Lights blazed in the dining room. Fina squinted at the glare from the mirrors placed strategically around the room. Even though it was only 6 o’clock, darkness had descended in the form of pendulous clouds. The doors stood open at either end, creating a welcome cross-breeze in what would otherwise have been suffocating humidity. Despite the impending storm, everyone looked rather cheerful – at least superficially. They were seated at three round tables, set closely enough to one another that guests could converse with those at another table. Nearest the door sat Balraj, Gustave, Phillip, and Ian. They had two empty seats at their table. At the next table sat Captain Mills, Sadie, Emeline and Patricia. Victor and Gilbert were assigned to a small table nearby. Fina instinctively felt this was unnecessary, but noticed they seemed to be having a jolly time creating catapults with peas and their forks. They had been served dinner long before the adults.
“May we sit here?” enquired Ruby, pointing to the two empty chairs.
Phillip Gibbs replied, “Yes, please do. Violet is feeling a touch under the weather, so she’s having her dinner brought to her in our cabin. And Gustave just informed us that Miss Dominguez has a headache so she is forgoing dinner all together.” Unlike others in formal evening dress, Phillip looked comfortable in his light grey sports jacket. His pipe peeped out of his breast pocket.
Murmuring appropriate sounds of regret and thanks, the pair sat down next to one another. Ruby flounced her silk jersey evening dress in brilliant white as she sat down. Fina also wore silk, though her green dress had flowing skirt panels.
Phillip sat to Fina’s left. He slathered butter onto half of a dinner roll, tapped a great deal of salt and pepper on top of the creamy goodness and popped the whole concoction in his mouth. Before he had finished chewing, he prepared the other half of the roll to meet its sister’s fate. He tapped his fingers in a jaunty little dance on the tablecloth. He seemed to be completely oblivious to the atmosphere.
Ruby engaged in energetic conversation with Gustave.
“Those designs you showed me were enchanting, Ruby,” he said.
Ruby began to wave her hands about. “Thank you, Gustave. Perhaps we could sketch more together before we arrive?”
“Ah, yes, let’s see about that. I am rather tired.” Then, as if in response to Ruby’s crestfallen face, he added, “I’m sure it’s just temporary. I expect a good night’s sleep will solve that little difficulty.”
Fina knew her friend well enough to know that while Ruby could be an enormously dynamic person, the vitality expressed in the conversation with Gustave was forced. Of course, she knew why. Ian was sitting next to Gustave. While he did not stare at Ruby, as Fina thought he might, he did glance at her with a rather sad-puppy look once in a while.
Fina felt conflicted about Ian, but decided that he wasn’t worth her focus at the moment. Something was definitely afoot here, though she couldn’t quite get a handle on what.
Her stomach rumbled. Phillip and company had made quick work of the rolls. She glanced at the large clock on the wall. 6:15. Why was it taking so long for the food to be served? She noticed Balraj checking his wristwatch as well, and she gently chided herself for her impatience. Her general level of irritation at mundane events increased with the decrease of food in her stomach.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” said Balraj as he scraped back his chair. “I feel rather queasy. I think I’d better lie down.” Balraj’s clipped sentences certainly indicated discomfiture. But it was odd, as he had seemed to be fully engaged in a jovial conversation with Ian a few seconds before.
“Must be the coming storm,” said Ian, casually waving away Balraj’s exit as well as the smoke from his cigarette.
“Poor chap,” said Phillip, chewing on one of the rolls he had hoarded away on his plate. At the next table, laughter suddenly rang out from Sadie, who had been quiet up until then.
Ian continued. “I had a cousin who lived in Istanbul once…”
A piercing shriek interrupted Ian’s narrative. It was so high that Fina thought it might crack the glassware.
Everyone jumped in their seats, and all heads turned toward Patricia. “What is falling on my head?” she shrieked, shaking her once perfectly coiffed hair as if she were a wet dog. Emeline held up something in her hand with a look of triumph.
“Peas,” she pronounced gravely, as if she had discovered a packet of opium on her sister.
Patricia ran her hands carefully through her fine blond hair. “And mashed potatoes – in my hair,” she said in disgust.
“Who is responsible for this outrage?” said Emeline in a stentorian voice. Really, thought Fina, she would make an excellent barrister.
All eyes turned toward the children’s table. The two boys tried to hide their faces.
“It wasn’t me, honest, it wasn’t me!” cried little Gilbert. “It was him!” retorted Victor, betraying his younger playmate.
“We were trying to pop ’em through the window, the window,” said Gilbert, digging himself into a bigger and bigger hole, thought Fina. Gilbert had a nasal, adenoidal voice, so his words tended to tail off into L and M sounds.
Sadie rose from her seat and went over to Victor. “Come, Victor, we need to discuss your behaviour.” She nodded at Fina as if to signal she would handle the problem. She patted Victor gently on the back but piloted him rather firmly – despite his protests of innocence – out of the room.
Phillip beckoned Gilbert to come sit up at the table with him in Balraj’s vacant chair. He leaned over and whispered into his ear. Gilbert’s lower lip stuck out and he crossed his arms in protest. Phillip, having delivered the criticism, then playfully ruffled Gilbert’s hair and handed him a glass of water.
When Fina looked up from this scene, she saw that Patricia was gone.
“Where did she go?” she whispered to Ruby.
“She mumbled something about removing mashed potato from her hair, though I think it was actually plantain,” she giggled. “Much stickier. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.”
“Ruby!” chided Fina. “So unlike you to be judgmental.”
“Well, maybe it’s the combination of insufferable hunger, alcohol on an empty stomach and impending seasickness.”
“Yes, where is the food? I’m famished.”
Ruby sniffed the air. “I think it will arrive soon!”
“You smell it?” asked Fina as she lifted her nose like a piglet tentatively sniffing the air for the first time.
As if on cue, Sarah, Lev and Agnes marched in with enormous silver trays laden with covered ceramic dishes.
Captain Mills leaned over to Ruby. “You’re going to love this. Sarah’s cooking is almost as good as her poetry. She’s prepared conch chowder, cracked conch, stewed fish and souse.”
Gustave looked over at them. “I am looking forward to a good meal. This English cuisine that you call it in London is most abominable.”
“Have you spent much time in England?” asked Fina, less out of interest in the question and more as a diversion from the slowness produced by deliberate ceremony of serving the food.
“I – no, no, not much time. Not much time at all. Just a week or two here and there. As one does,” he replied.
And with that inauspicious comment, silence fell on the dining room. Ravenous guests descended on their aromatic, plentiful dishes.