need to see him in person.’

At ten fifteen I couldn’t bear hanging about any longer, so I chivvied Diana into action. We collected all the things she would need and went to find the Debussy conference room on deck 4. If nothing else, we would get in there before anyone else and not see how many – or how few – people would turn up to listen to her.

‘You’ve got to come with me, I feel sick with nerves,’ she said.

Diana checked her reflection in the mirror one last time. She had gone for an unusually stylish look, a grey silk shirt and tailored trousers, paired with on-trend white trainers.

‘You look great,’ I said. ‘Very business-like.’

She did too, and despite the fact that we had probably eaten the same things since we came on board, she didn’t seem to be putting on weight like I was. Life’s very unfair sometimes.

Diana pulled a face at her reflection and after a moment pulled off the trainers and replaced them with a new pair she had bought in honour of the cruise, with kitten heels and a cute little diamante bow on the front. She admired her feet for a second.

‘There, so pretty, that’s much better and before you ask, yes, they are comfortable. These are the sort of thing stylish women wear, not slightly battered lace-up shoes that have been through the washing machine at least twice.’

‘Well, if you are sure. The last pair of heels you wore ended up in the dustbin,’ I said doubtfully.

Deck 4 was strangely quiet when we got there. Just a few of the cabin stewards were present, pushing their metal carts out of the lifts ready to clean the passenger cabins and freshen them up with fresh towels and toiletries. All that activity behind the scenes that most people didn’t see, working so hard to a strict timetable. I knew each member of housekeeping was probably responsible for over twenty cabins twice a day, allowing only fifteen minutes for each one. And the passengers who rose late or created chaos every day only added to their burden. It wasn’t a job I would have liked, but they always seemed so cheerful and polite, several of them nodding and smiling at us as we passed them.

At last, we reached the Debussy suite and Diana nervously opened the door. It was empty. In fact, it was in darkness, the curtains were closed, and the lights were all off. There were a couple of mugs and a coffee machine on a side table, but no evidence it was about to be used. No Dick Dainty, no tech guy messing about with wires, and certainly no eager shipmates ready to listen to her.

She closed the door quickly and gave me an agonised look, so I opened it again, in some foolish belief that when I looked for a second time things would be different. Of course, they weren’t. After all it wasn’t like a surprise party when people would leap out laughing from behind the curtains.

Diana started to panic. ‘What am I supposed to do now? Go back to my cabin and hide?’

I stood, hugging my sister’s sheaf of notes, the printout from the purser’s office of Casper’s talk which she had found buried deep in her hard drive, while Diana had her laptop bag close to her chest, shuffling from foot to foot. Further down the corridor there were a couple of housekeepers in grey and white striped dresses stuffing dirty towels into a container.

‘There’s supposed to be a talk here at eleven,’ I said. ‘Any idea where everyone is?’

They shrugged and looked blankly at me.

‘Mr Dainty?’ I said.

Another shrug and a stare. I don’t think they knew what I was talking about.

‘It’s a good job Casper isn’t here,’ Diana said, ‘I know exactly how he would have reacted. Given me that resigned look, perhaps a bit of eye rolling. But actually, Casper would never have let me do such a thing in the first place. I had to maintain my position. Under no circumstances could I embarrass him or do something so foolish.’