Damned by Logic (3 page)

‘Observed dispassionately, it does offer some of the most amusing moments known to mankind. Chaucer knew that when he wrote
The Miller's Tale
.'

‘I've heard that that is pretty risqué.'

‘Depends on one's sense of humour.'

‘D'you think there'll be a copy in the library?'

‘I doubt it. Not to the literary taste of the average cruise passenger.'

‘Then you can tell me the story later.'

Her manner intrigued, perplexed, confused him. Her unsubtle interest in sex could indicate to an active mind that an advance would not be rejected. Yet when he saw her down to her cabin at night, he was dismissed. In schoolboy terms, was she actually just a prick-tease?

The lights of Naples merged into a glow and dimmed into extinction. One of the latest, highly praised films was shown in the cinema after dinner that night.

‘Why do they make such gloomy films?' she asked, as they walked out of the cinema after most other viewers had left.

‘Truer to life. What would you like now?'

They walked arm-in-arm along the alleyway, untroubled by the slight movement of the ship.

‘I'd like to be cheered up.'

‘I'm not very good at telling jokes,' he said. ‘I either forget the punchline or mess it up. How about a cheerful drink?'

‘Liquor is a depressant.'

‘Champagne is a guarantee of carefree fun. Halfway through the first glass, you'll be gay.'

‘I hope not.'

‘Apologies. I still think of the word in its old sense.'

‘You said you were only twenty-eight.'

‘Part of me seems to live in the past.'

They went up to Bar Orpheus. The bar steward asked if they would like Moet et Chandon, Mumm, or Veuve Clicquot. Ansell chose the last.

‘What are we going to do when we've finished our drinks?' Melanie enquired, possibly with a twinkle in her eye.

‘Have another.'

‘You want me flat on my back?'

‘You leave me tongue-tied.'

She laughed.

Twenty minutes later, the bar steward brought them two more filled glasses. Ansell raised his. ‘To us.'

‘We drink to ourselves?'

‘What happier toast?'

‘I hope ...'

‘What?'

‘Never mind. When are you going to carry out your promise?'

‘What promise?'

‘To relate
The Miller's Tale
to me.'

‘I said no such thing.'

‘It was when we were looking at the Romans having fun.'

‘Imagination. In any case, I can't remember how the story goes well enough to remember who does what to whom.'

‘A futile excuse.'

‘Would I lie to you?'

‘Probably. Maybe you were wrong and there is a copy of the tales in the ship's library.'

‘When it would replace a Barbara Cartland epic?'

‘You scorn love stories?'

‘When it is inevitable that they'll end happily.'

‘A dislike based on personal experience?'

‘Why ask?'

‘Over these few days, you've said one or two things which made me wonder.'

He possessed the dated belief that matrimonial problems should remain personal. ‘Best not to wonder.'

When they left the bar, they walked along the alleyway to a lift.

‘Which deck are you?' he asked as the doors closed.

‘You don't remember?'

‘Afraid not.'

‘E deck. But you do know the number of my cabin?'

‘Sorry, no.'

‘The man's not interested in cabins,' she told the lift.

The doors opened at E deck.

She took hold of his hand. ‘Anyone as unobservant as you needs help.' She led the way out, turned to starboard, came to a halt at cabin thirty-five. She released his hand, unlocked the door. ‘Thank you for escorting me.' She kissed him on the lips. ‘A verray, parfit gentil knyght!' There was laughter in her eyes.

‘You've read
The Canterbury Tales
,' he said accusingly.

‘I had to study some of them for exams,' she explained with a smile.

‘Including
The Miller's Tale
?'

‘Far too entertaining to be made the subject of an exam. I read that in my own time.'

‘Why the hell didn't you tell me you knew it?' He assumed the guise of a man made a fool of and looked away.

She kissed him again, now with lips parted. ‘As the poor miller learned, the past can be inexplicable.' She went into the cabin, did not shut the door this time.

He stared at her, like a teenager, knowing he was a fool yet wondering, hoping.

‘You said it was wrong of me to persuade him to buy you for me, didn't you, Georgie?' she said as she picked up the toy Barbary ape she had persuaded him to buy for her that first day they spent together, on the half-day trip to Gibraltar. She replaced it on the sofa. ‘I promise not to persuade him to do anything else,' she said to the toy monkey, with her teasing eye trained on Ansell who was still lingering in the doorway of her cabin.

She unbuttoned her dress, drew it up and over her head, carefully placed it on a hanger. She took off an embroidered slip; she wore no brassiere. She began to lower her embroidered pants, looked up. ‘Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?'

T
he
Helios
passed through The Pillars of Hercules and turned north. The Bay of Biscay was not rough, but foretold the weather that TV reports suggested was likely to be expected on their arrival in the UK – strengthening cold winds and overcast skies; few passengers chose to remain on the open decks. Waves smacked against the hull and occasionally the spray reached up to render the lower port holes briefly opaque.

Melanie and Ansell continued to enjoy their pre-dinner drinks in Bar Orpheus. The bar steward, judging shipboard romance would make Ansell a generous tipper, was quick to serve them and make certain the small bowls on their table were filled with cocktail biscuits, salted almonds and peanuts.

On this, their last evening, the waiter brought them their orders and, trying to make a final good impression on them – in the hope it would increase his evening's tip – remarked they would probably be glad to hear the sea was not expected to become any rougher that night.

‘Are you a good sailor?' Melanie asked Ansell as the bar steward left.

‘Normally, yes, until the seagulls make for shore.'

She drank, replaced her glass, picked up two salted almonds, did not immediately put them in her mouth. ‘I spent a small fortune in that last shop we went into in Lisbon.'

‘I did notice!'

‘The quality of the embroidery was so wonderful.'

‘I look forward to seeing you wearing them.'

‘But will you?'

‘Why not?'

‘You're married.'

He was silent. There was no comeback to that.

‘Have you considered a divorce?'

‘No.' He said it in a tone laced with both pain, guilt and anger.

‘I'm a fifteen-day entertainment?'

‘How can you suggest that?' he demanded. ‘I haven't thought about divorce until this trip and since then, for me, all reality has vanished.'

‘Your wife will surely bring it back?'

He found it difficult to give an answer which would please either of them. Luckily for Ansell, Melanie didn't feel the need to pursue that train of conversation.

Three hours later, in her cabin, reality became a mural in Pompeii.

He awoke.

‘I was beginning to think you should be called Rip van Winkle,' she observed.

After endless years of sleep, Rip van Winkle had awoken to learn his termagant wife had died. Ansell studied Melanie. She sat on a chair at an angle which caused the light from the port to sharpen her profile. A morally destructive, impossibly desirable woman.

‘I don't know what to do, Taffy,' she said.

‘Come here and I'll show you.'

‘Whilst you've been snoring ...'

‘I never snore.'

‘Whilst you've been snoring, I've packed and can't get Georgie into either of my cases.'

‘Carry him.'

‘A dolly at my age?'

‘Why do you call him Georgie?'

‘After a boyfriend who gave me a fortune.'

‘I hate him.'

‘You're wasting your spleen. He was six and I was five, the fortune was a sixpenny piece which he said was pure silver. Soon afterwards, his family moved north and I never saw him again. I was heartbroken.'

He laughed.

‘You're being cruel.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘You're still laughing inside.'

‘I'm feeling sorry for the emotional suffering you endured.'

‘Liar! Could you find room for Georgie in your case?'

‘Only with a real squash.'

‘He's very resilient. And you're being very slow. Find room for him and I know I'll see you when you return him to me. Or maybe you won't want to see me again; for you, it's just been light entertainment.'

‘You know it's been the most exciting, intoxicating time of my life.'

‘But it's still a case of, that's it?'

‘Can't you understand?'

‘You're in a duff marriage, but at home you're a man of honour. Doesn't matter how desperately I'll want to be with you again, to become so horny I'll explode.'

As for Ansell's home life, and future physical comforts, the coming days, weeks and months were fixed. Eileen had demanded two beds in their bedroom. She would undress and put on night clothes in the bathroom. She would expect him to kiss her goodnight, but her lips would be closed. If he made a mistake – there had been times when experience had been overtaken by desire – she would quickly reinforce experience. Melanie offered an escape from frustration.

He looked at Georgie. ‘I'll fit him in, even if I have to discard something.'

In Ansell's cabin, the second occupant, Crowhurst, was on the settee; his speech was alcoholically disturbed. ‘Been busy, have you?'

Ansell crossed to his bunk, put Georgie down on it.

‘Got to wondering where you was. Reckoned you was enjoying more than what they said the trip would give us.'

Ansell lifted up his suitcase on to the bunk, rearranged the contents.

‘Give you that monkey, did she?' Crowhurst asked.

He ignored the question.

‘Been like them, at it all day and all night?' his cabin mate said with a lascivious smirk upon his lips.

‘Would you like to keep your comments to yourself?' Ansell finally answered, still busily repacking his bag, not glancing at the man's sneering face, for fear of doing something he might regret.

‘Said something to upset you, have I, squire?'

Ansell wedged Georgie into the suitcase, closed the lid, and left the cabin as quickly as he could. He was determined to try and see Melanie again before they disembarked.

The
Helios
had docked and after a relatively short wait, the passengers had begun to leave. Melanie had waited until the last minute in her cabin, making the most of the luxury for as long as it lasted. Then she'd prepared herself for disembarking, making sure that there was no way she would bump into Ansell leaving at the same time. However, that was unlikely considering the different exits they were to be using as inhabitants of different ends of the ship.

As her last foot left the gangway and landed on solid ground, she was approached by two uniformed men and calmly, yet forcibly, directed across the quayside towards a large official looking shed. A man stepped forward and introduced himself. ‘DC Keene,' he proclaimed and showed her his warrant card.

‘What's this all about?' she asked sharply, looking behind her at the crowds of other passengers disembarking behind her. She was relieved to see that no one seemed interested in her being picked out from the crowd and escorted elsewhere. In fact, it was more acceptable these days, to be pounced upon at Customs and Immigration, since 9/11 and the heightened paranoia about security every official had felt since then.

‘There is reason to believe, Miss Caine, that you are attempting to bring forbidden items into this country. If you will please cross to that door.' He pointed.

She did not move. ‘What the hell ...?' Her face felt suddenly flushed as fear caused her blood rate to increase.

‘Straight to that door.' He picked up her two suitcases.

She hesitated.

‘It'll be easier if you do as asked.' The threat was barely cloaked in official politeness.

She began to walk.

They went into an oblong room in which a second officer, Ratner, waited. The window was small, but overhead lights provided sharp illumination. The only furnishings were a long table, a small desk and two benches. Keene put the suitcases on the table. ‘Put your handbag down here, please.'

‘Why?'

‘I wish to search it.'

‘Like hell you'll do that.'

Ratner moved closer to her.

‘D'you expect to find it full of coke?' she asked sarcastic-ally. Perhaps it was foolish to be acting so belligerently, but she resented their attitude and being made to feel so nervous.

‘There may be illegally procured, uncut diamonds in it.'

‘Do I look like diamonds are my best friend?' Melanie knew it was a mistake to continue to be antagonistic, but couldn't help herself.

‘Do you deny you are in possession of any diamonds?'

‘The only diamond I have, cut or uncut, is in the ring I'm wearing. And if you're wondering where I got it, it was a gift.'

‘May I have your permission to examine the contents of your handbag?'

‘No.'

‘The reason for your refusal?'

‘I don't like someone messing around with my things.'

‘Are your cases locked?'

‘Yes.'

‘Will you give my colleague the keys, please.'