by Pam Rhodes
“Well, we’ll take it easy, with lots of stops along the way.”
“You’re plotting to escape with Harry, aren’t you, and leave me with Mum!” said Neil, coming up to join them.
Claire giggled. “Harry and I know how much you value quality time with Iris.”
“You’re heartless.”
“I love you,” returned Claire, as she and Harry moved off. “Enjoy!”
“Oh, I remember this,” exclaimed Harry as they walked across the Blue Bridge towards a vista that ran onwards and upwards through a profusion of trees and shrubs towards the Mediterranean Garden. In the centre stood the Agave fountain, surrounded by exotic and glorious plants.
“Those are proteas, aren’t they, those cacti with the bright red flowers?” pointed out Claire.
“I think so,” said Harry. “And all these trees with the huge round balls that look a bit like palms are dasylirion. It says so on this label. This one’s a native of Mexico. I’m sure I saw these in Kew Gardens.”
Poring over the information on each plant label, they wandered through a bank of clipped olive trees and up a series of steps towards the Olive Terrace, peppered with the dark red and purple heads of succulent aeoniums. Here they turned to look out over the treetops towards the sea, where they could just glimpse the outline of the island of Samson.
“I would like to sit inside the Shell House,” said Harry, nodding towards the delightfully decorated little building ahead of them, with its sparkling, patterned floor and pointed roof covered in old terracotta pantiles. “Rose and I sat in there and held hands while we watched the world go by.”
Claire reached out to take his hand. “Let’s go and do the same now, shall we?”
And so they did. They climbed inside the little shelter and sat hand in hand for several peaceful minutes, each with their own thoughts as they gazed out at the gardens spread before them. Their peace was eventually disturbed by the arrival of Sister Maureen and the Catholic mothers at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Shell House. Claire and Harry watched the group gather around the nun as she read aloud to them from the guidebook. Suddenly there was a commotion, with several of the mothers squealing in fright as they looked down at the ground.
“Spider! It’s a spider, a massive one. It’s probably poisonous. Stamp on it, quick.”
“You know, you shouldn’t kill something just because it’s ugly.” These words from one particularly upright lady rang out across the garden just at the moment when Sister Maureen brought down her heel to crush the spider to a pulp.
“Time to leave, I think,” said Harry. “Sister Maureen may need this seat for a while.”
They meandered along the interlinking pathways, each offering a different display of exotic blooms in all colours of the rainbow. The next bench they found was in the Middle Terrace, the very heart of the gardens, where rockeries tumbled with flame-red spikes, cascading waves of green, purple and yellow flowers, and sheets of pink oscularia hanging down like carpets.
“I’m ready to join her, you know.” Harry spoke so quietly that Claire could hardly hear him.
“Rose?”
“I feel as if I’m living in black and white without her; as if all the colour’s faded away.”
Claire nodded.
“Five years, that’s a long time. Long enough. I want to be with her now.”
“But Harry, you’re still so busy. Lots of friends and neighbours, everyone at church, and here you are on a luxury cruise. There’s a lot of life in you yet. Aunt Rose wouldn’t want you to waste a minute of it, would she?”
Harry smiled. “Rose hated waste. She never threw anything away that might be useful some time. Especially food – she’d use leftovers for days in different guises rather than throw away a single mouthful.”
“So she’d want you to make the most of everything you are now, wouldn’t she? She wouldn’t like this talk about wanting to be with her, knowing what you really mean.”
“But I’m tired.” Harry’s eyes were deep pools of sadness as he turned to Claire. “I’m tired and I’m lonely and I’ve done everything and more than I ever wanted to do.”
“Don’t wish your life away, Harry.”
“I’m not worried about what’s ahead, you see. I welcome it. I’ll be with my Lord and my Rose. That will be so much more wonderful than the half-life I’m in now.”
“Don’t, Harry, please,” said Claire. “Don’t talk like this.”
“I need you to understand, Claire, for when the time comes. I’ll be moving on with joy. Whatever else you feel, remember that. Share my joy. Keep it in your heart always.”
She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears.
“Come on,” he said suddenly. “We’ve still got a lot to see before we get anywhere near a cup of coffee, and I could murder a cup right now. Couldn’t you?”
Helping Harry to his feet, Claire pulled him to her, and for several long moments they stood with their arms around each other, moved beyond words by the conversation they’d just shared. Then they linked hands as they walked over to the Neptune Steps, down past the statue of Gaia, the Earth Mother, before peeling off to the left towards the gardens surrounding the old abbey ruins. It was just as they drew near the Pebble Garden that Harry stopped abruptly.
“My goodness, there it is, after all these years!” He was staring at a glorious old climbing rose which wound its way up the wall, covered in a profusion of small golden-yellow roses.
“We stopped here,” he exclaimed. “Rose always loved her name because she loved the flower, and yellow roses were most definitely her favourite. She thought this was the most beautiful rose bush she’d ever seen.”
He moved across to stand close to the wall, his nose buried in the blooms. “She dragged me over to do this. She said this was the very sweetest perfume, nature at its best. We stood here for ages before she’d let us get going again.”
Claire came up beside him, cupping a branch of flowers in her hand as she breathed in their fragrance. “I can see what she meant. These are superb.”
“And when we got home after our visit here, I bought her yellow roses whenever I saw them, so we’d never forget the special time we spent here.”
“What a lovely memory,” agreed Claire, warmed by the sheer delight in her great-uncle’s face as he soaked up the moment – this place, the rose bush; its colour and aroma weaving together to carry his thoughts back to one of the happiest times in his life with Rose. Claire had never seen him look as contented as he did then, lost in an experience so deeply personal and intimate that she feared she was intruding simply by being there.
When he was ready, he crossed to join her where she waited a few steps away, by the old gate. Without a word, she took his hand and they walked on in silence, warmed by what they’d just shared: a moment in time both knew they would never forget.
After several hours of walking around the gardens, the group returned to the tender and sank gratefully into their seats, exhilarated but exhausted.
“We’ll be just in time for afternoon tea,” announced Iris. “I will have one scone with cream and jam and a cup of Earl Grey, then go and put my feet up for an hour. You must do the same, Harry. You’re no spring chicken, you know.”
“Oh, Iris, I wouldn’t have missed today for anything,” sighed Harry. “It was wonderful.”
“Well, you need to pace yourself,” retorted Iris. “Lots of tea, nourishing food – preferably cooked by someone else – plenty of sleep and a clear conscience. That’s the secret of good health.”
“Well, I’m due at the final gospel choir rehearsal at five,” replied Harry, “so I’ll settle for a cup of tea in my cabin and a lie down for a while.”
Having walked with Harry back to their cabins, where they dropped off their bags and coats, Neil and his family joined their friends up in the lounge for afternoon tea.
“It’s a chocolate fest,” squealed Betty, practically running up to the long tables on which was spread the most
mouth-watering and colourful buffet. “Look, Sheila! I’ve never seen so much chocolate all in one place.”
Sure enough, it was everywhere – on cakes, pastries, sandwiches and biscuits, in dainty little pots of mousse and puddings, and from a fountain flowing with hot creamy chocolate for profiteroles, strawberries, marshmallows, or just by the spoonful!
“Chocolate can’t be all bad,” mused Betty, her eyes greedily scanning the table. “After all, it’s made from cocoa beans, and everyone says we should eat more vegetables.”
“It’s so unfair,” wailed Sheila, shovelling a large piece of gooey fudge cake onto her plate. “I only want two things: to lose weight and eat chocolate.”
“Well, I reckon chocolate brownies are definitely good for my health,” decided Marion. “My mental health, that is…”
And the three friends split up to head for different sections of the spread, so they could pile their plates with as many chocolate treats as possible.
“Neil, can we have a word?”
Neil looked up to see Deirdre and Mark standing beside him. “Of course. Pull up a couple of chairs. There’s plenty of room.”
“We don’t want to disturb you, so we won’t stop long. We just wanted to share a bit of news with you.” Mark smiled down into Deirdre’s face as he spoke. “This wonderful woman has agreed to become my wife.”
“That’s terrific news,” beamed Neil, “and not totally unexpected, I must say.”
“I’m glad you think so,” smiled Deirdre.
“You two have been making eyes at each other for ages. We all knew what a great couple you’d be before either of you did, I think!”
“Oh, I think we knew too,” agreed Deirdre, “but it felt too important to get it wrong, so neither of us got round to saying anything – until this cruise.”
“Well, I couldn’t be more delighted, and I know the whole congregation will feel the same.”
“Good,” said Mark, “because as soon as we get back home and you’ve got the church diary to hand, we’d like to book a date for our wedding.”
“Even better,” beamed Neil. “I think you can safely say the whole choir will be there that day to see two stalwart members celebrate such a special occasion.”
“And,” said Deirdre, looking lovingly up at Mark, “I’m hoping that my Mum and Da will be able to come. In fact, the whole family. We saw them while we were in Dublin yesterday.”
“That worked out well, then,” said Neil.
“Oh,” said Mark, “you have no idea how well.”
Realizing he’d left his music case by the piano after the service that morning, Clifford glanced at his watch anxiously. He only had a few minutes before he was due at the last gospel choir rehearsal. The piano stood on the stage in the small lounge where the service had been held, but there was no sign of the case.
Thinking it must have been discovered and put away somewhere safe, he was taking a look behind the dark curtains at the back of the stage when he heard voices. Two men were emerging from the small room beside the stage where artistes could wait out of sight before they enter the spotlight to start their performance. It only took a moment for him to recognize whose voices he was hearing.
“I’ll see you later, then.” Andrew came out first, looking round to smile at the person who followed him through the door.
“You will come and see the show tonight?” asked Michael, standing so close that the two of them were almost touching. “I’ve been rehearsing that new number. I need to know what you think of it.”
“I like everything you do…”
Michael laughed. “I know that, but I want your professional musical opinion. Tell me straight. If I can do it better, let me know.”
Andrew put his hand on Michael’s arm. “I will. You’ll get the brutal truth from me.”
“I’ll see you after the show, then, up in the cocktail bar before you start your set.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Me too…”
Their heads inclined to one another for just a second before Andrew pulled back.
“I’ll be late for the gospel choir rehearsal if I don’t go.”
“It’s good of you to do that. You don’t have to.”
“I know,” grinned Andrew. “I’m a very nice person.”
“You certainly are…”
“See you then – and break a leg tonight! Don’t worry, that new song will be great.”
Clifford waited until the two of them had left the lounge before he emerged from the shadows.
So that was how things were. It didn’t look as if Maureen Bragnall was going to be welcoming Sharon as a daughter-in-law any time soon.
“Don’t go!”
“Rob, I must,” replied Jill as she was about to leave the cabin, her gospel choir sheet in her hand. “It’s the last rehearsal.”
“Dirty Dancing’s showing on the ship’s television system today. That’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I’ve got a rehearsal.”
“I thought we could cuddle up and watch it together.”
“You hate musicals. You’ve always been really rude about me liking that film.”
“Well, I fancy watching it now – with my wife.”
Jill turned, her hand on the door handle. “That’s a lovely thought, Rob. Unexpected, but lovely – and I still have to go to the choir rehearsal. Why don’t you come?”
“Why don’t you stay?”
“Look, I’ll be back soon, and I’d love to take up your offer of cuddling up in front of that film later tonight, perhaps after dinner?”
“I might have changed my mind by then,” he said, narrowing his eyes in a way he hoped looked seductive.
“That’s a risk I’ll have to take.”
“If we leave it until later, will you wear that dress again?”
“What? To cuddle up on the bed?”
“You’re right, that’s a bad idea. Just slip it on for a while to remind me how nice you looked in it, then you can take it off again before you come to bed…”
“I’ll think about it,” replied Jill, her lips twitching with the effort of trying to control the smile that was creeping across her face.
“Please do,” suggested Rob as she shut the door behind her.
“Well, that was really brilliant. Well done, everybody!”
A round of delighted applause and cheers rippled around the choir at Pam’s encouraging words.
“Keep an eye on the people either side of you,” Pam continued, grinning as she raised her voice to be heard. “If everyone else is swaying to the right and you’re swaying to the left, it’s probably you who’s doing it wrong. And gentlemen, don’t forget not to sing when it’s supposed to be women only – but do remember to sing when it’s your turn. OK?
“Right, well, the actual performance is the day after tomorrow, as we leave Honfleur heading for Tilbury. I’m told that sail-away time is scheduled for five forty-five, so our service will start a quarter of an hour before that, at five thirty. Could I ask you all to assemble here at five, so we can have one last run-through before we go upstairs? We need to be up on deck in good time to make sure everyone knows where to stand.”
There was general agreement all round as the choir members began to disperse.
“Carole, Sylvia, Peter and Val, Betty, Sheila and Marion, Julia, Mark, Deirdre, Father Peter and John – can you spare a minute to come up and have a word, please?”
Once they were all gathered around her, Pam carried on. “Thank you for all agreeing to be part of my Good Heavens! choir for our ‘Songs of Praise’ tomorrow afternoon. I know you’ve already had a rehearsal with Brian of the hymns we’ll be singing. Viewers are used to hearing musical pieces sung beautifully on the television programme, so we need to make sure our hymns are as moving and musical as we can make them tomorrow. Knowing you’re all experienced church choir members, used to reading music and holding harmony lines, I’d like you to stand round the
microphones at the side of the stage, so you can give a strong and melodic lead. We’ll probably have at least three hundred people in the audience tomorrow, so with your help the sound should be wonderful.”
“We’ll need a proper sound check,” declared Carole, “so we get the voices balanced correctly. Obviously the strongest and most perfectly pitched voices should be nearest the microphones.”
“You’re right, we do need a sound check, and for just that reason I’d like you all to be in the lounge by half past four, thirty minutes before we start. Is that all right with everyone?”
“What should we wear?” asked Marion.
“You’re on holiday,” smiled Pam. “Whatever you might wear to go to church while you’re on holiday.”
“What? No uniform?” asked Carole. “We’ll look like a very ragamuffin choir if we’re all in different colours and styles.”
“That’s why I call it the Good Heavens! choir. We’re not pretending to be a group who’ve sung and practised together for years. This choir’s made up of new friends who’ve come together specially for this occasion. Good heavens, we might look a bit unusual, but our hearts and voices will most definitely be in the right place.”
Carole said nothing, although her expression said rather a lot.
“You all know Richard now,” continued Pam, smiling at her husband beside her. “He’s well used to leading the singing during our ‘Songs of Praise’. He’ll be with you all the time, to make sure everyone knows when to stand up for each hymn and when to sit down again so you can listen to the interviews. Just keep your eye on him. I really hope you find it a lovely experience. Thank you again. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Once the crowd had dispersed and the room was almost empty, Clifford moved over to where Andrew was sorting through his music.
“A word in your ear, dear boy.”
Andrew looked up in surprise.
“Completely by accident, I happened to see you taking your leave of Michael this afternoon, just before this rehearsal.”
Andrew’s jaw dropped.
“Don’t worry! I’ve no problem with the two of you being that close, and I see you haven’t either.”