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MASON CAME WITHIN TOUCHING distance of us but he didn’t make eye contact or say hello. His moustache alone conveyed his fury, pushing his mouth down at the corners as if it were heroically bearing him into the Valley of Death. But before we had chance to adjust, he crossed the deck and disappeared down the opposite stairway. Ashanta’s grip tightened then relaxed.
“He must have seen us,” she said in astonishment.
“Perhaps he wasn’t looking for us, after all.”
“A bit rude to simply pass us by then. Not that I’m complaining.”
“What clearer evidence could we have that we’re not in his good books?”
We stood up simultaneously and went to the railing to watch him. He reached Deck Three and descended without stopping. He didn’t seem in any particular hurry, but nor did he look aimless. A couple smiled and spoke but he passed them without acknowledgement.
“Odd even for an oddball,” Ashanta said.
We looked around. In the few seconds since his arrival and departure, all the other occupants of the Sun Deck had vanished, as if into thin air. It was a creepy feeling, like death had just passed through waving his scythe.
“Where is everyone?” Ashanta said.
The arc light on the flagpole suddenly went out. Not necessarily strange: it was midnight – but it certainly didn’t seem right. We instinctively looked up. Beyond it, the sky was cloudless and a million stars sparkled, but as before, I didn’t recognise any of them. Insofar as the Milky Way resolved itself into constellations at all, it was ... all wrong. The stellar outlines of gigantic millipedes, blowfish, squid - more like staples in a horror story than the familiar denizens of Greek myth.
We looked over the railing again, seeking Mason. We both felt he was about to reappear. This was our final check before we made a run for it.
But we couldn’t see him. Or anyone.
“The other side,” Ashanta said.
We crossed the twenty paces of the Sun Deck at speed and looked down. Nothing. No one.
“Time to descend,” I said.
“Er, Hugo ... What the hell’s that?”
She hadn’t moved. She was pointing a little way beyond the hull at a luminous patch in the ocean. I hadn’t noticed it at all till now. It was almost white. Too bright to be a misdirected lamp, and in any case its source didn’t seem to be anywhere on the Aurora. It looked like something deep within the sea.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It looks like ... like those fish.”
“The LSD fishes.”
“Except if you can see them, they can’t be.”
“I can’t see any fish.”
“Keep watching.”
Yet as we stood there, the light got dimmer and dimmer, as if whatever was emitting it was submerging.
“It’s a submarine,” she said. “It’s got to be.”
“Pretty weird submarine that lights up the sea.”
“Come on.”
We descended to the boat deck. We were both feeling the effects of the cold now and that, and the fact that the sea was uniformly dark again, made us lose interest in the submarine or whatever it was.
“I want to go home,” Ashanta said.
“We can’t. We’re sitting ducks.”
“We can put something against the door, can’t we?”
“Let’s go down this flight of steps. Just try a few random cabins. We might be able to find somewhere safe to spend the night. If we do, we can hole up there till we reach port.”
“What are we going to eat or drink?”
“I’ll sneak out and get us things.”
“And they won’t miss us? They won’t notice our cabin hasn’t been slept in? They won’t alert air-sea rescue or whatever its South American equivalent is? Because I think they will. They’ll assume we’ve gone overboard.”
“And they might just think good riddance.”
“True, but they’d have to go through the motions.”
We were on C Deck now, way down in the hull. We passed through a set of fire doors and into a corridor almost identical to our own. I tried the door of the first cabin we arrived at. To my astonishment, it opened first time. In case it was occupied, I was ready with an excuse about having had a few jars too many and losing my map. I switched the light on. It was empty. The bed hadn’t even been made up.
“Housey housey,” I said.
“Seems too good to be true, if you ask me.”
I pulled her in and closed the door. “We don’t have to disappear. We can go out in the morning as usual. So long as we stay where there are people. We’ll sleep here for tonight and, in the morning, go for breakfast.”
“Okay.”
She kicked her shoes off and we removed our clothes. There was a set of blankets in the wardrobe. We washed, got into bed, had fifteen minutes of sex and went to sleep.
The next morning, we put our clothes back on, folded the blankets away and went to breakfast early. We’d planned it so the dining room would be fairly full and we’d be inconspicuous. We sat at a table with two middle-aged women in ironed pastel trousers and a man with light-sensitive glasses and boating-jacket. They ignored us. We couldn’t see any of Mason’s gang, but we could feel their eyes on us. They were somewhere around. I went for the full English; Ashanta ladled herself a bowl of porridge and took two slices of toast from the hot tub.
“We’ve got to go back to our real cabin,” she said as she picked up the sugar sprinkler and started coating her porridge. “We can’t spend all day wearing the same clothes. We already smell.”
“I’ve had an idea. We return together. Once we’ve checked they’re not waiting for us inside, I go out and stand by the fire alarm. If any of them arrives and looks like causing trouble, I smash the glass. The crowd will protect us.”
She shrugged as if she wasn’t interested in being protected, just in ceasing to smell. “What if we’ve got completely the wrong end of the stick?” she said. “What if we’re just imagining things?”
“You were the one who said they were up to something shady. I agreed with you because it looked like the best explanation. Eighty thousand pounds doesn’t sound like something legal. It was Wiles that clinched it for me. All that stuff about ‘no one’ll believe you’, sheesh.”
“Yes, but he was drunk.”
“He said it himself: in vino veritas.”
“Maybe he noticed we’re paranoid and decided to have a bit of fun at our expense.”
“Does he look like he’s got a sense of humour?”
She sighed. “Why can’t they just bloody leave us alone?”
It was my turn to shrug. “I don’t want to believe it.”
“I’ve got another plan,” she said. “It’s pretty crap, but it’s what we’re going to do, okay?”
“Go ahead.”
“We’re going to spend the day on the upper decks, where there are lots of passengers. At about six, we’re going to go back to our official cabin and get ready for dinner with Mason. Then we’re going to demand an explanation, beginning with, ‘Good evening, Mr Wiles, I didn’t expect to see you here after your appalling behaviour in the casino last night’. Set the cat among the pigeons. I’ll be damned if I’m going to skulk round like I’ve done something wrong. They’re the culprits, not us.”
“And they outnumber us four to one. More, if they count the likes of Midshipman Collins and Duty Officer Gould in their ranks.”
“‘Whoever knew truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter?’” she said, quoting someone or other.
“Lots of people.”
“As far as I can tell, your plan is to wait till we get to the Falklands, then go ashore and hide until the Aurora leaves.”
“And?”
“And how are we going to get back to England?”
“Where there’s a will there’s a way.”
“No, there isn’t. Anyway, they deserve a chance to explain. If they don’t, then we can jump ship. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather see that as a last resort.”
I could see the sense in what she was saying. And maybe attack was the best form of defence. If they thought we were scared, they might be more likely to come at us.
I added a square of bacon to the fried bread on my fork and put it in my mouth. “Okay,” I said.
“If we die, I love you. I would always have loved you.”
Her face was deadly serious.
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” I said, putting my hand over hers. “Although I hardly need tell you I feel exactly the same.”
“Tomlinson’s a GP. Who knows what he’s got access to, and he may already have topped Edith Summersby. Injecting us with something under the table or poisoning our food may be the ideal way of getting rid of us. After all, who’s going to suspect our murders in full public view?”
“I don’t think we should get too carried away. If we think they deserve a chance to explain, let’s start by giving them the benefit of the doubt.”
“Just don’t go gently into that good night, that’s all. Pull the tablecloth away or something.”
I tried to envisage myself throwing the table over and screaming for help as the arsenic took effect. But I knew I’d never overcome my upbringing sufficiently. It wasn’t that I was a coward, but I knew I’d die with my hand up and my knees together, waiting for someone to ask what I wanted to say.
In the event, matters didn’t come to the head either of us expected. After breakfast, we went to the deckchairs at the stern and sunbathed in the midst of about thirty other passengers, all either snoozing or reading slabs of chick lit and thrillers. After three hours we ran out of conversation. Ashanta put a stick of gum in her mouth and pulled it out in a string every three minutes. Lunch loomed. We were bored stiff, to tell the truth. That’s when we noticed Mr Wiles hanging about on the periphery of our field of vision, by the folded deckchair pile. He had a vertical line of sun cream on his nose and he was dressed in a multicoloured stripy blazer. He looked like he was trying to attract our attention.
“Cowabunga,” Ashanta said, without moving her lips, “look who’s coming over.”
“Seen him.”
We sat up slightly and he came and stood in front of us. He leant on a walking stick and looked flustered.
“I came to see you this morning at breakfast,” he said. “But you weren’t in. And you weren’t in an hour later. I – I wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night. I’m on some new medication and it doesn’t sit well with alcohol. Stupid, I know. In my defence, I didn’t find out till afterwards. I called and saw Dr Tomlinson last night – actually knocked him up out of bed - and he pointed it out. I’m really very, very sorry. I came to see you as soon as I thought might be consistent with your being out and about.”
“You don’t think we’re journalists any more then?” Ashanta said without looking at him.
He interlaced his fingers. “It is true that people have been saying that. And that I shared the misconception. But not any longer. I more or less accused you of lying. My conduct lay well beyond the confines of what was either reasonable or courteous, and I deeply regret the offence I must have caused you.”
“Who’s been saying we’re journalists?” I asked.
“Er, well, all of Captain Mason’s dinner guests. I confronted him about it last night and he set me straight. He was furious. I believe he’s since taken it upon himself to inform everyone personally.”
Ashanta and I looked at each other. I saw her faith in human nature had been slightly restored.
“As I remember,” Ashanta said, meeting his eyes for the first time, “last night you said, ‘Even if you find out what’s going on, no one will publish your story, because no one will believe you.’ What did you mean?”
He shifted his weight from his right foot to his left and twiddled his walking stick. “Did I say that?”
“Yes, I’m afraid you did.”
“I, well ... the truth is, we don’t all get along at that table. We share a common devotion to John, but that’s about it. The reasons for our ... enmity - with respect, and please don’t take this the wrong way - you don’t need to know. It would, or I suppose it would if it were published – not that anyone would be remotely interested – probably beggar belief. You know how people get when they’re drunk. That was me, last night. Self-aggrandising clod is probably the best phrase.”
Ashanta nudged me. We stood up together. I shook Wiles’s hand. Ashanta hugged him and kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you, thank you,” he said tearfully, bowing repeatedly from the neck. “You’ve been more generous than I hoped for or deserved.”
Without saying anything more, he turned and walked away, and we saw him for the first time for what he was. Not actually a thug but just a small, rather dotty old man.
“Thank God,” Ashanta said when he’d gone. “Now let’s go back to our cabin and get out of these clothes before lunch. We stink.”
