Here Come the Boys (3 page)

Cynthia was almost bent double with laughter at Doreen’s dry delivery. Gil had to wipe his eyes on the serviette.

The wine waiter appeared with a tray of after-dinner liqueurs.

‘Let’s have one,’ said Vernon. ‘To celebrate our first night aboard. It’s on me.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ said Ken. ‘Thank you.’

‘We always have a Tia Maria in the evenings,’ said Cyn in her quiet country burr. ‘It used to be our treat after work, sitting down with the telly and one of these.’

They all held up their liqueur glasses and toasted the start of their holiday.

‘And may Yvonne and Jerry sod off early every night to the theatre and leave us to our coffees in peace,’ added Vernon.

Everyone was in full agreement about that one.

Chapter 3

Angie and Gil walked with the others to the theatre and sat with them to watch a wonderful musical tribute to Queen. Halfway through ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’, Gil nudged Angie to alert her to the sight of Ken, head lolled, fast asleep.

‘We’ve been up since the crack of dawn,’ explained Cyn with some embarrassment. ‘I best wake him up and get him to the cabin.’

‘Oh, leave him,’ said Gil. ‘He’s not the only one, look.’ He pointed to an elderly couple a few rows down on the right, both zonked out and holding hands. ‘The show will be over in ten minutes. Wake him then. He’s far too comfortable to move.’

Cyn was enjoying herself and took Gil’s advice. When the performance ended and the clapping started, Ken shuddered awake and began to applaud with gusto.

‘Enjoy that, Ken?’ Gil grinned.

‘Marvellous it was,’ replied Ken.

Gil yawned. ‘Well, that’s me tired out.’ He looked at Angie to see what she wanted to do now.

‘Bed?’ she suggested.

‘Us as well,’ said Ken.

‘Not joining us for a spot of disco-dancing then? I don’t know, the youth of today, no stamina,’ grinned Vernon. ‘Come on then, my love,
ad nauseam
. To the nightclub.’ And off they went in search of seventies music.

Gil and Angie wended their way arm in arm back to their cabin.

‘Shall we put on the news?’ asked Angie, picking up the remote control for one of the TVs.

‘I don’t care what’s happening back home,’ said Gil.

‘Actually, neither do I,’ replied Angie, kicking off her shoes. She could feel the motion of the ship and wondered if she would be able to sleep.

The bed was cosy with crisp white linen sheets, which Melissa had turned down for them, and they were both in the land of nod within minutes of their heads touching the pillows.

DAY TWO

Chapter 4

Angie was awoken by the sound of a ringing bell and an announcement. She looked at her travel alarm clock and her eyes sprang to their fullest width.

‘It’s midday!’ she exclaimed. ‘We’ve slept for thirteen hours.’

Gil opened one eye and then closed it again.

‘I’m going to sleep for the next thirteen as well. Wake me up when we get into Malaga.’

But when Angie emerged from putting her face on in the bathroom, Gil was standing on the balcony, dressed, looking out to sea.

‘Big, isn’t it,’ he said, sensing her behind him. ‘The sea, I mean. It’s huge.’

Angie knew what he meant. The sea looked very big and very frightening for a moment. Angie had a sudden vision of herself thrashing in the water, shooing away an approaching shark after the ship had capsized.

The sun wasn’t out today. The sky was grey and grumpy though a heat wave had been forecast for the week in Britain.
Just our luck,
thought Angie.
We come to the Med to freeze and everyone back home will be baking in the sun
.

They walked around the shops, managing to avoid Jerry and Yvonne who were looking at jewellery, had a coffee in The Samovar and a snack in the self-service restaurant, The Buttery, and sat at the table long after their plates had been removed, staring out to sea at other boats in the water between them and the far coastline.

‘Mind if we join you?’ asked a familiar voice. It was Vernon. ‘We can’t find a free table.’

‘Of course not,’ smiled Gil, patting the seat at the side of him.

Vernon waved over to Doreen. She had chips and curry and three different cakes on her tray.

‘Sleep well?’ asked Vernon.

‘Too well,’ Angie answered. ‘We’ve only been up an hour and a half.’

‘We like to stock up on food on the second day,’ said Vernon, explaining the large lunch he and Doreen were having. ‘Bay of Biscay can be a bugger. Best to have a full stomach, we find. Don’t ever make the mistake of trying to starve seasickness. It’ll only try and eat your stomach if you do.’

The sea was growing choppier by degrees, Angie had noticed. This morning there had been few large waves in the water, now there were plenty of rearing white horses.

‘Have you seen the menu for tonight?’ asked Doreen, through a mouthful of chips. ‘I do love lobster.’

‘No, don’t tell me,’ replied Angie, putting her hands over her ears.

‘She likes to wait until we’re at the table to see the menu,’ explained Gil. ‘She’s always been the same.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, love,’ Doreen apologised.

‘It’s fine,’ smiled Angie. ‘You weren’t to know.’

‘We get a bit excited about fish,’ Doreen explained. ‘Vernon was a fish and chip shop magnate. He made his fortune and then passed it onto our son who runs the empire now. It’s been the making of him.’ She beamed proudly. ‘Fish has been very lucky for all of us.’

‘He’s a good lad, David,’ said Vernon. ‘And he’ll be able to pass it on to his son now.’

He and Doreen looked at each other with Mills and Boon-type soppiness.

‘Our first grandson is due in September,’ said Doreen, turning from Vernon to Angie. ‘That’s why we’re only having five cruises this year. They’ll need us around.’

Angie felt Gil kick her under the table again.

‘That’ll be lovely for you,’ smiled Angie.

‘You two got any children?’ Doreen speared a chunk of chicken madras.

‘We… er… have been building up a business for a few years. We haven’t had time,’ replied Angie.

‘Take my advice and get on with it.’ Vernon wagged his fork at Angie. ‘You’re still young enough. Don’t miss out.’

Gil yawned and then immediately apologised in case the older couple thought that was a reflection of the quality of conversation.

‘Sorry. I’m absolutely tired out.’

‘It’s natural, lad,’ said Vernon. ‘Don’t you worry.’

‘I think I might have another nap,’ Gil said. ‘Coming, Ange?’

Angie stood to go. ‘See you two later?’

‘Formal night,’ winked Vernon. ‘Best bib and tucker on, don’t forget.’

Angie and Gil left them to their lunch and walked onto the deck. The pool attendants were putting a tarpaulin over the water which was splashing up and over the sides. There would be no swimming today.

‘I wasn’t joking, I really do need a nap,’ said Gil. ‘This sea air is killing me already.’

Poor Gil,
thought Angie. He worked too hard and his body was taking the chance to grab some rest. As soon as they were in the cabin, Gil fell onto the bed fully clothed and was asleep soon after.

Angie took her book onto the balcony to read. When the sun slipped out from behind the clouds, it was lovely and warm. She suddenly felt very grown-up, aware that she was on a cruise ship, fine-dining, drinking cocktails with a cabin steward to make up her bed and wipe down the bath after her. She wondered if Selina had ever taken a cruise. She probably had her own yacht. It would be called
Selder
or
Zanina
– a hybrid of her name and Zander’s. Angie wondered if she worked and if so, what at. She would be either an Olympic show-jumper or one of those bitchy-boss women heading up a multi-national company, Angie decided. Selina would be up at the top of her tree, whatever she did for a living. She was that sort. The ‘fall into a bucket of crap and come out smelling of roses’ type. She would be willowy, toned and golden. She wouldn’t have had a spot since 1989. She’d have children called wild rock-star names like Fruit-Basket and Revelation and drive a gold Porsche . She wouldn’t have had to battle the bulge or work her backside off to get orders checked in or out to build up a business selling school uniforms. Bloody Selina bloody golden bloody Molloy bloody Goldman.

Angie tried to exorcise Selina from her head and fill the space with
The Other Boleyn Girl
. But then she realised that Mary and Anne weren’t dissimilar to herself and Selina. Obviously Angie would be nice Mary, who ended up being dumped by handsome Henry-Zander after being seduced by nasty Anne-Selina. Then she imagined Selina going to the chopping block to have her head cut off and realised she was getting too carried away. She put her book down and decided to go for a stroll around the promenade deck to work off her lunch. When she passed the main staircase she noticed that some bags had been attached to the handrail for people who might feel queasy. That didn’t bode too well. She remembered what Vernon had said about the Bay of Biscay and hoped they were in for a smooth passage. She couldn’t imagine what seasickness was like, nor did she want to.

Gil had bought a black tuxedo for the cruise. He put it on for dinner that evening and Angie wolf-whistled when he stood back to check his reflection in the mirror.

‘You look as gorgeous as always, but do I scrub up okay?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely,’ she replied, even though he looked as uncomfortable as hell. ‘Stop pulling at your collar.’

A picture flashed across her mind of how Zander would carry a suit. As easily as James Bond. Gil was not as naturally suave and sophisticated as her first love had been.

He shouldn’t even be crossing your mind after all these years
, said an annoyed voice in her head. A voice that knew and appreciated the lovely man to whom she was married.

Over the years, she had thought about Zander Goldman far more than she would have dared to admit, even to herself. She had loved him so much and he had smashed her young heart into so many pieces, it had never properly healed. How could Selina have stolen her man from under her nose, as if she didn’t have enough good things in her life? Selina had lived in a huge house, her parents were filthy rich and
very very
posh. Selina had long golden hair and the teachers loved her – especially Mrs Weaver, who picked her to be captain of the hockey team, even though Angie was a far better player. Selina was an only child and didn’t have to share her bedroom with a mad sister. And she had the one thing Angie would have killed for – a pony. His name was Benji and he was the sweetest boy ever, but he was traded in for an Arab-cross without a second thought. That should have given Angie a big clue that Selina was heartless. Angie would never have let Benji go had he been hers.

She wouldn’t have traded Zander Goldman in for a better model – because there wasn’t one. He was the equivalent of a stallion – slick, stylish, sophisticated and stunning. He was the boy every girl sighed over, wanted to notice her. And Angie had been the girl he noticed and sighed over – then Selina moved in and stole him.

Angie watched darling Gil putting on his swanky new polished shoes. She did love him. Everyone loved Gil Silverton. But the clue was in the names – he was the silver prize… and Zander was the gold. It wasn’t in Gil’s nature to be the masterful, dashing hero that Angie’s heart yearned for. And she hated herself for feeling like that and wouldn’t have told a soul because she was so ashamed of it. He deserved better.

The party that evening was upstairs in the Vista bar. There was a slow-moving queue to get in and Angie and Gil gravitated to the back of it. They were joined a few moments later by Doreen and Vernon. Doreen was wearing a flamingo-pink gown covered in small beads, and resting on her coiffured puff of white hair was a sparkly tiara. Vernon looked smart in a tail coat and a white bow tie with small orange goldfish printed on it.

‘This queue is for photos with the captain,’ advised Doreen. ‘If you wanted to avoid it and get straight to the booze, use the other entrance. We thought we ought to tell you.’

‘Ooh, thanks for that,’ said Gil, turning to his wife. ‘I’m not bothered about photos, are you?’

He hated getting his picture taken; he said his nose always looked huge.

‘Fine by me,’ replied Angie, following the older couple to the second door.

‘Jerry and Yvonne at three o’clock,’ muttered Vernon out of one side of his mouth, stopping a waiter with a tray full of drinks. ‘Queuing for pics with Jean-Luc.’

‘Jean-Luc?’ asked Angie.

‘Captain Dupont,’ Vernon clarified. ‘Very nice fellow. Cheers.’ He lifted his glass.

‘I preferred Captain O’Shaughnessy,’ sniffed Doreen. ‘Fabulously handsome. But he’s moved onto the new swanky flagship, the
Heliana
. ’

Angie waved over to Cyn. She had on the most beautiful long red gown but was wearing it as awkwardly as if she had stolen it out of her mother’s wardrobe and was expecting to be caught at any moment. Beside her, sweeping his eyes across the room, was her ruddy-faced husband. He looked out of place in his tuxedo, with his hair still resembling an exploded sofa.

Doreen swiped another gin and tonic from a passing waiter.

‘All this socialising really builds up a thirst,’ she said.

‘You’re quiet,’ Angie said, turning to Gil who had barely touched his drink. ‘You okay?’

Gil released a discreet burp. ‘Yep, fine and dandy,’ he replied, not sounding at all convincing.

‘Ah, good evening.’ Jerry and Yvonne swooped on the party from left field. There was no chance of escape. ‘Just been speaking to the Cap. Catching up on gossip. Having yet another pic taken with him.’ He tutted, pretending it was an ordeal, but fooling no one. The ship seemed to lift and drop and a few people made ‘Oh’ sounds. ‘We’re in for a rough one tonight,’ chuckled Jerry.

Yvonne was wearing a dress that probably cost more than Angie’s house, but despite all the fancy stitching and attention to detail, it didn’t suit her at all. The washed-out shade of grey drained all the colour from her face and the drop-waisted cut made her body appear disproportionally long to her legs. At her throat was a glitzy necklace which captured every bit of available light in a bid to show itself off.