Table For Eight

by Tricia Stringer

  Drawing the lace partly over her face she peered at her reflection.

  “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who will be seated at my table in the grand hall?” She laughed at her silly rhyme. “And what intrigue will shipboard life provide this time?”

  Bernard Langdon strode purposefully up and back in an empty corner of the deck, a mobile phone pressed to his ear. The pool deck was almost empty. Only a few passengers were wandering among the neatly lined-up deckchairs, peering into the spas or checking out the bars. He assumed most of the early birds already aboard were settling into their rooms or indulging in the buffet dining rather than taking in the sunny delights of the pool deck. Bernard was tall and, he liked to think, still buff for his sixty-nine years. He liked the ladies and they liked him. It was the main reason he’d come on this cruise, but business was getting in the way of him beginning to enjoy himself.

  “Sell it, Jack,” he barked into the phone.

  He groaned inwardly as his broker made excuses from his office back in Brisbane. Bernard had been buying and selling property all his life. He’d employed Jack ten years ago when the time looked right to take a back seat and enjoy the fruits of his smart investor’s brain. Jack did the paperwork for him, kept an eye on things. He crossed the t’s and dotted the i’s that Bernard sometimes overlooked. They made a good team and Bernard had grown to trust him, but Jack was conservative. Bernard got that, even found it useful, but sometimes Jack was downright pig-headed.

  “I don’t want to hold off any longer.” Bernard clapped a hand to his free ear as he wandered too close to the giant music speakers blaring out eighties music. “I should have sold a week ago. I’m losing ground.”

  Jack’s voice whined in his ear again.

  “I don’t care, Jack, I’m not prepared to wait. Sell, damn it! Or do I have to do it myself? I’m supposed to be on holiday. I’m on a cruise ship, for fuck’s sake.”

  A woman walking past glared at him and ushered her child away.

  “Sorry.” Bernard called. “What?” He scowled at his phone then pressed it back to his ear. “No, I’m not saying sorry to you, Jack. Just sell the damned property, will you? At least we’ll make a bit of money. If we wait till I get back that window will be gone.”

  He jabbed end call with his finger and shoved the phone into his pocket. He’d had this conversation with Jack only yesterday. The younger man thought this particular block of flats close to the river and the city of Brisbane would make them a fortune. Bernard had let him buy it three years ago. The market for such a block had shown promise then but they’d done nothing, in fact the tenancy rate was way down. People were opting for the sleek modern apartments going up all around them. Bernard had made his money on quick decisions. If you let emotion come in to play when dealing with property it could be your downfall. He’d seen it happen to others. Jack had fallen for the old-world charm of this particular building but it wasn’t paying returns. The good news was he’d had an offer to buy. It was an older building and in the current market in that part of town he thought it better to sell while he could still make a profit. Jack wanted to wait, Bernard didn’t, and it was Bernard’s money.

  He took a long deep breath then turned as he slowly let it out. The pool sparkled in the brilliant sunshine. When he’d flown in earlier today there’d been rain but now the deck and everything on it was bathed in brilliance, including the bar. That’s where he should be, perched at a bar, cocktail in hand, waiting for the inevitable arrival of the ladies.

  “Would you look at this!” Maude bounced onto the bed. Her broad backside sank into the neatly made covers as she reached for the plate that sat on the cupboard beside her. “Chocolate-coated strawberries with compliments of our travel agent. I knew he fancied me.”

  Celia watched from her position just inside the cabin door as Maude lifted the clear lid from the strawberries and stuffed one in her mouth. The agent was at least twenty years younger than their slightly-over-fifty and had responded politely to Maude’s many questions. Celia had seen no sign, on their several visits to finalise their cruise booking, that the poor fellow had any more interest in them than any other paying customers. However that hadn’t stopped Maude from playing up to him, and that was the reason Celia had asked her to come along on this cruise in the first place. Maude was a flirt and Celia needed to learn how to be.

  “This is going to be great, don’t you think?” Maude didn’t wait for an answer but rose to her feet and strode two steps to the bathroom. “Not a lot of room but we should be fine.”

  Celia took in the space that was grandly called a stateroom. It had two single beds, one pushed against each side wall, and a gap between the two that was big enough for Maude or Celia but not both at the same time. She was surprised by her reflection in the mirror over the bed. She still wasn’t used to the spray tan and lighter hair colour, all part of her pre-cruise final makeover, but she was happy with what she saw all the same. Turning sideways she took in the bathroom where Maude was now reapplying her lipstick. It was a tiny box with barely enough room for Maude. Beside it there was a wardrobe that they would both have to share and that was it for their holiday home.

  “I wonder where we’ll put our cases?” Celia opened a wardrobe door. There was more space than she’d thought but she couldn’t see two cases and their hand luggage fitting in there. She glanced back at the compact room.

  The thing that bothered her more than the small space was the complete absence of light when they’d entered. They had an interior room almost in the middle of the ship and even with the door open to the passage behind them it had been dark, until Maude had found the light switch.

  Maude stepped out of the bathroom and grinned at Celia. “I’m sure they’ll fit somewhere. Don’t worry about the little things.” She patted Celia’s shoulder in a condescending manner. “Think about the adventures we’re going to have. Are you ready? We’ve a whole ship to explore.”

  Celia flattened herself against the wall as Maude reached for the door handle. The other woman squeezed her buxom frame past Celia and let out a small belch as she passed.

  “Ooops!” Maude giggled. “Better out than in.”

  Celia wrinkled her nose at the smell of garlic and hoped she wouldn’t regret her decision to ask Maude to come on the cruise with her.

  Maude looked back. “Come on, let’s go and check out the talent.” She gave a laugh that was more like a series of snorts. Celia took a deep breath and followed her out into the passage. After all that’s what she’d come for. Her ex-husband was somewhere on this ship with his new wife and she was going to make sure he knew exactly how well Celia was doing without him.

  The corridor ran from one end of the ship to the other, so that from the middle it gave the appearance of stretching on forever. Broken at regular intervals on either side by cabin doors and the occasional service door, and the only landmarks were the room numbers.

  Christine Romano staggered forward under the weight of a bag over each shoulder and trundled another beside her. Her husband, Frank, walked two steps behind as usual, a backpack slung over his arm. She stopped to look at the number and name by the nearest door and groaned.

  “I think we’ve come too far. The numbers are getting bigger.”

  “I thought you were checking as we went?”

  “I haven’t looked at every door,” she snapped. Frank had been acting clueless all day, right from when they caught the taxi to the airport, checking in to their flight and all through the various stages of customs and boarding the ship. His reluctance to take some initiative was wearing her down even more than usual.

  A steward appeared from behind them. “Can I help, ma’am?”

  Christine peered at her name badge. “Yes, Maria, we are lost. We were told to come along this corridor.” She held up the card with the room number on it.

  “You are in the right place, ma’am. You’ve come a little too far, that’s all.”

  “The directions we were given were not very
clear then.” Christine hoisted the bags higher on her shoulders. “I need to sit down.”

  “Please come this way.” Maria set off back along the corridor.

  “Let me take one for you.” Frank slid a backpack from his wife’s arm. The bag dragged heavily on his shoulder. “No wonder you were struggling, what’s in this?”

  “My laptop, iPad, books.”

  “Why have you brought all that on a cruise?”

  “Here we are, ma’am, sir.” Maria smiled broadly at them from a few doors away. “I will be your steward for the cruise. Please ask if you need any other assistance.”

  Frank strode off, inserted his card and entered, propping the door open with Christine’s bag. Maria remained in the corridor.

  “Thanks,” Christine sniffed. “We’ll let you know.” She paused inside the door. “It’s not very big, is it? I thought a stateroom would be large.”

  “It’s bigger than that cabin we shared with the kids at the beach last holidays.” Frank opened the fridge. “Not stocked like a hotel bar though.”

  “I told you, Frank, we had to organise a drinks package. It was something I thought you might have done before we left.” She glanced around again. “Where are our cases?”

  “Maybe they’re lost.” He unlocked the large glass door and stepped out onto the balcony and into the glare of the afternoon sunshine. The heat from outside did battle with the cool from the air conditioner.

  “Close the door, Frank.”

  “You can see the Harbour Bridge from out there.” He stepped back inside and slid the door shut. “I’m starving. You said there’d be food once we got here.”

  “We’ve only just found our room.” Christine brushed back the tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “We’ve been travelling all day.”

  “A swim first then, that will freshen us up, and we can find some food.”

  “Let’s catch our breath. Anyway, my bathers are in my case and my case isn’t here.”

  Frank shook his head. “I told you to pack them in your carry-on luggage.”

  Christine moved her bag and pushed the door, which shut with a heavy thud. “I forgot.”

  They locked looks for a moment, then Frank smiled and Christine glimpsed a younger Frank; the carefree man of their pre-children days.

  He flopped onto the bed and flung out his arms. “This is a bit of all right, babe. Top shelf stuff, good furniture, our own bathroom and a balcony to boot.”

  She eyed her husband spread-eagled on the bed as if he had not a care in the world. He probably didn’t. Other than what was to eat or how he could fit in a swim or a run, little seemed to worry Frank. He was long and lean and not a grey hair to show for his forty-five years. Christine had been hiding the grey since the birth of their first child and had gone up two dress sizes since then. He hadn’t called her babe in a long time. “Thanks to Dad.”

  Frank’s smile disappeared. She wished she hadn’t uttered the words. It had taken her months to convince him to come on this cruise. Besides giving her an opportunity to work on her father it was meant to be fun and a chance to spend quality time together. Their lives were so busy at home.

  She had been the one to suggest a cruise. Frank hadn’t wanted to come. It had taken a lot of work to get him to agree. Then they’d only had enough money for an interior cabin. After several hints to her father that he’d enjoy cruising as well, he’d agreed to come too and pay the extra so they could have a balcony.

  “I was happy with an interior room.” Frank rolled away from her and rose to his feet. He barely glanced her way as he headed for the door. “I’m going to find some food.”

  She nodded, a fresh wave of misery flooding through her.

  “Are you coming up on deck?” he asked from the door.

  “I’ll wait for our cases.”

  He pulled the door closed gently behind him. Christine held her breath. Would he come back? Throw open the door and drag her along with him? She willed him to make a joke of it like he used to but the door remained firmly closed. She let out a long slow sigh. How had it come to this?

  It was the first time they’d holidayed alone since before they’d had children. This cruise had to make a difference, surely. She had her sights set on rekindling some romance with her husband. She drew herself up straight and lifted her chin. First, she’d sort her father and then she could focus on Frank. Neither of them could make excuses or avoid her here. She would make sure this cruise worked out perfectly.

  Jim Fraser sank lower in his chair. The mobile phone he’d been talking on minutes before slowly slipped from his grip and landed with a soft thud on the carpeted floor of his suite. There was a pounding in his ears and a tightness in his chest. He closed his eyes and forced his breathing to slow. This couldn’t be happening. He’d taken his medication and yet the gnawing pain of panic that had been with him for days now deepened and gripped him like a vice.

  “I’m sorry, Dad, I’m not coming.” Anthony’s words echoed in his head. Jim couldn’t remember the reason his son had given. A wave of dread had drowned out further conversation. Anthony was supposed to be accompanying him on this cruise and now he wasn’t coming. Jim grasped the wooden arms of the chair, closed his eyes and took in a long slow breath. In his head, he could hear the therapist’s words. “A long slow breath in, Mr Fraser. Now blow out gently through the mouth and visualise the anxiety flowing out with it.”

  Jim concentrated on his breathing and gradually the tension eased. He opened his eyes and looked around the suite. Anthony had asked him what the upgraded cabin was like but Jim’s reply had been brief. It had a couch and contemporary wooden furnishings with a television and sliding doors out to a corner balcony. The bedroom opened off the small sitting room and was made up with two single beds; one for him and one for Anthony. Jim gripped the chair arms tighter. He would never have come on this cruise by himself.

  His daughter, Tamara, had suggested the idea several months ago. Jim had said no but she had kept on at him and her brother until they’d agreed. With Anthony along for company, Jim had felt brave enough to face the holiday. Now here he was alone on a ship about to sail out through Sydney Harbour on a trip he should have been taking with his wife.

  He closed his mind to thoughts of his beautiful Jane and pushed up from his chair. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get off. He had only put his carry-on bag on the bed. Nothing had been unpacked. He gave a brief thought to his case. Were ships like planes? If you weren’t on board would they hold up the departure? He picked up his backpack and opened the door. At the same time a voice began to speak through the PA system and the nice young steward who had helped him find his room appeared before him.

  What had he said his name was? Jim glanced at the man’s badge. Ricardo.

  “Hello, Mr Fraser,” he said in his stilted English. “You must leave your bag here for the muster drill, sir. Just bring your life jacket please.” Ricardo smiled widely and went on to the next door. Jim stepped back into his cabin and closed the door. He’d missed his chance to get off this floating hotel.

  Three

  Day One – Sydney Harbour

  “Can you believe we’re actually here?” Maude shimmied in her chair to the beat of the music resounding around the deck but her words and the sounds of the band were lost in the long blare of the ship’s horn.

  Celia jumped and knocked over her glass of champagne. “Oh no!” She snatched it back up but the contents spread across the table in a trail of fizzing bubbles.

  “You’re so jumpy.” Maude shifted her seat so the liquid dripped harmlessly to the wooden deck. “I didn’t know that about you.”

  “Know what?” Celia drained the remains of the glass before she wasted any more.

  “You’re the nervous type.”

  “I’m not usually. The ship’s horn was very loud.” She glanced around as she had been ever since they’d come on deck. Ed was here somewhere with his new wife. Celia had only seen Facebook photos of Debbie. She wasn
’t sure she’d recognise her but she’d know her ex. They’d been married for twenty-seven years before she’d been traded for a new model. Celia was on this cruise to show Ed she’d moved on but she wasn’t ready for him to see her yet.

  The horn blared again as the ship steamed down the harbour and she was distracted by the sight of the Sydney Harbour Bridge looming nearer, like a giant gateway to her venture. She felt a stab of anxiety. There was no turning back, her plan was in motion. She just needed the courage to carry it out.

  Maude stood and moved out to the open deck for a better view. “Oh look. There are people right near the top doing the bridge climb.”

  Celia joined her. They both waved then tipped their heads back as the ship slid beneath the bridge. From their vantage point it was as if they could reach out and touch the criss-cross of metal that supported the huge coathanger-like structure.

  “It looks so close, as if the bloody funnels might hit.” Maude grimaced. “No doubt they’ve done this before.”

  Celia lifted her sunglasses. “No doubt.”

  They returned to the table Maude had snared them, tucked in along the side of one of the upper decks. It was sheltered from the heat of the late afternoon sun by the walking deck above. Celia looked across the water to Circular Quay and the Opera House slipping by. She’d only been to Sydney twice before, both times with Ed on business. The last time had been three years ago. She remembered it like it was yesterday.

  She’d spent an enjoyable afternoon wandering aimlessly among the quaint shops of The Rocks where she’d bought a brightly coloured painting of the harbour. Later she’d ambled on around the Quay, weaving her way through the constant tide of people to the steps of the Opera House. There she’d leaned against the rails close to the water and gazed up at the giant sails.