S.O.S. (47 page)

‘Her name is, um – I can't actually remember her name, now. I thought she looked OK. Oh
God
, Nicole – you're not going to – why are you taking off your dress again? You've only just this minute put it
on
…'

Yes you have, you stupid woman. And if you're reaching for the goldy one – and you are, you've hoiked it down, now – that means that the red shoes are a no-no, doesn't it, Nicole? Yes it does – I've learned that much over the years. And the tights will have to go and probably your bloody underwear too, more than bloody likely. And her name is
Jennifer
, as it happens, my sweet, and I think she looked bloody wonderful in whatever it was she was wearing. I didn't actually notice what she was wearing, as a matter of fact, because I wasn't, I don't suppose,
meant
to. She was dressed like a human
being
, Nicole. And that's how she sounded, too. She was all right.

Anyway – that was earlier. We got to dinner, eventually. What have you two been
doing
, went Marianne: we were just about to order. Yes well – you of
all
people, Marianne, should know perfectly well what we've been
doing
. I've been sitting on my allocated corner of the bed, doing my level best to ignore the insistent drumbeat inside my head (it goes like this: Come
on
come
on
come
on
come
on
) while your bloody mother continues to faff about with handbags
and scarves and bracelets and – oh Christ, this time she's
really
excelled herself:
gloves
. Matching gloves. I know, I know, but what can you do? Maybe later she's intending to crack a safe or so, who can say? Rather nasty bruise on Rollo's cheekbone, just there. Wonder how he got it? Let's just hope his mother doesn't notice or she'll be going on about it for the rest of the night.

‘Have you noticed the
sway
?' said Marianne – to anyone, really.

‘I
think
…' thought Nicole, ‘I'll just have smoked salmon to start. Simple. Maybe just a touch of caviar with it.'

‘Caesar Salad for me,' grunted David. ‘Yes I
have
, Marianne. You have to walk down the corridors like, what is it? Cartoon thing. Popeye, yes. It's not so bad up here, though. What having, Rollo?'

‘Steak, I think. Not specially hungry.'

‘Yes, Rollo,' admonished Nicole, ‘but you still have to
eat
. What are you starting with? Hm? What about the gnocchi? You like gnocchi, don't you? Oh my
God
, Rollo – how did you get that awful bruise on your cheek? Hm? Have you put anything on it?'

‘I'll have the bouillon, Daddy,' said Marianne. ‘Had it the other night, actually – it's wonderful. With angel hair pasta. Divine.'

‘
Answer
me, Rollo,' insisted Nicole – who was still eyeing his face as if expecting it to at any moment explode into a rainbow of streamers.

‘Oh it's nothing, Mum – I just … the wardrobe door. Stupid.'

‘And
then
, maybe …' reckoned David, ‘mmm – roast veal sounds good. You want to be more careful, Rollo.'

‘Oh
yes
,' swept in Nicole – just as he might have known she would. ‘And
you
, of course, David, have never walked into
anything
, have you? In your whole life. Good
God
, David – some nights you can't even walk through an open
door
. Forever slamming face-first into the
wall
. God help us.'

‘
Mum
…!' whispered Marianne. ‘
Waiter
…'

‘Ah yes. Good evening, Peter. Well this evening?'

‘
Very
well, Madam, thank you. Did you all have a good day?' But there didn't seem to be a great take-up on that line of questioning, so Peter rattled on glibly, with professional ease. ‘So – what may I get for you all this evening?'

Nicole was egging on David with her eyes.

‘
Order
, David.'

‘Yes. Right. OK, then – my wife will have the smoked salmon – that right? Yes. And with caviar? What say? Yes – a
bit
. Just a
bit
of caviar. Right. Yes –
with
caviar, thank you. Marianne – you're having the bouillon thing, yes? Yes – and with all the, you know – etcetera. Rollo? Decided? No? Sure? Right –
nothing
over there …'

‘Oh
Rollo
,' deplored Nicole. ‘Why? Why not order something?'

‘Told you, Mum. Not very hungry.'

‘Oh but still you must
eat
, Rollo. What's wrong with you?'

‘
Am
eating, Mum. Having the steak. Told you.'

‘
Right
,' resumed David (oh Christ – it could go on all bloody night, this bloody palaver). ‘Right, OK – nothing there – and I'll have the Caesar Salad. OK. Then to follow …' (Oh sweet Lord – here we go again: the bloody waistband on these bloody trousers – telling you … cutting me in half) ‘ … well look, all just order what you want, yes? Easier, I think. I'll be having the roast veal, please – all the bits, what is it? Wild mushrooms, risotto – yeh, all that. Nicole?'

‘That does sound very
nice
… oh
God
: did you feel
that
one? Heavens, Peter – the ship is really rocking around tonight, isn't it?'

‘I've known it worse,' laughed Peter. ‘This isn't too bad.'

‘Not too good either …' came Nicole's quite hesitant judgment on that. ‘I do hope
Pat
's all right. Not too bad, anyway. I tried to persuade her to come to dinner, you know, but she said she wasn't at all up for it. Poor Pat.'

‘Order, Nicole,' said David, quite swiftly.

‘Oh yes –
sorry
, Peter. Yes – I think I'll be terribly boring and have what my husband is having: sounds wonderful. What about you, Marianne? And Rollo – are you
sure
you just want a steak? Yes? Well all right – a steak for my son, then. Fillet – medium, please. And plenty of chips. He can never get enough chips, can you Rollo?'

‘Not actually that
hungry
,' tried Rollo, quite feebly.

‘Oh don't be so
silly
. You're always hungry for
chips
!'

‘Could I have the roast cod, please?' piped up Marianne. ‘New potatoes – ooh and yes, some of that wonderful pea puree, if you've got that.'

‘Certainly, Madam,' said Peter, scribbling in his pad. ‘Pea puree. Absolutely no problem at all. Would you care to see the wine list, sir?'

‘
Yes
,' said David, immediately. ‘Well actually no – needn't bother. That burgundy I had last time: very good. The wine fellow knows – he'll tell you. Sauvigny, or something. Couple of bottles of that.'

‘Well
I
won't be drinking much,' said Nicole, rather stiffly. ‘A glass will do me. And Marianne only
sips
 – don't you, Marianne? And some fizzy water, please, Peter.'

‘I'll have a lager,' said Rollo. ‘Lager, yep.'

‘There you
see
, David: no one's going to be drinking the wine, are they?'

David sighed. ‘Right, um – Peter. So that's one lager, one bottle of sparkling and a couple of bottles of the burgundy. Right? OK – good.' (Thank Christ that's over – and bring the wine
quickly
, will you?)

‘You cold, Mum?' went Rollo.

At the departure of Peter, Nicole's face had relaxed – well down from hyperactive and quite a bit mad – but it returned to taut and plastic rather rapidly, now.

‘No. Why? What do you mean?'

‘I just wondered about the gloves. You can borrow my balaclava, if you like.'

Which David thought was quite hysterically
funny
, actually: didn't show it, though.

‘Highly amusing,' was Nicole's conclusion to that particular avenue of surmise. ‘I think you ought to put something on that
bruise
, Rollo. Savlon, or something.'

‘It's fine,' said Rollo.

Yes it is fine, as it happens, because all I ended up with was a bruise. Ribs are aching a bit. Telling you, though – those people hadn't come in when they did, he was going to kill me, that bloke Sammy, you know. Wasn't fooling. Christ – he scared me half to death. I still haven't got over the shock of him just bursting
in
, like that. Got all his spit on my face, which was pretty disgusting. Don't quite know
what's
going to happen, now. Jilly wouldn't talk, afterwards. Wouldn't say a word to me. Just kept shaking her head. Anyway – try and get to her later. Right now I'd better have a go at
saying
something, I reckon: one more mention of the bruise and I might just tell them exactly how I got it. Which would be something, wouldn't it?

‘How's your weirdo chum, Marianne? Still a bundle of laughs, is he?'

‘Oh shut
up
, Rollo. You don't know
anything
.'

‘What ‘chum'?' Nicole wanted to know. ‘Who, Marianne?'

‘The
loony
,' laughed out Rollo. ‘The vampire from the black lagoon.'

‘What on earth are you
talking
about, Rollo? Marianne – what is, who is Rollo talking about?'

‘Oh …' supplied Marianne, with deep reluctance. ‘Someone I've been – talking to, that's all. Someone I met.'

‘I see,' said Nicole. ‘Is that this ‘Tom' you mentioned to me? Well you might have introduced us. But maybe from the way Rollo was
describing
him … maybe not.'

‘Oh he's not like that at
all
,' snapped Marianne. ‘He's very – nice.'

Yes – he is. Very nice and very wise and very deep, I
think. But the point is where
is
he? Oh dear God where
is
he? I've just searched
everywhere
. I asked one of the, I don't know quite exactly what he was – steward, or something, he could have been. Anyway – in
uniform
… and he said Oh, not to worry, Miss – it's a big ship, this – you'll bump into him sooner or later. Yes but
look
, I was going, I've searched just everywhere and I've left dozens of messages in his cabin and I'm really very
worried
. Hm, he went: hm. Tell you what, Miss – if he still hasn't shown up by the morning, report it to one of the officers on duty, yes? They'll probably put out a Tannoy announcement, or something. But I really shouldn't
worry
, Miss, if I were you. Sometimes, tell you – there's a woman works in the Purser's office, and I don't clap eyes on her for days on end – I wouldn't mind but I'm
married
to her: can be a blessing, sometimes. Yes well, I said:
thank
you. But I'm not at all sure he was taking me seriously.

‘Where's the bloke with the bloody
wine
…?' hissed out David, impatiently.

‘Oh just
wait
, can't you, David! You and your bloody
wine
… Does anyone want,' continued Nicole, perfectly seamlessly, ‘to come to the Casino, tonight? Terribly good fun.'

‘How much have you won, Mum?' asked Rollo, quite cheekily.

‘Oh Rollo that's not really the
point
, is it? It's just – fun, yes?'

‘How much,' grunted David, ‘have you
lost
, then?'

‘Oh leave her, Dad,' put in Marianne. ‘If she's
enjoying
herself …'

‘Well
thank
you, Marianne,' gushed Nicole. ‘At least
someone
in this family is on my side. So will you come? Yes, Marianne? Say yes.'

‘Well …' doubted Marianne, ‘it's not really my
thing
, Mum …'

No it isn't. Also – I've just got to look for Tom and this time
find
him …

‘What about you, Rollo? No good asking
you
, is it David? You'll be getting plastered with Dwight, no doubt.'

‘You can lose for both of us,' smiled David. And then he got worried. ‘Actually, Nicole – you will go
easy
, won't you? I mean look – how much
have
you lost, actually?'

‘Oh you have to go and
spoil
it, don't you, David? That's just you all over, isn't it? If anything good's happening, then along comes bloody
David
to fuck it all up.' And in the silence, she was contrite. ‘Sorry, Marianne. I'm sorry, Rollo.'

Hm, thought David: I don't get a ‘sorry', you notice. Yes well – I take that not at all spontaneous outburst to be a hastily erected smokescreen – an attempted obliteration of the fact that she has, in truth, dropped a fortune. On my credit card, of course. The one and only, general purpose, free for all, just come and
get
it, why don't you, credit card – nominally the sole liability of apparently the only man on this bloody ship who hasn't actually got any
money
. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh
God
… I think I could lose my
mind
…

‘Would you,' asked Peter, ‘care to taste the wine, sir?'

‘No,' said David. ‘Just pour it, will you?'

*

So Nicole ended up going to the Casino on her own. She ran into Charlene on the way, but she was in a great rush to be in her cabin and get more packing done – yet
again
: my God – how much packing can one woman do? (Not too much now, Charlene had assured her: just the stuff I got in the
Harrods
store? The Wedgwood, the War-Sister and the Spayed, Spood – I can't never recall how that one goes.) And yes, Nicole had lost again. Rather a lot. Don't actually want to
talk
about it, thank you, if that's
quite
all right with you (I think it must be rigged). And now I have changed into the crimson taffeta and asked for and received fairly
concise directions to the Captain's quarters, and that is where I am headed. Because there's something, I think, I just must try; I'm a trier, you see – and I need to win.