Light Rum, Apricot Brandy, Galliano, Pineapple Juice, Lemon Juice
I got dressed and went to find India. She was supposed to be in the library but that was full of Americans looking for Sudoku books and jigsaws of the Titanic and buying souvenir keyrings and baseball caps with Reine de France embroidered on them. I eventually found her sitting in the bar next door in a big leather armchair with her feet up on a footstool, her laptop open. She had a cocktail and some salted peanuts on the table next to her. I flopped down in the adjacent chair.
‘Oh, hello. I was wondering where you had got to,’ she said. ‘I’ve got on so brilliantly you wouldn’t believe it. I’ve got the whole story mapped out and I’m just trying to think of names for my main characters. It’s not as easy as you might think. Have you had a nice nap?’
I hesitated, thinking about it, and then realised one of the waiters was already homing in on me, rotating a round tray balanced on his outspread fingers. Now was neither the time nor the place to go into details.
‘A nice nap? Absolutely!’
The waiter flipped a paper coaster down on the table in front of me and waited, his head tilted politely.
‘What are you drinking?’ I said.
India looked at her drink. ‘An Atlantic Breeze – it seemed appropriate.’
I turned back to the waiter. ‘I’ll have what she’s having,’ I said and then of course was convulsed with giggles remembering that scene in When Harry Met Sally.
‘Are you quite all right?’ India said, giving me a hard stare.
‘Yes, great.’ I mopped my eyes with a paper napkin and tried to calm down.
India carried on typing for a few seconds and I took some deep breaths and tried to wipe my mind of the rather startling images of Gabriel and what we had been doing with each other less than an hour previously.
‘Your drink, madame.’ The waiter was back, all sloe eyes and snake hips. He put my luminous cocktail down on the coaster and fussed about with a napkin and a bowl of nuts. I think he was trying to send me an engaging look but I didn’t have the energy or inclination to respond.
‘Can I get you anything else, ladies?’ he said with a definite hint of seduction in his voice. ‘My name is Pascal. You only ’ave to ask. I am at your service.’
It was five-thirty; I had a rather nice glass of rocket fuel in front of me, the prospect of another fine dinner ahead. I might need a lot of things but a flirtatious episode with a rather oily French waiter wasn’t one of them. And I was not at home to Mr Suggestive, thanks all the same.
Pascal wandered off with a dissatisfied Gallic pout.
‘So what have you been doing? Did you find out about the talk on the Titanic?’
‘Hmm? What? No, I forgot.’
India sighed in exasperation. ‘I did ask you to find out. We’d better not have missed it. I’m sure it’s sometime tomorrow. Someone told me it’s really interesting.’
‘Liam, I suppose?’
‘No,’ India said with an exaggerated eye-roll, ‘forget about him.’
‘Yes, well, you’re spoken for. I’m supposed to be looking after you. And protecting you from people like him.’
‘Oh, beak out of it,’ India muttered.
‘Well, you shouldn’t be flirting.’
‘I wasn’t, believe me. The day I take advice from you on how to behave is the day I throw in the towel.’
‘Right! How would you feel if Jerry said the same thing to his friends when he’s enjoying the fleshpots of Wolverhampton?’
‘Jerry wouldn’t dare!’ India said furiously.
‘Well, nor should you,’ I said. ‘Now tell me about your plot?’
The situation was mercifully defused and India looked pleased I was showing some interest. I decided I was going to keep a closer eye on Liam in future.
‘Well –’ she scrolled back through her notes ‘– it’s going to be about a girl who can’t find Mr Right and has been out with all sorts of unsuitable men. A bit like you. But then she meets a man on the Internet or she might meet him somewhere else. I haven’t decided. And he’s not what he says he is. But then nor is she. He claims to be a solicitor – you see I can get all the legal jargon from Jerry to make it sound realistic – when in fact he is a duke. Or possibly an earl. Which do you think sounds sexier? I can’t think of many dukes who are hot stuff. I’ll have to google them when we get home. Earls sound younger, don’t they? And the heroine is an estate agent because I know all about that …’
‘You do?’
‘Very funny. But she says she’s a party planner because it sounds more interesting. And he asks her to organise his mother’s eightieth birthday party and of course she doesn’t have a clue. He’s expecting a marquee and catering for two hundred and she turns up with some sandwiches in clingfilm and a Victoria sponge with Smarties on the top. And it all goes incredibly wrong but in the end it’s fine. And she in return asks him about problems she’s having with her lease and her shitty landlord and of course he gives her legal advice that’s completely wrong because he doesn’t have a clue either.’
‘So what happens?’
‘Well, they all live happily ever after of course. And she gets to marry a duke or earl and moves to live in his castle. With a load of servants and a walk-in wardrobe full of really cool clothes.’
‘Excellent.’
India smiled happily.
I thought about it.
‘I read about a duke the other day in the papers. He had to move into a cottage on his estate and open his stately home to the public because of crippling death duties. Your duke doesn’t have a castle with a leaking roof he can’t afford to repair? Or a mad aunt in the attic who thinks she’s about to be married to her fiancé who actually ran off with the housekeeper twenty years ago? And is there a bad-tempered butler who is stealing the family portraits and selling them on eBay?’
India took a deep breath. ‘No, none of those things.’
‘I know, he could have a completely crazy ex-wife who lives on the estate in a house at the end of the driveway with seven terriers and an Italian riding instructor?’
‘No, he doesn’t –’
‘And a rakish younger brother called Piers who is always trying to murder him so he gets to be the duke? But the duke doesn’t realise it and he’s continually allowing himself to be lured out on the lake in a leaking rowboat or up on the roof in force nine winds? He could have a sister called Petula who’s a raving alcoholic and sets fire to the drawing room curtains with a cigarette lighter. ’
‘Um –’
‘I can see it all now. His mother – the dowager duchess – is the Spanish society beauty Berengaria, who now looks like Maggie Smith in a mantilla. But she’s had oodles of plastic surgery so her face is so tight she can’t sneeze. And she lives in the best rooms in the castle, which by rights should be our heroine’s, but the dowager refuses to move out because the previous duchess made a deathbed confession that she had hidden some priceless emeralds in the room during the war but can’t remember where. So the dowager wanders about at night in her dead husband’s hairy dressing gown looking for the secret panel, and all they can hear is a ghostly tapping. How about this then: the duke is desperate to provide an heir to the family fortunes so he and the heroine spend every other chapter shagging each other senseless in every room in the house, gradually getting more and more rude and experimental. You could add in some spanking and bondage, couldn’t you? Isn’t that what the English aristocracy go in for?’
India looked confused and a bit annoyed.
‘No, that’s not what I planned at all.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
‘My heroine is going to be called Devon or McKenzie, something really modern, and the hero is Alfred or Arthur or something. And he’s really handsome and looks like Tom Hiddleston with black hair. And he rides a big grey horse round the estate and has a chocolate Labrador called Treacle.’
‘Excellent. Sounds great. Could you keep in the spanking?’
‘No! God Almighty! Our mother is going to read this!’
‘Well, she won’t mind.’
India’s eyes were round with horror. ‘I’d die of embarrassment!’
‘Why? You never know, perhaps Dad liked it?’
‘Don’t be disgusting.’
‘You’re such a prude! They must have had sex at least twice,’ I said, but I was also rather surprised by what I was coming out with. I never talked like this, or at least I never used to. Since being on board this ship I seemed to be getting a bit more confident … or something anyway.
Sipping my cocktail I relaxed as the alcohol, diluted with more alcohol and some splashes of fruit juice, worked its magic.
India struggled with the idea.
‘But they’re our parents.’
‘Yes? And your point is?’
‘I have to say you’re pretty interested in sex for someone who isn’t getting any!’ she said witheringly.
I wasn’t thinking fast enough. ‘Oh, you think?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘You have something to tell me?’
‘No, no, absolutely not.’ I took another long pull at my drink and coughed a bit. Drinking cocktails through a straw was always a bad idea.
I looked across at India and suddenly found I couldn’t meet her gaze.
‘Hang on! What have you been up to?’ she said.
‘Um, nothing.’ I could feel myself blushing.
‘Um, nothing? What does um, nothing mean? Bloody hell, you haven’t been going off with Pouting Pascal, have you? Is that why he’s being so friendly? You’re disgusting!’
‘No, I haven’t. Give me some credit. Look, I’ll tell you when I feel ready.’
India laughed disbelievingly. ‘You’re not getting away with that! I told you all about Jerry and stuff, didn’t I? Even the bit when he suggested the handcuffs and the judge’s outfit.’
‘Ooh yes, did you actually get round to doing that?’
The handcuffs had been a source of much hilarity at the time when India had ordered them off Amazon, but then it had all gone a bit quiet and I never did find out what happened.
‘I … I’ll tell you if you tell me what you’ve been up to.’
It was a stalemate.
‘You go first,’ I said.
India snorted. ‘Not likely. What have you been doing?’ Her face suddenly dropped with shock. ‘It’s not Gabriel Frost? It can’t be him? Surely?’
I did a bit of huffing. ‘Why not?’
‘You’ve had sex with Gabriel Gorgeous Frost? When for fuck’s sake? When did you find the time?’
I was suddenly rather pleased with myself.
‘Well, let’s just say after Fruit Platters to Delight Your Friends I went back to the cabin to have a nap and I didn’t,’ I said.
‘In our cabin?’
‘No, his.’
India gasped. ‘Well, thank God for that! You are joking? You sly cow!’
‘And last night.’
‘And last night? When I was in bed next door? I was watching the Disney Channel! And you were next door? Screwing Gabriel Frost? So you didn’t spill curry down yourself?’
I could see the waiters were beginning to edge a bit closer, pretending to wipe the tables and straighten the chairs.
‘Er, could you speak up a bit, India? They can’t quite hear you.’
India sat open-mouthed for a moment. ‘You’re not making this up?’
‘Ferrets bite me if I lie.’
‘Bloody hell. And? What was it like? Why didn’t you tell me?’
This was the first time my sister had shown any interest in my sex life for a very long time. I was enjoying this, having something to say, something interesting as well.
‘It was all a bit sudden actually. And it was –’ I tried to think of the right word ‘– it was brilliant.’
‘And this afternoon? How did that work then?’
‘I told you, I was going back to the cabin for a nap after the Fruit Platters to Delight Your Friends session and he opened his door and invited me in, so I went.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that.’
‘Wow.’
I sipped my Atlantic Breeze and India looked at me in astonishment, processing this new information.
‘Wow,’ she said again. ‘So when are you seeing him again then?’
I shrugged and tried to look casual. It was ages since I’d had one up on my sister and I was thoroughly enjoying it.
‘Don’t know. I suppose we have a few days till we get to Southampton. We’ll fit something in. So to speak.’
‘Well, don’t let me stop you,’ India said, suddenly getting slightly shirty. ‘Look, you don’t really think Jerry would – you know – flirt with other women?’
‘Not if he knows what’s good for him. Now tell me about the handcuffs and the judge’s outfit.’