Simon Holt, the head chef was sipping red wine when Davenport entered his domain. “Simon, the colonel has taken ill whilst eating his dinner. That’s two in two days… What is going on?”
“What are you insinuating, Mr Davenport? My food is fresh, adequately cooked and in perfect condition.”
“I want you to do a check on the food. The colonel was in great pain, the symptoms similar to that of Mrs Bradshaw.”
The chef slammed down his glass of wine. “I repeat, my food is immaculate and cooked thoroughly. Maybe he is sea-sick.”
“The colonel is not sea-sick, believe me. It was something he ate or drank.”
“If that were the case, Mr Davenport, then surely other diners would have taken ill too.”
Davenport considered the statement. “I see your point, Simon. If you’ll please accompany me to the dining room, we can possibly determine what exactly the colonel had for dinner.”
The human cocker spaniel limped after Davenport and perceived that the diners had ceased to finish their meals. They made their way to where the colonel was sat and examined his plate.
Davenport investigated the offering. “It appears that the colonel had pheasant, along with broccoli, carrots and potatoes. He apparently had not commenced with his dessert. Claret was his tipple.”
Davenport turned to Frank Pollock. “Frank, did you notice if the colonel partook in any other drink at the table?”
“I’m afraid I cannot help you there. I’m not in the habit of watching the colonel eat dinner.”
No, your eyes were probably on Penelope’s cleavage, thought Ben.
Simon Holt was now stood with his hands on his hips, and a self-satisfied smile adorned his features. “Well, Mr Davenport. Looking at the plates around me, I’d hasten to say that the majority of diners had eaten a similar meal to the colonel, yet they’re not in any pain.”
“My apologies, Simon, but we had to be certain, you understand. Whatever ailed the colonel must have been consumed earlier. Is anyone else in any discomfort?”
“Yes, this bloody dress is too tight,” complained Wendy Quinn, much to the amusement of her audience.
Davenport continued. “Well, ladies and gentlemen; I’ll leave you to finish your meals. Bon appetite.”
Ben glanced towards Pollock and Penelope. The notorious gambler whispered something in her ear; something that clearly amused her.
Ben had decided that he had to confront Penelope this evening. The suspense had been gnawing at him all day long. He would risk making a fool of himself, but he would put it to her indirectly. He would fish around and hoped the temptress would take the bait. If he had indeed made love to her that night, she had showed not a flicker of emotion.
“Aren’t you finishing your dessert, Ben?” asked Natasha.
“No, Nat, I’ve lost my appetite. Besides, we’ll be tripping the light fandango soon and I don’t want indigestion,” he lied. In reality, he did not believe in coincidences. The colonel’s dodgy tummy was one coincidence too many.
******
Ben and Joe loitered at the bar and ordered another two whiskies. Natasha and Sally partook in the rum punch. They had acquired quite a taste for the potion.
Joe nudged his new friend. “There’s some fine talent out there, Ben. Would you look at those two stunners?”
Ben’s eyes were elsewhere. He searched the room for Penelope.
“I said would you check those two out,” muttered Joe, who stroked his newly groomed beard.
The two girls in question were indeed pretty. They danced the Charleston at a furious pace. The pretty belles actually looked in their direction and giggled to each other. Their long necklaces of beads swung to and fro, as the jazz band played loudly.
Joe narrowed his eyes. “What’s up with you tonight? You’re mind seems elsewhere.”
“I’m sorry, Joe… Listen, do you know that classy bird that sits opposite us on the captain’s table? I think I shagged her last night.”
“Piss off, Ben. You’re fucking with me, right?”
“No, Joe, I don’t think it was you I was fucking.”
“You think you shagged her?”
“What?”
“You said, you think you shagged her. You either did or you didn’t.”
Ben now began to regret letting Joe into his secret. “It’s hard to explain. She was in my room and Nat was asleep. She climbed aboard and we reached the heights.”
“You dicked her, laid next to Natasha? That’s kinky, man.”
“I didn’t plan it that way, Joe. I woke up and Penelope was pumping away. She actually seduced me.”
“And Natasha didn’t wake up?”
“That’s just it. She did wake up.”
“Shit, she caught you?”
“Not exactly.”
“You’ve lost me, Ben.”
“Listen, when Natasha woke up, Penelope was gone. It was as though she hadn’t been there at all.”
Joe scratched his head. “Maybe she hadn’t been there at all. Maybe you had a wet dream, mate.”
“That’s what I thought, but it was so real. I felt her, I tasted her breath. I was covered in sweat, and she even left the aroma of her perfume, which incidentally Nat noticed.”
Joe pondered. “So what exactly are you saying? Where did she go? Under the bed maybe?”
“No, I mean… I don’t know. I just know it wasn’t a dream.”
Sarah joined the two whispering men. “What are you two talking about? Eyeing the talent up no doubt.”
Joe winked mischievously. “Too true, sugar. We were planning to get you two pissed and then send you off to bed, leaving me and Ben here to have our choice of the dames.”
Sarah laughed out loud. “Out of your league, honey. Those bitches are out of your league.”
The two girls on the dance-floor ceased their teasing when they noticed the objects of their attention had spouses.
Natasha held her husband’s hand. “Are you playing cards again tonight, Ben?”
“Only if you don’t mind, Nat. I don’t want you to think I’m neglecting you.”
“Of course I don’t mind, Lance Corporal Duncan. You know I don’t like late nights; besides, you can make it up to me tomorrow.”
“How?”
Natasha winked. “Oh, I’ll think of something.”
Ben looked past his wife. Penelope and Frank Pollock helped themselves to the rum punch. Ben tried to catch the beauty’s eye, but to no avail.
“Ben, I asked you a question.”
“Oh, sorry, Nat, I think the alcohol’s catching up with me. It’s been a long day.”
“I asked you not to lose too much money tonight.”
Ben stared at Pollock, who offered Penelope a light after she removed her cigarette lighter from her handbag.
“No, I’ll be careful tonight, Nat,” he lied. He had already decided that tonight he was going to relieve Pollock of much of his sleazy income.
Chapter Nine
Ben swallowed another mouthful of whisky. The soothing alcohol helped to stabilise his current vivacious mood. He checked his cards once more, barely able to conceal his excitement. This was the chance that Ben had waited for.
The school was minus one player tonight. The absence of the colonel was unavoidable, due to his illness. This left just six players at the poker table. Ben again studied his cards. A full house. Three tens and two fours. The pot was huge. There was at least two hundred pounds in the kitty. Ben tried to regulate his breathing, careful not to reveal his joy.
Grainger’s eyebrows danced comically and Ben remembered Davenport’s words. He was bluffing. Pollock was the danger. The professional gambler tossed another ten-pound chip into the pot, and his emotionless face did not betray his status.
Ben paused. He had to play this cool. He added to the ante.
Grainger put his chip in without hesitation.
“Well, I’m folding, gentlemen,” sighed Pollock.
“That leaves just you and me,” smirked Re
dbeard.
Ben prayed that Davenport’s tip was correct. He was risking a great deal on the host’s advice. The eyebrows of Grainger moved incessantly.
Ben put in his chip and tried to remain calm. In reality, his heart beat in double time and his mouth was arid.
“I’ll raise you fifty pounds,” smirked Grainger, to the surprise of Ben.
The ex-army man complained. “Excuse me, but it was my understanding there was a limit of ten pounds?”
Grainger grinned. “Are you folding or do you wish to see me?”
“Mr Duncan is correct, Jeremy. We agreed a limit of ten pounds,” interrupted Davenport.
Ben intervened. “No, that’s alright.” He stared at Grainger. His red eyebrows now worked overtime.
Grainger had become impatient. “Well, are you going to see me or are you folding?”
Ben’s hands sweated profusely. Davenport had better be correct about Grainger’s tell. “I’ll raise you one hundred pounds.”
Grainger’s eyes now bulged, and that is the moment that Ben suspected he had beaten him. “Well, Mr Grainger… it’s your call.”
Grainger angrily threw his cards onto the table and wiped his brow with his handkerchief. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day.”
Ross patted Ben on the back and eyed up Grainger, who retreated from the table. “You’re crazy, Ben. One hundred pounds. What did you have?”
Ben turned over his cards. “A full house. Let’s just say I had a hunch that he was bluffing.”
Davenport winked at him. “I think, gentlemen that we have seen enough action for one night. It has been a most enjoyable evening.”
“It’s not two 'o'clock yet,” insisted Daniel Wells, who peered over his thick spectacles.
“Mr Wells, it is one-thirty. Can you not wait until tomorrow evening to recoup your losses?” asked Davenport.
Wells was adamant. “I repeat, it’s not yet two 'o'clock. I propose that we raise the stakes for the final thirty minutes.”
Davenport protested. “Mr Wells, this is most irregular. Only if it is agreed by each player will we raise the stakes.”
“I’m pretty sure the other players will agree, Davenport. Does anyone object?”
Ben saw the menacing look on the face of Wells. It was something he had not noticed earlier. Nobody objected.
“The minimum stake will be five pounds, gentlemen,” insisted Davenport.
Another ten minutes passed and Wells became more irate as the game went on. He had still not won a hand. The cards were dealt and the pot built up to a handsome sum. Ben folded early, along with Davenport. Wells raised to ten pounds and Ross and Pollock checked. Wells raised again, this time to twenty pounds. Again, the others followed. Ross changed another fifty pounds. So far, he had lost heavily tonight. He was a cautious player, but he seemed pretty confident and added his stake to the ante. This was now serious, as none of the three considered folding their hands.
Wells paused. “We appear to have a stalemate. How can we resolve this?”
“Turn the cards and the highest hand wins,” suggested Davenport.
Ross and Pollock nodded.
Wells objected. “No, one of us will have to fold. Rules are rules.” He stared at Pollock and noticed the perspiration run down his face. “How’s that baby sister of yours doing, Frank?”
Pollock seemed surprised by the question at such a crucial time. “She’s fine, Danny.”
“Really? That’s good news… Now where were we? Oh, yes, I’ll raise to two hundred pounds.”
There was a deathly hush when Wells tossed his chips onto the table. He stared wildly at Frank Pollock. Pollock checked his cards and looked towards Wells, who now had a frenzied look on his face.
“I’ll fold,” said Pollock, his head bowed.
“Well, it looks like just you and me, black boy,” scoffed Wells.
Ross shrugged. “What happened to the limit? I don’t have two hundred pounds.”
“Well that’s too bad, boy,” said Wells, whose hands encircled the pot.
“But I have,” bellowed Ben.
Wells snarled at the unexpected intrusion. “You. Keep out of this if you know what’s good for you.”
Ben ignored the threat. “Here, Ross. See him. Let‘s see what you have, Wells.”
Wells snarled wildly at Ben. His menacing eyes portrayed evil. .
Ross hesitated. “Are you sure, Ben?”
“See him, Ross. Here’s the money.” Ben pushed the chips into the centre of the table.
“I’ll see you, Wells,” stuttered Ross, whose hands trembled.
Wells hesitated and then downed his cards. “A full house… tens over threes.”
Ross laid his cards down. “Full house… queens over eights.”
Wells rose to his feet, slammed his hands on the table and upset the drinks. “I’ll be seeing you boys around. That I can promise.”
Ben and Ross remained behind and cashed in their chips.
Davenport watched them, a wry smirk on his handsome features. “That is a small fortune you’ve accumulated tonight. The problem now is staying alive to be able to spend it.”
“Meaning what, Mr Davenport?”
“Meaning Ross, that you two have upset Daniel Wells.”
“So what,” butted in Ben. “Who’s Daniel Wells?”
“Daniel Wells is one of the most powerful men in London. He has had more men killed than you can possibly imagine.”
“What exactly does he do?” quizzed Ben.
“Wells is a gangster. He may not look like much, but you’ve made a very powerful enemy. If I were you, I would watch your backs. Goodnight, gentlemen.”
“Shit, we’re in big trouble now, Ben.”
Ben smiled. “Ross, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re living in fantasyland. Wells does not exist. He’s an actor and we’re in a grand production of Davenport’s fantasies. Do you honestly believe that Davenport would invite a killer on his cruise?”
A huge grin spread across the bus driver’s features. “Shit, you’re right, Ben, and that means we can keep all of this money.”
Ben nodded. “Now you’re talking. There must have been seven hundred pounds in that pot, and don’t forget the two hundred and fifty quid that I won. Not a bad night. Not a bad night at all.”
******
Ben held tightly onto the railing and looked out to sea. He needed the fresh air, but inwardly he had another reason for being on the deck at this early hour of the morning. He had waited until his wife was sound asleep before he left the cabin.
The beauty approached him quietly and startled him as he stared at the starry sky.
“Ben, what a pleasant surprise. Do you make a habit of frequenting the deck in the early hours of the morning?”
“Only since I met you… I cannot get you out of my mind, Penelope. You’ve transfixed me with your beauty.”
“That is a very kind and romantic thing to say, Ben, but you’re married and I’m involved with Frank Pollock at the moment.”
“You can do better than him, Penelope.”
“I know I can. He has even proposed to me, can you believe that? I was married once, and how can I put it? Once bitten, twice shy.”
“Did you love your husband?”
Penelope scowled. “Of course I did. What a strange thing to say… Michael was my first love, and I believed he would be the only man that I would ever love, but that changed when he died.”
“So now you’re in love with Pollock?”
“Frank? No. He’s fun, but love him? Never. No, the man I love is a married man.”
Ben was excited. “Excuse me for asking, but if you loved your husband, then why do you throw yourself at the feet of other men?”
“It is the men who throw themselves at me, darling. I’m a very physical person. Ben, when I make love with other men, it’s purely physical. Like you playing a round of golf I suppose. It is just sport to me… Do you know, I have a son? People say I’m cruel for
leaving him at home on my travels, but he’s extremely well cared for. I employ the best nannies to take care of him. I must admit that I do miss him so much at times like this.”
Ben wanted to know more. “Tell me, Penelope, what do you do? I mean, apart from acting?”
“Acting? Whatever can you be talking about? It was my husband who was a film director. Have you seen The Righteous? He directed it.”
“No, I don’t think so… Listen, why do you put up with this pretence? Davenport isn’t watching at the moment. Why don’t you open out, Penelope, if that’s your real name?”
“Ben, I think I should go now. I think I may have misjudged you.”
“Wait, Penelope. Can’t you understand? I cannot get you out of my mind. I want to know the real you, not this stuck up society doll.”
Penelope backed away. “You are most insulting. How I misjudged you.”
Ben closed in. “What about last night? We did make love, didn’t we?”
Penelope again backed off; her face a picture of surprise and innocence. “You’re insane. Make love to you? I’m going to my cabin now. If you bother me again on this cruise, I’ll report you immediately to the captain, not forgetting your wife. Goodnight.”
“No, don’t go,” pleaded Ben.
She went as mysteriously as she came, quietly and gracefully. Ben held his head in his hands. Was he going insane? If not, then why did she torture him so? She had overdone it. Why the pretence? What hold does Davenport have on these people? Ben smiled. At the end of the cruise, these strange passengers would probably unwind and reveal themselves; after all, they were only doing a job. The cool sea breeze brought Ben to his senses as he sauntered to his cabin.
Chapter Ten
Tick-tock, tick-tock. Ben could not sleep. He had great difficulty in eliminating Penelope from his thoughts. The cabin was deathly silent, apart from the sound of the clock. Natasha, as per usual slept soundly, and the gentle rocking of the ship aided her slumber. Ben looked across at her and felt guilt. Even if he had not made love to Penelope, he had wanted to. That he had never cheated on his wife before did not compensate for his feelings. He had never felt this way before. He was like a schoolchild who had encountered his first love. He recalled vividly the butterflies in his stomach when he spoke to Penelope. His rapid heart rate and the desire, oh, such desire, he also recalled. He closed his eyes. His wish was that he could rekindle the passion of the night before. Tick-tock, tick-tock.
The Cruise Page 6