Adrift (Book 1) (3 page)

The Oceanus was grand on the outside; vast and awe-inspiring, but on the inside, Dan immediately saw that
grand
didn't do the vessel justice. Not even close.

After passing through a final ticket inspection at the exit of the terminus, he caught up to Elaine as they walked up a huge ramp that transported the passengers onto the waiting ship.

At the top of the ramp, beneath a large
welcome aboard
sign, stood a wide entrance that opened out into a cavernous lobby area, filled with glamorous reception staff sitting behind plush mahogany desks. The queue of passengers moved relatively quickly, showing their tickets at reception and picking up keycards to the cabins that would be their home for the next three weeks, and as Elaine and Dan shuffled toward the desks, Dan looked around with interest.

Everything in the lobby seemed to be reflective; from the polished floors to the gleaming wood of the desks. Even the enormous, welcoming smiles of the reception staff revealed teeth that seemed to shine. Warm light bounced and reflected in the huge space, lending the lobby the feel of a high-end Las Vegas casino.

Dan glanced down at his clothing, and felt a faint flush of embarrassment sting his cheeks. Elaine wore a summer dress and looked great, of course, but Dan's clothes—a faded
Oasis
t-shirt and a tattered pair of shorts that had seen better days a long time ago—made him feel more than a little out of place.

That was one of the things about agoraphobia: purchasing new clothes got bumped way down the list of priorities.

The other passengers in the queue were all classily-dressed in what looked like expensive summer clothes, and Dan made a mental note to update his wardrobe when the honeymoon was over. Maybe, he thought, one of the shops aboard the ship might even kit him out in something more appropriate.

All of a sudden, he was acutely aware that while he had been stuck in self-imposed exile, the rest of the world had carried on spinning without him. He felt out of place, sticking out like the proverbial sore thumb, and the familiar anxiety began to tug at his nerves.

He leaned into Elaine, and whispered in her ear.

"I think you were right about these clothes."

Elaine laughed and hugged him reassuringly, nuzzling into his neck.

"I
did
warn you," she said with a smile. "We're probably the only people on this ship who don't live on a country estate or drive a Ferrari."

"Yeah, but we're on
holiday
," Dan said with a mock-pout. "People are meant to relax on holiday, aren't they? Even wealthy people?"

Elaine pecked him on the cheek.

"Awww," she said with mock-sarcasm. "You're an artist, remember? Artists are meant to be scruffy."

Dan looked dubious. He hadn’t sold a painting in two years, not since before the attack and the subsequent illness. It was starting to feel like his career was a sham, or a once-only, never-to-be-repeated sort of deal.

"Not sure I can call myself an artist at the moment. You know, until I actually paint something else."

Elaine rolled her eyes.

"You will," she said brightly, "and it will be a masterpiece."

"Yeah, maybe," Dan said dubiously. "That's not going to help me right now, though. I look like a tramp in the middle of this crowd."

Elaine laughed, and pulled a handkerchief from her shoulder bag. She passed it to him, and laughed again at his confused expression.

"What's this for?" Dan said.

"That's to help you feel less conspicuous," she replied. "If you feel like people are staring at you, just, y'know,
polish
something."

Elaine's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she let out a squeal that drew all eyes to her when Dan responded by affectionately slapping her backside.

"Newlyweds?"

Dan turned in surprise at the voice, and saw one of the staff moving along the line of people toward them. She carried a tray of champagne glasses, and offered it with a smile. Dan and Elaine both grabbed a glass, and Dan drained most of his in one gulp.

Dutch courage
, he told himself, and then immediately followed that thought with a bout of self-recrimination. Making small talk with a young woman whose
job
it was to be friendly should not feel as nerve-shredding as waiting for an important job interview to begin.

He breathed deeply.

You can do this, Dan
.
Just talk to her like a normal human being.

"Uh...thanks," Dan said. "Yeah, married yesterday."

"Oh, congratulations!" the young woman said cheerfully. "If you mention that at reception, we'll have a bottle of champagne sent to your cabin. Are you in one of our honeymoon suites?"

Dan shook his head.

"A little beyond our means, I'm afraid."

The receptionist glanced at Dan's clothes and nodded, and Dan felt Elaine, who had wrapped her arm around him, begin to shake with suppressed laughter once more.

The receptionist leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially.

"I know, right? This ship is
expensive
. I think they'd charge for the air if they could get away with it."

She winked, and Dan felt himself relax a little.

"The only way I could ever get aboard is by serving the drinks! Not to worry though, the regular cabins are pretty amazing. I'm sure you'll have a great time."

"Thanks," Dan said. "I'm sure we—"

He stopped short when the floor began to shake.

His eyes widened in surprise.

"Don't worry," the young woman said. "That's just the engine heating up. We're setting off."

Dan looked confused.

"I thought I read that the Oceanus was so big the passengers couldn't even tell they were at sea," he said.

"Oh, that's right. This is the worst part: they have to use a lot of power to get us moving, and that pushes the water against the harbour wall and creates a sort of tidal effect," the young woman said. "So I'm told."

She rolled her eyes and smiled, placing a reassuring hand lightly on Dan’s arm.

"Things feel a little choppy for the first few minutes, but once we're underway, you won't feel a thing. It was lovely to meet you both. Enjoy your trip."

The young woman smiled broadly, moving down the line to hand out more glasses of champagne. Dan tuned out her cheerful chatter with the passengers waiting behind him.

"She was totally checking you out, husband," Elaine whispered.

Dan opened his mouth to protest, and closed it again when he saw the mischievous twinkle in Elaine's eyes.

"You're right," he said in a mock-serious tone. "Can't blame her, really. I mean: these clothes, my obvious excitement at the prospect of free champagne. She probably figures I've sneaked aboard. Probably thinks I'm some sexy stowaway, you know? All the ladies love a bad boy, right?"

He dropped his eyes sadly.

"It's just a pity I've got the old ball-and-chain with me."

"Oh, the 'old ball-and-chain,' am I? Just for that, you can get us checked in."

Elaine thrust the tickets into Dan's hand, and walked away, turning back after a few steps to poke her tongue out at her husband.

Dan laughed, and shuffled the suitcases at his feet toward the nearest reception desk, summoning up his courage to speak to yet another stranger.

*

Elaine watched for a moment as Dan headed toward the check-in desk, and told herself for the hundredth time not to worry about him.

Dan's anxiety meant that he found it difficult to deal with people, and strangers especially. Ordinarily, if small talk with a stranger was necessary, Dan let Elaine do the talking while he hovered in the background looking uncomfortable.

He had been improving, though; getting better with each passing month since he started therapy, and Elaine had taken to pushing him gently to deal with situations that other people navigated through without blinking, but which Dan had found overwhelming for the past couple of years.

A year ago, he would have baulked at the prospect of a cruise, even with Elaine by his side for moral support. But things were looking up: he had actually started sitting in his studio again instead of just talking about it, and on a couple of occasions recently he had surprised her with gifts. Just little tokens of his affection, but Elaine knew how enormous the gifts truly were, because Dan had ventured out into the world alone to buy them. The gesture was, for him, monumental.

Dan liked to joke that Elaine was his strength; that she was the reason he was slowly beginning to feel better, but Elaine wouldn't accept it. She had started the ball rolling, maybe, had given him that first motivational shove, but it was Dan that kept pushing.

She smiled as she saw him reach the desk and begin to shuffle on the spot a little awkwardly, fussing with his hair. The assistant greeted him warmly, and even at this distance, Elaine saw Dan's shoulders relax a little. He would be fine. Elaine turned to check out the rest of the lobby.

Beyond the array of reception desks, Elaine saw several glass elevator doors, opening and closing like hungry mouths to swallow the passengers and deliver them to their cabins on the upper decks.

And beyond the elevators was a balcony that drew Elaine toward it like a magnet.

Dan had been digging up trivia about the ship ever since they had finally agreed to book tickets; data mined from the depths of the internet. Most of the nuggets of information he unearthed had leaked away from Elaine's memory, but one fact had stuck, memorable because it seemed so damn bizarre: the Oceanus had its own park.

When Dan had relayed that piece of information, breathless with excitement, Elaine had tried to visualise what the words meant, but hadn't been able to conjure up an image to match Dan's description. Most likely, she had decided, what the Oceanus' sleek website had labelled a
park
was in actual fact an area dedicated to a few potted plants, and maybe some tacky plastic water feature.

When she left Dan at the reception area, the distant park was the first thing Elaine saw, and the sight of it stole her breath away. She walked slowly toward the balcony, moving as though in a dream, focused on the incredible sight beyond. She wasn't even really aware of moving, but suddenly she was leaning over the railing, and her eyes widened in astonishment as the scale of the Oceanus fully revealed itself.

The entire centre of the ship seemed to have been hollowed out, and an honest-to-God strip of parkland had been inserted into the resulting space. Elaine saw fully grown trees and small, perfectly manicured gardens, something that looked like a small bandstand; a row of gift shops and restaurants clustered under a sign that read
Park Avenue
. Toward the rear of the ship, far to Elaine's right, she saw a small fairground area, with a smattering of rides and carnival games.

The tiny water feature she had expected to see turned out to be a small pond, criss-crossed with wooden bridges and walkways, and just large enough to hold a tiny pedal boat that Elaine immediately decided she wanted to try out. The pond was complete with actual ducks.

All around the incredible splash of greenery, towering over the park, loomed the passenger decks. The ship had seventeen decks in total; twelve accommodating the passengers. For a ship claiming to be the largest in the world, twelve decks hadn't sounded to Elaine like a particularly huge number, but now that she could see just how vast each deck was, twelve seemed like plenty. From where she stood, she saw three of the top levels bustling with activity: balconies that led into what looked like plush apartments, and people getting settled in. The rest of the decks that she could see were dedicated to a dizzying array of entertainment areas.

The vastness of the ship was amplified by the people she saw: for the first part of its journey, the Oceanus was only carrying a half-load: another three thousand passengers would board when the ship docked in Miami to bring the full complement to six thousand for the main part of the cruise around the Caribbean.

The result was a sparsely-populated spaciousness that made the ship seem even more gigantic. From her vantage point, Elaine saw parts of the Oceanus that looked unused, almost abandoned: the less popular areas, she supposed. She had no doubt that once another three thousand passengers were added to the mix, even those places would feel crowded.

Elaine had grown up in an almost-middle class suburb on the outskirts of London, with parents who worked hard and spent every penny on trying to live a life just beyond their means. When she graduated university, she worked as veterinary assistant, before working her way up to be a partner in a veterinary surgery at the edge of the city.

The job was all she had ever dreamed of, and she couldn't be happier with the work, but it wasn't the type that paid well. At twenty-eight, she was still struggling under the weight of her student loans, and wondering if she would ever move beyond
making ends meet
.