Table For Eight

by Tricia Stringer

  Ketty held her head high, gripped the polished wood of the handrail and slowly made her way down the curved marble staircase that led to the Marlborough dining room. There were lifts of course, like those found in the main lobby of any hotel, or the glass lifts that travelled between the four floors of the glittering atrium, but she preferred the atrium stairs. When she took what she thought of as the grand entrance to the dining room, it made her feel like she was a duchess instead of a dressmaker.

  She hadn’t wanted to miss the final voyage of the Diamond Duchess. She’d taken seven of her cruises on this grand old girl, now eight. It was on the Duchess she’d met Harry from the Hunter Valley; a romance that had barely lasted six months after the reality of their different home lives took hold but full of fond memories. And it was aboard the Duchess she’d helped a shy young man propose to the girl he’d loved since high school, and she’d used her creative talents to boost the confidence of a woman who went home and opened a shoe and accessory shop in her hometown which was still flourishing. There had been sad times too, of course; death was also part of cruise life although most passengers remained blissfully unaware. On her second cruise aboard the Duchess, Ketty had supported a woman from the cabin next door when her husband had died in his sleep. There were other deaths too but she preferred to focus on the happy times, like the first night of the cruise, which was always full of anticipation.

  Ketty looked around at her fellow passengers and felt a bit like a grand old girl herself. Most were still wearing their casual boarding clothes but she’d changed for dinner. For this cruise, she’d packed her Jackie O–inspired collection and tonight she’d chosen a simple but elegant sheath dress, a deep purple silk with a boat neck and fitted waist. She’d felt instantly regal when she slipped it on.

  A deep male voice sounded from nearby followed by a throaty chuckle. She stopped, and a prickle swept over her scalp and spread across her shoulders. She twisted to study the people seated in the lounge bar. She was searching for ghosts. What had brought this on? Perhaps she was being too nostalgic. She hadn’t thought of Leo for years and here it was, the second time today she’d imagined his voice, the deep warm tones etched in her memory forever. She’d had her eyes checked recently, but maybe she should have had her hearing done while she was at it. Ketty straightened and took the final flight of steps down to the gleaming marble-floored waiting area outside her dining room.

  The doors weren’t open. She was early as planned. A couple still dressed in what Ketty thought of as ‘day clothes’ milled about reading the menus on display. She never read the menu in advance but preferred the revelation of each new meal once she was seated. She strolled to the etched glass door with its wooden surrounds and curved brass handle and waited. There was a hive of activity beyond the glass and she would be at the head of the line. It was another of her first-night rituals.

  By the time the locks snapped and the doors were pulled open there was quite a queue behind her. Ketty’s smile widened to see the maître d’ who stood before her.

  “Miss Clift, what a delight to have you aboard again. I was pleased to see your name on my table seating list.”

  His rich Spanish accent thrilled her as did the warm clasp of her hand in his.

  “It’s good to see you too, Carlos.”

  “I couldn’t miss the final sailing of my beautiful Diamond Duchess.”

  “Nor I, once I heard. Thank you for letting me know. And I’m so happy my favourite maître d’ is overseeing this dining room.”

  “Ahhh, Miss Clift, it is always my pleasure to look after you, and how delightful you look as always. You remind me of Jackie O in that dress.”

  Ketty smiled and nodded. Carlos had an eye for fashion and a smooth tongue but she knew from experience he was also genuine. She glanced back at the press of people behind her. “I’d better not hold up the works. I hope we’ll get the chance to talk later. What table do you have for me this time?”

  He beckoned to a young waiter who hurried closer. “Take Miss Clift to table fifteen.”

  “Thank you.” Ketty smiled but Carlos was already greeting the next group of people. First night was always extra busy with everyone finding their tables. Ketty had cruised many times on different ships and the maître d’s often changed but Carlos had made this job his life’s work and he was her favourite. He was friendly, even familiar, once he got to know people, but Ketty had witnessed him putting a wayward waiter in his place, managing the most difficult of passengers and fulfilling unusual requests, such as the time a woman had booked a table for five and required a fresh lot of diners to fill the other four empty seats each night. Providentially that had been a short cruise, only five nights, but Carlos had managed it. There was no doubt he was in charge, overseeing the smooth running of all the ship’s dining rooms and restaurants, their staff and diners.

  Ketty followed the waiter past a row of smiling senior staff, resplendent in their white jackets and black pants. Her gaze swept the immaculate tables, with sparkling glassware and silver cutlery glistening on the crisp white tablecloths, and in the centre of each table a slim silver vase with a single orchid added some colour. At each setting a napkin sat neatly folded and shaped as a fan. The lighting from wall sconces and downlights was muted, enough to see by but creating a soft ambience. It was this glamour and attention to detail that Ketty adored, so different from dining alone in her flat.

  “Please watch your step, ma’am.” The waiter paused at the entrance to a group of tables set on a raised floor, a few steps higher than the rest of the dining room and enclosed by a balustrade.

  She stepped up and frowned. Table fifteen was a large oval table. The waiter narrowly avoided her as she came to an abrupt halt and counted the chairs.

  “This is a table for eight.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ketty glanced back towards the door where Carlos was dealing with the steady stream of diners for this second dinner sitting. He usually seated her at a table for four, sometimes six, but never eight. The waiter pulled out a chair.

  “I think I’d prefer a different seat, thank you.” She seated herself at the other end of the table with her back to one of the large pillars that rose from the floor to meet the ornate patterned ceiling. From here at least she would get a good look at everyone as they arrived.

  The waiter draped the napkin across her lap, a brilliant white against the purple of her dress. “My name is Rupert, Madame Clift. I am your junior waiter. Phillip, your head waiter, will be along shortly.” His smile was tentative. “May I get you a drink while you wait for the other guests?”

  “Yes, thank you, Rupert. Bottled still water will be fine.” Ketty glanced at his name badge but the little letters below his name stating his home country were too small to read. “Where is home for you, Rupert?”

  “The Philippines, ma’am.”

  “And family?”

  “My wife and son, ma’am.”

  She smiled warmly. “You must miss them.”

  “I will go home in two months, ma’am.” He handed her a menu.

  “Thank you, Rupert. And thank you for making me comfortable.”

  His smile was wide as he left to get her drink.

  Ketty glanced around at the empty chairs. Seven new people to get to know. What on earth was Carlos thinking? She settled in her chair and looked at the menu. Tonight she could choose from sautéed seafood, spicy chicken and rack of lamb or even go vegetarian if she selected the pumpkin, walnut and mascarpone-filled crepe with thyme cream sauce, and that was only a few of the mains.

  “Hello.”

  Ketty was startled by the booming voice from the other end of the table. She looked up at the tall man with a bald head and a shirt that looked bright white against his tanned skin.

  “Good evening.” She smiled as he moved to one side and a younger couple followed him to the other end of the table and began to seat themselves. Ketty sat perfectly still, studying each of the three in turn. The older man
had to be the woman’s father, there was a similarity about them – same dark eyes and tapered nose.

  “Hope you don’t mind us sitting way down here,” the older man called across the table. “Chrissie thought we might want to make a quick getaway.”

  Ketty noted the glare the younger woman gave him but put on her most charming smile.

  “Ketty Clift,” she said. “The beauty of cruising is that there are no rules about how long you stay at the table.”

  “Bernard Langdon.” He grinned and there was a twinkle in his eyes. Bernard was obviously a man who enjoyed flirting. “Good to meet you, Ketty. This is a first cruise for all of us.” He waved a hand at the other two. “They call us virgins, I believe.”

  “Dad.” The younger woman frowned.

  “Loosen up, Chrissie, we’re all adults here.” Bernard winked at Ketty.

  Yes, definitely a flirt, Ketty thought.

  The woman had taken a seat next to her father. “I’m Christine Romano.”

  The man beside her stretched across and shook Ketty’s hand. “And I’m Frank Romano.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you all.”

  “Are you travelling alone, Ketty?” Bernard’s dark brown eyes studied her.

  “I am, yes.”

  “Looks like we’re part of the singles set.”

  “What do you think of this menu, Dad?” Christine tapped the large printed page the waiter had put in front of her father and put a distracting hand on his arm.

  Ketty observed them through lowered lashes; Christine discussing the food in detail with her father while her husband sat back in his chair, idly tapping the menu up and down on the table, his attention elsewhere.

  “Hello.”

  A woman was being seated between Frank and Ketty. She wore a casual day dress that fitted her perfectly, although the beige linen did her no favours, nor did the pale lipstick. It was always so easy to dress customers with this woman’s body shape. She had what Ketty thought of as a coathanger frame even if her look was a little on the plain side.

  Before any of them could speak, the waiter ushered another person to the table. He looked rather distinguished with his short dark hair and neatly clipped beard. He gave them the briefest of smiles, as if the effort was too hard, then sat stiffly in his chair.

  “Welcome,” Ketty said. She glanced briefly at the two empty places then smiled deeply. “And how special that we have nearly a full table tonight. Often people don’t come to dinner on the first night. I’ve sometimes eaten all alone.”

  “That would be a tragedy, Ketty.” Bernard puffed out his chest. “Now let me do the introductions. Since my family make up half of our table it might be easiest.”

  Ketty settled back and watched as he rattled off the names for his end of the table and then added Ketty. He came to the recently seated woman and paused. She stared back at him a moment.

  “Celia Braxton,” she said.

  A chorus of hellos came from around the table.

  “I don’t imagine you’ll see me after tonight,” she said.

  “You’re not leaving the ship at sea are you, Celia?” Bernard turned his charming smile on her.

  “I’m travelling with a friend and they’ve put us in separate dining rooms. We’d prefer to be together.”

  “Don’t worry.” Ketty leaned towards Celia. “The maître d’ will have it all sorted for you by tomorrow night. There are always a few hiccups on the first night.”

  “I’m not worried.” Celia glanced at Ketty then looked away, twisting to take in the room.

  “You sound like an experienced sailor, Ketty,” Bernard said. “How many cruises have you been on?”

  “This is my twenty-first.” Ketty still counted her first overnight trip with her parents.

  There was a collective gasp from around the table. Frank was the one to raise his water glass. “Happy twenty-first,” he said.

  “Thank you. I enjoy cruising.” Ketty shifted her attention to the man on her left. “I’m sorry we haven’t come to you yet.” She held out her hand. “I’m Ketty, as you’ve heard.”

  He turned a pair of pale blue eyes on her. “Jim Fraser.”

  Once again there were welcomes from around the table. Ketty contemplated Jim, who had barely acknowledged his fellow diners and now sat, eyes downcast, staring at a point on the table in front of him. She wondered what his story would be.

  Rupert and Phillip interrupted her thoughts as they introduced themselves, handed out menus and took drink orders. She requested her usual gin and tonic then glanced down at the menu again.

  A loud laugh erupted from the other end of the table. “Enough of this Mr Langdon, Phillip. Call me Bernie.”

  “Certainly, Mr Bernie,” Phillip said, a twinkle in his eye. “What would you like to drink?”

  Bernard roared with laughter again then looked around the table. “Does everyone drink wine? How about I get a bottle of red and a bottle of white? My shout for our first night.”

  “Dad, really, you don’t have to provide for everyone.” Christine put a restraining hand on his arm once again.

  “That’s a good idea.” Frank nodded at Bernard, ignoring his wife. “I’ll buy tomorrow night.”

  “See, all under control, Princess.”

  Christine turned her glare from her father to her husband.

  Ketty observed their interaction closely. “That’s very generous of you, Bernard,” she said. “I will be delighted to return the favour another night.”

  Celia spun back from her perusal of the room behind. “I probably won’t be here to take my turn.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Bernard spread his hands magnanimously. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Christine gave an eyeroll that would outdo a teenager.

  “I probably won’t be here either, just for tomorrow night,” Ketty said. “I like to dine in my room on my second night. It’s a little ritual I allow myself, to get my sea legs as they say. But I’ll be happy to buy wine the next night.”

  Phillip appeared at her right shoulder. “Are you ready to place your order, ma’am?”

  “I am.” Ketty had settled on the sautéed fish in saffron sauce. She so rarely cooked fish for herself at home and certainly never bothered to glaze carrots or crust her potatoes.

  “Excellent choice,” Phillip said with a broad smile.

  Ketty watched the others while he took their requests, smoothly answering questions about styles of cooking, suggesting accompaniments, complimenting their choices as he had hers, giving each person individual attention as if they were the only diners, while all around the dining room this routine was repeated. Ever-smiling waiters in gold vests or white jackets moved on silent feet, learning the names, likes and dislikes of their diners and generally doing their best to please everyone. The murmur of voices from other tables were interspersed with the odd higher pitched laugh, the pop of a champagne bottle, the genial tinkle of glass against glass, the clunk of a door closing. And among it all Ketty was aware of the inscrutable presence of Carlos, watching over everything, his subtle commands ensuring the machinations of the huge dining room moved like clockwork.

  Her attention returned to those seated around her own table. “Since we’re to be dinner companions we should find out a bit about each other. I’m from Sydney. Where do you all come from?” She always found home was an easy conversation starter.

  “Brisvegas,” Bernard boomed.

  “Oh, I love Brisbane,” Celia gushed. “The climate is divine.”

  Ketty was surprised by Celia’s sudden burst of enthusiasm and noted Christine’s glare had shifted to the woman, who was leaning closer to Bernard as if suddenly fascinated by him.

  “We’re from Melbourne.” Frank waved a hand that included his wife.

  “I live in country South Australia now.” Celia dragged her gaze from Bernard to take in the others. “A few hours north of Adelaide near the coast.”

  “Adelaide,” Jim said as they all turned to him.
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br />   Ketty gave a small clap of her hands. “Between us all we’ve got quite a bit of Australia covered then.”

  “And what does everyone do to keep busy?” Bernard asked the next question as Ketty had hoped. “I’m semi-retired from the real estate trade but there never seems to be a dull moment. What about you, Jim? Are you still working or in the less frantic world of retirement?”

  Jim looked up, startled. “Oh, still working…at least part-time… transitioning to retirement…insurance work…” He dwindled to a stop.

  “I’m similar, I suppose.” Celia took up the thread. “I work three days a week and volunteer the rest of my time.”

  Christine sniffed. “Frank and I both work full-time. With two teenagers, there’s never enough money.”

  “We manage,” Frank said.

  “It’s a struggle.” Christine frowned at her husband.

  “Lucky you could find the funds for a cruise then.” Celia’s tone held a hint of sarcasm.

  Rupert returned with their drinks and took everyone’s attention but not before Ketty noticed Christine give Celia a withering look. Ketty felt a warm shiver and the tantalising wiggle of her people antenna moving up a notch. At the other end of the table there were three from the one family and she had already noted undercurrents between them. Then there was the at first prickly and now almost flirty Celia, and the insular Jim. Ketty glanced at him just as he turned in her direction. She was concerned at the depth of sadness she saw on his face. The poor man was suffering.