Confessions from a Luxury Liner (Confessions, Book 15) by Timothy Lea

Author:Timothy Lea
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007549092
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-12-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

When we put to sea, Muna is still with us and Sid is not talking to me – after Muna has finished with him he has difficulty in talking to anyone. I think the noise of the anchor going up made her grit her teeth and there was nearly a nasty accident.

My big moment comes when I bump into Caroline Rankin. She is wearing a little white skirt, gym shoes and socks and looks so wholesome that I would feel guilty taking a bite out of her without cleaning my teeth first. She is carrying a quoit, and tells me that a shower of rain interrupted her game.

‘Quoits interruptus,’ I say, demonstrating that all those sex books I used to get out of Battersea Public Library have provided me with a rich source of comical quips.

‘Ye-es,’ she says, eyeing me nervously. ‘It was getting a bit blustery, too. Daddy says it’s not at all the kind of thing you expect to find in the Med at this time of the year.’ She looks at me reproachfully like it was my fault. ‘I say, is there anything the matter with your face? It looks as if it’s got make-up on it.’

‘It’s the ship’s pantomime,’ I say. ‘I’m playing Widow Wanky – I mean, Twanky!’

‘Oh super!’ says Caroline. ‘I love pantomimes, Daddy used to take us every Christmas until they got dirty and full of jokes about TV commercials.’

‘There’s nothing like that in ours,’ I assure her. ‘There’s no hanky panky with my Twanky.’

‘Caroline! What are you doing there? It’s time to change for dinner.’ It is Mrs Rankin, advancing to spoil our love idyll. Just when I was getting into my stride, too. Curses! I hope the soup rots the old bag’s dentures.

‘I’ll see you around,’ I murmur, subjecting Caroline to the famous Lea slow burn. ‘Perhaps we can get ashore somewhere?’

‘Perhaps.’ Oh, what a multitude of unspoken promises are contained in that one little word. I am certain that if we could only spend a short time together, something beautiful might emerge.

‘Come, Caroline. Remember what your father said.’ Mrs Rankin throws me a glance like a hand grenade with the pin missing and steers Caroline out of my life pausing only to say, ‘He’s queer, dear,’ in a voice queerly – I mean clearly – intended for my ears plus those of anybody standing within fifty yards of us.

Queer! How dare she? Clapham’s answer to the electric bobbin slighted in this way. I have a good mind to make her eat her words off the end of my hampton. It would probably taste better than the nosh she is going to get in the dining salon, anyway. I watch them disappear, hoping – without success – that Caroline will throw a last glance over her shoulder. Then I go back to my duties. It is tough at the bottom.

I have forgotten about my sighting of Misses Uttley and Drake in swinging downtown Gibraltar but when I am summoned to their cabin it all comes back to me.

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