Sail Away

by Celia Imrie

  This new information about both Stan’s cabin and its proximity to the games room made Suzy want to run to tell Jason, but she knew it would be better if she first had a chance to talk to Stan himself, alone. Though now that she knew about his proclivities she didn’t think she would be able to bear being in his presence. He had sickened her enough in rehearsal, with his belches, his sweaty clothes, and the flabby cheeks flecked with crumbs and grease from the food he was constantly scoffing. Now the very thought of him made her feel physically sick.

  She stood still, holding the rail, taking deep breaths.

  ‘Seasick?’

  It was Blake.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘Just trying to take the air. Which is pretty hard at the moment.’

  ‘If you were sick, you should never lean over the rails, you know. It’s how people end up overboard. We wouldn’t want that or there would be no one to take the morning drama classes.’ Blake did a little rebalancing act to counteract the rolling ship. It consisted of a shuffle of tiny steps to the side and back again. Suzy had to bite her lip to avoid laughing out loud.

  ‘Anyone turn up for your class this morning?’ he asked.

  ‘One girl.’

  ‘Still able to do it?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  Every conversation with Blake felt like a test which she was failing.

  ‘Anyhow, must get on,’ he said. ‘Best time to catch a quick game of tennis. No one wants to play when it’s rocking about.’

  ‘Table tennis?’

  ‘Proper tennis.’ He pointed in the direction of a large area enclosed in green netting.

  ‘I had no idea there were tennis courts,’ she said, just for something to say.

  ‘Virtual golf too. And do you see those boxes?’

  Suzy looked along to where Blake was indicating.

  ‘Full of equipment for quoits, shuffleboard, Baggo. Old-fashioned deck games. We must have a match some day when the weather clears up.’

  Suzy took a late lunch alone in the cafeteria, then went back to lurk near Stan’s cabin. People came and people went, which meant that she could eliminate certain cabin numbers. When she saw Jun looming, preparing to start doing turn-downs and placing chocolates on pillows, Suzy made a hasty exit through the table-tennis room and returned to her cabin.

  She checked her emails. Another from India telling Suzy that the police seemed to be tracking a small portion of her money. It was a long trail, covering many countries, and multiple accounts. They appeared to think that The Importance company were mere small fry who had accidentally led the fraud squad on to a vast financial operation. ‘Small fry!’ India declared. ‘It’s outrageous. How can they call tens of thousands of pounds small fry?’

  Suzy laughed to herself. If India’s tens of thousands was small fry, what on earth would the police be making of her few hundreds? But to Suzy it was a bloody fortune.

  She moved to the next email: a reply from the bank, stating that they couldn’t do anything by email instruction and would Suzy please put her request to stop the old account and open a new one in writing or call in at her local branch.

  Oh yes. That was a jolly good idea! How much of her money would have disappeared by then? She spent a long while trying to open up a new account online, somewhere she could put her shipboard salary, but this was also to no avail. Did these people imagine that everyone was always sitting by a phone and a postbox? She sent off another impassioned email to the bank, explaining her circumstances and praying it would be read by a real person and not a robot, as the last one had obviously been.

  She decided to go to the purser’s office to try and sort things out.

  While she stood in the queue, she wondered if Barbara had any more news about the investigation. Barbara did seem to be the one who held most knowledge about this whole horrible business. She would write to her later and let her know that Stan was here, aboard the Blue Mermaid.

  Once Suzy reached the top of the queue, the girl behind the desk, not understanding that Suzy was on the entertainment staff, couldn’t get to grips with her request that her pay must be held back until she could open a new bank account as her current London account was unsafe. Eventually a supervisor came out and Suzy was ushered into a back room, where she told the whole story once more. The supervisor wanted to know whether Suzy would like to contact the police. Suzy explained that they were already aware.

  ‘Surely the money would be paid by Blue Mermaid directly to your agent?’ said the supervisor. ‘It’s him you need to contact.’

  Suzy felt an utter fool. Of course, the supervisor was right. It was Max she needed to tell to hold on to the money.

  ‘That’s what happens when you panic,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry I wasted your time.’

  ‘It’s nothing, really. I’m glad to have reassured you.’

  Suzy told her about the Zurich theatre company folding, and how it had unsettled her. She hesitated before disclosing the rest of the sordid story, but instead asked: ‘If you find criminals onboard, do you lock them up? Do you have a prison? You seem to have everything else.’

  The supervisor laughed. ‘The Captain has power to lock criminals in their cabin and place a 24-hour guard outside. Then we wait until police can come aboard – either when we reach port or, in desperate circumstances, using the SBS.’

  Suzy asked what that was and was told that it was the maritime version of the SAS. The Special Boat Service.

  ‘On the US side of the ocean, of course, it wouldn’t be the SBS, but the American equivalent, the Navy Seals, or, if we’re heading into New York, the NY river police.’ The supervisor scrutinised her. ‘Do you know of a criminal aboard?’

  Suzy wasn’t sure what to say to this, as she had no proof of anything about Stan.

  ‘I was just wondering,’ she said. ‘We actors! Vivid imagination, you know.’

  As she walked away from the office she realised that the supervisor must think her slightly mad.

  *

  By dinnertime, Amanda was feeling not only better, and relaxed from her afternoon in the spa, but also very hungry.

  She put on her best clothes and went along to the grand restaurant to join her friends. She could see that the ship was still swaying, but, now that she had had an injection, it didn’t seem to matter.

  On the way in she passed Myriam who was headed in the other direction.

  ‘Amanda, honey, can’t believe I’m going to miss you. I’m on my way to the cinema. There’s a movie I’ve always wanted to see and it starts in ten minutes. How’ve you been?’

  ‘A bit under the weather, but I’m fine now.’

  ‘I wanted to pick your brains, my dear. I know you are a vast suppository of information. But I’d better get on. Perhaps see you later in the ballroom and we can gas till the early hours, while we dance the flamingo with those handsome hosts.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Amanda, adding, just to be polite, ‘and what film are you going to see?’

  ‘Tess of the Dormobiles,’ said Myriam, disappearing along the corridor in a cloud of wafting silk and the lingering scent of Arpège.

  As Amanda, already feeling floaty on the mixture of hunger and drugs, tried to digest her third surreal conversation of the day, she saw that Liliane and Tyger were seated at the table, along with the magician, Arturo, who was bending down, pulling out a chair, ready to sit. When he saw Amanda approaching, he stood upright.

  ‘I was just passing,’ he said, ‘and I recognised the lovely lady here, who I caused to vanish last night. I had to make sure she was all in one piece!’ He bowed in Amanda’s direction and moved away.

  ‘Don’t go on my account,’ she called after him.

  He waved back. ‘I have my own place at my own table – over there.’ He pointed to the other side of the room and headed off in that direction.

  Amanda greeted the other two, and glanced at the remaining empty seats.

  ‘No Chris and Jennie?’

  After what she’d hea
rd of their conversation that afternoon in the spa, she had been looking forward to talking to them.

  ‘I don’t think they like to come here when we have the darling boy with us,’ said Liliane, smiling at Tyger. ‘Which is a great relief. In show business, we are not used to encounter people with closed minds.’

  Amanda looked at Liliane.

  ‘I didn’t know you were in show business.’

  ‘When I was younger.’ Liliane shrugged and waved the suggestion away. ‘I was a singer at a bar in Paris.’ She pulled up her menu and ran her finger down the list. ‘Now, which delight shall I choose tonight?’

  ‘You didn’t fancy seeing the film, Tyger?’ asked Amanda.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you having fun on the voyage?’

  ‘I like the elegance in the evenings,’ he replied. ‘I should like to learn to dance well, like Jason. It’s a good thing to have up your sleeve.’

  He pulled a couple of toothpicks from the container in the centre of the table and fiddled with them.

  Amanda wondered how she would have felt, and tried to imagine her son Mark when he was Tyger’s age. It was a difficult comparison. There was something about Tyger, a mix of sophistication and naïvety, which made him unique.

  ‘What do your parents do?’

  ‘They’re dead.’ Tyger spoke in a matter-of-fact way. ‘Car crash. When I was six. I live with my aunt.’

  Amanda wished the floor would open up and swallow her. But it was Tyger who changed the subject.

  ‘Which do people use more of on this ship, do you think? Teabags or toothpicks?’

  Amanda had no idea but, seeing the little holder on every table, made her choice. ‘Toothpicks, I suppose.’

  ‘No. Passengers on this ship use almost three times as many teabags as toothpicks. It seems that these days no one cares much about picking their teeth.’ Tyger dropped the broken toothpicks on to his side plate, while nodding proudly at his knowledge. ‘Guess what? According to tomorrow’s Programme, just after lunch we’ll be passing over the final resting place of the Titanic. That’ll be something.’

  Not expecting a reply, he went back to his food.

  ‘That gentleman friend of yours and Myriam’s is quite a cool customer,’ said Liliane quietly, out of nowhere, and, Amanda thought, with rather a sly air.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Today, since you’ve been off the scene, he’s lost no time becoming Myriam’s best friend and most assiduous escort.’ Liliane bent in towards Amanda and lowered her voice. ‘I thought you should know. That I should warn you. Knowledge is power.’

  Amanda felt a shock run through her: part disappointment, part jealousy and part anger that Liliane had taken it upon herself to share the information.

  She paused before replying and tried to pull herself together. After all, only a few days ago, had she not dreaded the thought that this would turn out to be a real-life version of The Love Boat? She had not come aboard looking for love. This wasn’t even a silly holiday romance. It was a dance or two and one episode of afternoon tea. If Myriam had won Karl’s interest, then Amanda would leave things as they were. She had no intention of making a scene or fighting over a man she had barely known for a couple of days.

  After dinner, Amanda felt very tired again and decided against returning to the ballroom.

  Instead she went back to her cabin. She planned to spend tomorrow morning making the most of her spa pass, so tonight, before bed, she would catch up with life at home, via email.

  She left the ones from her solicitors, as they were bound to be final statements of account or some things about the deeds. She went straight to a newsy email from Patricia, who was raving about the wonderful latest nanny and her own new job, which she said was both trying and rewarding. Mark, she wrote, was overjoyed at having the run of Amanda’s new flat, which he thought excellently sited. It was so convenient, he’d told Patricia, that he no longer missed having a car (his own having been commandeered by the wife and kids).

  Well, at least there was some good news. Amanda felt glad that everything had worked out so well.

  Next, she tackled the solicitors’ emails, which were exactly what she had expected.

  The final email she thought must be spam as it was from no one she had heard of, and came with the heading URGENT PLEASE CONTACT SONIA.

  At first, Amanda couldn’t make it out.

  Some woman called Sonia asking Amanda could she please phone her urgently. She claimed to be Mark’s girlfriend.

  Only three days ago Mark’s girlfriend was called Jasmine, wasn’t she? Was this a new one, or had Amanda got it all wrong?

  Sonia wrote that she had moved in to Amanda’s ‘lovely new flat’ yesterday … Moved in? So, without a by-your-leave, Mark had invited some strange woman to move in to her new flat. Sometimes Amanda wanted to strangle Mark. Sonia continued, saying that they’d had one lovely day there, then she had just finished unpacking her things, and was curled up in bed with Mark, when the doorbell rang. At first they had ignored it, as the time was coming up for midnight. The bell went on ringing, so Mark opened up. Seconds later the bedroom was crammed with police officers, one reading Mark his rights, another putting handcuffs on him. They dragged him out of the flat into a police van, leaving her alone to sort it all out. She had only known Mark a few days and had no idea what to do next, but found Amanda’s email on his laptop. Could Amanda help at all? Mark, she added, was now being held at the police station at Paddington Green.

  *

  Suzy was lying in her pyjamas reading when there was a knock on the cabin door. She knew it must be very late, so looked at the bedside clock.

  12.29.

  She sat up and asked quietly, ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s me,’ said Jason. ‘I have to talk.’

  Suzy opened up.

  Jason looked exhausted. As he came in he undid his top button, loosened his bow tie and said, ‘I know where Stan is.’

  ‘You’ve seen him?’

  ‘No. I haven’t seen him … yet. I thought I’d wait for you.’

  Suzy offered Jason a chair.

  ‘I’m not staying. It’s just that I’ve discovered his cabin number.’

  Suzy thought through her various efforts and wondered how this could be true.

  ‘I’m friends with one of the waiters. After I finished dancing, we met up and I got him to do a table search on the maître d’s list. Stan’s name came up pretty early. Lucky he’s an A.’

  Suzy felt cross that she hadn’t tried this herself, but she knew no waiters, except for the one at her own table, and she’d eaten in the restaurant so rarely they had hardly struck up a rapport.

  ‘If I get some kip in now I could join you in the morning, straight after your class, and we could try knocking on his door.’

  Suzy was about to suggest they do it before her class but this she knew would be wrong on every level as it would mean knocking on Stan’s door at 8 a.m. as well as dragging Jason out of bed cruelly early. After all, it was not as though Stan could actually go anywhere.

  ‘OK. Let’s do it.’ She paused before adding: ‘You know his room is right beside the place where the teenagers all gather to play games?’

  ‘No. I didn’t.’ Jason visibly paled. ‘You already knew his cabin number then? Why didn’t you tell me, Suze? Have you been there already without me? Did you talk to him?’

  ‘I only know which section he’s in. Back end of the ship. Deck 8.’

  ‘To be precise, 8127.’ Jason turned and gripped the door handle.

  ‘Goodnight, Jason.’ Suzy pulled up the sheets. ‘I’ll be done by about eleven fifteen. Give me time to change then I’ll come and knock you up.’

  ‘Oooh-errr, missus!’ Jason shut the door behind him and disappeared into the corridor. She heard him open the door to his cabin and close it behind him.

  It was only after he had gone that Suzy remembered she had not written to Barbara. Before tomorrow’s encounter with
Stan, she wanted all the information she could get. So she got up and went back on to the laptop. Without saying exactly why, she asked Barbara for a clear indication of everything known so far about Zurich and the vanished money, with particular reference to Stan.

  She worked out that in London it would be around 4 a.m. Hopefully Barbara would be an early riser and Suzy would wake to a detailed reply.

  They had to get to the bottom of it all.

  And the key to everything was Stan Arbuthnot.

  *

  Overnight, Amanda spent many hours down in the purser’s office. She explained her predicament and was ushered once again through to a back room where she accepted the charges and was put on a satellite phone.

  She talked to the Desk Officer at Paddington Green, who affirmed that her son had been arrested at her new address. The gruff-sounding man told Amanda that, as the owner of the property, they were also looking for her, so if she’d like to give herself up it would make life easier all round.

  She told them that it would be impossible as she was now in the middle of the Atlantic. ‘On what charge is my son being held?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not at liberty to give you information like that over the phone, Mrs Herbert. But if you could just come into the station …’

  Again, Amanda tried to make it clear to the man that it was impossible, at the moment, for her to get anywhere.

  She looked at the phone timer and realised she had clocked up almost $70 and yet got nowhere.

  ‘If you’d like to give me your current address?’ said the police officer.

  Wishing she could thrust the receiver down his throat, she told him once more that he had her current address, but that at this time she was onboard a ship in the Atlantic Ocean. She was around 600 miles from the nearest land, which was probably Newfoundland or Nova Scotia.

  ‘Where are you sleeping tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘In my cabin,’ she replied.

  ‘You don’t have a more precise location?’