by Dawn Brookes
“Yes, they can,” Marjorie acknowledged. “Life is never the same, that’s for sure.”
Marjorie realised how cathartic it had been to talk to someone about her loss. Another person who understands the deep sense of grief which nothing will alleviate. When Marjorie had discovered Freda was going on the same trip in Lisbon the next day, she had been delighted.
Marjorie had been seated close to Rachel the previous evening and thought she had looked very happy. She still couldn’t remember where she had seen the man who was with her before, though, in spite of racking her brains for two days.
Oh, old brain, I wish you could remember things.
She had gone to bed, deciding to think about it before she went to sleep. She had read somewhere that if you thought about something before going to bed that you would remember it during the night.
It didn’t work.
Marjorie and Freda met up at breakfast, and afterwards went along to the theatre, where groups were gathering to join their various coach trips. Marjorie had booked the trip on the first day and was looking forward to visiting the Gulbenkian Museum, renowned for its private art collection. After that, they would be taken on a narrated tour through Lisbon, and she and Freda had decided they would stop off at the far end of the harbour and visit one of the larger hotels for afternoon tea.
The museum turned out to be everything Marjorie had expected, and more. It was huge and spacious inside as they entered through the main hallway. As they were on a tour, they had round stickers with numbers attached to their chests, and followed the tour guide who explained about the collections, but they only managed to see a fraction of the exhibits due to time constraints.
“You could spend a week in here and still not see everything,” Marjorie remarked.
“Yes, I agree. I do love art, don’t you? It’s a shame we won’t have time to see the Lalique collection as well.”
Marjorie also liked Lalique, and had a few pieces of the glassware herself. Rene Lalique was famous around the world for his unmistakable style of glass sculptural designs. He produced anything from small sculpted animals to large bowls and vases and his work was sought after worldwide. Nevertheless, she was much more interested in paintings, and thrilled to see works by Rubens, Rembrandt and Turner. There were also pieces by Renoir, and she was in her element admiring the works of these great masters of art. Delighted with her Dali purchase the previous day, she was taking full advantage of the time they had, browsing the masterpieces.
Freda seemed to be enjoying the sculptures, particularly those that reminded her of her times overseas.
“We saw so many great works of art in many different parts of the world,” she said.
Marjorie felt that although her own sense of loss was deep, Freda’s seemed to eat her apart. I wonder if any of us are ever happy again after the loss of our soulmates. She chastised herself for being maudlin and reminded herself how both she and Ralph had promised each other they would try to go on and enjoy life if the worst should happen to either of them.
After the museum tour, Marjorie and Freda had lunch in the café before rejoining the coach for the rest of the trip, chatting all the way. Because both of them had been to Lisbon many times before, they didn’t feel the need to listen to carefully to the tour guide.
The coach driver dropped a number of passengers off at the far end of the harbour.
“You will need to make your own way back to the ship,” the tour guide advised as they left the coach, and they agreed to be back at the Coral Queen by five.
Marjorie and Freda sat in the Botanical Gardens for a while, enjoying the scented perfume of the tropical flowers that were grown there. At three o’clock, they decided to find a grand hotel with excellent service and enjoy afternoon tea with cakes and scones.
“It has always surprised me how we British still long for the luxuries of home, even when abroad,” said Marjorie. “It’s no wonder that some foreigners find us annoying. Did you find this when you lived abroad?”
“Yes,” replied Freda. “Seamus always insisted on haggis for Burn’s Night, even when we were based in Morocco. It had to be shipped over in a diplomatic pouch.” She chortled at the memory. Freda had a lovely laugh, and Marjorie was pleased that she appeared to be happier in herself. They had spent much of the day sharing memories, and Marjorie noticed that Freda had difficulty staying in the present.
Marjorie also noticed that although they were of a similar height and build, the other woman did not appear to pay the same attention to her appearance. Her hair was a little dishevelled, whereas Marjorie’s was immaculately well styled and groomed. Freda’s nails looked worn, and her face showed the marks and lines of someone who had smoked for many years, and who probably liked a drink too many. Marjorie had never smoked, but she did like the occasional brandy at bedtime and drank socially. Perhaps as a diplomat’s wife, Freda had spent most of her life having to entertain guests and host parties, so this might have taken its toll on the woman.
Looking out of the window, Marjorie realised it was raining. She looked at Freda.
“Do you have a coat, dear?”
“No, I don’t seem to have brought one,” Freda replied.
“Never mind,” said Marjorie. “I have an umbrella and a jacket. Why don’t you wear my coat and hat? I’m always prepared for every eventuality.”
“Oh, thank you, that is so kind. If I get wet, my rheumatism plays up awfully.”
Freda took the coat and put on the hat as they left the hotel to find a taxi to take them back to the ship. They stood at the side of the road, waiting for a gap in the traffic so that they could cross to the other side. A large crowd gathered around them as everyone seemed to be waiting to cross at the same time.
Marjorie looked across the road and saw Rachel and her friend in the distance, heading their way.
Perhaps we could all share a taxi …
Her thoughts were shattered as she heard the loud beep of a vehicle horn, and she watched in horror as a lorry jackknifed right in front of her.
There was a huge commotion, and she looked around for Freda. Moments later, she saw her hat in the road. Her coat, along with Freda, was lying underneath the lorry.
Dropping her umbrella, Marjorie froze to the spot while the rain lashed down on to her head.
Chapter 13
Rachel had slept well, in spite of feeling some disappointment that Carlos hadn’t offered her a kiss on the cheek, or even a clichéd compliment, when they had parted the previous night. In fact, their goodbye had been rather awkward. Putting her disappointment aside, Rachel got up early and worked out in the gym before having breakfast. Then she made her way to the main atrium to meet Sarah.
Sarah arrived around fifteen minutes late, looking tired. She had on a pair of cropped cotton trousers and a white printed cotton t-shirt. Her hair was down today, and the long naturally wavy light-brown locks reached the middle of her back. Rachel admired her friend appreciatively. Both women were used to wearing uniforms in their jobs and enduring the constraints this entailed, including tying back hair and wearing little or no jewellery, but they both liked bling when off duty.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Sarah was still breathless from rushing. “We were up most of the night dealing with burns. One woman had serious sunburn and we had to arrange for her to go to the burns unit today at the local hospital.”
“Will she be okay?”
“Yes, it’s just precautionary really, and they can provide her with a supply of dressings to cover the worst of them. She was lucky. I think if she had been out in the sun for much longer, she could have been in trouble. Anyway, that’s enough about me. Come on, let’s hit Lisbon.”
The two women walked off the ship arm in arm, chatting and laughing just like old times. Sarah wanted to go into town first to do some shopping and then they planned to walk the opposite way along the main promenade and see some of the sights that Lisbon Harbour had to offer. As they made their way to the shops, Sarah cont
inued her stories of the previous night.
“Alex was called to see a drunken, abusive passenger in one of the bars who had hit his wife. Graham was seeing another passenger at the time who had not eaten enough following his insulin injection and suffered a hypoglycaemic episode.”
Rachel knew that hypoglycaemia was when a diabetic’s blood-sugar went too low and they needed immediate treatment before they went into a coma. She had been trained to spot the signs, which can mimic drunkenness, so that she could call the paramedics and initiate first aid where necessary.
“The drunk was too hot to handle for Alex, so security locked him up for the night, while Alex stitched his wife’s eyebrow in the surgery.”
“Domestic abuse doesn’t confine itself to land then?” Rachel asked sadly.
“No, it doesn’t, although they usually fight in their rooms. Not in one of the main bars.”
“What happens next?”
“We asked the wife if she wanted to press charges and she said no, otherwise we could have had him arrested in Lisbon today. He will get a warning from the chief security officer and told that one more strike and he’s off ship. I expect security weren’t too gentle with him, either, because he was fighting them, so he will have a few bruises himself today. The jury will be out as to whether this was a one-off, as his wife claims, or his usual behaviour.”
They walked towards the town which was a couple of miles away from where the Coral Queen was docked. The temperature was a pleasant 28 degrees centigrade with clear blue skies, but Rachel had picked up from the captain’s announcement before she’d left the ship that there was a chance of rain in the afternoon. Each morning and evening, the captain made an announcement over the ship’s loudspeaker detailing where they were, at what speed they were travelling, and a weather update for the day or night. The cruise director followed on with announcements about activities available through the day or evening.
Rachel and Sarah arrived at the main square and entered the shopping areas through a large archway forming a gateway. The centre was pedestrianised, the streets cobbled and relatively narrow for a city. They enjoyed a pleasant couple of hours shopping and stopped off for lunch at one of the outside cafés.
Rachel found Sarah easy to talk to because she always listened and digested information before giving an opinion. Conversation flowed freely as they sat at a table, relaxed and replete after their lunch, drinking cappuccinos and watching tourists having their photos taken beside a man dressed as a clown. Rachel pondered whether to tell her friend about her concerns regarding Marjorie, but what was there to tell? A few feelings and a drunk trying to get into Marjorie’s room were hardly conclusive proof of any sinister goings on.
“Come on,” said Sarah after they’d finished their drinks. “I want to show you the prettier parts of Lisbon.”
They got up and left the centre via the same archway through which they had entered and walked back towards the ship.
“We need to walk another couple of miles along the main road on the other side of the ship,” Sarah explained.
They passed the Coral Queen on their journey, joining an avenue with a hospital on the right-hand side.
“That’s a hospital for tropical diseases,” said Sarah. Rachel, exhilarated at being on land again, was enjoying the exercise, although the heat was becoming more and more humid.
“I think it’s going to rain,” she remarked, and Sarah agreed.
They continued their walk and took a right fork on to another avenue, which ran parallel to the one they had been walking along. The roads were busy and there was a lot of traffic noise. Rachel needed to raise her voice to be heard, but the views were lovely.
They came off the main road to visit the Botanical Gardens where they sat for a while and enjoyed ice cream until it started to rain. Neither of them had brought coats. Rachel looked at the skies where the clouds were now looking menacing. The rain was getting heavier, so they sheltered for a few minutes inside a café doorway.
“I think it’s time to head back to the ship,” said Sarah. “We can get a bus on the main road.”
As they were walking towards the main road, Rachel caught a glimpse of Marjorie in the distance on the far side of the road. Crowds were building as people were trying to find shelter or make their way back to the ship. Suddenly there was the sound of a horn and she saw a lorry skidding in the road as the driver tried to slam on his brakes. His lorry jackknifed, blocking the boulevard.
Rachel and Sarah heard screams and immediately ran towards the commotion.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Sarah. “Those are our passengers. I hope everyone is alright.”
As they arrived at the scene, Rachel realised just how serious the situation was. An elderly woman was lying in the road, and Rachel knew she was dead before they got any closer.
“I’m the ship’s nurse,” called Sarah. “Please stand back and allow some room. Has anyone called for the emergency services?”
“I have,” said a shocked-looking man in the crowd. Rachel lifted her head to look away from the body, finding herself relieved to see it wasn’t Marjorie. She decided to do some crowd control, asking people to step back on to the pavement. As she did so, she thought she caught a glimpse of Carlos running in the opposite direction. It was only a passing glimpse before she became preoccupied with moving people away from the body.
“Please, everybody, stay around for a while as the police will want to ask if anyone saw what happened.”
Rachel, now in full PC mode, noticed that Sarah had obviously decided there was nothing she could do for the woman in the road, and a man had covered the body with his coat. Rachel saw her friend helping the lorry driver, who had bashed his head on the windscreen, and admired the way in which her friend dealt with his injuries while calming him down.
“Is there anyone medical here?” shouted Sarah. Rachel could see she was trying to stem the bleeding from the man’s head and keep him talking.
The emergency services arrived a few minutes later and took over from Sarah, while the police were already taking notes and statements from people in the crowd. Rachel saw Marjorie standing at the side of the road, looking pale and shaken. She went towards the old lady and put her arm around her. Marjorie was soaking wet, and Rachel saw an open umbrella lying on the ground.
“Come on, Marjorie,” she said, as she picked up the umbrella and covered both of their heads. “There’s a bench over there. Let’s sit you down, and then I will find a policeman to take a statement from you so I can get you back to the ship.”
Marjorie tried to smile, but Rachel could see she was badly shaken.
Rachel found a policeman and sent him in Marjorie’s direction. She then found Sarah speaking to another policeman and calling the ship. It was obvious that Sarah was going to be a while as the policeman didn’t speak much English and Sarah didn’t speak Portuguese. They were trying to converse in Spanish.
“I need to get Marjorie back to the ship,” she explained to Sarah.
“I didn’t realise she was here. Yes, of course. I need to sort out some things here first. We’ll meet up later, after dinner.”
Rachel moved back towards Marjorie. The policeman shook his head and said he hadn’t managed to get much out of her, but she could return to the ship.
“It appears to have been a tragic accident,” he said in heavily accented English as he walked away.
Rachel helped Marjorie to her feet and they crossed the road to flag down a taxi. Rachel held on to Marjorie’s hand on the way back in the taxi. The old lady was shivering with cold and muttering words that were not making any sense.
“Please hurry,” Rachel called out to the taxi driver. “This lady needs to see a doctor.”
The taxi driver looked in the rear-view mirror and although Rachel was unsure whether he understood her words, she was certain he understood the situation and he put his foot down on the gas. Rachel was becoming increasingly worried as Marjorie became more incoherent and was only semi
-conscious. She had found a blanket on the back seat of the taxi and wrapped this around the dear old lady, but this was now wet, too. Marjorie needed dry clothes, and she needed them soon.
“Stay with me, Marjorie,” Rachel said, holding the old lady close and trying to warm her up with body heat. Rachel then called Sarah on her mobile phone and explained the situation.
“I’ll call ahead and have a medical team waiting for your arrival, but they may turn her around to the hospital,” Sarah explained.
“They can’t do that!” cried Rachel, feeling hysterical. The taxi driver looked at her in the rear view mirror again, concern in his eyes. “She would be all alone in a foreign country. They have to care for her.”
After what seemed an age, the taxi arrived at the cruise terminal and was ushered straight through. Rachel was relieved to see Dr Bentley waiting on the dockside with a stretcher and a silver space blanket to treat hypothermia. There were two others with him. One was Bernard, and the other, Rachel presumed, was Alex. As soon as the taxi stopped, they opened the doors from the outside and went to work immediately. One of the crew members lifted Marjorie out of the car gently, and Dr Bentley wrapped her in the blanket while Bernard discreetly removed the wet clothing. They worked quickly and all looked concerned.
“Please don’t send her away,” Rachel pleaded.
“She needs a hospital,” said Dr Bentley.
“No,” muttered Marjorie, and Rachel could see fear in her eyes. “No hospital,” and then she became incoherent again.
Rachel looked at Dr Bentley, silently imploring him to do as Marjorie wished.
“Quick! Get her to the infirmary.”
With that, Marjorie was strapped to the stretcher on wheels and moved swiftly away, with Bernard pulling and Alex pushing.
“Go and get dried off yourself,” Bernard called back to Rachel. “Then come to the infirmary on deck two.” Rachel was about to argue, but then realised that she was also soaking wet and feeling shivery herself. She started to follow the stretcher, but then she heard a call of dismay from behind her.