by Mark Rice
“Good Lord!” Margaret said under her breath.
“So do they now believe there is a connection?” Jennifer asked.
“Apparently so,” went on Shirley. “We were in our cabin last night when a ship’s officer turned up with two armed crewmen and told Brendan there was now some evidence that supported his theory and they took him away.”
“So do they suspect Brendan had some hand in the poisoning?” Jennifer pressed Shirley.
“I’m really not sure. Brendan returned at midnight and he’s been confined to our cabin until further notice.”
“But if he did poison the passengers he’s surely not going to approach the captain and draw suspicion to himself?” Jennifer uttered.
“That’s right” echoed Margaret “I’m sure Brendan is innocent and I can’t imagine why they think otherwise. Why I suspect the ship’s management are desperate to attribute the deaths to someone other than themselves and their crew!”
Shirley seemed reassured by Margaret’s definite statement of support and reached across to squeeze her hand. Jennifer leaned over and gave her a hug too.
Shirley returned to the podium and continued the class and I felt really bad that she was suffering like this for something I’d done. Of course, not bad enough to surrender myself to the authorities but that’s life. It’s a shame the link has been found but I may still escape capture.
I left Margaret chatting to Jennifer after the class and I joined three men on the tennis court.
With an hour of tennis completed I nipped downstairs and showered in the cabin before finding Margaret lying by the pool. I had just enough time to gulp down a quick snack before joining the choir for our men-only practice. It followed on a session for the women-only and they sounded good.
At 14:00 the SS Azara Regatta, a passenger model shipbuilding and performance competition, was held. It had been previously cancelled because of rain. Four ships were paraded, of varying standards. The ship models were walked around the Riviera Pool with their creators and then the boats individually examined and tested in the pool. Tests like withstanding a mini-tsunami were carried out. Two sank in seconds. The one looking like an oil rig made of four empty water bottles strapped together could have survived if some water had been inserted in the bottles. Instead, it flipped upside down immediately. The winner was a replica of the SS Azara and built to scale. It looked the part and the judging panel of ships officers had no problem declaring it the winner.
We spent the rest of the afternoon by the pool. Rose won the deck quoits daily competition again and has now a collection of Octavian Cruises gold tokens that can be surrendered to buy goods from the ship’s shops.
Next to our pool hanging out of a white painted pipe about ten feet above the ground was a large butterfly. He had an eye on both of his wings. He was about five inches long and unaware of the hundreds of pictures he will feature in when folks get home.
The laundrettes are causing trouble again. This time the Skyline newsletter announced that no washing machines could be run as the ship was short of fresh water, given the limited local facilities available and this was expected to be the case for the foreseeable future.
Margaret states a hand wash is imminent as she may be knickers-less within two days’. So, just before dinner, she commandeered a dryer and gave her hand washed items a good seventy minutes of drying.
Dinner tonight was for eight and all were in good form. The SS Azara is still refuelling and so there were zero vibrations over dinner, which was nice.
After the meal and the courteous goodbyes from Ali and Hamoud, our waiters, we made our way to the Gaiety Theatre where Paula Amzar the Virtuoso de Valencia, a flautist of international standing took to the stage with an interesting multimedia show. After the show, we made our way out and down the external promenade deck to slip into the Pacific Lounge but we weren't fast enough to beat those competitive pensioners and to get seats and left to find entertainment elsewhere.
There were plenty of alternatives to choose from, the Bond Trio were playing soft jazz until midnight in the Hawks Inn, the film, The Accountant, was starting a quiz was going on in the Bulls Head, Gregory was tinkling away on the ivories in Tiffany’s and Inspiration were providing live ballroom dance music in the Pelican Lounge. DJ Benny was due to start his late night sounds at 23:30 till late in the Pelican Lounge and of course the buffet was open all night. Decisions, decisions, with too much choice we simply slipped off to bed.
Day 41
Sunday 12th February.
At Sea, just off Brazil's coast.
We were motoring along at 19 knots in calm seas this morning. The temperature on the open deck was 25 degrees and dry but overcast. Though the seas are reported as calm, because the ship is speeding along, there is enough rocking to set the anchor and its chain off again. Fortunately, it's a distant clanging and banging noise from where we now sleep but it still woke me up. Margaret heard it too and she is eighty per cent deaf. After breakfast, we stepped onto the netted tennis court and battled swirling winds and a swaying ship and court. We could’ve coped with all that and even soggy balls but then the heavy rain came and we fled indoors.
The morning Beginners Bridge class was just us playing cards and we had a few lively hands with me leaking information to all, but particularly my partner, so that all understood why I bid the way I did. Mabel’s replacement, Susan is an elderly but mentally agile woman. She is also a natural card player and she felt I was giving too much away in my preambles. So in future, I'll just have to wing it, bid and be damned.
Each day Susan checks that we are happy for her to play with us. She is a bit bossy and gets up Jennifer's nose at least once a session but for the greater good, Jennifer had bitten her tongue and agreed Susan could stay. It turned out Susan, though bossy, with us in cards, was under the thumb of her retired GP husband and when she plays with him, she doesn't utter a word. It's hard to believe but there you have it.
Once it had stopped raining I left Margaret and nipped up to the tennis court where Alan, Phil and Terry were playing two against one. I evened the sides up and we had a good foursome going when the rain returned and though I proposed we play on through a monsoon downpour the others displayed some semblance of sanity and left me standing alone and drenched on the court.
I was left with an hour to kill before choir rehearsal so I visited the gym and ran 5 kilometres. With the gym located in the bow of the ship and on an upper deck, the heaving and pitching forced me to run with both hands holding onto the treadmill's handlebars. I wanted to quit several times and had to play the usual mind games to stay to the bitter end. By that time I was dripping with sweat. The running machine's rubber floor was saturated and I had to towel down the whole machine and mat.
Margaret had a trifle dessert and some water awaiting me, after I showered in our cabin. I gulped it all down before grabbing a handful of tissues and a glass of water. I headed off to the choir male-only practice session arriving in good time.
Tony, as good as his word, stood next to me and gave me a few tips including how to snatch short breaths between lines. He informed Geoff he was really a bass singer and should perhaps join Arthur with the bass ensemble.
Arthur, still suffering from a sore throat, an allergy thing, was noticeably quieter than normal.
Konchek, back after yesterday’s absence, was present if silent as a church mouse.
The afternoon was a blank canvas for us as the rain fitfully fell on the open decks. We sat in the Palace Restaurant and practised bridge hands before changing into togs and having a swim in the Pool that was pitching and rolling in keeping with the ship’s motion but not quite as badly as earlier in the cruise.
A quick shower and into the lift we went heading for our cabin.
On the ride to our floor, a man in the lift let slip that the washing machines were back in action. He said they won’t be telling anyone until tonight when passengers will read the good news in the Skyline Newsletter. “Keep it to yours
elf!" he cautioned.
We all put fingers to our lips in conspiratorial silence and didn't tell the next woman entering the lift. This news is gold dust.
Tonight’s dinner was a formal black-tie affair, the first in several days. We were handed a glass of Prosecco as we entered the restaurant and were told to await an announcement once we were seated. The Hotel Manager came over the PA system and announced that the captain had declared that all should have a free drink in compensation for the vibrations suffered at dinner in recent nights. The announcement was greeted by applause and the drinks duly imbibed.
We, despite our reservations visited the Gaiety Theatre and gave Gerard Benhitly a chance to shine. It's more than half full and he is working hard but for the first time, we decided not to stay to the end of his act. He's skipped in favour of an empty dryer which we found on deck 11. How low can you sink in the entertainment world?
We revisit the laundrette later and find someone had stolen our laundry bag but the clothes it contained were still in the dryer and still warm. I told you the font of all evil on a cruise is the laundrette.
Day 42
Monday 13th February.
At Sea heading to the Cape Verde islands.
Once again, the SS Azara is powering through the water at 22.6 knots but into a strong Northerly wind of 25 knots so the upper decks are closed and there is no tennis for us this morning.
We suspect the altered schedule is to facilitate refuelling and the delay in refuelling meant the captain had decided to put the nautical boot down and we were close to this ships top speed of 24 knots.
It was 26 degrees centigrade onboard and dry but cloudy outside. Our TV channels finally work and we can tune to channel 16 to watch the ship’s progress from her bow camera but there is nothing but sea to see.
It’s the eve of St Valentine’s Day and I need to do something to mark the occasion. I planned to work on a poem. Maybe I’d draw a cartoon on a card. I will have to get my creative juices flowing.
We ate breakfast in the small Al Fresco restaurant to the fore of the ship. It's a smaller version of the Palace with a somewhat limited range of food but they make omelettes on demand. We eat late and attend the beginner’s bridge class and find there are only three of us. Susan's seat is empty. Shirley, Brendan Flood's wife, fills in for Susan and is a welcome addition as her wisdom leads to a good lesson in how to play the game and the mindset needed at different times. She's also very social and chats away with ease but I could sense something was playing on her mind.
“What’s the latest on Brendan?” Jennifer asked Shirley at the end of the class.
Shirley hesitated and then spilt the beans. “Brendan has been accused of murder and attempted murder based on the discovery of the poisoned A4 sheets, typed up on his typewriter. He can’t explain how his typewriter was used and why someone would do such a thing. He’s been moved to a cell in the bowels of the ship and will be handed over to police on our return to Southampton. It sounds pretty cut and dried but he still pleads his innocence and has offered to take a lie detector test.
Margaret and Jennifer sat silently with their mouths open.
“I’m going to stand by him,” Shirley said defiantly. “I know him and he is not capable of these acts. We’ll get the best lawyers in the land and fight this case all the way.”
I feel pretty bad about this turn of events but dammit if Brendan hadn’t gone to the ship’s officers and made the link for them between the deaths on board and his absent bridge class he’d be fine. No-one would have thought of the relationship between the two. He’s the author of his own downfall and that’s for sure. Thank God I am the devious arse covering individual that I am. Even now I believe my escape is still possible.
We leave a worried Shirley to tidy up the desks and we meet, by chance, Susan’s husband on the promenade deck.
“Is she OK?” Margaret asked him.
“Yes, she's still poorly but has improved and is currently in our cabin resting. She’s stopped taking the anti-malaria tablets.”
“About bloody time,” muttered Margaret as we walk away. “He is too cock-sure about what’s good for her,” she added, “Even if he is a General Practitioner.”
Jennifer and Margaret were happy to chat over a coffee and the three of us sat in the Palace restaurant discussing matters until I needed to attend the choir practice. I used the time to order from the ship’s reception a single flower with a note saying, "It was always you."
The choir was reunited for a combined male and female session and David, our music director, showed signs of stress and irritation. His personally annotated music sheets had been either stolen or mislaid. We raced through the breathing exercises and then he ran through many of the songs declaring today was the last day for new joiners to the choir. No more after today.
Geoff was absent as he and his wife were attending a Caribbean members club special meal this lunchtime. Arthur is present but his throat is worse, despite having gargled in salted water. Konchek is back but still singing quietly. Bye the bye, he has the worst case of halitosis I have ever had the misfortune to breathe in. I had to move and stand further away from him. I plan to bring lozenges tomorrow and offer him one. Let’s see if that works.
Back in the Palace restaurant, the two girls were still hard at it, as the blue Atlantic sea just races past their window.
Jennifer leaves and we sunbath near the pool for an hour or so. The sun comes and goes and we get a game of tennis in and follow it up with a swim.
Back in our cabin it’s a shower and quick change for the casual dress dinner. We arrive to find Frank and Jill have opted to go Indian on us and eat at the Spice restaurant. Geoff, my choir colleague, on a neighbouring table is still rolling out his extensive and colourful wardrobe. Patent leather brown shoes, bright yellow trousers, a plain white shirt offset by a rainbow coloured tie, white jacket and medals on display. Geoff looks quite the dandy.
He proudly explained that he had lots of clothes made to measure, on a visit to Hong Kong a few years ago. He’d been measured up and chose the material on a Monday and collected the completed suits, jackets and shirts on the Wednesday. I took my mouth organ to the dinner table, for comic effect, and it generated the required laughter. Food was lovely as usual but I have to question the need to eat for £16 per person extra at the Spice Restaurant when we can eat such marvellous food here. Each meal has five starters, eight main courses and five desserts to choose from. Surely that’s enough for most people?
On to the Gaiety Theatre where Gerard Benhitly failed to wow last night‘s audience. Tonight we see the swift return of the flautist, a beautiful and talented Spanish girl who presented an all-new show and left to a standing ovation. Passengers liked what they saw and applauded all her songs warmly. She finished with the Flight of the Bumble Bee completed in one minute seven seconds.
We rounded the night off with a drink in Tiffany’s where Gregory was playing, amongst other tunes, a medley of Beatle songs. We caught Betty on the way to bed and she said Paula was much improved and she and Jimmy had left the bar only minutes earlier.
We were fast asleep in bed at midnight when the PA speaker in our cabin came loudly to life. “This is the Officer of the Watch calling all crew and passengers. Will a first responder first aid unit go to the front kitchen compartment of deck 6?”
Two minutes later he was on the PA system again “This is an announcement for all passengers. You need to take no action. I repeat you need to take no action.” Five minutes later the loudspeaker crackled again into life.
“This is your captain, Peter Cox. Please be aware that all is now well and I thank you for your cooperation and wish you a good night’s sleep.”
I wondered what all that was about?
Day 43
Tuesday 14th February.
St Valentine’s Day. At Sea.
I awoke with the ship somewhere in the mid-Atlantic, at sea and en route to Cape Verdi’s island of St Vincent. The SS Azara was sti
ll steaming along at close to top speed. The high northerly winds had put the top decks off limits again. It was dry but cloudy and all pools and spas were open.
When Margaret wakes, she finds my sketched Valentines card on paper torn from a pad of the ships headed paper.
When she was fully awake I read the first poem and let her read the second. She laughed in the right places. I checked furtively the post box outside our cabin to see if the ordered red rose had materialised but it hadn’t.
Later, while Margaret is heading to the bridge class I visit reception and see what has become of Margaret’s missing rose.
"Yes Mr Granger, the florist has it ready but you only specified a day for delivery and not an hour so he was going to deliver it sometime today.”
So a lesson has been learned. The order form omits a line where I can specify the hour but passengers familiar with the ways of Octavian Cruises will state a desired delivery time. Maybe they should change the bloody form? I fume silently.
I took the beautifully presented tall glass vase holding the single red rose from the florist and strode up the atrium staircase to Deck 8 leaving a trail of havoc in my wake.
"Oh look at thoughtful man with a rose for his wife."
"Now there's a true husband for you Geoff."
"Isn't that beautiful Ron? Where's mine? "
I blushed as red as the rose with the unwitting attention seeking walk through the shops and lobby area and hot-footed it to our cabin. I now see why the florist was normally the person who delivers the flowers!
The beginner’s bridge class was slow to start as we gave Susan a chance to appear. However, with the news that her husband was now unwell, we guessed she'd be a no show.