Honey, 12-year-old Scotch Whisky, Single Cream, Milk
The following morning I got out of bed at seven-thirty, desperate for a cup of tea. It felt as though I had hardly slept at all. The air in the cabin was hot and stuffy and stank of alcohol – hardly surprising really considering the previous night. India was fast asleep and snoring like a rhinoceros, one arm thrown over her head, as relaxed in sleep as a child.
I showered and dressed and went out into the quiet corridor. I wanted to be alone and I was greedy for my memories, wanting to relive the previous night.
The air was colder here and I shivered in my thin shirt and jeans. I saw Ike and Marty in matching Chicago Bears jackets striding towards the stern. They must have been made of strong stuff considering how much alcohol they’d shifted the previous evening. I went in to find a cup of tea, or preferably two. My mouth was dry and my hangover only just under control. Why did I keep doing this to myself? Apart from anything else, India and I were going to end up spending all our money on the bar bill at the end of the trip, and there were still six days of transatlantic crossing ahead.
I found a seat by the window, away from the bickering Army veterans and their endlessly hungry wives, and drank my tea, wondering what to eat. It’s very hard to think properly with a thumping headache.
The veterans were sitting in a large group in the middle of the dining area with a huge pile of hand luggage, backpacks and video cameras. It looked as though they were leaving the ship and taking full advantage of the breakfast – stuffing fruit, bottles of soda and muffins into their bags with no hint of shame.
In the end I had a croissant and apricot jam, scattering flakes of pastry over a wide area. Then I had some more tea and sat looking blankly into the far distance. I supposed I should go and wake India up but I didn’t have the energy. If I did I would have to chivvy her into her clothes and towards breakfast and paracetamol, and make a fuss of her, when all I really wanted to do was sit by myself and think about Gabriel.
The ship was slowing to a halt now, and the quayside buildings moved infinitely slowly past my window. Ropes were thrown out to men on the quayside and soon passengers would scurry away from the ship to explore the new delights of Halifax. Refuse lorries began to unload the trash and other vans started to load more food into the ever-hungry belly of the ship. How could there be so much folded and baled cardboard coming off? We’d only been on for a few days. It was as though there had been a delivery of vast magnitude, of new beds or washing machines or fridge freezers. And where had all those bottles come from? The ones that were crashing into the skips? Ah yes, in retrospect most of them were probably ours. It gave me the shivers just thinking about it.
Right, from now on I was going to stop eating so much and deffo stop knocking the booze back. Definitely.
I finished my croissant and dabbed at the crumbs on my plate with a damp finger. I felt a bit more human now. I needed more tea and then I’d be fine. Perhaps I should have another croissant? With black cherry jam? Or possibly one of those maple pecan ones? A tray of them had just been wheeled out of the kitchens and the veterans would spot them in a moment and snarf the whole lot up in seconds. I almost got up, ready to sprint across to grab one.
No. I would be disciplined and sensible.
I got a fresh mug of tea and sat looking out of the window. The gangway had been opened and people were starting to drift on to the quayside. Occasionally there was a group, scurrying after a tour leader, heading for a bus to take them off on a coach ride somewhere else.
Suddenly I saw a familiar figure on the dockside in front of Pier 21. No, two familiar figures. I squashed my nose against the glass so I could see better. Gabriel and Marnie. He was carrying a small case and she was standing in front of him talking nineteen to the dozen. If I hadn’t known better I would have said they were arguing. Gabriel turned away and Marnie touched his sleeve. Then she put her face in her hands. I watched as Gabriel slowly hugged her, rubbing her back, and they stood there for a few seconds, not moving while the other passengers who were leaving the ship for a day out dodged past them. She looked up at him, her face pale in the bright sunlight, her lovely red hair spilling over her shoulders.
What the hell was going on? After last night, I felt even more confused.
Perhaps something had happened to the sainted husband, Leo?
No! Perhaps he was dead or lying seriously ill in a coma and Marnie was about to hurry to his bedside with Gabriel on call to comfort her.
Or maybe Gabriel had made a pass at her and she was letting him down gently. I fear I can never be yours for I love another and will always love him. Hmm, suddenly she was talking like a Jane Austen heroine. I could almost see the sprigged gown and shy bonnet.
Oh hell, what if he had made a pass at me because he was frustrated in his pursuit of Marnie? Or what if he’d been drunk and mistaken me for her? I’d had a mask on! Yes, that was it! That’s why he had come across and kissed me.
No, don’t be ridiculous, I told myself; Gabriel would have had to be out of his skull on magic mushrooms and had a bag on his head to confuse the two of us, mask or no mask. And he’d ripped off my mask first thing, so unless he was blind drunk …
The two of them moved along the quayside. He had one arm around her little shoulders as he guided her towards the terminal building.
Well, bloody hell, what was going on? Was he leaving? My thoughts were tumbling over each other in my need to make sense of this. Was she trying to persuade him to leave her alone and find love elsewhere? Or maybe she was using his mobile to ring the hospital and find out if her husband was going to live? I ran over to the counter, grabbed another cup of tea and snaffled the last maple pecan Danish from under the quivering nose of a woman in a tartan tracksuit who almost growled with disappointment. Then I returned to my seat and pressed my head against the window again so I didn’t miss anything. I stayed like that, eating my Danish pastry and drinking tea until I was desperate for the loo. But of course I didn’t dare go in case I missed anything.
‘Well, here you are! I’ve been searching everywhere for you. What are you doing?’
I looked up to see India about to sit in the seat opposite mine. She had a tray of breakfast: two mugs of black coffee and a bowl of fresh fruit.
‘What are you looking at?’
India stared out of the window with me, watching a man far below push a trolley full of cardboard boxes towards the ship. I wondered what was in them? Exotic vegetables or more wine maybe? Or edible flowers to scatter in this evening’s salad?
‘I’m watching them,’ I said.
‘Who?’
Let’s be fair, India looked as rough as a badger’s bum. She was pale, tinged with green around the edges, and her eyes were – as my father would say – like two rissoles in the snow.
‘Gabriel and Marnie.’
India sipped her coffee and hunched over the table, her hands tucked into the long sleeves of her sweatshirt.
‘What about them?’ She frowned and held up one finger. She blinked slowly, trying to organise her scrambled brain. ‘Hang on, you told me something last night, didn’t you? Something about Gabriel Frost. Now what was it?’
I didn’t reply. India carried on drinking her coffee and giving the occasional groan. At last she pushed the bowl of fruit away and went to find some toast and marmalade.
‘Are you okay?’ I said, moved at last to pity, despite her falling asleep during my confession last night.
‘No, not really, thanks for asking,’ she said caustically. She took a bite of toast and chewed, her eyes closed. ‘I think I might be coming down with something.’
‘What? Cocktail-itis?’
‘Is there such a thing?’
‘No, I’m being sarcastic. But there is such a thing as chronic liver damage. I think we could both apply for that. It’s a good job we don’t go on cruises often. I don’t think I could take it. No wonder Dad is so keen. I want to know what they’re doing.’
India shrugged. ‘Having a cup of tea? Or a glass of absinthe? God, ghastly thought. What does absinthe taste like?’
‘No idea and I don’t think I want to know.’
‘What were you telling me last night anyway? You were droning on and I fell asleep. Something about Gabriel Frost? Do you know, I think there’s something going on with him and Marnie. I saw them together last night. I was going to the loos outside the dining room and they were in the atrium place. I could see them over the balcony. Looked like they were arguing.’
‘Really?’ I pulled back from the window to look at my sister. She had finished her first piece of toast and was buttering a second. ‘So what did they do?’
India shrugged. ‘She was talking, and then he pulled out his phone and checked something. Then he walked away and she followed him. I bet they were off for some illicit sex.’
‘Rubbish. She’s married to the most wonderful man in the world. Don’t you remember her telling us?
‘There’s a picture of her with Leo Miller on their wedding day in the reception area. They had a load of white doves released just after they were pronounced man and wife. I rather like that. When Jerry and I get married …’
‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten you and Jerry were getting married.’
‘God, Alexa, just because you’re not the one getting married! Do you have to be so frigging miserable about it?’ she snapped.
It was the first time she’d ever spoken to me like this.
The basic unfairness of her attitude was overwhelming. All the times I’d cleared up after her, made excuses, done her work. I’d smoothed over her airheaded mistakes, worked into the evening many times because she wouldn’t.
I couldn’t stop myself. Suddenly all of her selfish actions, her rudeness, her self-absorption and now this … Well, I couldn’t stop.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, India, I’ve heard about little else other than your wedding for months! You’ve had half your mind at work and the other half on Pinterest. You leave the office in a state; you’re uncooperative and flaky. People complain about your mistakes and your lateness. All you care about is what you’re going to wear, what Jerry said, what it will be like once you’re married. I’m bored with it. Not everyone wants to hear every little detail about some ridiculous day. The rest of us have lives too you know. The world keeps turning. Meanwhile I have to do my job and most of yours as well.’
‘Well, I’m terribly sorry to take up your valuable time with the most important day of my life,’ India snapped. ‘If you ever do find anyone desperate enough to marry you, perhaps you’ll understand.’
‘It’s not the most important day of your life,’ I said, pretty much shouting now, which I was ashamed of, but somehow couldn’t stop. ‘It’s only one of them. Getting married isn’t the be-all and end-all you know.’
‘Said the expert!’ India shouted back.
A tense silence fell and I looked back out of the window. We’d never talked to each other like this – well, not as adults. I’d bitten my lip, bottled up all of my feelings on the subject, and just grinned and grimaced through the endless monologues. Sat through meals with my parents when Mum seemed unable or unwilling to talk about anything other than table settings or whether India should have a long veil or a short one. Looked at pictures of flowers, vase shapes, the fonts for the invitations, been asked for my opinion on the wedding list.
I wanted to storm off, my hangover still hovering over me and the news about Marnie and Gabriel making me feel raw and edgy. But I stayed where I was, trying to get control of myself. There was no point having a loud argument in the food court. I had even noticed some of the Army veterans and their wives looking over, which was mortifying.
‘What were you going to tell me?’ India suddenly said, surprising me.
But I just didn’t have the energy and changed the subject to something safer.
‘What are we going to do today?’ I said, trying to pretend our snappy argument hadn’t just happened. I didn’t feel any better, to be honest, since offloading my feelings. Guilt was starting to creep in.
India looked blank. She too seemed to be trying hard to move on and pretend nothing had happened. ‘What time is it? Half past eleven? There’s fruit carving in half an hour.’
‘Fruit carving?’
‘I’ve always wanted to do that.’ I wasn’t sure if she meant it, but I let her get away with it – maybe she just wanted to get away from me.
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes, absolutely.’ She nodded enthusiastically. She was definitely putting it on. ‘The picture in the lobby shows an apple carved to look like a swan and a melon that looks like a shark. Perhaps we could go out after that?’
I began to feel as though I had been dropped into a parallel universe.
‘You go to the fruit mangling and I’ll go and have a wander around the town. I could do with a bit of exercise.’ It was the perfect time for a break. It was obvious we needed some time apart. I needed to do something on my own otherwise this tension would return, and next time I might not be able to stop myself. Even though I was angry, I realised I didn’t want to hurt my sister, not really …
‘Okay. I’ll see you later,’ she mumbled. ‘I think I need a shower. I smell like a brewery, don’t I?’
‘A bit, yes.’ At least this was something we could agree on.
*
I went back to the cabin with her to fetch my passport and passenger card so I could get off the ship and safely get on again. I felt rather deflated all of a sudden; we weren’t really talking now, and I’d thought we were getting on better than we had for years. It was as though all the booze and partying had brought our frustrations with each other to a head. Either way I was certainly tired. It would be good to have a break and be on my own for a while. I needed to think.
I went down to what passed for the ground floor of the ship, or rather the water floor. A gangplank led to the quayside and I passed through the shadows of the security scanners and out into the sunshine of Halifax. I blinked a bit and looked at the street map I’d been given. There were a couple of pink double-decker tourist buses waiting at the end of the quay as well as a glossy-looking coach. The veterans were standing next to it smoking, while their wives supervised the loading of their luggage into the vast cavern underneath it.
So the veterans definitely were going off to eat their way through Nova Scotia next. Well, that was a positive; it would mean the rest of us could get to the coffee machines without having to queue for half an hour while they filled four mugs each.
I strolled past them in the direction of a rather nice-looking group of cafés and wine bars.
I walked on along the seaway, enjoying the sunshine on my shoulders. To my left was the everyday thump of building work, to the right the sparkle of the water. What would it be like to live here? There were pretty old houses interspersed with high-rise blocks. There were cafés and bars. Ice cream parlours and seafood shacks. There was maple syrup and something called poutine.
A coach roared past me in a cloud of dust and off towards more exciting places and fast food. I sat on a handy bench, cleverly constructed from old crates, and tried to think about India and my life when I got home. But I couldn’t concentrate; all I could think about was Gabriel.
It was a long time since Ryan and I had split up and I was lonely. I wasn’t the most gorgeous creature in the world. Men didn’t fall over at the sight of me but I was okay – quite reasonable on a good day when I made a bit of an effort. Why couldn’t I find someone, and be happy? Why did I keep sabotaging relationships before they had even started? What was the matter with me? Why had Ryan shacked up with a girl who never seemed to wash her hair? Why had he shagged his mother’s Avon lady? Someone had told me she was at least fifty. Perhaps their skincare products really were that good?
And while we were on the subject, why didn’t I now, at nearly thirty, have a decent and forgiving relationship with my sister? Were we going to continue to irritate each other? Were we destined to grow further apart as the years passed? Would we ever be friends? Was it too late? I mean, what she’d just said … well, it hurt. Someone desperate enough to marry you. It was a low blow even for India on her worst day. Surely she knew how upset I was about Ryan, and well, now the whole Marnie bloody Miller/Gabriel situation. God, I needed a break from men. I really did. But that kiss …
I stood up and attempted to stride away from my thoughts, passing a girl in a very short pink kilt who was playing the bagpipes – this was, after all, Nova Scotia. I came to a cluster of craft shops; perhaps I would find something there for Mum before I spent all my money on overpriced cocktails?
I went in to look around. There were several people I recognised from the ship who had evidently had the same idea. They were snapping up keyrings and pottery bowls like they were going out of fashion. There were some incredibly expensive glasses and some rather cute felt owls. Mum was keen on owls and woodpeckers. I picked out one with a quizzical expression and bought it.
I waited while the shopkeeper gift-wrapped it because I had made the mistake of telling her it was a present for my mother. Dissatisfied with the look of it, she started again, this time adding tartan ribbon and a feather. And a tartan gift tag. By then there was quite a queue forming behind me and I had to stop her from redoing it a third time by pretending the ship would leave without me. Reluctantly she let me pay and I bolted out through the door and straight into Gabriel Frost.
‘You’re here!’ I said, shocked into idiocy.
‘Yes, I’m here,’ he said, and I felt my stomach do that flip thing again, even though I told it sternly not to.
‘I thought you might go to see Eastern Canada.’
‘I’ve seen a lot of it already,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It’s very nice but I don’t need to go again.’
‘But I saw you. From the window.’ Oh, I am so smooth sometimes. ‘I wondered if you were leaving,’ I finished stupidly.
He looked a bit unsure of himself at that and I was curious at the change in him. He always seemed so confident when we were together … well, aside from when he was forced to dance with me, but he’d found his footing there quite quickly.
‘Well, I was. But then something happened and I changed my mind,’ he said, sounding a little hesitant.
‘Oh.’
I immediately put this down to Marnie and her impressive powers of persuasion, but on what basis did I think that? What had I been watching from the ship? The more I tried to think it through the worse things got.
I realised we were still standing in the shop doorway, effectively blocking it. Not only were there people wanting to come out with their stuffed owls and keyrings, there were people wanting to go in too.
Gabriel took hold of my elbow and steered me on to the pavement.
‘Are you busy?’ His eyes flashed at me and he smiled.
I felt my legs rock a bit. Who knew eyes had that kind of power? Who knew a smile could make me want to fall into his arms?
‘No.’
I wanted to say something clever or funny and make him laugh again, but my head was spinning a bit from the fight with my sister and all of this new information about Marnie.
‘Would you care to join me then? A glass of wine? There’s a very nice place just up two blocks.’
‘Oh, okay then.’ A glass of wine never hurt anyone, I told myself, knowing that wasn’t the reason I was feeling hot all over again.
I followed him into the cool, welcoming interior of the Olde Cape Breton Bar. We were shown to a table with a red-checked cloth and unlit candles stuck into wax-encrusted wine bottles. Gabriel handed me a menu card, our hands brushing, and I had to stifle a whimper.
‘The crab cakes are good,’ he said, oblivious to my internal struggles. Maybe I was sex-starved, as India said. I was certainly behaving like a complete idiot.
‘Great,’ I breathed and attempted to read the options. The words swam in front of my eyes. Perhaps I needed glasses?
‘And a crisp white wine?’
‘Absolutely.’
I mean, it’s not as though I haven’t sworn every day for the last week to lay off the booze, is it?
A gum-chewing girl with purple hair came out to take our order without any fussing or annoying you’re welcome stuff and a few seconds later brought our drinks. Over the bay the open sky was clear blue, and it was warm and pretty, sheltered from the wind coming in off the sea.
‘So, how are you enjoying life on board?’ Gabriel said, holding out his wineglass for me to clink.
‘It’s amazing,’ I said, glad he was sticking to safe territory. ‘It will be hard to top this ship.’
‘She’s a beauty,’ he agreed, ‘and Halifax is a great town. My aunt used to have a house here and we visited her most summers.’
‘We?’
‘My parents, my brother and me. Morgan lives in Oxford now so he doesn’t get to this side of the pond too often.’
‘Gabriel and Morgan; your parents went in for great names, didn’t they?’
Gabriel laughed. ‘Morgan was almost called Raphael, so he thinks he got off lightly.’
‘And what does he do in Oxford?’ I asked, thrilled to be learning more about Gabriel. He’d always seemed so closed off on board the liner, but here he was being open and honest, telling me things without much prompting at all.
‘He’s a Professor of Advanced Mathematics.’
‘Crumbs.’
He laughed, his eyes lighting up. ‘Yes, I know! He’s enjoying a mathematics conference in South Africa at the moment; having a marvellous time, so he says.’
‘A marvellous time at a mathematics conference,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘How does that work? I can’t imagine there are many jokes to be had there?’
Gabriel chuckled. ‘Apparently there are but only they understand them.’
The gum-chewing girl returned with our crab cakes a few minutes later. Apparently it was a small portion; even so there were three of them nestled on a large dressed salad, accompanied by a basket of sourdough bread. It was all delicious.
We talked about the ship and the efficient crew and the food. All the time I wanted to ask him so many questions. Why did he kiss me? What did he mean when he said he wished things were different? How come one minute he was leaving the ship and the next he wasn’t? And what was going on with him and Marnie?
But I didn’t ask any of those things. I suppose I felt too shy and, for once in my life, I was trying to watch what I said.
He asked me more about my work back in England and the small estate agency came alive for me again when I was telling him about it. It sounded somehow interesting and cute, especially now I had some distance from it. I almost missed the day-to-day … almost. Put that on one side of the scales and Gabriel Frost on the other and there was no contest. He laughed at all my stories about unreasonable clients and seemed genuinely interested in everything I told him. And I was suddenly bold enough to take a selfie of us, the sea blue and sparkling behind us. But not brave enough to ask him the two questions uppermost in my head:
So why did you kiss me? Did you know it was me?
‘Would India mind if I took you out to dinner this evening?’ he asked suddenly. Was this it? Was he asking me out properly? Was this going to answer all of my questions? ‘I’d rather eat somewhere else. Just for tonight? I’m booked into the Louis Quinze restaurant but, well, I could do with a change. There’s a very good place on the top deck, near the bow. Quite small and I’d have to book if you fancied it. Thai cuisine, if you like that sort of thing? I mean it wouldn’t be inappropriate, would it?’
What an odd phrase. I felt even more confused, but I wasn’t going to say no.
‘That would be lovely. India is doing fruit carving at the moment.’ I caught his expression. ‘Yes, I know. I’ll tell her when I get back. She had a very late night; I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s gone back to bed.’
Was I blushing? I was sure I could feel myself blushing.
I’d mentioned bed.
I suddenly remembered the moment last night when I had reached out to touch the place behind my pillows, wondering if he was just the other side of the wall. I took a sip of wine to steady my nerves and cleared my throat.
‘I’d love to. I’m sure India can manage without me for one night. I mean for one evening.’
I wasn’t going to be out all night, was I?
Gabriel gave me a look and his grey eyes were twinkling with amusement.
‘Then it’s a date. I’ll see you in the atrium at seven-thirty?’
‘Fine.’
We had a date!
I could hardly speak, let alone eat. What would I wear? I had no idea. For a mad moment I thought perhaps I could buy something on board the ship, then I remembered the phrase cruise wear. Gabriel would be less than impressed if I turned up in a jaunty nautical blazer with a white canvas skirt embellished with gold buttons. I’d have to think again.