‘I take it you’re not happy about that then?’ Ross asked, standing aside to let Frankie through into the cabin they were sharing.
‘What do you think?’
‘Okay, look, I think we should all try and get settled into our cabins, maybe have a little bit of a rest, get our heads down for a bit,’ Andy suggested. ‘We’ve got a meeting with the Cruise Director this evening, remember? So, maybe we should all meet up in a couple of hours or so. In the Show Lounge. I’d like to start getting a feel for the place, you know? Start thinking about routines and…’
‘Routines?’ Frankie asked, somewhat surprised to hear that word mentioned. ‘What? You mean, like, dancing?’
Andy stared at him, kicking open his cabin door, relieved he’d won the coin toss to get the single cabin. ‘Yes, dancing. What did you think we were going to be doing when we got here?’
‘Well, sitting on stools and singing, mainly,’ Frankie replied, looking around at the others for support.
Danny just rolled his eyes and walked back into his cabin, closely followed by Cal, wondering if this was the best thing they’d ever done – deciding to get back together – or the biggest mistake of their lives.
Palma – Majorca
2:00pm
Aimee stood on the dock, staring up at the imposing sight of the Atlantica cruise liner as it towered over her, the searing heat of a beautiful Majorcan afternoon beating down on her bare shoulders as she shielded her eyes from the sun that bounced off the bright white ship in front of her – this all-British, floating holiday resort that was about to be her home for the next two weeks.
As what seemed liked coach after coach continued to pull up on the dock side alongside the ship, the crowd of people all making their way through the terminal building ahead of them and up onto the ship seemed to grow by the second, the ground around them covered in an array of different sized and coloured suitcases, all waiting to be delivered to their respective cabins so that their owners could start planning their wardrobes for the various dinners and long nights of entertainment that were going to take place over the course of this cruise. It was a freestyle cruise – which meant that the dress code leaned more towards the casual than the formal – but dressing up was still very much a big part of this kind of holiday. Especially for the women. And Aimee was no exception. She had a suitcase full of new clothes she couldn’t wait to start wearing.
A mixture of excitement and apprehension coursed through Aimee – excitement because she and Jemma had so needed this holiday, an escape from their okay but not-particularly-exciting jobs at SuperStyle, and apprehension at the thought of her mother joining them, but after her father had left Marcie for Mavis Wilson (or the “bowling club bike”, as her mother liked to call her) Aimee had thought that maybe she needed a holiday too. Although, after an excruciating flight over from Newcastle where, for the most part, her mother had proceeded to interrogate a rather bemused middle-aged man sitting in front of her who was travelling to Magaluf to visit his daughter, citing the fact that he was proving to be the perfect inspiration for Rock Ransom, the hero in the new romance novel she was writing, Aimee was beginning to have second thoughts.
‘Are you coming aboard this ship or not?’ Jemma asked, pulling her long dark hair back into a loose ponytail. ‘Because I am just dying to try out those cocktails.’
Aimee looked at her friend, smiling, running over to her and wrapping her arms around her in a huge bear-hug, squealing like an over-excited toddler at a birthday party.
‘Oh, Jemma! I am so happy to be here! I can’t wait to get this holiday started!’
Jemma hugged her back, smiling at Aimee, gently stroking her friend’s blond fringe from her pale blue eyes. ‘I know you do, Chick. I mean, Robbie leaving like that… it couldn’t have been easy.’
Aimee slipped her arm through Jemma’s as they made their way towards the terminal building, joining the queue of people undergoing the embarkation process.
‘No, well, I had no idea he was going to dump me at our own engagement party, did I?’ She started looking around, suddenly aware that she hadn’t seen Marcie for about ten minutes. ‘Where’s my mother disappeared off to now?’
‘She’s already in the queue, look. Over there. Talking to some dude who looks like that bloke out of Fantasy Island.’
‘Which one? Tattoo?’ Aimee smirked, straining to get a look, wanting to make sure her mother really was about to board the ship because the last thing she wanted to have to deal with was Marcie Marcello stranded in Majorca, bothering the islanders with her tales of heaving bosoms and bare-chested heroes.
‘No, not him,’ Jemma giggled. ‘The other one, Ricardo whatshisface. The tall one.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ Aimee said, finally catching sight of her mother, who was in the process of throwing her head back and laughing – in that coquettish manner she’d recently adopted – at something the rather suave-looking, grey-haired gentleman beside her was saying. And was he wearing a safari suit? Aimee couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a bloke wearing a safari suit – not since the 1970’s, anyway.
‘Frigging coward,’ Jemma sniffed, squeezing Aimee’s arm.
‘He’s only telling her a joke, Jemma.’
‘Not Ricardo over there. I’m talking about your Robbie.’
‘He’s not my Robbie anymore, remember?’
‘Yeah, well, you didn’t deserve a bastard like that, and he certainly didn’t deserve someone as fabulous and beautiful as you. I tell you, Aimee, after what happened to you it’s convinced me that I really am better off single. Men! We don’t need them, hon. ’
Aimee sighed. ‘I thought it was what he wanted too though, Jem. Marriage, kids, that lovely little semi-detached house we’d looked at near the quayside. I really thought he wanted all of that too. I mean, he said he loved me, didn’t he?’
‘He said a lot of things if it meant he got his own way. I never trusted him.’
Aimee stopped and looked at Jemma. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that was how you felt?’
‘Because he made you happy, Aimee. You’re my best friend and all I want is for you to be happy. And anyway, I honestly never thought he would turn out to be that much of a bastard. I mean, who did? The only saving grace is that your brother Eddie is still determined to track him down.’
They slowly shuffled forward as the queue of people in front of them got smaller and smaller, the embarkation check-in desks now almost within touching distance.
‘It’s over now, anyway,’ Aimee said, linking her arm through Jemma’s again, reaching into her bag for her sunglasses. ‘And what better way to get over a broken heart than to have a holiday?’
‘And what a holiday this could turn out to be. Two weeks of all inclusive fun aboard a fabulous cruise ship… Hang on,’ Jemma suddenly stopped, her attention directed towards a handful of people outside on the dock who were surrounded by huge silver boxes that were being opened up, one by one, as their contents were checked over.
‘What’s the matter?’ Aimee asked, following her friend’s gaze.
‘Over there,’ Jemma replied. ‘That stuff looks like boxes of TV equipment, and I know what I’m talking about, I was an extra on Byker Grove for a fortnight, remember?’
‘Haven’t you heard?’ A friendly crew member in a white shirt and smart white trousers smiled at them as they approached the desk, handing over their cruise documents and identification – the last step they had to go through before they could finally board the ship.
‘Heard what?’ Aimee asked, more than curious to find out what was going on now.
‘Bon Voyage,’ the crew member – who, thanks to his name badge, they found out was called Adam and was a member of the entertainment staff – said, still smiling.
‘Bon Voyage?’ Jemma repeated, frowning slightly as she looked at Aimee. ‘Bon Voyage as in, Bon Voyage? The biggest boy band of the 1990’s? The boy band we used to love? Hey, Aimee, do you remember that gig in Newcastle back in the earl
y days? The one half the school was at. We were second row centre and I threw a teddy bear in a tartan hat at Cal Connor only it missed and hit Ross Nelson right between the eyes… Hang on…’ She turned her attention back to Adam. ‘Are you telling me that Bon Voyage are here? On this cruise?’
‘For the next two weeks,’ Adam replied, handing them both their all inclusive passes and cabin key cards. ‘They’re filming a new reality TV series charting their planned comeback. They’re doing a handful of gigs over the next fortnight here on the ship, in the Vegas Show Lounge. Okay, that’s you both checked in so, if you’d just like to follow the signs over there to the gangway you can begin making your way onto the ship. Have a fabulous cruise, ladies!’
Aimee and Jemma walked slowly out of the terminal building, back out onto the dockside, following the line of people up onto the gangway.
‘Did I just hear him right?’ Aimee asked, still clinging onto Jemma’s arm. ‘Did he just say Bon Voyage – our favourite, favourite boy band ever – did he just say they were here? On this ship? For the next two weeks? The same two weeks that we’re on the ship? Did he just say that?’
‘I do believe he did,’ Jemma smiled, a smile that slowly turned into a grin wide enough to please any Cheshire Cat. ‘I do believe he bloody did!’
And all they could do was look at each other, and let out a scream that any Bon Voyage fan would have been proud of.
6:30pm
‘Bon Voyage – Cruising To Comeback. That’s seriously what they’re calling this reality TV programme?’ Cal asked, sitting down on the edge of the small but more-than-adequate stage in the Vegas Show Lounge – the MS Atlantica’s main entertainment venue – staring out ahead of him at the array of empty tables and chairs that stretched way back, but this was a room that would doubtless be packed to the rafters in a couple of hours, once everyone had got settled into their cabins and finally found that holiday spirit.
‘That’s seriously what they’re calling it,’ Danny replied, twisting the cap he was wearing round so that the peak faced out backwards.
‘It sounds like a frigging dodgy soft-porn movie,’ Cal sighed, getting up to help Andy as he arrived with a tray full of drinks for them all.
‘That looks suspiciously like orange juice to me,’ Danny remarked, grabbing a glass from the tray and taking a swig. ‘Come on, Andy, mate. Where’s the alcohol?’
Danny Johnson was on the look out for a good time. With his ten year marriage to ex-north east model and Newcastle party princess Davina Black more than on the rocks, he was just one short step away from self-destruct mode, if he was honest. But he didn’t really care. He was determined to have a good time on this cruise. Davina had all but pushed him to the limit with her insistence in halting their divorce – and her blatantly obvious reasons why – so for the next two weeks he just wanted to forget all of that. He’d deal with Davina when he got back home. Davina Black – a woman whose main ambition in life was to become a major Z-List celebrity.
When he’d first met Davina he’d been nothing but a painter and decorator, his days of fame and fortune with Bon Voyage behind him. So, with most of the money he’d earned during that time – the stuff that hadn’t been wasted on drink, women and ridiculously expensive holidays – ploughed into his business, Davina had been the one with the career, albeit a slightly sketchy one. She’d been the one earning more money than him – to begin with, anyway – although it was hardly enough to set them up for life. But she’d obviously thought that, by hooking up with an ex-member of one of the country’s most popular boy bands, it would further her own career, because Davina Black hadn’t exactly been hitting the heights of the modelling world. Oh no, Davina had always been nothing more than a “local” celebrity, earning money that reflected just that. But it had been enough to get them a modest four-bed-roomed detached house on a new-build estate on the outskirts of Newcastle.
Davina, however, had always wanted more. She’d always tried to live the life of someone far more famous than she actually was, constantly blaming Danny for his lack of ambition, his weakness at accepting the fact he was no longer famous, because she thought he should be out there looking for some sort of celebrity career, but he just hadn’t been particularly keen on the idea of all that. What was he supposed to do, anyway? Tout himself round celebrity reality TV programmes that would see him doing nothing but making an idiot of himself on a nightly basis in front of millions of viewers? That hadn’t been his bag at all. He’d been happy with his decorating business, happy with the pace of life, happy with what they had. Happy to have left the days of being in the spotlight behind him. Unlike Davina. So, when she’d finally told him she was filing for divorce it came as no real surprise to Danny. He should have seen it coming, because nothing he did could keep her happy. He wasn’t the man she really wanted, and she wasn’t the girl he’d thought she was. Only now, with the slight chance of Danny’s pop-star career about to take an unexpected upward turn, she was changing tack, claiming she did love him after all, when all she really loved was the fact that she may be able to use Danny’s second chance of “fame” as a stepping-stone to somehow rekindling her Z-List celebrity dream.
‘No alcohol until after we’ve met with the Cruise Director,’ Andy said, settling himself down at one of the tables in the front row, sipping his orange juice.
Danny looked at him, putting his glass down on the stage behind him. ‘Do you know what really irritates me about you, Andy? It’s that – even after all this time – you’re still so bloody up-your-own-arse sensible!’
‘Yeah, thanks for that, Danny,’ Andy muttered, beginning to wish he hadn’t agreed to this whole ridiculous venture now. But then, he had to remember just why he was here. And Danny Johnson wasn’t going to ruin anything for him. He’d see to that. ‘Seems as though you haven’t changed all that much either, eh? You’re still the same fucked-up twat you were all those years ago.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Cal sighed, standing up and jumping down off the stage. ‘I’m going to find Frankie and Ross. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone, okay?’
Danny leaned back against the wall, folding his arms against him, refusing to look Andy in the eye. Back at the height of their fame, Danny and Andy had clashed on many an occasion over Danny’s behaviour; his drinking, his attitude, his inability to act like a team player. And it seemed as though all those years apart had done nothing to mellow the relationship.
‘I really thought you would’ve grown up by now,’ Andy said, crossing his legs as he watched Danny’s almost petulant behaviour, his refusal to look at him. ‘Seems I’m wrong, though.’
Danny just snorted, scuffing the heel of his boot against the back of the wall.
‘Yep,’ Andy sighed, standing up and stretching out. ‘Same old Danny. I feel sorry for you, mate. I feel really sorry for you.’
Danny swung round, facing Andy, his arms still folded. ‘Don’t fucking feel sorry for me, okay? Just, don’t. You… Jesus, I’ve had enough of this…’
Andy held up his hands, backing away. ‘Hey, lighten up. Look, why don’t we start again, alright? Wipe the slate clean; pretend we’ve only just met up again. We’re all tired; it’s been a long day… What do you say?’
Danny jumped down off the stage but ignored the hand Andy held out for him to shake. ‘I’m off to see what the rest of this place has to offer,’ he said, walking away from Andy. ‘Because anything has to be better than staying here, talking to you.’
7:40pm
Jemma came out of the rather compact bathroom of their comfortable twin-bedded cabin to find Aimee sitting on a pile of clothes the size of a small mountain watching Sky News on the cabin TV.
‘Sky News?’ Jemma said, picking up an electric-blue top from the middle of the pile and shaking it out. ‘Since when have you ever been interested in current affairs?’
‘I’ll have you know I pay a lot of attention to what goes on in the world.’
‘Yeah, as long as it’s a part of the w
orld where Keanu Reeves or Ryan Gosling happen to be.’
Aimee turned round and stuck her tongue out at Jemma, who returned the gesture. ‘You know I’m right,’ Jemma laughed. ‘And anyway, what the hell’s been going on in here? I didn’t even know you could get this much stuff into a suitcase.’
‘I need Gok Wan,’ Aimee groaned, resting her chin in her hand. ‘And a minor miracle. Nothing looks right, Jem.’
‘What are you talking about? This is all fabulous stuff. And it looked amazing when you tried it all on back home, so don’t sit there and say none of it looks any good. Come on; let’s see what we can find.’
Aimee dragged herself up off the bed and slipped off the robe she was wearing, sifting through the pile of discarded clothes along with Jemma. She was probably just tired after the journey and the early start. She’d no doubt feel better when she was dressed and ready to hit the various on-board bars.
‘You see, you look fabulous,’ Aimee sighed, checking out Jemma’s emerald green dress that went beautifully with her long dark curls. Aimee was the complete opposite of her friend, slightly shorter than Jemma with light-blond, just-past-shoulder-length hair, pale blue eyes and fairer skin. ‘You always look fabulous.’
‘Will you stop putting yourself down,’ Jemma admonished, pulling out a short silver dress with long sleeves and a plunging back. ‘Here. Put this on.’
‘On the first night?’ Aimee asked, nervously taking the dress from Jemma, turning it round a full 360 degrees.
‘Why not? Come on, Aimee. Do you remember who’s on this ship?’
‘Yeah. A lot of people over fifty, my mother, and a boy band we used to be obsessed with.’
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