‘Where the hell have you been?’ Andy asked, folding his arms as he stared at Danny.
‘I’ve been on the phone, not that it’s any of your business.’
‘We’re on in ten minutes, Danny. We could’ve done without the panic of you disappearing.’
‘We’re on a frigging ship in the middle of the Mediterranean. I couldn’t have disappeared very far, could I?’
‘It would’ve been common courtesy to let us know where you’d buggered off to, that’s all.’
‘Piss off, Andy. You’re not me frigging dad.’
‘Okay, okay. Let’s stop this now, alright?’ Cal said, throwing himself between the two of them. ‘Before this turns into something it doesn’t need to be.’ He looked at Danny. ‘And you – get your head straight and start acting like a team player.’
‘I’ve always been a team player, mate. It’s him you need to take a look at,’ Danny replied, indicating Andy.
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ Andy asked, swinging back round to face Danny, who just stared straight back at him.
‘I said, pack it in!’ Cal shouted.
Danny just shrugged and walked over to where Frankie and Ross were still peering out at the gradually growing crowd gathering in the Show Lounge.
‘What are you two gawping at?’ They stood aside to let Danny take a peek, his eyes automatically falling on the girl he’d met at the bar last night – what was her name again? Aimee, wasn’t it? Yeah, that was it. Aimee. She looked even prettier than Danny remembered; she had a tan beginning to develop, which showed up perfectly against the white off-one-shoulder top she was wearing, and her hair was down tonight, falling in loose curls around her pretty face. And somehow, seeing her sitting there, it made him feel nerves that hadn’t been present before.
‘Hey, Danny, come on,’ Cal shouted over. ‘You need to get changed, and quick, we’re on in five minutes, mate. Get a shift on.’
Danny pulled himself away from the wings, but he promised himself one thing – when this possible fiasco of a performance was over he was going to find Aimee. Stuff Davina and her constant bitching. He needed a bit of fun, something to take his mind off things. Yeah, he was going to find Aimee, and then he was going pick up right where he’d left off last night.
*
‘Have you seen my mam tonight?’ Aimee asked Jemma as they settled themselves down in their quite-close-to-the-front table in the Vegas Show Lounge. Perfect seats for that catching-of-the-eye moment, as Jemma had put it. Although, Aimee had been having second thoughts all through dinner. The idea of a holiday romance with an extremely sexy pop star seemed like a great idea when you were sitting having a girly laugh about it over a bottle of wine, but the reality of it actually happening was just too ridiculous to contemplate as far as Aimee was concerned. Danny Johnson was a once-very-famous man, after all, not just some bloke she’d taken a passing fancy to in the queue for pool towels at reception.
‘She’s over there,’ Jemma indicated. ‘Being chatted up by another admirer. She can’t half attract them can your mam.’
Aimee turned round to see her mother sitting at one of the tables lining the side of the lounge, in the company of a rather large-built, jolly-looking bearded man that Aimee vaguely recognised seeing somewhere before.
‘Wasn’t he on our shore excursion in Corsica this afternoon?’ Aimee asked, watching as her mother leaned into this new man, laughing that girlish laugh she’d adopted, which was trumped somewhat by her companion’s booming chuckle that seemed to draw a lot of attention to Marcie Marcello’s table. Not that Marcie would mind. Any kind of attention was good attention as far as she was concerned.
‘Who?’ Jemma asked, sucking her Tequila Sunrise – Cocktail of the Day aboard The Atlantica – through a bright pink straw.
‘That man. The one sitting with my mam. The one who looks like Brian Blessed.’
Jemma turned round in her seat, still sipping her cocktail. ‘Oh, yeah. He was one of those that Laugh-a-minute-Lydia practically had to drag away from the wine tasting. Took three people to prise his hand away from a bottle of dry white, apparently. What’s he doing with your mam? And where’s Ricardo?’
Aimee continued to watch as this new man leaned over and kissed Marcie gently on the cheek, causing her to laugh girlishly again whilst clutching her just-kissed cheek, fluttering her eyelashes at him as he got up and left her with a smile, blowing her another kiss.
‘Back in a sec,’ Aimee said, jumping out of her seat.
‘Aimee! Bon Voyage are on in a minute. Come on, we’ve got a plan to put into action here!’
‘I won’t be long,’ she shouted over her shoulder, running over to Marcie’s table, sliding down into the seat next to her. ‘Come on then. Who was he?’ Aimee asked, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at her mother. Was she blushing?
‘Oh, that’s Brendon. He’s a widower from County Kildare, and he’s adorable!’
‘Adorable,’ Aimee repeated, watching as her mother sipped coquettishly on a Kir Royale. ‘So, what happened to Ricardo then? Has he been tossed aside in favour of this new man?’
‘Of course not,’ Marcie admonished. ‘And I do wish you’d stop calling him Ricardo. His name’s Engelbert.’
‘His name is not Engelbert, Mam… So, has he been tossed aside like a used hanky then?’
‘No, he certainly has not,’ Marcie sniffed, taking another sip of Kir Royale. ‘But we’re not exclusive, my darling. He is proving to be a very sophisticated and charming companion on this holiday, but Brendon, well; he’s extremely endearing, and very entertaining. He could be marvellous inspiration for another character I’m dreaming up for my new novel. He’s my bit of rough.’
Aimee burst out laughing. ‘Your bit of rough? Oh, God. That’s just conjured up images in my head I really didn’t want to think about.’
Marcie looked at her daughter, pursing her lips. ‘I’ll have you know, Aimee, darling, that this cruise is giving me a new lease of life after what your father did to me. So, if I wish to play the field, so to speak, and enjoy myself whilst I’m on holiday, then so be it. And you could do worse than take a leaf out of my book, pet. After what you’ve been through a bit of fun wouldn’t hurt. You should go and find yourself a nice young man and indulge in a little holiday romance yourself.’
Had her mother been reading her mind or something? She hoped not, because there was quite a bit of “research material” in there that Aimee would quite like to keep secret. Until such time as she could put it into practise, that is. Fingers crossed.
She leaned over and kissed her mother’s red-rouged cheek, ignoring her last comment. ‘As long as you’re happy. Oh, look, here’s lover boy number one returning with what looks suspiciously like a bottle of champagne. You celebrating something?’
‘I sold five copies of The Sheriff’s Kiss out on the pool deck this afternoon whilst enjoying tea and scones with Engelbert. He can be a very persuasive salesman at times.’
‘Hmm. I bet he can.’ Aimee saw Jemma out of the corner of her eye waving frantically at her to hurry up and sit down as the lights slowly dimmed and the compere began to announce a very special night of entertainment. ‘You behave yourself, alright?’ Aimee winked at Marcie before running back over to Jemma, throwing herself into her seat as the lights finally went down and dry ice filtered out onto the stage – rather too much of it, Aimee thought. You couldn’t see a thing for the stuff. Bon Voyage had probably been on stage for ten minutes already, you’d never have known with the amount of smoke hanging around the place.
‘Can you believe we’re about to see Bon Voyage back together after all these years?’ Jemma squealed, grabbing Aimee’s arm. ‘It’s like being fifteen all over again!’
Aimee couldn’t deny a tiny fluttering of anticipation in her stomach as the strains of the bands first ever number one – We’re Here To Party – started to fill the packed Show Lounge. But she wasn’t altogether sure whether those butterflies were because she was about to see h
er favourite boy band back together and performing after almost sixteen years, or whether it was because she was about to see one of them in particular. Either way, she was feeling unusually emotional. She hoped she wasn’t going to cry – that would just be ridiculous!
Jemma’s grip on Aimee’s arm got tighter as the dry ice finally started to clear and five figures – all dressed in black and red – emerged from the smoke, although Aimee was almost sure that the coughing fit Ross Nelson seemed to be experiencing hadn’t meant to happen.
‘Oh-my-God!’ Jemma squealed again, and Aimee couldn’t help but let out a little squeal herself as all five members of Bon Voyage lifted their heads and started singing the track that had catapulted them to stardom all those years ago.
Suddenly, a barrage of screams coming from behind them alerted both Jemma and Aimee to the fact that they obviously weren’t alone in being the only fans on the boat and, swinging round in their seats, they noticed two whole rows of pushed-together tables to their left filled with about twenty or so hysterical women of all ages wearing Bon Voyage T-shirts circa 1993 and singing along loudly to the words of the song.
Aimee stared at Jemma, then they both burst out laughing. Looked like a fan club had got wind of this reunion and booked itself one hell of a holiday.
‘We may just have some competition,’ Aimee whispered to Jemma, their eyes now back on the band as Ross and Frankie attempted (rather unsuccessfully) back flips that were quickly covered up by Danny and Cal, who jumped in front of them as Andy took over lead vocals.
‘No chance,’ Jemma whispered back, her eyes not moving from Cal, who seemed to be wearing exceptionally tight trousers for a man who had to move about quite a bit. ‘They’re no competition for us. They’re just weird stalker-types.’
‘And what were you last night at the bar with Danny?’ Aimee hissed, removing Jemma’s hand from her arm, which now bore the marks of her friend’s manicured fingernails.
‘I was being friendly,’ Jemma smiled. ‘Now shut up and watch the band, will you? And remember – you’re supposed to be trying to catch Danny Boy’s eye.’
Aimee sat back in her seat, her eyes – whether she’d wanted them to or not – falling on Danny as he stood to the right of the stage, looking out ahead of him as he sang into his headset, his hips still swivelling the way they’d always done back in the day, that sexy vibe that she’d swooned over so many times in the past still very much there and she felt her stomach do those tiny little flips she’d experienced so often during their live gigs all those years ago. Those old, familiar feelings rushing back as though they’d never gone away. Except, this time, the man she was watching up there on that stage knew exactly who she was. He was real, he wasn’t just a poster on her wall anymore.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Jemma asked.
‘Nothing’s wrong with me.’
‘Your whole expression’s just changed. What’s up, Missy? I can almost see the cogs turning in your head. Is that a good sign?’
Aimee tore her eyes away from the stage for a second, her mind well and truly made up now. The nerves were gone; the doubts had been pushed to one side. It was time for shy, retiring Aimee to take a back seat. She was on holiday. And surely things that could quite possibly happen on holiday would stay on holiday, wouldn’t they? So, if Jemma was right, and Danny Johnson had been checking her out last night, then it was time for Aimee to capitalise on that. It was her duty. As a Bon Voyage fan. Or her sixteen-year-old self would never forgive her.
She looked at Jemma, smiling widely. ‘Remember what you said to me on the coach this afternoon? About going for it?’
Jemma’s face broke into a smile too. ‘Yeah?’
‘Well, maybe you were right. Maybe my mam was right – and you don’t know how much it pains me to say that. But, after what I’ve been through, I think I do deserve some fun.’
‘I know we’re right, Aimee. Come on, what’s going on in that head of yours?’
‘The makings of one hell of a holiday romance, that’s what,’ Aimee smiled, looking back at the stage, at Danny Johnson with his handsome face, piercing blue eyes and killer body. ‘And I’m going to have that holiday romance with my one-time pop idol – if it kills me.’
11:55pm
Hemingway’s was situated at the very top of the ship, and with it’s wall of windows that afforded a stunning 360 degree view outside, and the huge circular bar situated in the very centre of the room, it was the perfect place to not only watch the sun set every evening – which many people did whilst indulging in a little pre-dinner aperitif – but it was also the perfect place for a nightcap, a bar that many people retired to once the entertainment in the main Show Lounge was over for the evening.
It was certainly busy tonight as Jemma and Aimee sat at a secluded window table enjoying a bottle of red wine, relaxing in a bar that was fast becoming one of their favourites with its low lighting and tiny table lamps, the dark-wooded walls and chocolate-brown carpet giving it a really cosy feel.
They had toyed with the idea of paying Revival – the ship’s nightclub – a visit, but when they’d stuck their heads round the door and found that the place had been taken over by Bon Voyage’s travelling fan club, who’d been in the process of making the poor DJ dig out every single track the band had ever released, they’d thought twice about it and retired up to Hemingway’s instead. Far more civilised.
‘What a night!’ Jemma sighed, sitting back in an extremely comfortable brown leather chair.
‘Can’t argue with you there,’ Aimee agreed, looking out at the blanket of blackness outside as the ship made its way towards Italy and the next port of call. ‘I’m actually shattered. We must be getting old, eh? We can’t hack the long nights out anymore.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Jemma sniffed, taking a gulp of wine. ‘I’m fine. Got hours of energy left in me yet.’
‘You’ve just yawned!’ Aimee pointed out, checking her phone as a message popped up from her mother saying that she and Engelbert were going to the midnight buffet in The Fontana Restaurant and did they want to join them?
‘That wasn’t a yawn, I was just stretching my mouth,’ Jemma said.
‘Do we want to join my mam and Ricardo for the midnight buffet in The Fontana?’ Aimee asked, looking at Jemma.
‘Ooh, no. Not sure I could look at another piece of cake today. If we get hungry later we can always pop down to the Lido Café and grab something there, can’t we? Burger and chips 24 hours a day – and who said cruising was boring?’
Aimee quickly replied to her mother’s text then settled back in her chair to enjoy her wine; although the relaxing didn’t last long as Jemma’s sudden squealing almost made her spill her vino tinto all over her fabulous new Next top.
‘What the… Jemma! What the hell was that for?
‘Look who’s just walked in. Look! Over there!’
Aimee put her drink down and followed Jemma’s gaze, her stomach suddenly dipping to the point where she had to take a deep breath because everything she’d said down there in the Vegas Show Lounge, she’d meant it. At the time. But now that he was here, in person, again, she wasn’t sure she still had all that bravado of a couple of hours ago. Oh God, don’t let it desert her, not now, not when she’d just plucked up the courage to do something quite uncharacteristic. Mind you, that could have been the drink talking. ‘Oh. Wonder what he’s doing up here?’
‘Well, I’d say he was looking for someone, wouldn’t you? Come on, Aimee. After what you told me tonight – now’s your chance to put the wheels in motion, Chick… Oh, my God! Look out! He’s coming this way!’
Aimee couldn’t stop her stomach from doing a little back flip as she watched Danny Johnson make his way over to them, his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans, his olive-toned skin perfectly accentuated by the white shirt he was wearing, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his dark hair pushed back off his handsome face so those piercing blue eyes were very much on show.
‘Ok
ay. I’m going to leave you two alone,’ Jemma said, grabbing her handbag and standing up. ‘I’ll go and find Marcie. Maybe I can make room for a meringue swan or two after all.’
‘Jemma! Hang on, where are you going? Jemma!’
But Jemma just downed one last mouthful of wine and winked at Aimee before running out of Hemingway’s and down to the famous Fontana Midnight Buffet, leaving Aimee alone to face Danny. Man of her dreams and one-time obsession.
‘Is she late for something?’ Danny asked, approaching Aimee’s table, smiling down at her, and all Aimee could do was gulp and stare at him for a few seconds while she tried to believe that Danny Johnson, ex-pop idol, was standing there in front of her, talking to her. To her. Looking handsome as hell. Why did he have to look so handsome? She was sure he hadn’t looked that handsome all those years ago.
‘No, she’s… erm, she’s…’ She couldn’t get the words out and had to take another drink of wine to lubricate her suddenly dry throat. ‘She’s going to the midnight buffet.’
‘She’s in a bit of a hurry, isn’t she?’
‘I think she’s afraid all the profiteroles’ll be gone if she doesn’t get a shift on.’
Danny couldn’t stop the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. ‘Ah. I see. I think Andy and Cal are off there too, although Ross and Frankie are banned from going anywhere near it. Weight issues, y’know?’ he winked, and it was all Aimee could do not to pass out. That could quite possibly be the third time he’d winked at her. She was starting to feel quite faint now. Was he really here? Talking to her – again? Or had she just had too much all inclusive alcohol and was hallucinating?
‘And, erm, what about you?’ Aimee asked, hoping she looked more composed than she felt.
‘Didn’t fancy it. Not really hungry.’
Aimee couldn’t help but wonder what Jemma was going to do when she got down there and found the men of her dreams waiting in line to sample the chocolate fountain.
‘Can I sit down?’ Danny asked and Aimee looked up at him, suddenly remembering where she was and who was standing there in front of her.
Bon Voyage Page 6