Here Come the Girls (20 page)

‘Aren’t you going to check it?’ she asked with a little smile and two perfectly arched eyebrows. ‘I might have only made it out for fifty p.’

‘I trust you,’ said Manus.

‘Thank you, you saved my life.’

‘That’s putting it a bit strong,’ said Manus, taking a small sip because the coffee was too hot to shift quickly.

‘Trust me, when a woman’s car goes wrong, she is reduced to idiot level.’

‘My other half says the same,’ said Manus. He saw Jonie’s head give a little twitch.

‘Did you marry anyone I know from school?’ she asked. ‘I don’t know about you, but I only kept in touch with a couple of people.’

‘No, Roz didn’t go to our school. And we just live together, we’re not married.’ He didn’t know why he volunteered that. He felt immediately uncomfortable about it afterwards, as if he was making the point that he was legally available – which he wasn’t.

‘Any children?’

‘No,’ said Manus. ‘You?’

‘God no,’ laughed Jonie. ‘I’m a career girl. Single, no kids, not even a goldfish. That way, if I want to jet off to Paris for the weekend I can do so at the drop of a hat.’

‘Roz is on a cruise at the moment,’ said Manus, again wondering immediately afterwards if he should have said that.

‘Oh? Alone?’ Jonie asked, her interest sparked.

‘No, one of her friends won a cruise for four. They’ve all gone together.’

‘Oh, how lovely for them,’ said Jonie. ‘Although I’ve never fancied it myself. Maybe when I’m eighty.’ She smiled. Her eyes were full on him. Big and blue. A warm blue though, not like Roz’s which were a paler, icier shade.

‘I better get a move on,’ he said, abandoning the near-full coffee. She didn’t try to stop him.

‘Of course. You’ve got your MOT to do.’ She stood. She was tiny next to him. Neat and cute and perfectly pocket-sized, he’d always thought so. And age hadn’t diminished her appeal; if anything, it had added to it. ‘Manus, thank you SO much for sorting my car out. I’ll recommend you to everyone I know. I’ll tell them to mention that Jonie sent them.’

‘That’s nice of you, thank you,’ said Manus bashfully.

She rubbed the outside of his arm at the door in a joint gesture of goodbye and gratitude.

‘Take care, Manus. It was lovely to see you. I can’t wait to tell Layla and Tim. Do you remember Layla Baker and Tim Stott? They were always glued together at school. They still are – in holy matrimony!’ She laughed. ‘They’re coming round for dinner soon. Tim’s a barrister now.’

‘I remember them well.’ Manus had liked the lovebirds Layla and Tim. ‘Well, it was great to see you too, Jonie,’ he said.

‘Oh, how will you get back to the garage?’

‘I’ll walk, it’s not far.’

‘Let me give you a lift. I insist. If you’re in a rush to do that MOT.’

Damn, he’d cornered himself there.

‘Besides, I can check that you’ve mended it properly,’ she winked at him.

‘Cheeky,’ he smiled.

Five minutes later he was waving goodbye to Jonie after she had dropped him off. Her perfume was still in his nose. It was spicy and exotic and very like the one Roz wore. It made him ache inside. Even the cheque had the faintest whiff of scent on it. Unfortunately, when he unfolded it, it didn’t have Jonie’s signature on it.
Oh hell
.

Chapter 34

Dinner that night was another formal affair. Roz didn’t even look at the steak option but went straight for the Lobster Thermidor, as did everyone else at the table. Buzz buzzed around them adjusting the cutlery, assisted by Elvis, Angel flitted expertly between them filling up everyone’s glasses, and Supremo regally made sure, as he did every night, that all were happy, that diabetics were being sufficiently catered for, that the waiters were attentive, the wines were to taste – and that everyone felt a little special for his attention.

The Great Supremo ran a tight ship, and no one who worked for him ever wanted to get on his wrong side. He relished his role as Restaurant Manager. His great chest puffed out of his ever-immaculate uniform with pride because the Olympia was his kingdom. Supremo was the perfect title for him.

‘Next stop Corfu,’ announced Eric with glee. ‘We love Corfu, don’t we, Irene?’

He turned to Irene who was buttering a warm roll crusted with poppy seeds. It looked so nice that Roz’s resistance to carbs crumbled and she took one from Buzz’s basket when he proffered it. Not only that, when the menus came around, she had eyed up the desserts for later as well. Manus’s favourite was on – Bailey’s cheesecake. She started to wonder if he was missing her, until Royston nudged her out of those thoughts with a tale about how he had just booked a Caribbean cruise for Christmas for the whole family. And obviously how much it had cost. Stella hushed him halfway through the tale and told him to stop showing off.

‘I’m not showing off, am I?’ he asked the table with genuine shock that he could possibly be perceived that way.

‘Which ship are you going on?’ asked Eric. ‘We’re going on the
Io
at Christmas.’

‘Oh poor you,’ said Stella. ‘You’ll be bumping into us lot then. You can learn all about my daughter’s Rolex as well.’

The table exploded in a splutter of giggles as Royston remained blissfully unaware he was the butt of the joke. He bought everyone at the table a port after coffee which they enjoyed with some extra truffles which Buzz had sneaked to them, and the subterfuge made them taste extra delicious.

‘This really is the life,’ said Frankie with a satisfied burp, looking out at a big orange sun sinking into a sea that looked as calm as glass.

‘Isn’t it?’ dittoed Olive. That thought was bittersweet. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to fit back into Land Lane after this. She was acclimatised to a life in the sun already.

There was another show that evening by the theatre company –
Kings of Swing
. However did they learn all those lines and song lyrics? Everyone worked so hard to make sure the passengers didn’t have to do any work. It was a bit like Mrs Crowther sitting there doing her nails whilst Olive wove her Dyson around her legs. Olive felt slightly guilty to be on the other side of things.

Ven went for a walk again up to the top deck after saying goodnight to the others later. It was a lovely, balmy evening with a slight ruffling breeze. Above her the sky was midnight blue, the moon a gently curving smile, its dark side just visible if you looked hard enough. She felt so beautifully calm and chilled, as if the sea air had seeped through into her bones and soul and soothed the very essence of her. She was the only one on the top deck; the ship might have been deserted for how quiet it was. Considering how many people were on board it was odd.

‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ said a sudden voice beside her, which made Ven jump because she had thought she was alone up there. The voice belonged to an elderly lady in a long black sequinned two-piece that shimmered where it caught the moonlight. She nudged back a white swoop of hair that fell across her eye. Ven decided she must have been a real beauty in her day.

‘It certainly is,’ said Ven. ‘I could stand out here for hours.’

‘Yes, it’s rather strange, isn’t it, the attraction that the sea can hold.’ She had a voice that matched her quiet elegance: well-rounded vowels, the product of elocution lessons as a girl most likely. ‘My husband Dennis spends a lot of time looking out to sea to spot dolphins and whales and seals. He’s always saying “Look, Florence, there’s one,” but mostly it’s the sea playing tricks on his old eyes.’

‘Have you been on many cruises?’ Ven asked, immediately thinking, Blimey, I’m turning into Eric!

‘Quite a few. We were on the maiden voyage of the
Mermaidia
four years ago, you know. It’s our favourite. We’re celebrating our Diamond Wedding Anniversary onboard this time.’

‘Oh how lovely,’ said Ven. ‘When’s that then?’

‘The second to last night. The Black-and-White Ball,’ said Florence.

‘So the waiters will be serenading you,’ smiled Ven.

Florence laughed. ‘Yes, we always enjoy the singing. Anyway, I must go and find Dennis. Oh, there he is.’

Further up the deck a man with a thick head of steel-grey hair and glasses was waving in their direction.

‘Enjoy the rest of your evening, my dear. Goodnight.’ Florence walked towards him, a slight limp to her step, her sequins twinkling. Ven’s attention was claimed then by a group of four teenage girls to the other side of her, loud and laughing and enjoying themselves. Were she and Ol and Frankie and Roz ever that young and wrinkle-free and full of energy? It seemed a lifetime ago and yet, in a different part of her head, it could have been only yesterday.

Ven yawned. It was just after eleven o’clock but the ship was like a giant cradle, in which they all slept like newborns. And in a few days, she would be a forty-year-old baby. Ven decided she’d better cram in some serious beauty sleep before then.

D
AY
6: A
T
S
EA

Dress Code: Semi-Formal

Chapter 35

Roz had built up a real sweat after that morning’s belly-dancing class. Gwen made it look so easy, but they say the easier someone makes it look, the harder it is – certainly that was the case with belly dancing. She felt totally justified in heading up to the Buttery and having one of those almond croissants that Ven was always going on about.

Olive was having a look around the shops. Every day new stock was wheeled out. Today there was a soft-toy sale and children were clustered around cuddling teddy bears and begging their parents to buy them something. A sad little stab of pain nicked Olive’s heart. She had never even had a sniff of pregnancy. She had hoped that getting pregnant would have made the whole family buck up their ideas, but it never happened for her to test the theory. Maybe it was a blessing – she couldn’t have worked as she did and cared for Doreen and David and raised a child. But of course now she knew the truth – that she need not have given them all that assistance – and suddenly that sadness was replaced by a whopping great thump of anger.

Frankie bumped into Vaughan when she passed through the photo gallery on the way to find the others and grab some lunch. He was wearing a shorts-and-vest ensemble that made the best of his long, lean, muscular body – and showed off the stunning black Celtic tattoo on his shoulder that made him look very gladiatorial.

‘Good morning, Friend of Dorothy,’ he whispered.

Frankie laughed. ‘I won’t live that one down in a hurry, will I?’

‘Enjoying yourself?’

‘It’s not bad,’ sniffed Frankie. ‘Although this weather isn’t a patch on Skegness.’

‘That’s amazing.’ Vaughan stepped back in amazement. ‘I feel exactly the same.’

‘Yeah, right!’

‘Look at this.’ He held up a photograph of his party at a table, taken last night at the Formal. ‘If the lads at the bike club saw me in a bow tie, they’d die laughing.’

‘Perfect blackmail material for the family then,’ smiled Frankie.

‘No more bouts of sea-sickness?’

‘No, thank goodness. But I’ll be down at the doc’s for an injection if I do. How fabulous was that?’

‘Dad!’ Vaughan’s daughter appeared with her young, handsome husband. She immediately recognised Frankie as the lady she had entrusted her father to in the sick bay.

‘Hello again,’ she said and smiled, looking just like her father when she did so – minus the facial hair. ‘You’re a bit less green in the gills than the last time I saw you.’

‘This is Kim, my daughter, and Freddy her husband,’ Vaughan said, introducing them.

‘Hello,’ replied Frankie. ‘Yes, that injection worked wonders. I highly recommend it.’

‘Ooh, I look a bit rough on that pic, Dad. You’re not buying it, are you?’ said Kim, catching sight of the family portrait. Frankie was stunned at how such a beautifully photogenic woman could see anything to complain about on the picture. She looked lovely on it – something her husband jumped in to say too.

‘That’s nice, that is, Kim. We’re having that.’ He had a real Wurzel voice which didn’t match his slick, groomed exterior.

‘No, we’re not,’ she returned.

‘Yes, we are,’ said Freddy, taking the picture from Vaughan and going over to the queue to purchase it, Kim following him and protesting.

‘Wedded bliss,’ tutted Vaughan, making Frankie laugh. ‘We’re going for lunch in the Ambrosia restaurant. It’s a sit-down-and-be-served affair. You wouldn’t starve on here, would you?’

‘No, you wouldn’t,’ said Frankie, feeling the teeniest pang that their conversation was about to end.

‘Mind you,’ Vaughan leaned in close to her ear, ‘some people on here take greed to an art form.’

‘I don’t know where some of them put it all,’ Frankie replied.

‘You’re welcome to join us,’ he said.

‘Thanks,’ Frankie told him, ‘but I’m just on my way to meet up with my friends.’ As soon as she had said it, she wished she hadn’t. The others wouldn’t have minded her going off and having lunch with Vaughan, just as long as she supplied any juicy details later. But it was too late to retract now.

‘Well, see you around,’ said Vaughan, turning to rejoin his daughter. And Frankie felt herself sighing in the manner of a teenage girl who had just caught the eye of the school rugby captain.

As Olive was heading up the stairs on her way to Café Parisienne, presuming the others would be there, she noticed a cruise card lying on the stairs. It was Dom Donaldson’s and he was just ahead of her and about to walk into the lift. Olive ran up and tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Excuse me . . .’

He whirled around. ‘I’m on holiday,’ he said, eyes and smile cold, palms spread out towards her.

‘Sorry?’

‘I’m on holiday – okay? Please respect that.’ Then he moved forward into the lift, leaving Olive feeling really bemused. She looked down at her hand with the card in it, then realised that he had thought she wanted an autograph. Well, she hadn’t and he’d been bloody rude. She turned on her heel and went down to Reception to hand in the card and leave him to sweat a bit. She just hoped his fake tan wouldn’t slide off too much when he did.