‘Oh, I expect so – India is very keen anyway.’
‘India is a friend?’
‘My younger sister. So she’s sometimes a friend.’ And occasionally she’s a pain in the arse. ‘This is our last trip together before the wedding.’
‘Ah, I see. And when is that?’
‘December 2nd.’
‘And are all the plans going well?’
‘Pretty much there. Although we still need to sort out the flower girls. There are three of them, all under eight, and they keep growing so fast I think we’ll have to get their dresses at the last minute.’ I couldn’t believe I was voluntarily talking about India’s wedding. Obviously the alcohol was doing odd things to me …
‘Lovely.’ He finished his drink and gave a funny, tight little smile. ‘I’d better be going.’
‘Oh, okay. Thanks for the drink,’ I said to his retreating back, feeling thoroughly confused.
India appeared at this point wiping her hands on a tissue.
‘I’ve just had a hand-cream explosion. Was that Gabriel Frost? What did he want? I hope I didn’t frighten him off?’
‘He bought me a drink, was asking how we liked Marnie Miller’s talk.’
‘Well, I thought she was great.’
‘Don’t you think maybe there was a bit too much about her and her fabulous life and her handsome husband and celebrity friends?’
India shrugged. ‘But that’s what she sells! That image, that lifestyle. You heard what she said: she’s a brand. How do you think she made her millions? Why do you think we were so pleased to see her on the ship? I suppose it’s difficult to pretend you look for bargains in the January sales and can do fifty things with mince if that’s what your life is like. But she knows a lot, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Well, I’m going to have my teeth whitened when I get home. Now are you going to order me a cocktail? I fancy a daiquiri.’
I turned in my chair and looked at her in astonishment. ‘Hang on, you said fizzy water. I thought we were supposed to be on a healthy eating kick today?’
‘I was only going along with you to give you moral support!’
‘You mean I had that bloody yogurt for nothing!’ I gasped.
‘Well, so did I! I only had it because you said you wanted … I hate yogurt, you know I do. And fresh fruit when I wanted a smoked salmon bagel?’
‘You said you wouldn’t get into your dress,’ I reminded her indignantly, ‘not to mention telling me I needed to lose weight!’
‘Rubbish, my dress was hanging off me last time I tried it on. You’ve already had something pink.’ India gave an irritable gesture towards my empty glass.
‘That was mainly fruit.’
‘Yeah, right.’
India folded her arms and huffed a bit. She looked out of the window at the sea and turned one shoulder towards me.
I’d seen that look so many times over the years. Her furious, silent rejection of me when we had to travel on the same school bus. Sighing and grumbling when our parents read out school reports and realised she was always near the bottom of her class and I was top of mine. I’d spent most of my life trying to appease her and today was no different. And it was her hen holiday.
‘Okay, let’s have a strawberry daiquiri and then we can go and get some lunch.’
‘Okay, if you like,’ she said, as though I was doing her a favour.
‘And some salted almonds?’ I knew they were her favourite.
She shrugged. ‘If you like.’
Let’s be fair, I’m as weak as water.
Chapter Seven
Passion Killer
Melon Liqueur, Passion Fruit Liqueur, Tequila
We rounded off our day of healthy and considered eating with four courses of French-inspired cuisine and some wine before we went to see the show. This time it was a tribute to the 1940s, something that made the elderly American passengers terribly excited.
There was a large group of Army veterans on board, all wearing matching knuckleduster class rings, grey slacks and baseball caps covered in gold embroidery. They had bagged the tables nearest to the stage, leaving India and I to a table near the back of the theatre, which I didn’t mind a bit – it was nice to be away from the scrum to get to the front seats.
The veterans whooped and hollered with delight when the girl dancers came on dressed in very short white naval uniforms and the boys serenaded them with ‘There Is Nothing Like a Dame’. There was then some enthusiastic jitterbugging and acrobatics before a guest singer came on to the stage.
The plunging neckline of her green satin dress meant her substantial bosom arrived in the spotlight a couple of seconds before she did and the veterans went wild. She sang ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ and ‘I’ll Never Smile Again’ and there was a certain amount of emotional sniffing and eye dabbing from the veterans before they gave her a thunderous round of applause. Even India and I got swept up in the excitement, swapping gleaming smiles, which might have been down to the alcohol we’d just had or the entertainment … it was hard to say.
Then a young man with a predilection for sunbeds came on and sang ‘Some Enchanted Evening’ in the woman’s face with such force that we could see her hair moving. It was terrific.
The star singers were replaced with the girls singing ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair’ while apparently dressed in towels. I was surprised one of the veterans didn’t have a stroke.
‘Having a good evening?’
I looked up, startled, as Gabriel Frost came over to sit in the chair next to me.
‘It’s very lively,’ I shouted over the cheering as the girls sashayed off the stage. I fluttered a bit. Twice in one day – this was unusual, but also I wasn’t quite sure what I thought about Gabriel. He kept disappearing with odd excuses and he kept dodging my questions. It just seemed a bit strange. After being involved with a slippery customer like Ryan I wasn’t going to just fall for some snappy line, and for that matter I wasn’t even sure why Gabriel was hanging around with us … Didn’t he have other people to speak to?
Gabriel raised a hand and two of the waitresses at the back of the theatre raced each other to see who could get to him first. Perhaps they thought he was a good tipper or maybe, like me, they thought he was gorgeous. He was certainly a more attractive prospect than the veterans.
Up on stage the noise levels subsided for a while as a juggler did his best with five coloured rings and then tried some plate spinning. Bearing in mind the boat had started doing a bit of rock and roll he did very well.
‘I was going to order some champagne, if you would care to join me?’ Gabriel said.
He seemed more cheerful than he had been earlier, and looked relaxed and rather scrumptious in a soft blue shirt and black jeans.
‘We were supposed to be having a day of healthy eating,’ India said. She tapped on the table with a finger for emphasis. I wondered whether she actually needed more alcohol. Did I for that matter?
‘Goodness me, I am impressed,’ Gabriel said, eyebrows raised.
‘The important word was supposed,’ I said, ‘but we don’t seem to have been particularly successful, so yes please.’
He laughed and within a few minutes the speedier of the two waitresses had produced three glasses and an ice bucket of champagne.
‘What are we drinking to?’ India said.
‘Oh, I don’t know, how about friendship?’ Gabriel said.
We clinked glasses.
‘No Marnie this evening?’ I said.
Gabriel shook his head. ‘No, she’s having a difficult day. Some unexpected news.’
‘Nothing too bad I hope?’ I said, hoping he was the sort who could be encouraged by a bit of gentle sympathy into sharing further details. He wasn’t.
‘We’ll see,’ he said. ‘How are you enjoying the voyage so far?’
India started telling him how much she was enjoying it and I took the opportunity to do what I had b
een longing to do: have a really good long stare at Gabriel Frost.
His face was half in shadow, the stage light harsh on the left side of his face as he turned towards me. No wonder the waitresses had practically fought each other to serve him. A strong jawline, straight nose, full lower lip … which was supposed to hint at a passionate nature, wasn’t it? His hair was dark and glossy. He was probably the best-looking man I’d ever seen. Even if he had been both tetchy and evasive. It almost made up for his changeable nature. Almost.
‘And how about you, Alexa?’
He turned to me and I felt a bit hot and silly for a moment. I took a sip of my champagne.
‘Oh, it’s really nice.’ Nice? I cringed as the word left my mouth. ‘I mean it’s great. A lovely boat … I mean ship. We’re looking forward to doing the dance lessons, aren’t we, India? India?’
I suddenly realised India was doing her trick of falling asleep, bolt upright and still clutching her champagne glass. I shook her.
‘What? What? I wasn’t asleep. Was I?’
‘Yes, you were.’ I took the glass from her before she dropped it. I thought she was supposed to be the night owl?
India looked at me blankly for a moment. ‘I think I’d better go to bed. Thanks for the champagne, Gabriel,’ she said with a sleepy smile, before turning to wink at me. ‘I’ll see you later.’
She staggered off while, onstage, the dance troupe started ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’.
‘Shall we go somewhere?’ Gabriel said, raising an enquiring eyebrow at me.
I nearly fainted. What on earth was he suggesting?
He laughed. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. I just thought it might be nice to find somewhere quieter. I can’t think straight in all this noise. I think it’s warm enough to sit out on deck. I mean, if you’d like to?’
If I’d like to?
#Stupidquestion.
I picked up my champagne glass and my evening bag. Who said I couldn’t live a bit dangerously? Sure, I wasn’t certain I liked him enough for a relationship, but who said anything about a relationship? Even Mum had said I should try and find a man … Well, she didn’t say I had to keep him – did she?
‘Oh, okay,’ I said, playing hard to get.
That’s me all over. Why can’t I take a leaf out of my sister’s book for once – play it cool and get men slavering all over me? I mean, isn’t that what flirting is all about?
We left the theatre and went out on to the promenade deck. The very last of the sunset was fading over the coast far out on the horizon. He found a table and two cushioned steamer chairs for us in a sheltered alcove and we sat with our feet up watching the silken sea slip past us.
‘So, how are you enjoying the trip?’ I asked him.
‘Oh, it’s fine. But I now have a lot of work to get through.’
‘What are you doing? Did you say you were a writer?’
‘No, not really. I work for Marnie; I’m more of a behind-the-scenes sort of guy. So, what brings you on board this ship? What do you do, Alexa?’
I drew breath and hesitated. This, in my experience, was where things tended to go wrong, as I don’t have an off button when I’m asked that sort of question.
I finally broke up with my boyfriend, Ryan, on Valentine’s Day when he gave me a card with the wrong name written inside, and since then I have had zero social life as I’m too busy avoiding him. This was shortly after I caught him shagging the tart who he now lives with, half a mile away from me, and who is six months pregnant. My sister – who I’ve only recently discovered also made a play for him at Laura’s party – is about to get married to a successful and charming barrister who has friends called Monty and Lola and Quentin. They live in a hip industrial-style apartment overlooking the river that is almost unbearably chic. I’m living in the granny annexe at the bottom of my parents’ garden. And on top of that –
I realised he was still waiting for my answer.
‘I’m an estate agent. I think you call them realtors in America? Selling houses, you know? I know a lot of people don’t like estate agents but it’s a brilliant job. I mean, what could be more exciting than finding people their first home, or the house of their dreams?’
He laughed. ‘Everyone needs a realtor at some point.’
‘Doesn’t mean you have to like them though, does it?’ I said with a grin.
‘Well, people don’t like paying for something they think they could do themselves. But could they really be bothered to go round the streets, knocking on doors, looking for houses for sale? Would they take the photographs or draw the floor plans? And what if you wanted to move abroad? How would that work without realtor sites?’
I raised my glass in tribute to him. I felt suddenly clever and glamorous, sitting out on the deck of a beautiful ship drinking champagne with possibly the world’s handsomest man.
I bet he didn’t throw his balled-up socks under the bed or sit in his boxer shorts eating cold baked beans out of the tin like Ryan had. I bet he wouldn’t tell me I looked like a cross between a black pudding and a failed Kardashian sister when I put some old leggings on to do the gardening.
I suddenly wondered what Gabriel Frost looked like with no clothes on and blushed in the darkness.
I sipped my champagne again and calmed down.
‘Thank you for those kind words. Have we sailed past your parents’ house yet?’
‘I don’t think so. That’s on the coast of Maine. But we’ve passed Massachusetts.’ He gestured towards the rail. ‘Back there in the dark is the glamorous playground of old Cape Cod with its sand dunes, salty air and quaint little clapboard cottages that cost over a million dollars.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes, and the closer you can get to Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard the more expensive it is. My parents’ house is just where the land ends and the sea begins. It’s wonderful, especially when you get past Kennebunkport and the coachloads of tourists hoping to see George Bush surf fishing.’
‘I’d like to go to one of those places on the coast you read about, where there are weather-beaten, salt-grimed fishermen sitting on the dock complaining about the weather and the tourist boats. And there are lobsters in a tank, and you pick one and they cook it for you. I’ve seen pictures in National Geographic in my dentist’s waiting room.’
‘That’s very poetic.’ He laughed.
‘I might chicken out when it came to it,’ I said.
I held out my empty glass and he refilled it.
‘There’s a place I know just like that where the quay is built into the rock and there are only a few fishermen with their own lobster pots. They bring the catch to a place called Ken’s Hut. They give you a plastic bib and some metal tools and a bowl of melted butter,’ Gabriel said. ‘It’s absolutely delicious. There are only about six tables and they have blue-checked plastic cloths with cigarette burns, and storm lanterns when the weather is good enough. You can even eat outside in the summer. There’s the prettiest view over towards the island and of course there’s a lighthouse –’
I watched him, his face relaxing into a small smile of pleasant memories. The breeze from the sea ruffled his dark hair.
Was there a Mrs Frost? There had to be. Did he have a wife and some adorable children back at home who even now were missing him? Mrs Frost would be tall and slender. She would be an athletic, Nordic blonde with piercing blue eyes and endless legs. The type of woman who cared nothing for fashion or flashy cars. Who would decide to go for a run for pleasure, didn’t need to diet and had never heard of something called ‘considered eating’. She’d do that hygge thing that’s so popular at the moment, with cashmere throws and pale wood everywhere, and blue and white enamel mugs of hot chocolate. No, scrub that; every time I’d ever had a drink from an enamel mug I’d burnt the skin off my top lip. She’d be a great cook and a marvellous hostess and wouldn’t hide emergency chocolate at the back of the wardrobe like I did.
They would have beautiful children, carbon copies
of their mother, probably bilingual, naturally tidy, who never asked for junk food or complained about school, or fought on the floor screaming like India and I had done when we were young.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Gabriel said.
‘I was just wondering –’ I shut up just in time and tried desperately to think of something to say ‘– how many eggs they use on a ship this size.’
He blinked back his surprise that I should be thinking such a thing.
‘Dozens I expect. Perhaps there are hens down below deck furiously laying, day and night.’
‘I hope not – that would be cruel.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘But you wouldn’t mind plunging a lobster into a pot of boiling water?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t do it personally, of course.’
He chuckled. ‘I often wonder if the lobsters nudge each other to the front of the tank and try to stay at the back and look unimpressive.’
I laughed with him and then put on a funny voice. ‘Pick him, I’ve not been well! Do you think that sounds like a lobster?’
He laughed again. ‘Exactly like a lobster!’
I put my hands up and made them into pincers. ‘Look at my claws. They’re tiny. Pick him over there!’
Gabriel spluttered into his champagne. He looked so carefree, I wondered if this was the real Gabriel: the relaxed, happy man with the childish sense of humour.
‘There you are, Gabe! I’ve been searching this ship for the last half-hour!’
We both looked up. It was Marnie Miller.
Of course it was. She came clip-clopping along the promenade deck towards us in her high-heeled, satin evening shoes, a pashmina wound round her tiny shoulders like a child wrapped in a blanket.
Gabriel stood up. ‘I thought you’d turned in?’
‘No, I have not turned in. I’ve been looking for you.’
She suddenly registered that I was there and her tone changed; it was subtle but unmistakeable. ‘I was worried. You naughty thing.’
‘No need,’ Gabriel said. ‘We were just enjoying the sea air.’
‘And champagne!’ Marnie said. ‘How lovely!’
Come Away With Me Page 8