Here Come the Girls (47 page)

They all trooped down to the theatre together to watch a musical extravaganza based on
West Side Story
. How the actors changed so quickly was anyone’s guess. One minute they were in everyday fifties-style gear, the next in flamenco costumes. Roz thought she might try flamenco dancing next. It was so fluidly beautiful and passionate. She would never have believed that a bit of dancing could have awoken her from the inside so much. Then again, Manus still had not returned her text. Maybe there would be no one to be passionate for when she got home.

Frankie left them straight after the show to meet Vaughan. She moved so fast up the Grand Staircase she looked as if she were flying. Ven tried not to think that she would have moved as fast, if she knew Nigel was waiting for her outside her cabin.

‘Packing tomorrow,’ said Ven, sticking out her tongue as she flumped on one of three plump upholstered stripy seats in Beluga.

‘Aye,’ sighed Olive. ‘Ven, I have to say, this has been the most wonderful two weeks of my life. Thank you.’

‘It’s a pleasure, my love,’ said Ven. She smiled at Olive, who looked a totally different woman to the one whom she had picked up crying the night before they set off. Her hair was shimmery and golden, her lovely face tanned, her eyes shining like green gems in a mine. She had blossomed on board, watered with rest and fed with some Greek attention. But she worried for Olive because she knew what was in store for her. She would go home, buy a big house with her money, and all the bloody Hardcastles would move in with her. She would give up her day job and instead have to pander to them 24/7. Nothing would change for her except the number of bedrooms she had to clean.

‘Olive, I think you should bugger off to Greece,’ said Roz, mirroring Ven’s thoughts. ‘I know I’m hardly Mrs-I’m-So-Great-at-Relationships, but if you go back home, I’ll kick your arse from Barnsley bus station to Bridlington beach.’

Olive laughed. Roz giving out reckless advice was just too funny. Boy, she had changed during this holiday.

‘Let’s not even think about life beyond the ship,’ chirped Ven, clapping her hands. ‘We’ve got a full day left yet. And I want an Irish coffee and some chocolates. And I want them now.’ Right on cue a waiter arrived and took their order. And the three of them snuggled back in the chairs, chilled out to the pianist, and watched a beautiful black-and-white world go by.

D
AY
16: A
T
S
EA

Dress Code: Smart Casual

Chapter 72

Frankie stretched awake, opened her eyes and saw that she was being stared at. By a naked Viking with a tattooed shoulder.

‘Morning,’ he drawled, with a cheeky grin. ‘You slept well.’ The emphasis on his words inferred that she’d been snoring.

‘You tired me out,’ she grinned. ‘It’s your fault if I made noises or dribbled.’

He pulled her towards him tightly and kissed her. The sea was choppier this morning and the boat was rocking a little more wildly. They lay back, not saying anything, just letting the sea buffet them along, enjoying the closeness, the feeling of being held.

‘Do you ever worry it will come back?’ Vaughan suddenly asked.

‘It crosses my mind occasionally, but I try not to dwell on it,’ replied Frankie. ‘If I thought about all the bad things that could happen to me, I’d never get up in the morning. Vaughan, I hid myself away for too long. I got too scared to live and make plans because death cast this massive black shadow over everything. This past couple of weeks have really done wonders for me. I’m going to live until I die and look forward to the lovely things that might happen to me. Like going to your house.’

‘Not changed your mind about coming back with me then?’

‘Why would I?’ Frankie snuggled into his chest, the fine blond hairs tickling her cheek.

‘I still can’t believe you’re not put off.’

Frankie pulled away. ‘You’re not defined by one missing bollock, Vaughan.’ She snuggled back into him as he shushed her, in case they heard next door through the wall.

‘You have such a way with words,’ he laughed. ‘Honestly, you should have been a poet.’

‘Are you put off by the fact these are replacements for ones I lost?’ She nudged her breasts into him.

‘Not in the slightest,’ he replied.

‘Do you feel you’re going to catch cancer off me if you touch them?’

‘Don’t be daft.’

Frankie grabbed his hands. ‘Then touch them, you stupid man. Can’t you take a hint?’

Ven had packed most of her things before breakfast. She made as short a job of it as possible then called for Olive and Roz, who were both up early doing the same. They pushed a note under Frankie’s door. She had a Do Not Disturb sign in her key slot which they all grinned at. They were in time to go to the Ambrosia for a waiter-served full
Mermaidia
breakfast and lots of coffee.

Then it was up to the now-open Topaz pool where people were swimming, lying on the sunbeds and watching
Moulin Rouge
on the big sea-screen, determined to enjoy every last second of their holiday. There was a definite increase in the number of clouds in the sky, but they were white and wispy and didn’t take much of the heat away when they drifted across the face of the sun.

Frankie joined them at half past eleven, looking as if she had just bathed in a fountain of youth.

‘You had an injection from some rejuvenating spring?’ asked Roz.

‘Yeah, and you should have seen the size of the needle!’ snorted Frankie, throwing herself down on the sunbed next to her. She had a bright green bikini on which could have been seen from a space station. She ordered a Brandy Alexander from the waiter when the others were ordering mineral waters.

‘Sod it, I’m on holiday,’ she explained. ‘And I haven’t had any breakfast, so I’m going for the biggest burger I can find as soon as the clock strikes twelve.’

Ven grunted and sat up. ‘This new costume is far too big around the boobs,’ she said, adjusting it. ‘I’m sure the label is showing the wrong size.’

‘I’m going in for a swim,’ said Frankie. ‘Coming anyone?’

The four of them slid into the waters of the pool and sighed with pleasure.

‘We’ll have to do this again,’ said Ven. ‘Caribbean next time?’

‘In your dreams!’ laughed Olive. ‘How will I be able to afford—?’ She stopped herself mid-flow and looked gob-smacked at the others. ‘I still can’t take it in.’

‘I could quite happily do this again,’ gushed Roz. ‘It’s been brilliant, Ven. Forget the money thing for now, I mean the holiday. Getting us all together again, especially me and Frankie. You’ve made it all so special – it’s been a dream come true.’

‘Roz, you’re starting to worry me,’ said Frankie. ‘Have you been taken over by an alien?’

‘Bugger off, Carnevale.’

‘Much better,’ said Frankie, submerging herself.

‘Totty alert!’ said Olive, giving Ven an underwater kick. Captain Nigel was making a slow friendly walk towards the pool.

‘Morning, ladies,’ he saluted. ‘Are you coming along to the Chocolate Factory this afternoon in the Olympia? Chocolate as far as the eye can see. I do hear it’s every woman’s dream.’

‘Some women have different dreams, Captain,’ said Frankie, smiling sweetly and kicking Ven from the other side.

‘Yes, we’ll be there,’ said Ven, pulling herself up to rest her arms on the side of the pool. She saw Nigel twitch slightly and turn his head from her.

‘Ok-ay,’ he said quickly. ‘See you all at dinner if not before.’ And he strolled off in the direction of mid-ship.

‘So he
will
be at dinner!’ gasped Ven aloud, though she meant to say it to herself.

‘Er . . . no wonder, Ven,’ said Olive with a pained look on her face. ‘I think you just made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.’

Ven followed to where Olive was pointing. Her breasts had escaped from her costume, her nipples were bobbing on the surface of the pool. Ven sank to the bottom of the pool in shame. Was there anything left for her to embarrass herself with?

They bought four copies of the photograph taken of them all at the dinner-table the previous night. Nine smiling people in black and white captured in a happy bubble of time. It was a lovely picture. Nigel looked impossibly handsome with his smiling grey eyes and military-cut hair. Ven wasn’t sure she would ever meet a man who could live up to that complete package of gorgeous voice, kind heart, fabulous body, brilliant uniform and discretion in the face of her Ronnie Biggs tits. Her head dropped into her hands at the thought of it.

‘Stop thinking about Nigel seeing your knockers,’ said Frankie, hitting the nail right on the head. ‘Let’s go and eat chocolate and be total pigs.’

The Tray Twins and young Lighthouse were at the front of the very long queue waiting for the restaurant doors to open.

‘I hope they leave us some,’ sniggered Olive. But she had nothing to worry about because when the Olympia opened, there were tables with chocolate cakes, truffles and gloopy fountains as far as the eye could see. The only thing missing was Willy Wonka and a couple of Oompa Loompas. There was a huge mermaid made out of chocolate and a cake replica of the ship. The Tray Twins family were in orgasmic delight, transporting two heaving plates each back to a table within reaching distance of one of the chocolate fountains.

Eric and Irene waved over. They had a shared plate of four tiny cakes and a pot of tea.

‘Ah, bless them,’ said Olive. ‘I’m so going to miss those two. Aren’t they a lovely couple?’ As soon as she said it, she realised that no one had ever called her and David ‘a lovely couple’. Where did it all go wrong? Once upon a time he was going to build them a big house with an indoor pool. She had been lonely when she met him and ripe for being seduced by big talk and the slightest bit of affection. She watched as Eric pulled out the chair so that Irene could sit down and gave her the first choice of cake.
That
small action showed her the difference between a true relationship and the sham she had.

As they lumbered out of the restaurant, stuffed as teddy bears in an over-generous kapok factory, they spotted a very happy Stella who had just won the snowball prize on the bingo.

‘I was determined,’ she said through her trout pout. ‘Some of these bleeders only turn up on the last day and I wasn’t going to let them win. Come and have a drink with me, girls!’

They drank Bellini cocktails and Frankie made them all laugh by reliving the story of Ven’s mischievous bathing costume. People were coming in from the outside decks now for cardigans. Clouds were thickening in the skies and the sun was switching down a few gas marks with every passing hour.

The afternoon seemed to whiz unfairly past. Children had to leave the pools because the water was sloshing violently from side to side now, and safety nets had been cast over them. All over the ship people were packing or doing last-minute laundry. Cases were appearing outside cabins to be taken away by the crew for transportation to the Southampton terminal building. The girls changed into casual wear for dinner and walked down to Café Parisienne for their last ice wines.

There was a strange serenity about the ship as they sat there in silence, just watching the
Mermaidia
forge her way towards England. It was as if they were all cygnets on a mother swan’s back who had made a safe and warm crossing over the water and would be delivered gently home.

‘Got your tip envelopes for Elvis and Buzz?’ asked Ven.

‘Safe in my handbag,’ replied Roz. ‘Eric says we don’t have to tip the wine waiters because they get a commission from everything we order.’

‘Chuffing hell,’ said Frankie. ‘Angel will be richer than you, Ven.’

‘Well, I’m still giving her something,’ put in Ven. ‘She’s looked after us something rotten. I’ll give Jesus his tip in the morning before we go.’

‘Are you giving the Captain anything?’ Frankie winked.

‘I think he got enough this morning,’ laughed Ven, although she knew her cheeks would start to smoulder as soon as she saw Nigel at dinner.

The dinner gong sounded and they wended their way down to the restaurant where the large square body and wide grin of Supremo was waiting to wish them a good evening.

‘How can it be good, Supremo?’ said Ven. ‘It’s our last dinner.’

‘Then you have to come again, ma’am,’ said Supremo. Which made perfect sense really. Ven wondered if she would ever be able to go back to a one-destination holiday again and airport luggage restrictions. In fact, Ven wondered if she could ever go back to dry land full stop!

Royston had saved his best until last: a Hawaiian shirt totally covered in banana patterns.

‘Hello, girls. Have you seen that photo we had taken last night? How lovely do we look?’ he said as he approached the table.

‘Fabulous shirt, Royston,’ said Frankie.

‘Thank you, darlin’. I’ve got matching underpants on – do you want to see?’ Royston chuckled.

‘No, she bloody doesn’t!’ Stella warned. ‘Sit down and behave.’

‘Yes, boss,’ Royston saluted his wife.

The menu that night was full of traditional English dishes – presumably to acclimatise the passengers for the imminent return to Blighty. Not that any of them at the table wanted to be acclimatised until they reached the dock of Southampton – they wanted a reverse thrust to moussaka and stuffed vine leaves, carbonaras and paella.

Nigel still hadn’t arrived by the time the bread had been distributed, much to Ven’s disappointment.

‘Might as well order,’ said Stella. ‘Doesn’t look as if the Captain is coming. What a shame.’

Ven tried to look nonchalant, but a definite fat grey cloud had fallen over the evening for her. She buried her nose in the menu.

‘My goodness, sorry I’m late,’ came a breezy Irish voice from the side of her. ‘Have you ordered?’

Royston cheered. ‘Naw, we were just killing time until you came, Captain.’

Ven knew that if she had a tail, it would be wagging fifteen to the dozen now. ‘Ooh look, Ven,’ said Stella, glancing down the menu and then winking at her. ‘Raspberry Ripple’s for dessert.’