S.O.S. (35 page)

And what had maybe got to Jilly the most, during these gasped-out bouts of full-strength reasoning, was that maybe, oh God, I'm actually deep down far more sensible than I
want
to be. Because half of me is hearing Rollo loud and clear: just
come
 – we can work out the details later. Yes! Just rush to London and into the arms of my lover and let the rest of the world go and hang. Yes … lovely. But only
half
of me was hearing – only the half of me, see, is taking it in. And although Rollo's, oh God – sheer
energy
makes Sammy look frankly like a dead man, what he seems to be after too is really just some
other
form of commitment, isn't it? And that's the very thing I just don't want to give. Anyone. It's not, I think … I think (and oh God I
am
, you know – I really am bloody
exhausted
) … I think what it is, what it must be is that I don't want to have to decide whether I'm going to go with someone loyal and plodding and dependable and, oh – I don't mean to be nasty, but
dull
– he is dull, Sammy – or else some real fun guy that I can get totalled at raves with. I just want to flit. Hang loose. Be me. I
think
… oh Jesus – just leave me, leave me: I just can't
think
any more and I just don't want to get into any more
questions
. OK?

‘No,' said Rollo. ‘No, Mar – wasn't really looking for anyone. You? Why are you still hanging around?'

Marianne shook her head.

‘I think this was a dolphin, once,' she said.

They were both sort of slouching beside the central display – a great deal of deep-cut crystal, surmounted by palms – and Marianne was picking at what prawns were still floating in a large silver bowl at the base of this huge and rounded dripping ice thing.

‘Yeh …' supposed Rollo. ‘Round the other side there's a bloody great pile of butter, if you can believe it. Someone was saying that it was a sculpture of the ship, few hours ago. Now it just looks like a bloody great pile of butter. It's weird here, isn't it Mar?'

Marianne nodded slowly, idly kicking at a wafting balloon.

‘Funny things happen. I think it must be the air.'

Rollo hissed out some of the pressure from between his teeth, and slowly his puffed-out cheeks subsided.

‘Or the lack of it.'

And both of them just had to glance over to the banquette just there: they had each of them individually been doing their utmost to
ignore
all of this, you just have to believe them – but there was this couple, you see, who could maybe have been honeymooners, all hands and giggling – or else just a man and a woman well high on something (could be sex) and already intent upon making every single moment of their Trip of a Lifetime truly one to remember. Their wishy-washy ardour had now become insistent: already they had repeatedly assured one another that they were, respectively, the sweetest ickle prettiest girl who walked
God's earth, not to say the biggest most muscliest he-man that ever was born. Rollo caught Marianne's eye, expecting the ignition of some sort of shared and knowing smirk, or anyway secret collusion, but all he saw there was nothing much; very possibly, he thought, there has come from me nothing to spark off.

‘Well look …' sighed Marianne. ‘No point in hanging round here. Is there? Any more. Fancy a – I don't know. Drink somewhere? Have you been to this Regatta Club disco thing?'

Rollo started. Yes I have: she wouldn't be
there
, would she? Would she? No. From what she's said about Sammy, I very much doubt it. Still, though – don't quite want to risk it. It's mad, really – I don't too much mind seeing them both in the pub, but elsewhere … no, I really couldn't hack it.

‘Izzoo …?' squeaked out the sweetest ickle prettiest girl who walked God's earth, ‘going to take your little bunny to her cot and tuck her up nicely for the night?'

And the biggest most muscliest man that ever was born was now kissing the tip of her nose and calling her his Poppet and promising that he would – he would, he would, he would …

‘
No
,' said Rollo quite loudly (just got to somehow blank out all that crap). ‘No. I think I'll just get some kip, maybe. Mar? Marianne? Are you listening to me? What the hell is it?'

Marianne was standing just maybe a foot away, and yet it was plain she was totally gone from him. Blimey, he thought – it's the undertaker, the nutter, the loony in black. What's she looking at him for? Well OK – I can understand why she's
looking
, maybe (well yeah – I'm looking myself), but why isn't she actually
laughing
? Hey?

‘You came …' is what Rollo was now hearing her say.

And at first Tom said nothing. Just stood so rigidly as to rival for stillness and dimension the forest of Yankee cutouts that were clustered to the right and left of him: he looks bloody funny slap-bang next to James Dean – Christ Almighty, what a loser this guy is. So why isn't Marianne
laughing
? Hey?

And then Tom said:

‘I exchanged my black tie for this ready-made bow. As you may see. I trust you approve. It is so very long since I experienced a sense of moment.'

And maybe Marianne did, did she? Glance back then at Rollo? Maybe she had, by the inclination of her head or the half-closure of one or both of her eyes, quite possibly, fleetingly indicated her intention of leaving with this man. Either way, the two of them were gone, now, that's for bloody sure: completely out of sight. Which leaves just me. Great. Right. OK. Well – can't hang about this dive any longer, that's for certain. Regatta Club – can't face. Black Horse? Dad. Kip, then – yes? Cabin? Well yes – cabin, maybe, but I'll never sleep. There's maybe some miniatures left in the fridge, so I'll hammer them, yeh – but sleep, no: I'll never sleep. (Mum sometimes says that: she knows she won't sleep. I've never before known how that was
possible
). Look, what I want to know is – where are Jilly and
him
? What can they both be
doing
? Hm? Oh God. Oh
God
… Well look – maybe she's gone to bed now, yes? Jilly? I mean –
alone
, right? Back down to the engine room with that bunch of chambermaids. Yes – I think so. That's the most likely scenario, isn't it? Isn't it? Because look – it's late, right? And Sammy – God damn him – Sammy's no night bird, is he? That's the whole point. And Jilly, well – she's totally exhausted, yes? She said so, she said so – you heard her yourself. So yeh – I'll get myself down to my cabin. Have a drink. Won't sleep, though: I'll never sleep. Because look, what I want to know is – where are Jilly and
him
? Hey? What can they both be
doing
? Oh God. Oh
God
…

*

‘Sammy,' said Jilly – she was arch, now, and maybe approaching even a degree of exasperation. ‘What is it, exactly, that you think you're doing?'

Sammy looked pained – but maybe here was no more than a manifestation of his rapidly mounting fear. Because look, I'll be frank with you: when we had first started chatting (and it cost me, you know, to get the cabin to ourselves – a tenner each for Phil and Nasseem, but this had to be seen as an investment of sorts, it looked to me) I thought maybe that how it would, you know –
go
is that I'd act a bit sort of hurt, and then maybe coy when Jilly smilingly attempted to worm out, I don't know – what was
up
with me, or something. Then I'd go: Oh – don't mind me, Jilly – I'm just being silly, I suppose. I just saw you – you know,
look
at that guy at the bar just earlier – maybe you didn't even look, maybe it was him, he who looked at you – and well, perhaps I got just a little bit jealous. What was his name, anyway? Guy at the bar.

Yes – something like that. And Jilly would have been looking at me first off like I was mad (Guy? At the bar? What guy at the bar? I don't remember any … oh
God
, Sammy, honestly: there are loads of guys at the
bar
, aren't there?) … and then, um – well, a lot more fondly, I suppose it might have gone then (Sammy my darling – don't you know yet? Aren't you
aware
? It's
you
I love, isn't it Sammy? Hm? Only you. And I have done for how long? And we're
saving
together, aren't we Sammy? Saving up? For a future? So how on
earth
can you imagine I was looking at a
guy
?).

Yes. On those lines. And then she might have sipped some of the vodka I'd brought down specially (and I would say ‘investment' again, but it's nicked from the bar, if I'm being totally honest) and looked about this very cramped and not too cosy cabin quite sly and cheekily, the way she can, and then she might have said: Phil not coming? When's Nasseem due back? And I would've gone
Well
, Jilly – a little surprise, a kind of treat: we're all alone – and we will be
right up until it's time for my shift. And Jilly, then, she would have put down her drink and come right over to me and stooped and kissed me, yes, and then touched me – right on that place where she knows it drives me crazy and then we might have rubbed noses, which she used to quite like, and she would have whispered right into my electrified ear – Well in
that
case, Sammy, let's not
waste
it, then … and …

And. Well. That's not, no, how any of it has gone. Not a bit.

‘Yes …' Jilly had said, quite slowly. ‘There was a guy at the bar. His name is Rollo. He looked at me. I looked at him.'

‘Uh-huh. Right … Well that's … OK …?'

‘No, Sammy – no. It's not OK. It's not OK at all.'

‘Isn't it? Really? Not OK? Well – why, Jilly? Why not OK?'

‘Because … because I
like
him, OK? I really
like
him, Sammy.'

‘Right … uh-huh … OK …'

‘
Not
bloody OK, is it! Stop saying it's
OK
 – OK?
Not
OK, Sammy, so bloody stop saying it
is
.'

‘Right, right – OK – I mean
right
, not OK: right. Well look, Jilly – I'm a bit … I mean – you want to
talk
about it? Do you?'

‘Not really.'

‘Right. Well fine.'

‘It's
not
fine. It's
not
. Of
course
we've got to talk about it.'

‘Right … well … oh God: I've completely run
out
, Jilly – I can't say ‘fine' and it's not ‘OK' …!'

‘
Look
, Sammy – just look: I'm not saying there's anything
wrong
with you, am I?'

‘Uh – no. I didn't actually think … well
is
there – ?'

‘No. But. Well … oh
look
, Sammy, it's all this
saving
business and always being
sensible
all of the time – it's frankly been driving me
crazy
, you know? I mean look – we've been cooped up on this bloody ship for just ages and
ages
and we never
do
anything and – '

‘But we're docking soon – aren't we, Jilly? And – '

‘Yeh we're
docking
soon – sure. But it's not going to make a bloody bit of
difference
, is it? Huh? I mean, what? In New York we load on another twenty tons of booze and then we sail off to, oh God … we sail away to – oh
Jesus
, I can't even remember where it is we're even going to, now – !'

‘Jamaica. But listen, Jilly – '

‘Jamaica – right. And all the way there – what? Pouring drinks and saving money and going to bed early with a couple of chambermaids!'

‘I thought you said you quite liked them – ?'

‘Oh shut up and
listen
to me, Sammy, will you? You're just not
listening
. And we get to Jamaica, OK – and then what? Go on, Sammy – you tell me.'

‘Well – long haul home, then.'

‘You've left out bits, though, haven't you Sammy? Hm? It means
not
doing the clubs in Jamaica – just like we didn't even
see
New York – and then humping on
more
bloody crates of drink and then
pouring
the bloody things all the way back to England. And in England, Sammy – in England, right? What's going to happen to us then?'

‘Well you
know
that, Jilly – we've been over all that – '

‘Yeh I know – but what's
actually
going to happen is that according to
your
famous plan we're going to go to some building society and plank down all our savings and ask for a mortgage so we can buy our sodding little house with those sodding little
things
, what are they? All around the sodding door. Flowers! But do you know what he's going to say, the man in the building society?
Roses
, I mean. Well do you? I'll tell you – he's going to look at our pathetic little heap of money – and that's all it is, Sammy, despite the fact that we've been
saving
and
saving
and
saving
for just, oh God –
ever
, what we've actually got is just so
sad
… and he's going to say
No
. Just like that. Because unless we want a
stable
, or something, we're just not going to
get
a mortgage, are we? And do you know what you'll say to me then?
What you'll do then, Sammy, is you'll turn round to me and say Oh never
mind
, love – and then suggest we, Christ – I don't know, redouble our
efforts
, or something – and that means I'll be working at
two
bloody bars and you'll be minicabbing all through the night and even
that
could go on for years, couldn't it Sammy? And during those years, do you know what's going to happen? Two things – two things, Sammy: One – the bloody houses are going to get more and more and more expensive, and Two: we'll be getting …
older
… for no good
reason
. I don't …
want
to save my money, Sammy. Don't
want
to pool it with yours. Don't don't
don't
want to watch it
grow
. I want to
spend
it, Sammy – every penny, as I get it. And then I want a whole bloody fistful of credit cards so I can run up debts all over the bloody place, just like
real
people do. Yeh. That's what I want. I want nice things and I want
fun
… and I want them
now
. Because why
not
? I'm
young
, aren't I? Yes I am. And that's not, is it, Sammy … it's just not at all the sort of girl you
meant
!'