I suppressed a shiver. It was noticeably different to breathe in air tinged with early autumnal chill, to view coffee-table-book perfect, snow-capped mountains instead of beaches. The Caribbean hadn’t lost its shine, but it was time for a change. I looked over Sam’s shoulder and focused on our new surroundings, a sea-plane landing in the distance. Tiny, in comparison. Sixty-plus metres above the waterline, cocooned in the Exclusive Zone, known onboard as The Cove, I felt alive, invincible. We would shortly be leaving Seattle. Eight days of decadence.
‘What are you thinking?’ Sam said.
‘That I don’t like the look of them. He looks smug – which means they’re perfect,’ I replied.
This was always a crucial stage. If we befriended the wrong people now, it could be hard to shake them off and refocus our attention on others more deserving.
‘Facts not Feelings’ had become an important rule.
I went through the facts now. ‘A recent windfall,’ I surmised. ‘Maybe a lottery win. There’s too much gold, almost everything is designer.’
Real wealth was discreet, rightfully fearful that human magpies would swoop.
‘I don’t know,’ said Sam. ‘I’m not so sure. He looks as if he’s been used to the finer things in life for longer than a few years.’
I loved this part of our game. The raised hairs on my arms, the thrill at the start of a chase. Nothing had ever beaten that feeling. I feared that nothing ever would. I buried those thoughts back then and I still choose to ignore them even now, because if those fleeting moments were truly the ultimate high, then, as with any addiction, it’s not wise to dwell on potential alternatives to fill the inevitable come-down and void.
‘Let’s get to work,’ I said.
Sam kissed me one more time before we emerged. The Jacuzzi and the heated pool were behind us, steam wafting above the aquamarine surface. We emerged from the double sun loungers and pods, the baskets of pristine, neatly folded, fresh white towels upon which rested stems of pale pink and purple-tinged orchids. Ornate potted palms dotted the area. The pianist was playing a safe, classical tune discreetly in the background as we approached the couple who had caught my eye.
‘Hi, I’m Charlotte,’ I said, offering my hand. ‘And this is Sam.’
They initially looked startled at our sudden introduction, but then beamed. The woman stood a little straighter. The man, I was sure, sucked in his stomach a little. Sam had that effect on people.
The couple, Megs and Jake, reciprocated with their own introductions. They were from London, it was their first cruise, and they were still learning the ropes.
‘There’s twenty-four-hour service,’ Jake marvelled. ‘I intend to make the most of everything there is to offer.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ I said. ‘You’ll never want to travel any other way again. Trust me.’
I offered to fetch more champagne and left them in Sam’s capable hands. After all, it was his turn to choose, which meant that he should have the final say. I waited longer than necessary before returning. Slowly and Softly. Rule Number Two.
I could hear Megs speaking as I approached.
‘It was my birthday in the summer and Jake said we should push the boat out. So, we have – almost literally!’ she laughed.
‘A big-number birthday,’ Jake stage-whispered.
Sam smiled politely, as did I, even though doubt hit. If this was a once-in-a-lifetime treat for them, then they were no use to us. Sam and I had so far stuck to our codes of conduct and standards.
‘Got to splash the cash somehow,’ Jake added, lifting up his arm and pointing at his Cartier watch.
Although, we had an exception: boastfulness.
It turned out that Jake had made his fortune in the construction industry. Although I knew it was irrational and nothing to do with Jake, it made me dislike him even more. By that time, I had begun to find reasons for choosing our particular targets. My parents had once been ripped off by someone pretending to be a qualified builder. This, I decided, would become the reason on this occasion.
I insisted that we never coerced too much from anyone, that we always left them with more than enough. Sam agreed but it was mainly because there was less chance of being caught or people bothering to report us once they suspected that they had gifted to a perhaps-not-quite-so-worthy cause. Plus, sometimes a little humility was no bad thing. It all evened out in the end. Money comes; money goes.
I dug deeper with Megs under the guise of discussing excursions. I needed to learn how much of their particular boat they had already pushed out. I tended to discover a lot from how people chose to spend their leisure time and money. I had, by now, secured a position in wish fulfilment, in other words, VIP Sales & Excursions, a nice change from retail. Less temptation, too. Although, it did hold a mirror up to how far Sam and I were from our goals. Being constantly surrounded by pampered guests cocooned in luxury wasn’t necessarily helpful either.
I listened as she reeled off ‘whale watching, bears, eagles, exploring Juneau, Ketchikan, Skagway . . .’ (she had clearly read a guidebook). ‘And the glaciers are meant to be breathtaking. Simply out of this world.’
Glacier Bay National Park is likened to real-life jewels according to some of the guides and online descriptions: shades of dazzling blues among the mountains and sea.
‘There is a lot more you can do,’ I said. ‘Some more off-beat options.’ I paused, waiting for her to bite.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Hiking, for one. You two look fit. The views from the mountain are to die for. Not literally, obviously.’
Megs smiled. ‘What do you think, honey?’ she asked Jake. ‘Charlotte here reckons that we have options, that we should be more adventurous and exclusive.’
Sam and I exchanged a discreet look.
‘I could put together an itinerary for you?’ I offered.
‘Sure. Sounds good.’
Megs and I chatted like new best friends. She had always known, deep down, that she was destined for bigger and better things somehow.
‘Jake just had it, you know. He was ambitious and I knew he would do well.’
There was no mention of children. Although they had a nephew they loved to spoil. Same as me, really. I told her so. It was good to home in on these little connections. People liked it. However, that’s where the similarity ended. Over the years, Megs’ mother had often mentioned ‘nest eggs’ and ‘rainy days’. It turned out after her death three years previously that people had different ideas about savings. Several millions in difference. It irked me slightly that they were already wealthy before they’d inherited even more. I was getting fed up with being ordered around by people who had no idea how fortunate they were.
‘I like the sound of exclusive,’ said Jake. ‘I hate being shoved in with the masses. That’s why we opted for The Cove. Think of all those poor people way below us, crammed together.’
Indeed.
‘It’s going to be a fantastic trip,’ said Sam.
‘A fantastic trip’ was our code that meant that he agreed that this couple could be suitable. Sometimes, it took three or four attempts and we would be forced to cast our net wider, be more eagle-eyed, dig deeper beneath the social surfaces and outward appearances. It occurred to me that Sam and I were becoming stronger as a working team.
‘I agree,’ I said, with a smile.
As Sam asked Megs about their previous holidays, I focused on Jake.
‘Are you a gambling man?’
‘I like to dabble,’ he said, tapping the side of his nose, looking around for someone to fill up his champagne flute.
I could have offered, but I didn’t.
‘What will it be this evening? Poker? Roulette? Blackjack?’
‘I’m a poker man, myself,’ replied Jake.
‘Then,’ I said, ‘you will be in safe hands with Sam.’ There I went, dangling an illusionary carrot of non-existent insider tips. ‘He’s an expert.’
Some people think their g
ambling habits are a skill until they have a run of inevitable bad luck.
As Jake began to discuss restaurants and fine dining, I steered the conversation towards The Cove’s award-winning signature spa treatment. A friend of mine, Lucy, was also on board; I had met her on my second working cruise. She was a top therapist and genuinely interested in people, naturally bubbly and I knew she would unwittingly fill me in on any gaps in Jake’s history if need be. He briefly touched my arm once or twice when emphasising a point, and smiled as though we had a connection. All the while, I was planning what memento I was going to acquire after this particular trip. I quite fancied a new watch . . .
However, hours later, while I was stuck in my bunk bed situated well below the waterline, reality hit. The weather had turned rough once we were out at sea. Sam had a late-night stint in the casino. I was on an early-morning shift. I worked on Jake and Megs’ exclusive excursion itinerary with the help of my new guidebook. I bought them for most new places we visited because nothing online could beat the joy of reading about adventure by experienced travellers. It began with a hike along a quiet, yet stunning mountain path claiming incredible views of alpine meadows. The timings had to be perfect because depending on our limited time off work, either Sam or I would accompany them.
High above me, people like Jake and Megs lay in king-size-bedded luxury with their own hot tub and ocean view, along with the ability to summon people who were paid very little to fulfil almost any of their desires. It didn’t matter how rude, how unrealistic their demands, how entitled they were, we had to smile and appease. Sam rarely arranged for us to visit empty suites any more and the one time I had tried, the crew member I had attempted to coerce to turn a blind eye after they had cleaned it looked at me as though I was suggesting a crime of the century. It made me feel ashamed, but I hadn’t done anything wrong.
It was time to up the ante, to take bigger risks. Nothing else made sense. Otherwise, I had to put up with crap living conditions.
I stayed up too late, plotting. We needed a fresh story, one specifically tailored to Jake and Megs’s more charitable urges. Sam and I had observed that when people come into money unexpectedly, they feel the need to share some of their good fortune to ward off the evil eye. The trick was to tap into that fear. I would suggest to Megs that her mother sounded like a generous, kind woman who would want her to ‘do good’ with her inheritance. It was all about risk calculation, and I figured, back then, that I was already an expert in the subject. I hated (and still do) any sense of superiority. Our targets always had one main thing in common: they assumed they were better than us.
It is perhaps strangely fitting that my past arrogance is now my biggest regret. The rules were there to protect Sam and me. We should never have broken them. The fractures were irreparable.
FOURTEEN
Now
Glints of white and gold sparkle off the sea and reflect off the vast assortment of yachts and sailboats in the marina. I stand on the jetty, enjoying the heat seeping through my bones after the plane’s air conditioning. Surrounded by luxury and decadence, I inhale warmth and feel a great weight lift. There is nothing like it, the feeling of being let off the hook and the sweetness it offers, along with a fresh appreciation of my present surroundings and precious freedom.
I look around. A crane in the distance mars my perfect view. A slight wind blows the fronds on the palm trees and an ice-cream wrapper skitters along the ground near my feet. These small intrusions tug at my mind and remind me of Whoever It Is. I bite the bullet and check my phone. Blessed nothing outside the usual sales emails and requests for feedback on various products. It is satisfying to press the Bin icon. I glance down at my anklet. Look after Number One, I silently remind myself. Just like Sam.
Daniel is ignoring me, despite us sharing a cab that I ended up paying for.
‘Keep the receipt,’ he said, before sitting on a wall, putting in headphones and facing the ocean.
Two cars with blacked-out windows park nearby. The rear doors are opened by the driver and members of the party emerge. Every single one of them is wearing sunglasses. Alicia reminds me of Lucille Ball and Charles of Gene Kelly. Arabella is much younger than Sebastian. She is wearing a lemon linen dress that has creased since I first saw her on the plane.
Despite the sunglasses, I recognise the others as Gina Williams, Gina’s mother, Norma, Mariella Green – she looks vaguely familiar – and Garth Ford.
I re-check my email from Thomas to see if I missed anything.
A small boat will take you to the main yacht, The Cleobella, where I will already be on board to give you up-to-date instructions.
There are no specific timings. Feeling like the new girl at school, I decide to take control. I will ignore Daniel’s advice and try to win them over.
‘Hello,’ I say, as the group are ushered by the driver in my direction. I smile. ‘I’m Charlotte. Thomas asked me to make myself known. I’m his assistant for this trip. I am making my way on board The Cleobella with you.’
I receive polite, tight smiles, ‘hellos’ and ‘nice to meet yous’ in response, along with subtle appraisals, which I sense coming from behind their dark sunglasses.
‘Hello,’ says Mariella. She removes her straw hat, tilts her head back and gives her long, dark hair a gentle shake. ‘That’s better. This heat!’
I do recognise her. She was at the Windsor racecourse. Not as one of Flora Miles’s guests, yet she stood out from the crowd because of her distinctive Versace dress and the fact that she looked so happy. It makes me think that the man she was with was not her husband. She looks at me now as though she can’t quite place me. Something passes over her face and the look she gives me next implores, Please. Keep quiet. Or to use Daniel’s phraseology, STFU. It throws me slightly, pulls me right back into remembering Daniel’s warning.
‘It is hot,’ I agree, blandly.
I mentally reassess my approach as I follow the group to the tender. I feel like a stalker until I think about how Sam would approach the situation. He wouldn’t act like an outsider and he definitely wouldn’t give off any vibes of feeling out of sorts.
I hand my bags to the driver, so he is forced to pass my bags on to the twoboat crew, along with all the baggage. Two porters appear beside the jetty with luggage trollies.
Once the elder members have boarded, I step on board the tender – nicer and more luxurious than many dinghies I have been on in the past. The white leather seats are all undercover. I study the others discreetly. Garth holds out his hand to assist Mariella, then Gina. None of them sit beside me and I don’t know if I imagine it but I’m pretty sure that I spot Gina nudge Garth in his side. I feel freshly annoyed that Thomas didn’t provide more detail on these people. I smile over at Daniel, who gives me a short nod in response.
I take out my phone as if concentrating on work. The boat rocks gently side to side before we pull away, pick up speed and cut through the turquoise water. I give up my pretence of working and gaze out at the horizon. I have returned to paradise, yet again. The hardships I have endured, the bleak, grey and drizzly days, the terror of exposure, Sam’s disappearance – all thousands of miles behind me now. I can temporarily push my fears to one side, bury them in my full-to-bursting mental compartment of Don’t Go There.
I study Mariella. She has a white cashmere cardigan draped over her shoulders, the arms knotted across her chest. She looks contemplative. Charles clutches a walking stick, even while sitting down. Arabella takes out a packet of chewing gum, offers it around. Daniel looks as if he is taking stock of the surroundings. Gina takes photos and posts them on Instagram. ‘Twenty-three likes already!’ She fancies herself as a photographer. To be fair, her images online are stunning. I was impressed when I came across them during my online digging into her background. Gina favours sunrises, so is clearly a morning person, and countryside views on her morning jog. Garth plugs in headphones, acting as if this is all day-to-day stuff for him.
As The Cleobella
comes into sight I almost gasp. Although Sam and I once went on board a superyacht in Monaco for lunch with a friend of his, that one pales in comparison. Sleek is the word that immediately springs to my mind. Beautiful is the second. All glistening white and silver, clean and smooth. It has four decks, spoiled only by the sight of a large red and yellow slide attached to one side. I’m not a fan of waterslides. I hate the way the water stings my nose and dislike the moments plunging beneath the water before I can rise to the surface. I see jet-skis criss-crossing each other near the back of the yacht.
The thundering of an approaching helicopter in the distance slices into my daydreams.
‘That’ll be Josephine,’ says Alicia, twisting round to look. ‘Such a horrible, noisy way to arrive. It’s so much more pleasant travelling this way.’
‘It depends,’ says Mariella, raising her voice to be heard above the noise. ‘I think I would quite like making an entrance.’
Our boat holds back, circling from a distance, as the helicopter’s downwash makes violent ripples in the sea as it hovers and lowers, before touching down on the helipad. Our boat rocks and sways.
‘For goodness’ sake, what bad timing,’ says Charles.
By the time we alight, I am feeling nauseous. I need to regain my sea legs.
Thomas is waiting to greet us. He is full of smiles, looking as relaxed and chilled as someone who has just been on a fortnight’s holiday. He is wearing shorts, a navy striped top and a cap, the wrong way around. His feet are bare.
‘How was your flight?’ he asks, as The Party – my new name for them – disembark.
The Ex-Husband Page 11