Instead I’ll probably just keep watching movies, maybe move on to TV shows if I can’t sleep (Eli told me not to wait up for him in a way that implied he wouldn’t be coming back at all tonight) and I can always pick at my leftover pizza. I need to be up early tomorrow anyway, I promised my mum and dad I’d go for breakfast with them before taking them to the gift shop to spend my prize money – my second lot of prize money, that is. My ship money that isn’t actually real money. I’m just going to let my mum and dad go to town on it and then maybe pick myself up a few bits if there is any money left and anything I fancy.
As for my real prize money, I’m scared to look at how much is left. No doubt this cruise (plus the tickets I bought for my parents) and all my pre-cruise shopping have made quite the dent in it. I’m sure I still have plenty left but, if I’m not careful, I’m going to need to spend my gift shop money on stuff that I can flip once I get back home.
I suppose the elephant in the room is that I need a job, and fast. I just can’t worry about that right now. I’ll worry about it when this is all over. I just hope things work out the way I want them to.
20
Gift shops are always full of tat, aren’t they? Random objects branded with the name of wherever you are on them. Stationery, clothing, ornaments, lighters…
The Silverline gift shop is no exception. I’d be tempted to say it’s even worse. Five-star gift shops are just the same as one-star gift shops, only gaudier. Luckily, my mum and dad are completely captivated by it.
‘Oh, exquisite,’ my mum says as she admires the Silverline-branded scarf she’s wearing in the mirror. ‘Just… wow, so beautiful.’
‘Yeah, it looks great,’ I say. I mean, it doesn’t look bad or anything, but it’s not exactly a really nice scarf. It’s just navy blue with the ship name and logo embroidered on in silver thread.
‘Can I… can I really have it?’ she asks me.
‘Of course you can,’ I say.
‘What about this pen?’ my dad asks me. ‘Would you look at this stunning pen.’
The supposedly stunning pen is silver with the ship’s name and logo on it in navy blue. There’s a real theme here. No one was all that inventive when it came to branding the items and yet my parents love it all. They are like kids in a toyshop. This is like complete role reversal because it used to be them who would take me to the shop and ask me what I wanted them to buy me. It’s kind of nice, to be able to return the favour, even if it isn’t exactly my own hard-earned cash I’m spending.
I stroll around, looking at the tat, trying to see if there’s anything I might like, even just to serve as a reminder of the trip. There’s a snow globe with the ship inside and a real surge of bad weather when you shake it up, but I can’t imagine breaking that out at Christmas every year. There are tea towels, bath towels, face cloths. There is actually a Silverline bathrobe, which does feel lovely and soft, just like the ones that we have in our rooms. I think that might be it for me though. I can’t imagine anything else taking my fancy. I definitely couldn’t spend £1,000 here.
‘Stationery!’ my dad enthuses. ‘Look at this gorgeous Silverline stationery!’
It’s off-white paper and envelopes with, surprise surprise, the ship’s logo on them.
‘Who are you going to send letters to?’ my mum asks him. ‘You don’t even say hello to people if you pass them in the supermarket.’
‘I’d send letters if I had this gorgeous stationery,’ he insists ‘I can send letters to everyone back home, when we get to New York, tell them what a lovely time we’re having.’
‘Yeah, sure, chuck them on the pile,’ I say casually.
We do actually have a little pile of tat on the counter, where a small brunette lady is ringing them up as we go along.
‘Can I have this mug?’ my mum asks me. ‘I know I have a lot of mugs, but—’
‘Mum,’ I say with an amused laugh. ‘You guys should just grab anything you want. Anything. Anything at all, OK?’
My dad stops in his tracks in front of a glass cabinet. He gaps with delight as he stares up at a navy blue blazer with red edges and a big, gold Silverline cruise logo on the sleeve and little gold badges on the collar. It is bizarrely futuristic in the way that it is cut, with the buttons off to one side. It’s also completely ugly.
‘What is this?’ my dad asks.
‘That’s the captain’s jacket,’ the cashier says. ‘Well, a replica captain’s jacket.’
‘I must have it,’ he says, the wonderment apparent in his voice.
‘Dad, there is no way the captain wears a jacket like that,’ I insist. ‘You’ll look fresh off the Battlestar Galactica.’
And I know this because Battlestar Galactica is one on my dad’s favourite TV shows. I’ve seen someone on there with something almost identical, in fact, I think he was the captain. The Battlestar Galactica captain might wear this jacket, but I guarantee you the captain of this ship does not.
‘Does the captain of this ship wear this jacket?’ my dad asks the cashier.
‘You bet,’ she replies in a strong East Coast American accent.
‘Doesn’t he wear like a white shirt, bits on the shoulders, maybe badges on the chest…?’
‘He wears this jacket to relax,’ she explains.
Absolutely no one is relaxing in this jacket.
‘Can I have it?’ my dad asks. ‘I know it’s £290, but—’
‘£290!’ I squeak. Still, it’s only ship credit. ‘Sure, go for it.’
When my mum and dad are happy that they’ve got everything they want and the cashier has rung it all up, it comes to a grand total of £512.
‘Is that it?’ I ask.
‘I know,’ the cashier beams. ‘You’ve got yourself some amazing bargains.’
‘That’s just over half what I have to spend,’ I say. ‘Let’s see…’
I grab another robe, this time for Eli, along with a few bags of chocolate ship coins because they are amazing, but I’m still not even over £600.
‘What’s the most expensive thing you sell?’ I ask curiously.
‘It’s like… a piece of glass, like a glass disk, with the ship and the date we sail etched into it… it’s kind of cool, they only make so many per trip, so they are rare too. We keep them locked away. Would you like to see one?’
‘No, it’s fine, I’ll just take it,’ I say.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. It can be the thing that reminds me of the trip and blah blah blah.
‘Well, OK then,’ she says. ‘It will be delivered to your suite, Miss Jones.’
‘Marvellous,’ I reply. ‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, Rosie, thank you so much,’ my mum says, giving me a big squeeze before quickly releasing me to pick up her bags of ship merchandise.
‘Yes, thanks, love,’ my dad says. ‘I can’t wait to wear my jacket.’
‘Probably don’t wear it while we’re on the ship,’ I say.
‘What? Why not?’ my dad asks, like I’m his mum and won’t let him go to school in a Darth Vader costume.
‘Well, people might mistake you for the captain,’ I say. But they won’t. There is no way the captain wears this weird, space-age, movie-prop jacket.
‘Actually, anyone who buys one gets to meet the captain,’ the cashier says. ‘It gains you access to the Captain’s Bar – a private drinking joint for the captain and a few, very lucky select individuals.’
‘I… I get to meet the captain?’ my dad asks. He can’t believe his ears. You’d think he’d been told he was getting to meet the Queen or something – he’d probably be less excited to meet the Queen.
‘Yes, of course,’ she tells him. ‘You can take your family with you. Just pop to reception and they’ll help you schedule something.’
I massage my temples. Why oh why did she have to tell us that?
‘Do many people buy these?’ I ask.
‘They don’t,’ she replies. ‘Very exclusive.’
More like v
ery crap.
‘Perhaps he can fit us in this evening?’ my dad says.
‘Perhaps,’ the cashier replies.
‘OK, well, we should go and get ready,’ my dad insists.
‘I thought we were going to play shuffleboard?’ I say – and now I can’t believe my ears. But I really, really don’t want to meet the captain. I have nothing against the man, he’s doing a fine job, but my dad is going to treat him like he’s Clint Eastwood. He’s going to fanboy the captain, I just know it. My mum has this overwhelming respect for anyone who she thinks has an important job, so she’ll probably be throwing herself at his feet too. It’s nice that they’re excited, but it’s going to be so, so embarrassing for me.
‘I might pop for a drink,’ I say.
‘We can get a drink with the captain later,’ my dad says.
‘Yeah, I mean I’ll go for a pre-drink,’ I say. ‘You know what us millennials are like with our prinkies.’
‘I have no idea what that means.’ He looks at me, confused. ‘But OK, sure. We’ll see you back at our suite to go and meet the captain.’
My mum does a little, excitable jig.
Wow, this ship really is like Disneyland for retired people. We went to Disneyland, when I was younger, with my auntie, my uncle and my cousin Tom, who was about four at the time. Tom was a huge fan of Aladdin, which hadn’t been out long, so it was a pretty big deal at the park. Characters from the movie were strolling around and, when Tom got to meet Genie, he got so excited and nervous that he wet his pants. Tom, as an adult, thinks that this is hilarious, but his mum still says it was the most embarrassing moment of her life.
I’ll grab a drink, loosen up a little, and then we’ll see about going to meet the captain. Let’s just hope I don’t embarrass myself, or my excited parents don’t do it for me. No one wants a repeat of Disneyland.
21
‘Well, hey there,’ I hear fake Bublé’s voice say as he sits down next to me at the bar.
For a big ship, I sure do bump into him a lot. I am in the ship’s stunning champagne bar – definitely the fanciest prinkies I’ve ever had, in this beautiful golden room with free-flowing booze and gentle ambient music.
‘I cannot get over that accent coming out of your mouth,’ I say. ‘I can’t get over how different you are generally. You were such an indie kid the last time I saw you.’
‘Well, looking like an unkempt Oasis fanboy was never going to be a look that would get me far, was it? When I landed in Australia, the first thing they made me do was get a proper haircut.’
‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ I admit. ‘I don’t think the wild, messy hairstyle was cool until Harry Styles made it so.’
‘Yeah, I was ahead of my time,’ he says with a laugh. ‘I got to be a Josh Groban tribute precisely once – couldn’t quite match his tone – and I got to grow my hair out for that gig, but that was it. Anyway, Bublé is a much better fit, you know me, I love the sound of my own voice. I get to chat, be charming, sing, I can do my weird dad dancing…’
‘Oh, I’m sure the cheeky chap in you loves it.’
‘I really do,’ he says. ‘I get to be kind of a wild card, which I like.’
‘What does being a wild card entail?’ I ask curiously. ‘Is it like diplomatic immunity?’
‘Sort of,’ he chuckles before bursting into a rendition of ‘When I Fall in Love’. Propping up the bar, nursing the drink he already had when he sat down next to me, he somehow blends right in and captures everyone’s attention. His voice, unaccompanied, without a microphone stands on its own. He has such a smooth voice which simultaneously sounds so romantic and yet so heart-breaking – then again, it’s a fine line between the two.
I rest my chin on my hand and just stare at him. It’s almost impossible to believe that my Josh is inside this smooth, sexy man. It’s like he went on one of those TV makeover shows where they completely rebuilt him. He was always an amazing boyfriend but now he’s made of 100% boyfriend material. I’m not sure what you’d want to change about him (not that I ever wanted to change him before) except maybe to get him a job on dry land.
‘See, Josh Groban doesn’t get to do that,’ he tells me when he’s finished singing.
I feel so relaxed and yet so nervous. I don’t even know what to say.
‘Gosh, don’t tell my mum you were Josh Groban,’ I eventually blurt. ‘She’s obsessed with him. Anyway, for what it’s worth, I like your hair like this. The sleek, suave Bublé look suits you. It’s nice to be able to see your eyes.’
‘Yeah, I should have known you’d be into it – don’t think I don’t remember how you used to hold my hair out of my eyes when we kissed.’ Josh laughs.
‘Why is that funny?’ I ask.
‘Because you would move my hair from my eyes, lean in for a kiss and then immediately close your eyes again,’ he says. ‘I never understood it.’
‘Well, I always felt like you were hiding something behind that fringe. Those few seconds getting to look into your eyes… it felt like the one moment I got to glimpse inside your head.’
Josh scoots up a little closer to me, placing his face just inches away from mine.
‘Can you tell what I’m thinking right now?’ he asks.
Truthfully, I have no idea. I just hope he can’t tell what I’m thinking. I’m thinking about what it used to be like to kiss him and how I’d love to give it another try, just to refresh my memory…
‘Maybe,’ I lie.
He only lingers a second longer before getting out of my personal space.
‘Hmm,’ he says with a laugh before finishing his drink. ‘So, what are you and Eli up to this evening?’
‘I have no idea what Eli is up to, he’s still with André – I haven’t seen him in twenty-four hours, they must be having fun.’
‘We did a set earlier, André was there, but Eli wasn’t with him… Are you sure that’s where he is?’
‘Erm, yeah, well, he said he was probably staying with him last night but—’
‘Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s fine,’ Josh says, squeezing my shoulder.
‘Yeah,’ I say, except my brain is considering a different version of events. A version where he’s drunk, staggering around on the deck before taking a tumble overboard… and then there’s that balcony story that Karen told us. Eli just found it funny, he won’t have heeded it as a warning, he would’ve seen it as a challenge if anything. Some kind of extreme sport sexual activity to add to his resume.
‘Your brain is running away with you, isn’t it?’ Josh says.
‘Yep,’ I admit.
‘Some things never change, do they?’ he laughs. ‘Well, how about I take you to André’s cabin and we see if he’s there – I’m sure he is.’
‘I’d really appreciate it, thank you.’
Josh offers me his hand to help me down off my stool.
‘Here’s one for your Titanic tick list,’ Josh says. ‘I’m taking you down to the cabins where the staff live. No suites down there.’
‘So long as it isn’t underwater, I don’t mind,’ I say.
‘Are you not a high-society girl now?’ he asks. ‘With you guys all staying in suites, I figured… I don’t know…’
‘Oh, no, I’m still a lowly pauper,’ I say. ‘I won the money to buy the tickets.’
‘Well, that’s almost Titanic-y, isn’t it?’ he says as he ushers me into the lift.
‘I guess it is,’ I say thoughtfully. ‘I’m definitely more Jack Dawson than Rose DeWitt-Bukater though.’
‘Me too,’ he says. ‘It’s nice to pretend to be something better – something more successful – isn’t it?’
‘It is,’ I reply. ‘I think I keep forgetting that this isn’t my life, and once I get back home, it will be back to reality.’
‘Are you not enjoying reality?’ he asks.
‘Is anyone?’ I say with a laugh.
God, I’m really bringing the tone down, I need to change the subject.
‘Ar
e we nearly there?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, just down this corridor,’ he says. ‘Rosie, honestly, I’m sure Eli’s fine.’
‘God, I hope so.’
Eli has been back in my life for about five minutes and I’m not sure I could live without him now. I didn’t realise he was missing from my life but now that he’s here I can see the hole that was there before. You might think you can get through life without a proper best friend, but you need someone you can count on, someone you can tell anything to, someone who is always going to have your back and never ever judge you.
‘Here we are,’ Josh says. ‘This is André’s cabin.’
I take a deep breath and knock on the door.
Eli answers, eventually, wearing nothing but a Silverline cruise robe.
‘Oh, thank God you’re OK,’ I say, grabbing him for a hug.
‘I’m fine,’ he says cautiously. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing, nothing,’ I insist. ‘I was just worried because I hadn’t heard from you in a while.’
Eli hugs me back. ‘Oh, you’re your mother’s daughter,’ he says with a chuckle. ‘Yep, I’m fine. Hey, Josh.’
‘Hey,’ he says.
‘Sorry I missed your set earlier, I was going to come, but André talked me into just relaxing, ordering some room service… He was going to the gym before coming back to hang out more.’
‘Do you fancy going for a drink?’ I ask.
‘I’ve had a bunch.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s a drink with the captain,’ I explain. ‘My dad bought this jacket that gets you into the captain’s lounge and apparently we’re all invited to have a drink with him.’
‘You know, I’ve always wondered who buys those,’ Josh says.
‘People like my dad,’ I say. ‘So, come on, Eli, will you come with me?’
‘You know I’d love to, but when André gets back he’s going to play me like a cello, if you know what I mean…’
My Great Ex-Scape Page 13