Dastardly Deeds (2 page)

‘Didn’t make what?’ asked Enid, frowning. ‘Speak up!’

‘Um, I meant she died.’

‘Oh my!’ Lyn Russo leant forward. ‘She would have been one of those people we met last night! Was she hit at one of those pedestrian crossings? I bet she was.’

Lew was already shaking his head. ‘No. It was a fall.’

‘Oh, poor Deb!’ Tessa had risen, looking pale. ‘Where is she?’

‘At their hotel.’

‘How does one fall?’ asked my mother, almost crossly. ‘Was it deliberate? And what was going on last night? I don’t recall anything scheduled in the newsletter.’

‘No, it was just one of those things,’ Lew explained. ‘Some of us went out for dinner and happened to meet up with Deb and her lot. That’s all. As for the accident, I’d better leave it there. No doubt—’

‘April,’ I said with surprised certainty. It was all coming together.

Several heads turned towards me, puzzled. My mother was the first to speak. ‘Congratulations, your knowledge of the calendar is astounding. But perhaps you could save a recitation of other talents for post-dinner entertainment.’

‘And perhaps you could save your cutting-edge wit also.’ I looked back at Lew. ‘Her name – was it April?’

‘Oh,
April
!’ said Lyn. She turned to her husband and her voice flattened. ‘You remember her, don’t you? The chatty one, with dark hair.’

Michael Russo nodded slowly but seemed reluctant to comment further.

Lew held up a hand. ‘Look, I’m sure more information will be released soon. The family have only just been notified. The police have been at the hotel most—’

‘Which hotel?’ Lyn’s eyes had widened again. ‘This one? Did she fall from one of those balconies? I said they were unsafe. Michael, wasn’t I saying that just this morning? That they were unsafe?’

I tuned her voice out. The group at the Colosseum, Phoebe and the two men, must have been part of Deb’s reunion group. April had been another. And she hadn’t fallen, she’d jumped. But why would anyone wait until a reunion to kill themselves? Had she been trying to make a point? Or maybe it was the month. Maybe she’d thought there was a resonance about April dying in April.

‘Bloody awful,’ said Darcy quietly. ‘Poor Deb. She’s been so excited about this trip.’

‘Bit of a bummer for April too,’ said Petra.

‘How did you know who it was?’ asked our mother, materialising by my shoulder. ‘Is it too much to hope that we could, just for once, have a death in the vicinity that you’re not involved with?’

‘I’m
not
involved. I just happened to overhear a conversation at the Colosseum, that’s all. And—’

Darcy laughed. ‘Thousands of people flock through that place each day and
you
overhear a conversation.’

‘Yes. That’s what I said. But listen, what—’

‘Leave it, Nell,’ said Petra. ‘Seriously. Don’t go looking for problems.’

I didn’t answer. Not just because I clearly didn’t have a very receptive audience, but because Petra’s request was silly. I very rarely went looking for problems. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to make much difference. They found me anyway.

The ship was majestic; a wedding cake of staggered layers, all of them glossy-white. The only splashes of colour were the curly blue wave painted along the prow and a row of orange-trimmed lifeboats that edged an upper deck. Balconies studded each tier, with deckchairs and glass balustrades and built-in canopies that supported the balcony above. It was amazingly large; both too cumbersome to possibly float and too splendid ever to sink.

The sight rendered everybody temporarily speechless, which was a welcome relief after the long drive from Rome. It had been a long morning also, packing and making last-minute purchases and then tracking down my daughters, who had become lost trying to find the Spanish Steps. Yesterday had been equally busy, with a visit to St Peter’s Square and the catacombs and the Trevi Fountain and more basilicas than anyone could possibly want to see in a lifetime. Rome was literally chock-a-block with the things. There also seemed to be a lot of nuns.

I had sent Deb Taylor a text conveying my sympathies. I’d also managed to get online during lunch and found a small article regarding April’s death. She had been a forty-four-year-old marketing manager, originally from Melbourne but living in London for many years. She left behind an adult son. Her death was described as a tragedy, occurring in the early hours of the morning, with police confident that there were no suspicious circumstances. Reading between the lines, I decided that Phoebe had been right: April had jumped – which didn’t make it any less tragic.

Embarkation at Civitavecchia was remarkably smooth. Within an hour of us arriving at the dock, our suitcases had been tagged and taken, cruise cards were hanging on lanyards around our necks, and we were being formally welcomed onto the ship. A row of beaming staff stood by offering glasses of fruit punch. It tasted like liquefied fairy floss. I slipped my glass behind a porcelain vase and followed the others out into a small foyer. There were two glass-and-mirror lifts and a broad staircase. Everybody was already gathered around the lifts, waiting.

‘I’m taking the stairs,’ I said determinedly. ‘One of those travel shows suggested it. If you never use the lifts at all, it goes some way towards offsetting all the food. And I plan on consuming a
lot
of food.’

‘Sounds like a great idea!’ said Lew, spinning ninety degrees to one side. ‘But perhaps I’ll take the lift just this once.’

My proposal met with plenty of encouragement, but Lew was the only one who actually moved, so I began my ascension alone. Unfortunately, the cabin I was sharing with Petra was on deck nine, which meant eighteen flights. Small glass boxes were set into each landing, holding an assortment of odd items. A plasticine model of a dandelion, a trio of plastic ducks, a lump of clay that looked like the kind of thing my children produced in preschool pottery classes. Each floor also afforded me the sight of my increasingly reddened face in the mirrored lift doors. Occasionally they slid open to reveal huddles of excited tourists, many of them holding full glasses of fruit punch.

Petra was already in our cabin by the time I arrived. She had the glass door open to the balcony and a vast expanse of blue could be seen stretching out to the horizon.

‘Where have you been? Come and have a look! It’s all gorgeous!’

‘That’s a double bed,’ I said, staring at the offending item. I may have missed my sister, but not that much.

She waved a hand. ‘All sorted. Roger’s going to separate them during the turndown service. He’s our steward. Look, we have chairs on our balcony! And a desk here, with a little couch. The girls have the same except theirs is an interior room so there’s a painting instead of a balcony. And look at this.’ She pushed past me and flung the wardrobe doors open. ‘Dressing-gowns! And heaps of room!’

‘Was that lift like a time machine? How long have you
been
here?’

‘Ages! I was just about to go see if you’d collapsed on the stairs. Come on, let’s explore. Then everyone’s meeting on the pool deck at four for welcome drinks.’

‘Can I take a breath first?’

‘No. That’s what you get for taking so long.’ She slammed the wardrobe closed so that she could tug the main door open. ‘Why are you bringing your bag? You don’t need anything except your cruise card!’

She was right. Ruby and Quinn joined us as we toured the ship. At one food outlet we stopped to get iced coffee, at another we shared a platter of mini burgers and curly chips. A wave of the card was all that was required. There was a library with elaborate walnut fittings, an IT room with banks of Apple Macs, and even a casino, with flashing lights and arcade music lending ambience to the poker machines and roulette tables. There were bars everywhere, as well as piano lounges and cafes and restaurants and a three-storey theatre with a parquetry-floored stage. Then there was the twenty-four-hour buffet, with thick glass discs set into the floor so that the sea could be seen far below, lapping against the hull. The range of food was literally gobsmacking. A roast of the day, plus a pasta bar, taco bar, pizza bar and a glass display case of fresh steak and salmon fillets that could be cooked to order. And then there was the dessert buffet. It was almost obscene; the epitome of guilty pleasure. But I also knew that I was going to have to put such thoughts to one side if I was going to enjoy this trip.
Middle-aged woman doubles her weight in ten days. Sets new record.

By the time we reached the pool deck, I was in decadence overload. This wasn’t helped by the array of pools, spas and thalassotherapy ponds, each surrounded by deckchairs and beaming pool attendants. A band was setting up by the main pool. There was a lot of shouting and laughing and every second person seemed to be carrying a pastel-coloured cocktail. People were already in the pool, which I thought showed a lot of forethought given our suitcases had not yet been delivered to our cabins. Petra took our cruise cards over to the bar and returned with a tray on which were three cocktails and one glass of Coke.

‘Mine looks so boring,’ complained Quinn. Her brown hair was swept up into a ponytail and she looked even younger than her sixteen years. ‘You’d think they could at least stick on a piece of fruit.’

‘You can have this one,’ said Ruby, plucking a strawberry off her glass. She examined the drink. ‘What
are
these anyway?’

Petra took a sip. ‘Quite nice. A mix of orange and pineapple juice, I’m guessing, with a dollop of coconut rum – no,
normal
rum, plus coconut cream and …’ She paused, considering. ‘Grenadine, if I’m not mistaken.’

‘Wow!’ Ruby raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m impressed! You must—’

‘Have paid a lot of attention when she watched them being made,’ I finished dryly. ‘Now, where are we supposed to be meeting the others?’

Petra was grinning. ‘Spoilsport. Come on then, they’re up there.’ She pointed to an upper deck that ran around half the circumference of the pool deck.

The band broke into a rendition of ‘Good Vibrations’ as we threaded our way through the clusters of people. I had my elbow bumped twice so I drained half my drink to make it easier to carry. It was very tasty. There was a winding staircase that led to the upper deck, which had a section in the middle that couldn’t be easily seen from below. It boasted another bar and a large semicircular divan, and this was where most of our group had gathered.

‘You made it!’ called Lew, wheeling over to greet us. ‘Welcome to decadence!’

‘Cheers!’ I said, raising my glass. ‘Hey, how did you get up here?’

‘There’s a lift round the other side. Hello, girls, how do you like your cabin?’

‘Lovely, thanks,’ said Ruby politely. Quinn was already edging away. I could see Griffin Russo leaning against the balustrade, putting some distance between himself and his parent.

‘Another drink?’ asked Petra, taking my empty glass before I could answer.

I waited for her to leave before turning back to Lew. ‘How’s Deb?’

‘Still pretty gutted. They’re going to have a low-key evening tonight.’ He hesitated. ‘They met with April’s son this morning. Hard stuff.’

I felt my eyes moisten. ‘That poor guy. It’s just terrible.’

‘Yeah.’ Lew sighed. ‘Even worse because they’d been sort of estranged. Nasty split with the husband, I believe, and the son took his side. Deb said he didn’t have much time for them either. Prickly bloke. See, they almost cancelled everything to stay in Rome, but after meeting him there didn’t seem much point. Nothing they could do there.’

I nodded, still thinking of April. ‘Do you think the estrangement might have been part of the reason she …?’

He sighed again as the unspoken words hung in the air. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’

‘Nell!’ called my mother impatiently. She was sitting on the divan, her feet not quite reaching the ground. She looked uncomfortable. ‘Do you intend to join us?’

‘Yes, Yen, I’ll be there in a moment.’

Lew glanced at me curiously. ‘I’ve always meant to ask: why do you and your sister call your mother Yen?’

‘Just one of those daft things. She wanted us to use her first name but apparently when I was little I shortened “Lillian” to “Yen”. Petra copied when she came along. So Yen it was. That’s what you get when you try to manipulate kids.’

‘Drinks!’ said Petra, passing me a fresh cocktail. ‘Sorry, Lew, did you want one?’

‘Nah, I’ve got a beer over at the table. Come on, join us.’

Sitting beside Yen was Uncle Jim, as always, and then Enid. Around the other side was Lyn Russo, along with Darcy and Tessa. I paused, and then veered towards a nearby column. I wasn’t about to be crammed into a divan with my ex-husband and his new partner.

‘Petra, get me a chair, please,’ said Yen. ‘This couch is bloody awful.’

‘You’re just not sitting right, Lillian.’ Enid was perched plumply on the edge. ‘There’s no need to jam your butt into the cushions.’

‘I’ll get the chair.’ Uncle Jim unfolded himself as Lew wheeled into position and picked up his beer.

‘Perhaps it’s because my butt isn’t as well padded as yours,’ commented my mother acerbically, trying without success to wriggle forward.

Enid ignored her.

‘Isn’t this
glorious
?’ exclaimed Tessa, waving an arm to encompass everything. ‘Absolutely glorious!’

‘Glorious indeed,’ said Petra, sliding into the divan beside her. ‘You must be missing your baby though. Her being so young.’

Tessa’s face clouded. ‘Yes, it was hard to leave her behind – though my parents were thrilled to have her.’

‘Still, a couple of weeks. That’s a long time.’

Darcy frowned. ‘Petra, must you?’

Enid whispered something to my mother, who nodded. They were both watching Tessa. It did seem unfair that she was being held solely responsible for the abandonment of their child. Darcy was getting off scot-free.

‘And it’s like we haven’t been alone since she was born,’ continued Tessa defensively. ‘It’s important for
us
too, you know? Some together time?’

An uncomfortable silence fell as everybody avoided looking at me. Darcy had become very interested in his lap, but perhaps that was nothing new. Tessa flushed. The band chose that moment to launch into a lively version of ‘Love Shack’, much to the delight of the growing group of dancers. A waiter materialised with fresh cocktails and I realised that I had finished the one I held.

‘Anyway, Sophie’ll be having a ball,’ said Lew heartily. ‘Getting spoilt rotten out at the farm.’

Petra nodded. ‘Oh, absolutely. She won’t want to go home.’

‘How’s everybody’s room?’ asked Lyn Russo. ‘Ours is
so
nice! She raised her voice to call over to her son. ‘I was just saying our room is nice, isn’t it, Griff?’

‘Yep.’

‘And twenty-four-hour room service! We’re thinking breakfast on the balcony.’ Her voice rose again. ‘Aren’t we, Griff?’

‘Yep.’

‘He should write the brochure,’ said Yen. ‘Such a way with words.’

‘We’re leaving!’ yelled Quinn. ‘Look!’

Sure enough, the stretch of cobalt-blue sea was now sliding past. Lew swivelled one hundred and eighty degrees then shot over towards the railing while everybody else slid awkwardly from the divan. Darcy paused to help my mother up. I joined Ruby and Quinn to watch silently as the container-laden dock and the hills of Civitavecchia receded from view. Quinn leant over the railing and my stomach turned. But I knew what she was peering at: the churn of white water as the ship surged forward, cutting smoothly through the calm sea.

‘Hey, come on!’ Griffin Russo grabbed Quinn by the upper arm and pointed towards the front of the ship. She grinned as they headed off. I guessed they were planning on having a
Titanic
moment. Darcy might have come to the same conclusion as he didn’t look happy.

I finished my cocktail and wandered over to the bar. There was a group of women there who had clearly imbibed a few of the cocktails themselves. Two of them looked very much like Patsy and Edina from
Absolutely Fabulous
. With much laughter, they appeared to be narrowing down candidates for a shipboard liaison. The shortlist included the captain, the guy on drums and the pool attendant with the really nice thighs. I fully intended on having a soft drink to slow down my alcohol intake but found myself asking for two more cocktails. One was for Petra.

‘She didn’t want to come, you know,’ said Darcy. He put an empty tumbler down on the bar. ‘I talked her into it. It wasn’t easy.’

‘Perhaps
you
should write those brochures.’

‘Don’t be like that.’

I took a sip and then turned to face him, making sure my voice was low. ‘That’s the second time you’ve said that to me. I tell you what, why don’t you write down exactly how you’d like me to be, and then email me the list?’

He sighed. ‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.’

‘What the hell did you expect, Darcy? Seriously? Did you think I’d provide turndown service or something? You signed up for a holiday when you
knew
I’d be there. Along with my mother, my sister, my—’