“I want you to come with me.”
Jane’s was neither plea nor demand; seemingly more a stated preference
They were sat at the dining table – dusk having crept past the late afternoon haze; their features accentuated in borrowed light from the city below. Directly above, the smoke detector’s tiny LED glowed - its reflection caught in the glass tabletop - like the North Star in an inverted sky.
She seemed patient; gifting Brian the time needed to consider her request. Inwardly though she was actually quite apprehensive; her breath bated; blue irises perceptibly shifting from his dark ones to parted lips: perhaps anticipating either to offer the first hint of his thoughts.
A pause instilled, the thumb nail on his left hand, contemplatively grazing his lower teeth; Lips taking the changing form of silent syllables.
Soft rock music from the Sonos speaker added to the atmosphere; could have been Shirley Bassey.
Brian deep in thought – adjusted his focus - beyond the open bifold doors, across the penthouse garden, before settling on the brightly lit cruise ship moored in the docks.
The vessel had just given six long, loud blasts of its horn – next stop; somewhere other than Southampton; Its slow manoeuvring to the deep-water channel, setting the climate as he again turned his attentions to her.
He smiled resignedly at a near expressionless face; features poised to be shaped by the outcome of his deliberations.
She loved that smile and the warmth of his hands as he reached out for hers.
“Darling, you go”
His eyes never left hers –
“I’ll be here when you return.”
The tone carried the easy intimacy of spouses parting in the morning. A slight shrug of his shoulder further softened it.
That was three weeks ago. Now they were in the mini, back seats down; just enough room for the luggage. Brian drove, Jane in the passenger seat.
“I’m really excited”;
He briefly caught her eye. It was early morning - still dark enough for the road to be lit.
The yellow overhead street lights framing their route; approaching slowly from the distance –the closer, the faster; then receded at speed behind them; seemingly with somewhere far more pressing to get to than Heathrow.
She smiled broadly – long ago having dropped the automatic suppression of the reflex. A visit to the orthodontist’s had been arranged soon after their return.
“four decades in the waiting” she volunteered.
The relationship was pivotal - for them both.
November – the schools were in session, and there was a noticeable absence of children in the lofty concourses of Terminal two.
Jane was particularly alert as to what was necessary to ensure their smooth passage.
She planned just about every aspect of the trip; insisting on seeing his passport before they left; having previously checked its validity before making the booking.
She had also covered the main expenses.
“You bring alot more to this relationship “, she once told him as he wrestled with the unfamiliar order.
“You give me confidence; never thought I could feel this way again”. There was something symbiotic beyond companionship.
Meals out, homecooked dinners in; a pivotal point in the early period of their relationship was the first meeting with her gay best friends.
A pub restaurant in Little Hampton. They arrived early in her convertible, walking hand in hand along the promenade. Bikined women presented themselves on towels dotted along the shingle of the beach.
That day, the other two arrived in a dark blacked out Range Rover; virtually new, judging by the registration – from a distance they seemed low key, almost cagy, looking slowly around, seemingly suspicious of their environment. The younger of the two emerged from the drivers’ side.
Dark shades on account of the warm sunshine and his most immediately memorable feature - the near absence of forehead - lending him the look of a young Mr Toad from Wind in the Willows.
His partner, having earlier exited; presumably to aid the parking manoeuvre -
much older, hooked nose, head bent forward, seemingly in anticipation of the need to augment impaired hearing.
Jane’s energetic wave wasn’t returned. Brian, later reflecting on that first meeting, concluded that perhaps waving to someone in the distance breached some social etiquette.
As they drew closer however; smiles broadened, until when within a few strides of each other, things evolved into an elaborate greeting; like the mating ritual of exotic tropical birds; or supporters erupting as a star striker closes on goal – that communal, rolling, growing guttural sound, arms elevating and eyes wide.
Brian wondered how long it was since they last saw each other.
Initially both their attentions were focused entirely on Jane; Brian’s warm smile ignored, until Jane introduced him. The young Mr Toad had a limp handshake, his skin rather cold, perhaps on account of the air conditioning in the Range Rover. This close, Brian concluded that he’d perhaps done the original Mr Toad a disservice. His partner though had the demeanour of someone comfortable in unfamiliar company.
The entrance to the pub wasn’t immediately obvious. Jane went one way; Brian and the couple the other; a calculated split to improve their chances of finding it.
“So how did you two meet?”
Imtias had a refined London accent; careful enunciation polished beyond native habit. His hand rested lightly on Brian’s shoulder.
“At the club actually”.
The question was somewhat anticipated and his response had the natural flow of truth.
Wasn’t entirely though – just seemed easier than saying “Online”.
Eventually wide, shallow steps led to a large front door. Olive trees in enormous pots stood sentry. Through the glass frontage, the bar was visible; the trio adjusted their step just as a group exited, holding the door for them. Met with soft music, the click of cutlery and a young waitress, whom they followed to a pre-booked table.
Brian gave her a guarded appreciative glance; the gays equally clandestinely offered him theirs.
Almost immediately the conversation turned to Jane’s whereabouts. Brian scanned the exterior through the glass and saw her returning. He moved to catch her eye.
“Do you have a song list?”
A female diner asked, presumably mistaking him for a member of a band setting up in a corner—perhaps the long hair, perhaps his darker complexion. Brian saw no need to correct her.
“Have you got something in mind?”
She appeared to contemplate his response.
At that moment Jane strolled in; the diner noticing the chemistry realized her mistake and smiled, abashed.
A strange ritual of informing the kitchen that it was Jane’s birthday then ensued. Brian held his counsel, uncertain of the purpose.
Between courses, the reason appeared; in the form of a large slice of chocolate cake, crowned with a lit candle, ceremoniously delivered by the waitress.
“He always does that” – Jane rolled her eyes.
Despite the chastisement, she joined in – laughing as they devoured the desert.
“Actually this one’s a lot bigger than we normally expect”
Imptias’ normal loud voice was tempered to a whisper. His words dripping from his mouth in tandem with spilt bits of cake.
Dinner clarified a few things. Darren was weirder that he looked. He had a habit of staring intently at Brian in the manner that his partner coveted the cake. Imptias in turn knew few boundaries. Swiftly switching to the subject of the heterosexual’s love life and at the end of the evening having demonstrated his liberal appreciation of expensive wines and organic venison – left Jane to foot the bill.
“We can go halves on that”
Brian made the offer as they returned to the car.
“Don’t worry “
Jane appeared unconcerned
“Imptias will pay next time”
On the drive home, it was apparent that Jane was heavy-footed with the accelerator; he though hadn’t noticed it on the journey out. Speed unnerved him and with the top down he felt particularly vulnerable. It took time for her to adjust to his comfort level; during which they argued and he compared her driving to his ex-wife’s. It was the first time he’d seen that defining look in her eyes: levelled on him, moving slowly left to right like an automaton’s scanner. Taking the exit to Southampton, she slowed to the verge and offered to drop him off—there and then.
“Take me home” arms folded, devoid of any power, it was all he could say.
The remainder of the journey was a strained silence. Outside his flat he thanked her for a nice evening and kissed her cheek – she barely offered it.
Twenty minutes later he received a message
“you are not to compare me with your ex”
Brian studied it, taking a few minutes before replying
“please don’t drive fast – it unnerves me”
“Ok”
The incident was forgotten.
Back at the airport, Brian’s was a somewhat unusual bag – a self-declared bargain purchase from the Lidl – Jane eyed it suspiciously the first time she saw it, a sort of turquoise blue; doubled as holdall and backpack.
“Who’s bargain in particular?”
“Sorry, sir—you’ll have to take that to the large-luggage kiosk,” the check-in attendant interceded as Brian heaved it onto the conveyor. She pointed with manicured fingers at the end of a limp wrist, elbows anchored, eyebrows raised over expressive eyes; her slender torso perched as if ready to pivot. Brian wondered if she was a dispossessed stewardess—waiting to be called up, just a uniform change away.
Jane resumed charge, unmoved by the display. Brian returned the bag to the trolley and fell in step, the two moving against the human tide.
The kiosk operative sat slouched beside a stationary belt; his unfocused eyes brightened at their approach.
“Its not actually that big”
Brian defended his charge as he placed it on the belt.
“Don’t ask me why,”
The man replied with a soft grimace.
“Someone higher up the food chain decreed it.”
He seemed intent on using the moment to chat.
“Where you off to?”
He spoke easily while tapping at the keyboard, his eyes flicking between the monitor and the passengers.
“Rome”
Jane conversed as Brian placed the bag on the conveyor.
“Ahhh, love the place”
“It’s a cruise actually”
“Even better”
They walked away, the bargain bag having vanished behind the curtain at the belt’s end. Their fleeting best friend smiling at their retreating forms, nodding at Brian’s parting wave.
The rest of the checks were almost uneventful. Brian through activated the metal detector’s alarm; courting the attentions of a man with a wand who frisked him.
“You’re ok”
He proceeded to retrieve his hand luggage.
It didn’t immediately appear with the others – he joined a special queue, in the interim replacing shoes, belt and watch; casually pointing it out in response to the assistant’s request for him to identify it. Jane stood beside him, her conforming bag dutifully at her side like a labrador.
“Sir”
The attendant smiled as he placed the backpack on the examination table.
“Did you pack this bag yourself”
“I did”
“Do you have any metallic objects in your bag?”
“Don’t think so”
“May I?” – it was a rhetorical question, Brian offering consent to the gesture of hands approaching bag.
Donning surgical gloves, he went through the back, the front, the side pockets before stumbling upon a small wrench, left from a previous excursion.
“Im sorry sir, but tools aren’t allowed on the aircraft”
“Why on earth did you have a wrench in your bag?”
Brian’s look was one of hurt indignation.
“…well I mean, im not sure”
“Darling tools aren’t allowed” – Jane later laughed off the incident.
“What do they think I’d do with it?”
Brian shook his head.
Duty-free next: a liberal spritzing of a fragrance he’d seen advertised, but didn’t own. Jane beckoned him over to her side, extending her forearm for him to consider her choice.
“Yours is actually very nice”
She inhaled at his neckline.
Relieved of the main luggage, she was more relaxed - like a parent after drop-off.
They purchased some food for the flight, along with the usual last-minute bits. None of the concessions appeared to have doors – Their large frontages opened straight onto the concourse; giving the impression of a Turkish Bazaar.
Jane periodically scanned the visual displays for their flight information; the two eventually responding to the instruction to go to their departure gate.
It was a long way off; the footprint of the airport being measured in Hectares. Moving walkways lightened their transit - past other gates at various stages of boarding. They walked along the travelators, floating past other passengers content to not use them – perhaps because they had more time, or maybe less distance to travel.
The two waited at the departure gate; passing the time trying to spot fellow cruisers; watching jets take to the sky in varied livery.
“Would Brian Howard please go to Customer service”
Both looked slightly inquisitively at each other. Brian immediately searching for his passport, assuming its retrieval from a floor somewhere was the most likely explanation.
“Its that bloody bag again!” Jane half joked
“There’s a problem with your boarding pass”
The Tanoy seem intent upon dispelling her suggestion.
Brian casually approached the desk.
“Errr you called me on the Tanoy?”
He returned the questioning look of the attendant.
“Are you Brian Howard?”
“That’s me”
He smiled and nodded to some chairs to his left.
“Just take a seat, someone will speak with you shortly”
“what’s wrong with my boarding pass?”
The attendant maintained his relaxed posture, appearing to consider his computer screen.
“Not sure really.”
He again gestured toward the seats -His manner professionally disarming, dismissive.
Brian returned to Jane, shrugging his shoulders in response to her questioning look. The two took to the seats suggested. Their flight was called and passengers began to queue at the documents check. Somewhat distracted, they only saw the armed officers at the last minute. Bulky individuals with side arms, Tasers and bullet proof jackets. They approached the couple slowly, expressionless.
“Are you Brian Howard?”
The tone bore no hint of intention.
“I am indeed”
“passport please?”
the officer seemed intent on acclimatising him to the reality that he was dealing with authority.
Brian complied, conscious that it wasn’t returned.
“We have a warrant for your arrest.”
The statement was delivered discretely. Brian and Jane stood dumbstruck.
“I beg your pardon?”
Brian had a calm innocence coupled with the indignation of someone severely wronged. A quality which Jane some months later surmised as
“He’s bloody Good under pressure.”
He studied the two officers.
Oddly he seemed more conscious of the one who stayed at a distance – Brian assumed it was a tactic.
Athletic fellow, over six feet, short cropped hair, a distinctive Eastern European look about him, later confirmed by his accent.
The British weren’t necessarily unaccustomed to armed officers; unlike the Americans however they seldom perceived that a loaded weapon would ever be pointed at them by someone in uniform.
The other officer was shorter, perhaps of mixed Indian descent, the Bullet proof jacket holding together folds of fat like a period Corset.
Brian perceived the spatial arrangement of the officers reflected the fat one’s inability to get anywhere particularly quickly – balanced by the athletic one’s ability to do just that.
“I’m afraid so”
“On what grounds?”
“Perhaps we can have a quiet word?”
It was immediately apparent he wished to exclude Jane from the discussion.
Maybe because the information was for the Brian’s ears only or perhaps restricting the conversation gave him the chance of plausible deniability if later challenged. He had a camcorder attached to his jacket, so Brian assumed the former.
“You can say whatever you have to in front of Jane”
The officer hesitated slightly.
“It relates to a serious domestic incident”
“What??!!” Brian’s look of incredulity seem to unsettle the officer.
“you’re obviously making a mistake”
The officer in turn considered his partner
“I don’t believe we are”
“Look it’s not down to us”
He continued -
“We’re just here to assist the issuer of the warrant”
“and who on earth might that be?”
“Surrey Police – that’s all we know”
Jane interjected
“We have a flight to catch”
“I’m afraid, the gentleman wouldn’t be catching that flight”
“May I see this warrant?”
The officer hesitated
“We only have a shortened version of it”
The revelation emboldened Jane.
“So you don’t have a warrant?”
The officer swallowed. The last thing he needed was a savvy individual.
“No -Surrey have it”
Jane looked around
“And where are they?”
“In Surrey it would seem” Brian was bolstered by Janes support.
The lack of a warrant may have been a pinch point for the officer; the show stopper however was his realisation that Jane knew it to be so.
He was now in the realm of barring someone’s legal progress and Jane’s diamond encrusted Rolex and obvious grasp of rudimentary law made him cautious.
He began to dial a number listed on whatever version he had.
After a number of attempts it was obvious that Surrey were busy with other matters.
“Let me speak with my Superintendent”
This time the call was answered immediately. Obviously, the situation was being observed on the CCTV. Jane eyed the dwindling line.
“If you don’t have a warrant, you can’t hold him”
“let him try and sort this out”
It was the first time that Brian heard the other officer speak and the lines of demarcation between the two began to appear. He focused his attentions on the portly one, who’s close proximity allowed him to overhear– bits of what he was narrating to his superior.
Mention was made of Guildford.
Last call was made for the flight.
“Look we’re going to miss the flight”
Jane’s hands were on her hips and she stood her full five foot two.
“The superintendent is holding the flight, it’s not going anywhere”
A straddling pair of late commers – the contents of their duty free bags knocking noisily together, scrambling for travel documents unaware that Brian’s predicament had bought them time.
Still out of breath, they walked past the foursome , giving curious side glances on account of the uniformed officers.
The young attendant periodically studied the unfolding scenario in between checking passports.
Ten minutes or so elapsed and someone senior - judging by the deference shown by the young attendant -arrived. There was a distinct unpleasantness about his mannerism, coupled with a brisk intolerance; his features - those of someone in the presence of an offensive odour.
Quickly acquainted with the situation by his junior, he immediately instructed the removal of their luggage.
“Are you travelling together?” He enquired.
“No,” Jane’s answer was instant. She’d obviously been thinking ahead. Brian, saw it as a good move.
“You’re not bloody well removing mine”
She turned her energies against the unpleasant one - injecting urgency, enough to further unsettle the situation.
Yet another frantic call to the superintendent ensued.
Brian exhaled slowly, lips slightly parted, calm; the focus on the officer’s untenable position. He gave the fat one a measured look, whilst he was still on the phone.
With Surrey nowhere to be seen, far less a warrant and the unpleasant one pushing back on the holding of the plane, they relented, and the two were allowed to proceed, with careful note taken of the details of their return.
The last thing Brian overheard the officer saying to his superior was
“The subject was calm and compliant”.
The unpleasant individual now donned a broad accommodating smile - his features having changed on demand as though applied like lotion from a bottle. The two were quickly ushered to the plane.
“Have a nice flight” – the last words were offered by the young attendant- professional to the end.
The officers also noted that Brian on walking past the boarding desk and continuing to the ramp never never looked back. This meant something – they just didn’t quite know what.
Walking the gauntlet of inquisitive, impatient and judgmental fellow passengers, Brian repeatedly offered his apologies to no one in particular, at regular intervals as he walked along the isle until they got to their seats – right at the back.
Very quickly the aircraft began to taxi t to the runway.
A few rows ahead there was a commotion.
It became apparent that a medical emergency was unfolding.
A passenger who appeared to be medically qualified, made her way to the person afflicted; a camp male flight assistant, hands near frantically waving in the air, hips swaying went the other way – something about oxygen.
“Passengers – this is your captain speaking”
Brian’s instinct to stay as far away from the airport lounge was being frustrated.
A lot could have changed in the ten minutes since they were allowed to continue their journey.
“Due to a medical emergency – we are returning to our dock”
“For Fuck sake” Brian whispered the exasperated statement.
Medical staff quickly boarded the plane. The now revived passenger though seemingly recovered was escorted off, along with his travelling companion.
They soon taxied again. During the mele, Brian took the opportunity to message his daughter.
“Are you in custody?”
“No”
“Call me from the ship”
as suspected she had a succinct grasp of the situation.
“I’ll call Ibby”
“Be careful dad”
As the engines roared, pressing him against his seat: Brian instinctively knew the last hour had presented him with two options.
Fight the ambush of a vastly superior force; the motivations of whom he was yet to understand or - breathing a sigh of relief as the accelerating aircraft left the runway; accept the opportunity of flight.
“You know “
The elderly American female passenger sat next to them offered an insightful opinion.
“don’t know what you two went through back there”
She gestured toward the departing mainland with a jerk of her head.
“But you probably saved his life”
She wasn’t overly inquisitive as to what actually transpired however; her attitude suggested she was at ease with them.
Jane was dismissive of the entire episode.
“They couldn’t even be bothered to show up with a warrant.”
She leaned against Brian and sought his hand in hers.
“Can imagine that its some historic rubbish and someone just forgot to cancel it”
Her casual digestion of the situation didn’t surprise him.
Having two sons and four brothers from the working class North, she wasn’t unfamiliar with police action.
During quiet moments of the flight however his calm persona belied an active thought process. For now, though, he took the gain. Surrey had lost the element of surprise.
Chapter 2
Disembarkation and Italian customs were swift. Brian kept separate from Jane at passport control should any other unresolved issues be flagged.
Outside arrivals they found the cruise representative— the brand clearly printed on a placard held high on a stick. A number of passengers, none recognisable from their flight were ticked off a list and shepherded in near-Indian file to a coach. The rep kept a watchful eye; most being elderly, slow, struggling with their trolleys.
He liked Italy’s cosmopolitan feel—the North African element evident everywhere: in faces, voices, the mix of a place that attracts influx. Somewhere between Israel and London. The atmosphere momentarily offered him respite.
Jane appeared to have entirely forgotten the incident, seemingly focused on enjoying the holiday. It was still though uppermost on Brian’s mind
The WI-FI on the coach enabled him to cross the huge divide to his daughter.
“Don’t worry Dad”
Jane was also interacting with her phone, presumably giving updates of the journey. Brian wondered if it included the near arrest.
“I’ve contacted Richard – he’s already made representations for you”
“Think its Sarah-Jane”
“Told you that woman was a problem”
Brian had to admit her numerous warnings during the time he dated his recent ex.
Eden was into celestial signs and his with the ex, wasn’t it seem, particularly good.
“I’ll call you later”
Soon after the coach started they both set aside their mobiles.
“I think I may have an idea of what happened back there!
“Not that crazy ex-wife of yours”
In a few months of dating, they’d adopted each other’s villains: her violent ex-’s; his psycho ex-wife.
“No – I think it could only be Sarah-Jane”
Jane’s ensuing silence allowed him to elaborate.
“The warrant, or whatever it was “
Jane focused on him
“it mentioned Guildford” and the period of the alleged offence; I’d been writing to her”
“what period was that?”
Jane still seemed unconcerned.
“September”
She studied him.
“so you still communicated with her even after we started dating”
Brian looked out the window, his eyes on the passing landscape.
“It was difficult to let go”
He kept his gaze.
“You know how I struggled”
Her admonishment however was fleeting.
“Well, it was almost three months ago.”
She opened a bottle of water. Air-con, soft seats, and Mediterranean scenery took the edge off things.
The fact that they didn’t even come to the airport really says it’s something forgotten.
Jane was conjuring a convenient explanation.
“Never spurn a woman” she half laughed as she drank from the plastic bottle.
She referred to an episode where Brian had posted photos of him with another woman on social media frequented by his ex and her friends. Not her – no, someone younger, taller.
“Now the wrench makes sense?”
She grinned at him nodding her head conclusively.
“A jail break!”
Brian felt more at ease; he’d obviously deflected something major; if only temporarily.
Like a general however, his opposing number having played their hand; he was now calling on reserves back in London’s legal quarters. He too could pack a punch.
Jane in turn reflected on how difficult it was for him to decouple from SJ; he once said it’d take a nuclear explosion. Oddly providing the fallout was limited – this worked well for their fledgling relationship and in her mind she could hug her previous incumbent.
They didn’t have time to peruse the Port – on account of the police action and the medical intervention, they probably lost an hour and the vessel was due to set off in ninety minutes.
Brian wondered if the other passengers had also hoped to enjoy Rome for an hour or so and harboured ill will towards him on account of the delay. If any did it wasn’t overtly apparent. Bearing in mind too that none shared their flight; he concluded they’d just put things down to an unfortunate delay. They were all now more focused it seemed on identifying their ship amongst the flotilla that greeted them.
She was smaller than he’d imagined. A proper boat-like shape though - pointed bow with a curved stern that seemed to protrude like the shapely glutes of an athlete. Nothing like the huge brick like ones that frequented Southampton.
Approaching the port from the hillside made her look serene; black superstructure with gleaming white upper decks.
“We’re close to the top, one of those side cabins is ours”
Jane stifled her excitement.
“This is amazing!” Brian drew her close.
“We deserve another holiday, just to get over that”. Jane accompanied the statement with a roll of her eyes.
Following the negative winding gradient enroute to sea level, the coach crossed a number of speed barriers; Sometimes the wheels hit the bumps dead on, causing an up/down wave to course through the passengers, others at an angle, one wheel first then the next, throwing them one side then to the other. Rolls of undulating fat cushioned some – gasps of “Ohh” consoled others.
At the foot of the hill, a mechanical barrier lifted. The driver and gate attendant exchanged casual waves, the coach finally stopping in front of a glass-fronted terminal; a pitched woosh from the braking system, like air explosively expelled by a bodybuilder. Despite their years, most of the passengers were instantly on their feet, queueing down the aisle with surprising vigour, jostling for the chance to be first into the sun.
Brian and Jane remained seated. She’d already pointed out that they had priority boarding.
When they finally exited, both skirts of the coach’s luggage compartment were already lifted; the driver - now turned baggage handler - partly submerged within– looking like he was engaged in a strange gynaecological procedure on a whale.
The two hovered discretely away from the mele. The luggage pile shrunk as quickly as it grew, on account of passengers claiming their cases. Seeing the elderly scrambling around seemed strangely undignified. Old men in particular attempting to portray youth, through episodes of strength and speed, the outcome the opposite. Bony arms strained and painful joints caused strange contortions; lined and cratered faces unable to further distort to reflect exertion instead changed colour – not a vibrant red; but a strange purple.
The bags didn’t emerge in any particular order; extracted as they presented themselves. Brian took it upon himself to secure theirs – standing back until each emerged, dodging the aged to claim them – leaving them in Jane’s care until all were accounted for. He noted his Lidl bag hadn’t travelled particularly well – wasn’t that it was quashed – just had marks of being caught in the landing gear or something.
Encouraged by the reps they were ushered into a large waiting area – high ceilings, glass surrounds with refreshments and light lunches on tables along one of the walls.
Their vessel’s capacity was relatively small -approximately six hundred; compared with almost ten times that of some of the Carnival or P&O vessels. None the less, it was still a large volume of people to process.
Brian consoled himself with tea and cake. Like penicillin to the sick.
“Will all priority boarding passengers make their way to the checking desk”
“That’s us!!”
Jane assumed that the announcement would have been lost on her travelling companion.
“Come on – finish that quickly!”
Brian stuffed the last bit into his mouth, along with a long draw from the plastic cup
“Come on – plenty of that on board”
They presented themselves to the checking staff – all of whom suspiciously resembled the one left behind at Heathrow;
“Your luggage will be outside your door”
The information was volunteered, presumable in anticipation of the question. The statement punctuated with the fixing of tags exhibiting their name and cabin number on each piece.
Taking to the escalators; there was something near biblical about their ascent as they looked down upon a sea of old expectant faces looking back up at them. He felt like one of the chosen few.
They were delivered to deck level, eventually boarding the vessel via a covered walkway.
Labelling the majority of passengers as elderly, the term “mainly Filipino” could equally be applied to the staff on board.
“Welcome” their words were heavily accented.
“Welcome aboard”
In lieu of a rich command of English; repackaged salutations filled frequent voids.
The last word too of every statement noticeably elongated, as though sung.
“How was your journey?”
Beyond the initial “Welcome”, the other exchanges were offered with fixed smiles and limited eye contact.
One of the passengers attempted to reciprocate however; midsentence, near mid syllable was interrupted.
“That’s nice” the smile never left the near Mongolian features.
Brian nonetheless was struck with how efficient the operation was – immediately being handed room keys with instructions on how to find their accommodation.
The communal areas of the ship were plush; the lighting near perfect – each landing housing a narrated artwork – the brass stair bannisters polished; the stainless steel doors of the lifts; near glass-like.
Eventually they got to their cabin – albeit through a gauntlet of misinterpreted layout diagrams, wrong turnings and continuous salutations from staff who flattened themselves against the corridors to allow the two unhindered passage.
True to their word their luggage was waiting at the door; Jane scanned her key card.
On opening the door they were immediately met with bright sunshine and a gorgeous view of the town through large sliding doors at the far side of the room. They quickly retracted the doors onto the veranda – noticing the immediate hush as the air conditioning deactivated itself.
Jane lit a cigarette whilst Brian corked a complementary bottle that stood in an ice bucket. He poured them both glasses – joining her to savour the view.
“We do actually have a butler you know”
She gestured to the bottle, returning his kiss.
“allow me this small indulgence”
They clicked glasses.
There was a ruin not too far in the distance – difficult to gauge the era however coupled with the Italian sun it added something special.
“think a nap’s in order”
After the early start it wasn’t such a bad idea.
Brian exhibited the do not disturb sign, having placed the retrieved luggage unopened next to the wardrobe. They immediately fell asleep to be eventually awakened by an apparent shudder.
The thirty-minute rest seemed to revive them.
Opening the curtains they again went to the balcony. The vessels was now a few meters away from her berth, side thrusters aiding its controlled continued progress away from the pier.
The open deck summoned.
Brian studied the map on the door whilst Jane prepared herself -
a further delay ensued as she searched for her key card.
“Lost it already?”
His smile accompanied the playful rebuke.
“barely been five minutes”
“Oh yea – where’s yours then?”
She thought better of further retaliation.
Eventually she found it – having fallen to the floor, slightly concealed under the bed – camouflaged by the pattern on the carpet - her short stature affording some benefit when it came to its retrieval. She placed it in her handbag – a sort of blingy thing. Wasn’t Brian’s favourite.
“Looks like we have to go down one deck – through the restaurant.
Jane in turn considered the map. Being ex-naval she judged herself more attuned to interpreting the ship’s layout.
“hmm” she concurred with a gentle nodding of her head; the two exited, pulling the door securely shut.
A crew member a few paces to their right immediately pressed himself against the wall – presumably in anticipation of their need to pass him.
Brian comically looked repeatedly in either direction.
“The Bow is for entertainment – restaurants to Stern.”
The crew member’s vernacular was punctuated with that last word elongation.
Brian looked at Jane then the crew member
“Which way is the Stern?”
They both laughed;
“Entertainment that way – Restaurants this way” – smiling; This time the options were augmented with subtle gestures from the index finger on one hand; the other hand remained pressed against the wall. - everywhere there were reminders of the Heathrow check-in assistant – less the nail varnish.
They thanked him and proceeded left – he following behind – should his further counsel be required.
Oddly most of the other passengers appeared to be going in the opposite direction; the couples adopting single file as they passed each other. The crew member habitually assuming the position against the wall; the manoeuvrer causing him to fall further back with each show of deference.
It later transpired that the other direction equated to the bars.
Again mainly elderly couples. Some of the men had shirts partly unbuttoned – invariably with a neck chain; a sort of eighties Baywatch look; the odd few even had brown tinted sunglasses. Their female companions wore low neck sleeveless dresses – elaborate jewellery hanging low to cover wrinkly skin on drawn necks; open toed shoes, digits sort of at an angle and stacked upon each other; bunions protruding.
A few doors ahead a couple emerged from another sea facing cabin - Elegantly dressed presumably for dinner. As the woman turned to close the door Brian was struck by her. She was tall with the most gorgeous skin; made it difficult to gauge her age; expensive looking heels, her dress giving glimpses of her calves – gentle muscle definition coming and going as she walked. Long fingers like a piano plyer; the most alluring feature though – the slightly raised blue veins that coursed her hands.
Her partner? Well he just looked old. Rich though.
Brian unintentionally caught her eye as she turned; proceeding with her partner seemingly disinterested.
Didn’t take long for them to get to the curved stern. The vessel - still close to the pier; departing in the absence of fanfare. The last time he was on a vessel this size he and his family were repatriating to Trinidad in the early seventies. Back then people on the pier matched those waving tearful goodbyes. Today they simply slipped away unnoticed.