Cabaret (9 page)

“Stand aside there,” said a voice, and we started guiltily as a man in a uniform and white gloves polished away with a cloth the smear where our noses had been.

We slunk away to marvel at the beauty parlor, the hairdressers, and the shops. There was a boutique selling bikinis and sun hats, a newspaper kiosk, and a souvenir stall offering miniature replicas of the
Santa Domenica,
as well as plug-in Eiffel Towers and brightly painted Russian dolls. There was also a casino, a nightclub, and an Entertainment Room where an exciting new program was soon to be announced.

Clodia was astounded by the magnificence, while the bronzed ladies in halter-neck dresses and the gentlemen in sa-fari suits were equally astonished at the sight of her. Before the steward could eject us, I dragged her out onto the sundeck.

Oh, the water was beautiful! It made you want to plunge straight in. It was the bluest blue I had ever seen, and with the sun shining, each individual crest was tipped with molten gold. As I watched, dolphins arched into the air, and schools of flying fish performed somersaults.

I was relieved when Clodia expressed her desire to try her luck at quoits, and I hurried off alone to find a deck chair.

Already I felt lumbered with her. Casually, but undeniably and horribly, we had become a twosome. Stupidly I felt somehow responsible for her, yet I desperately wanted to shake her off.

I didn’t want to spend the whole five days of the cruise worrying about her.

I sank back, allowing the canvas to cradle my weight, and closed my eyes.The sea breeze left a film of salt on my lips and ruffled through my hair.The sun warmed my face, and for the first time I felt glad that I had come. Perhaps something good would come of it after all. At least I was having new experiences. I kicked off my shoes and thought about falling asleep.

Then a movement to my right side forced my eyes open.

I was incensed to find that out of a row of some fifty empty deck chairs, a small, fat man, dressed in a sailor suit, had chosen to suspend himself in the one immediately next to mine.

For some minutes I watched him adjust himself, thinking that when he felt the weight of my stare he would look at me and then I would scowl at him. But he didn’t look. He adjusted. Holding on tight to the wooden arms, he gingerly pushed his bottom backward into the canvas until the backs of his bare and beefy knees were hard up against the frame.

Then, immediately undoing all the good work he had done, he stuck his legs out straight in front of him, floundered up and down like a fish, slapped his feet down on the planks of the deck (he was wearing kiddie sandals, the kind that have a T-bar and buckle up at the side; usually in navy blue or red, brown if you’re a boy; corrugated rubbery sole; he had the blue ones), then brought his bottom close to the frame at the front and stretched out his back and arms. All the while, the joints of the chair creaked vigorously in protest, and I hoped it would collapse, but it didn’t.Then, just when I thought he had settled, he drew in his legs and curled himself up into a ball.

He was clearly some sort of a maniac. Perhaps there was a party of them. I imagined the cruise line would offer special rates to institutions, just to fill any vacant spaces.

Next to him, on the far side, was an enormous black suitcase, almost as big as he was. It looked sinister. The kind of suitcase an ax murderer would use to hide a body in. Although I had no fear of bodies, axes I didn’t care for. I shuddered.

I thought about moving, but obstinacy held me back. After all, this was my spot. I was here first. I stopped looking at him, and kept my eyes fixed ahead. That way if he made any sudden movement, I would be ready for him. During this uneasy truce, Clodia ran over crying. It appeared the sea air was playing havoc with the hand’s delicate mechanism: twice it had clamped shut without warning, once to the ship’s rail, and she had struggled for a long time to release herself and was surprised when I hadn’t come over to help. The second time it had locked on to a gentleman’s set of metal-plated teeth and there had been a horrible scuffle. She had sustained a number of vicious bites, and was going to ask the ship’s doctor for a rabies shot, just in case. She didn’t know how she was going to show her face in first class again. Not that she had to worry about the latter, for she had already been banned, and a vivid description had been circulated to all the first-class stewards so they could be on the lookout for her.

As she was so upset, I agreed to go back down to the cabin with her and assist her in applying some oil to the moving parts; besides, I was keen to distance myself from the little fat sailor, who I knew was listening to our conversation with all his ears.

T
hat night, after lights-out, as we lay in our bunks, I told Clodia how I had won the cruise in a competition.

“Cor,” she said, “I’ve never won anything.” Then I asked her how she happened to be on the
Santa
Domenica
. I was astounded to learn that the trip had been a gift from her mother to celebrate Clodia’s fortieth birthday. I’d thought she was younger than me! How had I got myself into the position of acting as a nursemaid to a woman almost twice my age? It was ridiculous. How Fiamma would have laughed.

“I’m amazed you’re forty, Clodia,” I threw over the edge of my bunk. “You certainly don’t look it.”

“Aw,” she said shyly, “Freda, you say the nicest things.”

We lapsed into silence as I plotted my escape. If she was forty, she could take care of herself.

“I’ll let you into another little secret”—Clodia’s voice came from below—“Mother wanted me to come on the cruise to find a husband, but I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” I asked idly, not considering her chances of success high anyway.

“Because, silly, I prefer girls.” Things were going from bad to worse. Quickly I made some puffing and snorting noises, hoping she would be fooled into thinking I had fallen suddenly asleep. How would I repel her advances if she stormed my bunk? I prayed that nature wouldn’t call in the night. If it did, how could I avoid falling into her clutches?

“Freda, would you like to come down into my bunk?” she called in a soppy voice, trying to sound seductive.

My sleep ploy had failed. Now what was I going to do?

Thankfully a rumpus came to my rescue.There was a terrible commotion out in the passage. Screams rang out as though there were a massacre, and then the sound of a crowd surging through the narrow gangways, shouting, shoving, crashing, banging, more screaming, and scuttling. It was terrifying in the dark. My first thought was that there was a fire.

Or that the ship had been torpedoed. Or that it had foundered on rocks.

Immediately I thought how I would never live to see Pierino and my loved ones ever again. I pictured the moving and majestic funeral Signora Dorotea would give me, although it was unlikely my body would be recovered, and my superior polished coffin would go empty to my grave.

Below, Clodia rummaged for her cigarette lighter, and a feeble gleam illuminated the cabin. (The lights in third class were centrally controlled and were switched off at nine PM sharp; first and second class were not subject to this curfew, and could have their lights on all night long if they wanted).

Outside the mayhem continued, growing ever more frenzied, and the stomping of feet, running up and down confused me.

Were these people trapped?

“What shall we do?” whispered Clodia.

There was no question in my mind that we should evacu-ate. If there was a fire, with Clodia’s massive deposit of petrol in the cabin, this was the very last place we wanted to be. I pulled the back hem of my nightgown up between my legs, Gandhi-style, and gingerly descended the stepladder. I could feel Clodia’s eyes on my thighs.

“Come on!” I ordered her, and wrenched open the door.

As we prepared to join the stampede, there was a sudden rush of fur against my legs. Lots of furry things were running over my bare feet, and the air was filled with a savage squeaking. I began screaming, and running on the spot to get my feet up off the ground.

“Rats,” Clodia screamed.

Then they started biting.

It was almost morning before the ship’s company was able to get the plague of rats under control. Sailors equipped with broomsticks beat at them to disperse them from the main pack, ten thousand strong, and then stamped on the stragglers with their heavy-soled boots. A recorded message blasted from the public address system throughout the night, saying in a robotic voice:

“Third-class passengers remain calm, do not panic.” But despite the instruction, the passengers continued their frenzied rampage. When finally the last of the rats had been thwacked out of our cabin by a sailor with a pointed face, beady eyes, and twitching whiskers, I collapsed into my bunk exhausted. Clodia hoisted herself up the ladder and squeezed in beside me. I didn’t have the strength to repel her.

“Freda, will you be my special friend?” she asked me tenderly.

This time I didn’t need to pretend to be asleep. I really was dead to the world. I had a horrible dream about being on the cruise ship from hell, but when I woke up I knew I hadn’t been dreaming.

T
he day following the plague of rats was a full day at sea, which was just as well, because I needed to rest before our expedition to the pyramids the day after. The third-class deck was strewn with squashed rat parts: fur, tails, guts, ears, and teeth, and smears of blood covered the walls and floors.

Many people, including Clodia, had been bitten, and the ship’s doctor became so overworked that a hastily written sign went up outside the sick bay, informing all passengers that from then on the medical service was available
only
to those in first and second class.

Dark rumblings were heard about a revolt, and groups of insurgents huddled conspiratorially in corners, but soon then enough the ringleaders were led away on the express orders of the captain, and were never seen again.

I dressed Clodia’s wounds as best I could, with the same skill and care with which I prepared corpses for funerals, and, worryingly, she swore her everlasting devotion to me. Gently, but firmly, I told her I liked boys, and that twice I had even held a willy in my hand.Yet it seemed to make no difference to her.The light of love burned undiminished in her eyes, and she followed me around everywhere like a puppy.

Another person who seemed to be everywhere was the short, fat man who had disturbed me in the deck chair the day before. Always accompanied by the black cardboard suitcase, he monopolized the third-class paddling pool (typically, the swimming pool and Jacuzzi were reserved for first and second class). He managed to get the only sun lounger that wasn’t broken, the only table tennis bat (although it wasn’t of much use to him), and at lunchtime he was seen devouring a round of ham sandwiches when everybody knew ham was restricted to first-class consumption. He had friends in high places, everybody had to agree.

Yet, during the afternoon, it began to occur to me that the short, fat man was following me. If I stood at the rail looking out to sea, insidiously he would appear at my side with his suitcase, clamping his hairpiece to his head (already I had witnessed three being lost overboard). If I took a stroll, he would be at my elbow, dragging the case behind him. If I rested momentarily on a bench, he would sit so close I could feel the heat of his body through his sailor suit, and sense the rhythmic undulation of his flesh with each breath.

To make matters worse, Clodia had scented a rival and glued herself to my other side. It felt like a three-legged race, and I was the leg in the middle. It was claustrophobic and hot in the depths of the huddle, and they defied all my efforts to shake them off. I fantasized about pushing them both into the sea. I grew resentful and angry. I just wanted to be alone.

I cast around for the other inmates of the short, fat man’s institution. There were a good many candidates, but as they were in plain clothes instead of their uniforms, it was hard to know for sure. I resolved to find the matron and point out that he was bothering me. Maybe they could increase his doses of medication, or at least confine him to his cabin by strapping him into his bunk. But again this proved difficult; the nursing staff weren’t in uniform either.

I was growing scratchy and disillusioned. I had managed only two hours sleep last night and that was in spite of Clodia.

To think some people would give their right arm to go on a cruise. To me it was like a prison. I began to count the hours until I could go home.Twenty-four down; ninety-six to go. As each hour dragged itself past, mentally I checked it off. This was my focus, and my single consolation.

That night for dinner in the third-class dining room, we were served meat for the first time, which caused a brief feeling of euphoria among the carnivores. It wasn’t a taste or a texture that I was familiar with, but there was plenty of it to go around; some people even had a second helping.

As we ate, rumors circulated around the long tables that there was to be a cabaret that evening in the Entertainment Room. None of us, of course, would be admitted, but it gave us a perverse sense of satisfaction to know what we were missing.

When she heard the news, Clodia, who was sitting so close to me that she was practically on my lap, became more than usually excited. Her eyes burned with a new fire, and her nose throbbed.

“Freda,” she said dramatically, not caring who heard her,

“I’m taking you to the cabaret!”

“How?” I replied. “We’re not allowed in, and besides, you would be arrested the second you stepped a foot in first class.” I listened to what I had just said, and a bell pinged in my brain. If she was arrested, I would be free of her at last.

She thought for a while, during which time there was the sound of distant tinkling, like a windup musical box, and then she said:

“I know, I’ll go in disguise so they won’t recognize me up there.”

“Good idea!” I lied enthusiastically. Bingo!

Back in our cabin she struggled into one of the minidresses Fiamma had made me buy, and put on a pair of dark glasses.