S.O.S. (31 page)

Tom's lips tightened and he shook his head in what appeared to be a real heartfelt regret – even true sorrow.

‘Can't. Just can't. Out of the way of it, you see. With Mary – that's my, uh – '

‘Yes. I know. Your wife.'

‘My, uh – yes: late wife. With her, with Mary, there was just a sort of a, oh – it was like ping-pong, really – more than anything, it was that. No one brought up a
subject
, as far as I can recall. Nothing was ever
broached
. But there seemed to exist a sort of rhythm, maybe. A background beat. Anyway – whatever it was, it got us through the day. So you see – I'm most terribly
sorry
, Marianne, but while I really am more flattered by, and yes – more grateful for your presence than I can possibly say – !'

‘Oh
Tom
!'

‘ – Well I
mean
it. I do. I really do mean it. But … notwithstanding. I simply can't …' And his eyes – up till now hung low and intent upon the floor – swung up of a sudden, and were both full and on her ‘ …
speak
!'

Marianne nodded. Smiled, just slightly. OK, she thought: I'll try, then.

‘That woman, Tom …' she began, quite tentatively.

‘Woman? What woman?
Woman
?'

‘Yup. Just earlier. When you went up to that woman – yes? You thought she was someone else?'

‘Oh her. That woman.'

‘Was it – Mary, Tom? Did she remind you of your wife?'

And Tom now gazed at her as if
she
was the mad one – and maybe both armed and dangerous along with it.

‘
No
!' he practically roared at her. And then – far more softly: ‘No. No … No one reminds me of her. No one. The woman – that woman I thought was just … someone else. That's all. Highly embarrassing. And I'll tell you something
else
embarrassing. The vicar. Have you met him? Did you know there's a vicar on the ship?'

Marianne had been just slightly thrown by a lot of all that, but already she was rallying bravely.

‘I haven't, um – really thought … but yes I suppose there would have to be, wouldn't there? Priest too, I expect.'

Tom nodded. ‘And a rabbi. Probably something Asian as well, I shouldn't wonder. Didn't enquire. Anyway – I got to talking to the vicar, yes? And I asked him …'

But Tom's voice now had suddenly trailed away into silence. His gaze seemed fixed intently upon nothing at all.

‘Tom? What is it? Why have you stopped?'

‘Hm? Oh – apologies, apologies. No – it just has suddenly occurred to me. I couldn't at all understand why anyone should want to actually come up and
talk
to me … which is why, Marianne, I am stunned by the fact that I am talking now – '

‘Oh Tom
stop
all that and just
tell
me!'

‘Well. It just seems plain now that of course the
reason
I was approached by the vicar is that he had been
briefed
, hadn't he? Apprised of my, uh – what is it? Is it a
situation
? I simply hadn't thought of it before. Anyway – we got to talking … and I didn't once, not once mention Mary. I don't know if I was meant to. So yes – we got to talking, and I suddenly asked him whether anyone had
died
during the course of the cruise. You know – actually died on board.'

‘What an odd thing to think of. It wouldn't have crossed my mind …'

‘No. Maybe not. Yours it maybe wouldn't have. But mine it did.'

‘So … what did he say?'

‘You will not, Marianne,
believe
what he said.'

‘Well what? Someone
has
died? Or what?'

Tom allowed the pause to tick on for just two more beats, and then he let her have it:

‘Thirteen,' he said, very solemnly.

Marianne watched him – maybe waiting for more. No more was coming, so she pitched in quite shrilly:

‘Thir-
teen
? What do you mean, thirteen? You don't mean –?!'

‘Ah but I do. Yes. Incredible but true. Admittedly the entire cruise has been on for quite some months, now … but still. Thirteen. Which is why – '

Marianne was agog. ‘Thir-
teen
?!'

Tom nodded – really quite eagerly. ‘Which is why there are quite a few empty cabins on this final leg of the journey. Understandable. You come on a cruise with someone … they die – well, you don't like to, do you? Carry on without them. I asked if they tipped them over the side – but not, apparently.'

‘Tom. This is getting ghoulish.'

‘Well not
really
. You see it just set me thinking. I mean – Mary and me, we were meant to be taking this trip together, you see … but just think if something had happened to either one of us, like –
tonight
, for instance. Well. There's no way you can disembark now, is there? It's not like when the ship is stopping off here and there. No no – destination New York, no two ways about it. No other ships – no way a helicopter's going to get to us. So it would be just you, the sea – and the cold, dead person beside you.'

Marianne looked at him closely, before phrasing with care her response.

‘That is – and particularly for you, Tom, in the light of … everything – that is, I think, a very strange way of looking at things.'

Tom nodded – almost happily now, it seemed to Marianne.

‘You might very well be right about that. I do. I do – look at things fairly oddly. A thought came to me – just this very morning, I mapped out a scenario. I'd very much appreciate your viewpoint. You might well find it odd. Just say – imagine if you will, you have never before seen me, yes? Don't know me from Adam. And you are walking down some street or other, minding your own business, and you turn a corner and suddenly are confronted with the vision of me engaged in a violent struggle with a tall and muscular
black man with a shaven head and gold chains and so forth – and between us we seem to be wrestling with what could well be a cudgel of some sort or another. What
construction
, Marianne, would you put upon the scene?'

‘Well – I don't see – '

‘No no. I'm sure. But just
say
 – just imagine that this is the scene before your eyes. What would you
think
?'

‘Well … well I
suppose
I'd think that you were being mugged, yes? And that you were resisting …?'

‘Correct. You would assume that. And so would anyone else. The police would, certainly. And if the tall and muscular black man protested his innocence – as in this particular scenario he would be surely bound to do – if he said Oh
no
, officer, you've got this all wrong! This man – he came on to me – was demanding my wallet and everything. Anyone believe him? No. Nobody. Which means that if ever I felt moved to attack just such a person, I could do so with impunity. See?'

‘Ye-e-es …' agreed Marianne, with unease and a huge if unexplained reluctance. ‘But Tom – one point. You are not exactly, are you – Mister Universe? The tall and muscular black man would beat you to a pulp.'

A flicker of consternation briefly made him wince.

‘There is,' he conceded, ‘
that
…'

And God – he nearly smiled.

‘
Weird
, Tom …!' laughed Marianne. ‘Want that drink now?'

‘Drink – yes indeed. I rather think I could go for some orange juice – had a glass this morning: it's particularly good.'

‘Yes – that's what I … ice, maybe?'

Tom lost no time in nodding his full-blooded assent to that – even was rubbing his hands together, now, apparently relishing the thought (that just-there half-smile still in place).

‘And possibly,' he added lightly, ‘some soda water, yes? Thin it down.'

And as Marianne ordered two of those from the so-attentive steward, she had already begun her wander down the avenue of wondering as to just who and what this Tom might be. And now it was evening (and will he? Come to the ball? Will he? I doubt it. He might come, yes, but I doubt it) and still I couldn't tell you. It's just like I've been walking down some street or other, minding my own business, and I turn a corner and am suddenly confronted with the vision of Tom. And I don't know him from Adam.

*

So now I'm all dickied up in this goddam tuxedo just like I am every goddam night on this goddam tub, and what it was, what I was saying to Charlene – Charlene, listen up: I don't care too much that the stoopid valet's always saying he's a-sponging and a-pressing, this dang suit smells no better than a coyote's crotch. You go wash out your mouth right this
minute
, Dwight, is what she's yelling down my ear. And then I get all this about
Jeez
, Dwight – it ain't as if we're
poor
, you know? I told you – didn't I tell you, Dwight? I told you way afore we even got to booking this here: every night they dress formal – kay? So one tux over three munce just ain't gonna cut it. Yeah so – I tell Charlene what I told her then: ain't no way, honey, under God's sun and stars I'm gonna spring for no second tux, and I tell you for why – like, how many times I gonna be wearing one, back in New York? Tell ya how many – zero with one capital zee, baby: ain't
never
I'm gonna be dickied up in this dang thing ever again in whatever hell's left of my life. First thing I do we're back at home is I torch the mother; so much sweat and anti-sweat spray all over the goddam rag – listen, it's gonna go up like firecrackers on the fourth of July. And
sure
I can afford a brand-new tux – you reckon I ain't aware, Charlene?
Hell – I can afford to buy up Saks Fifth Avenue, sweetheart, and the reason for that is I look after the dollars, and I don't throw 'em around: this, Charlene, I leave to you.

So anyways, I'm standing here, right – and I'm plumb alongside of Charlene and she's a-yapping and a-crapping with David's Nicole and some other goddam wimmin (one of 'em's Patty – looks OK, but she ain't no chicken) and this here's the Viva America
Ball
, they all kept on telling me – but it sure as hell feels to me like any other goddam night here, but for you gotta do a whole lotta standing up, and all around you got
balloons
: what're we –
kids
? Jeez.

I kinda figured Dave might be hanging loose, you know? And kinda eager to break out? But I ain't seen hide nor hair of the guy since we hadda couple drinks roundabout lunchtime. Nicole – she ain't too pleased this man of hers ain't shown (hoo boy! I try that on with Charlene, she's gonna kill me) – and speaking for myself, I ain't none too sweet neither, on account of there ain't no one else about this place I wanna jaw with, I bleeve. Sure over there there's Julie's Benny – near dying on the floor, sure looks like – but Benny, he don't hear too good; also he don't think too good. Let's face it, guys – Benny ain't no good for nothing no more: so what you gonna do? So – Dave don't show real soon, I lose Charlene and I'm like outta here. Also how I figure is this: Earl and Suki, they ain't around neither. Didn't even show down at the Grill for sump'n t'eat. Suki, it don't surprise me none – but Earl, Jesus, when's that boy not feeding his face? I guess he's got better stuff to do with his time than hang around his Mom and Dad, huh? His age, I sure as hell did, and that's a fact – yessir, you better bleeve it. Right now as I'm standing here with a glass of this French lemonade and a-yapping and a-crapping Charlene and all these goddam
balloons
, that boy of mine could be humping some dang sweet young piece of ass. Funny thing – when you're a boy, a young man, it seems like everyone else is young too, you know? Leastways, anyone worth hanging
with. So the girls you meet at college – young, right? On account of anyone good has just
gotta
be. It ain't till you put on a few years – hair's going grey on ya, and you need around your waist one of them cowhide straps from one of Charlene's trunks, iffin you wanna keep up your pants. It's then you get to see that real young girls are kinda like a whole different
gender
from the crapped-out wimmin they grow up to be. And like a noo and fruity wine, you wanna sip 'em. Yes indeedy. You sure do wanna do that. And my man David – Jesus Aitch Christ: if that guy weren't telling me no lie, he's upped and caught hisself one of the sweet little honeys – with her, I guess, long blonde hair bouncing in the sun and her eyes lit up and all, like real foxy diamonds – you know what I'm saying? Warm, slim arms and legs and fingers, all clean and peachy and hot as hell itself. Man … I don't stop thinking like this I'm gonna turn right round now and kill Charlene for having growed
old
(and still she'd go on squawking).

‘So
listen
, Nicole,' was the latest round of yak from Charlene that was filtering across to Dwight, each word squirming its way fitfully through a dense and humid mist that was causing Dwight to drip. ‘Did I tell you how much I am
loving
your gorgeous dress? Ain't that dress just to
die
for, Patty? I can't recall ever I saw something so lovely as that.'

And as Nicole flushed hot with raw and deep-felt sheer and downright pleasure at that, she was thinking Oh
yes
, dear Charlene, you are perfectly right – it is utter heaven, this dress, and you might well have further observed that its cumulative and show-stopping effect is in no small way due to not just the way I carry it (it's all about knowing exactly how to place one's feet and hold one's stance) but also the don't you think quite
inspired
accessorization? Yes yes yes – but listen:
given
all this, could some kind person please
explain
to me (because I really would, actually, very much like to know, all right?) why all male eyes in the
vicinity are upon not me but Pat? Well of course it's perfectly
obvious
, isn't it? (I don't in truth need a guided tour, here). It's because, isn't it, she's wearing six-inch heels and little more than a sort of powder puff affair and a glorified
belt
 – which apart from being cheap and showy and vulgar and
far
too young for her is just so wholly and completely
wrong
: I mean to say, this is a
ball
, for Christ's sake – not a fucking pick-up joint! (God I'm angry.)