On-Shore Shenanigans

With the number of people sporting dark glasses at breakfast, we could have been shooting a film noir scene. It seems everyone remembers the words ‘pace yourself’ when it’s too late. Only Amanda seems perky and that’s because she’s been up since dawn perfecting eggs Benedict with her new French buddy. I’m sure they were delicious, but like many others, I needed the full English to get me through the day.

I notice Mr Smarmy kissing the hand of a guest before guiding one of my Mercurians to a table à deux.

Hmm, I’m going to have to watch that situation. If she’s come aboard for romance, fair enough, but I’ve an inkling he isn’t the happily-ever-after type. I’m like a mother hen who’s spotted the fox going after one of my chicks. Mum would have sorted him out.

When we were in Monaco, I watched people disembark from their glistening yachts and imagined the champagne lifestyle they led.

I feel like this now as we enter the port of La Rochelle; twin towers either side of the harbour seem to guide us in and we’re soon admiring the medieval town.

We’ve opted for a trip to Cognac and it would be rude not to taste its namesake while we’re there. As the coach pulls away, I watch the cruise staff getting on with their various jobs. I spot the magician having a heated conversation over a suitcase with a guy in a white van. I wonder if they have those elaborate costumes delivered over the course of the trip. The logistics of this seem more complicated than you’d think.

Amanda is coming on shore but she’s heading off to the market with Julien, so I grab another Mercury couple and persuade them to join Alan and me on the excursion. The tour travels through the ancient town of Saintes before arriving at the Cognac house. The richness of aroma hits us the second we walk in. You could get drunk on this smell without tasting a drop; it’s so warm and comforting. The tour is interesting and the ambience so relaxed that I have to remind myself not to copy the couple we’re with and link arms on the way back to the boat.

‘It felt natural,’ I tell Patty when we get back.

‘That man,’ she wags her finger at me, ‘doesn’t just want to have his cake and eat it but he wants someone to be bloody baking it. Don’t be the stand-in just because Amanda has found some French totty. You’re the one who should be finding French totty and Lord knows there is plenty below stairs.’

‘No thanks,’ I say. ‘I’ve made a big enough fool of myself this year. Are you ready for tonight?’ I really want a change of subject now.

‘Yes,’ she says, ‘a change of set list and a few new moves to keep people entertained. You coming?’

‘Not tonight. You were brilliant,’ I reassure her, ‘everyone said so, but I need some sleep. I’m going to the movies where no one will notice if I nod off.’

‘Dirty Dancing? You know that film by heart; just don’t quote every line. They’ll throw you out.’

‘But no one puts baby in the corner,’ I laugh.

* * *

I enjoy the peace of the cinema and the feelgood blanket of romance. I’m humming ‘Time of my Life’ wishing I could belt it out when I bump into Mr Smarmy and my Mercurian arm in arm.

‘You look happy,’ he says to me.

‘The effect of a little nostalgia and romance,’ I reply.

They gaze into each other’s eyes.

‘Oh we know that feeling,’ says my Mercurian.

Mother hen mode re-emerges, so I ask about the evening and they gush about how wonderful it has been.

‘The magician’s assistant was stunning and the outfits were just dazzling. There must be huge wardrobes in those rooms.’

I know there aren’t, so guess that they do meet their costume guy when they reach a port.

‘Would you care to join us for a nightcap?’ asks Mr Smarmy.

Although I am tempted to keep my eye on him for a little longer, the bigger temptation is a cosy bed and a night’s sleep, so I say goodnight and watch them snuggle off together.

How do some people make relationships look so very simple?

* * *

Another day, another port; today we’re in Bilbao. The guests now have their regular entourage and I watch the groups of new best friends head off together. Patty isn’t working tonight so she’s going to join me touring the famous art galleries of this town.

We’re exhausted after just one, so head back to the port and watch the world go by from a little café. We sit admiring the explosion of work that takes place when the guests leave the boat. The magician is back with his costume van, food and drink is loaded and then a car with blacked-out windows pulls up. Patty grabs my arm.

‘It’s him,’ she whispers as Michael Jackson steps out into the sunshine.

Obviously not the Michael Jackson but the best MJ tribute in the world according to his website, and from this entrance he’s obviously permanently on duty. A purser arrives with a parasol to escort him on to the boat while his luggage is ferried behind him. I can’t wait to see this act.

He has no warm-up act; tonight he is the star. I guess the real thing wouldn’t need Patty & Co. to liven up the audience either.

When the hour comes, he’s magnificent; there is no other word for it. The lighting, production, dancers and costumes, they simply leave you awestruck. Like many others in the audience, I spend the first half hour just staring at him trying to spot the differences (not that I ever saw the real MJ) and then with the opening bars of ‘Thriller’, I just let myself go and throw my arms around with very little rhythm at all.

After my spurt of energy, I retreat to the bar and he brings the tempo down with ‘The Girl Is Mine’. Alan joins me quicker than you can say, ‘These coincidences are becoming a little too frequent’, but Patty says it anyway then turns her back on him.

‘Takes you back in time, all this, doesn’t it?’ he says, ‘when we first met?’

I remember sneaking that first gentle peck before I boarded the plane. Crew aren’t supposed to fraternise with customers but that made it even more delicious; forbidden fruits always are.

Patty turns back towards him in a fury that interrupts my daydream.

‘Do you know what day it is?’ she asks.

Alan looks blank but I dread what she’s about to say.

‘It’s a year since I came round to your house to find the woman you’re reminiscing with in tears because you’d walked out on her. So sod off with your rose-tinted memories.’

He does as he’s told and I shake my head: ‘I didn’t need to be reminded of that.’

I’m sure she meant well but I don’t want to relive it and anyway, he’s making a real effort and I’m enjoying it rightly or wrongly.

Later that night I wonder whether I should call him and apologise for Patty’s attack. Maybe I should invite him round for a ‘no harm done’ drink. Patty would kill me for that.

Come morning, I invite Patty for a stroll around the deck; I’m going to tell her my suspicions about Alan just in case anything does happen. I don’t want to lose her if he ever does come back.

‘Oh, Bo, sweetheart,’ she sighs, ‘it doesn’t amount to much evidence.’

‘But the garden and the flowers; he booked this cruise guessing I’d be on it and he never leaves me alone,’ I protest.

‘I don’t know how the garden is being done, true. Maybe the previous owner had a gardener and he’s forgotten to cancel the contract so the guy keeps coming. This cruise? They won it and even you didn’t know you were coming on it until a few weeks ago. His constant attention? He’s a man, he’s needy. His floozy has left him for a while and he needs someone to stroke his ego which you, my dear, are doing.’

I just stand deflated staring out at the horizon.

‘When she’s finished with her chef and comes back, his flirtations will be over. You know that; don’t let him hurt you again,’ she says.

‘He won’t,’ I tell her. ‘I’ve changed and I like the new me; I like the things I’ve done. In many ways, Alan’s infidelity was the best and worst thing that ever happened to me, well, all of us. After all, you wouldn’t be singing on a cruise ship without it.’

‘True,’ acknowledges Patty.

‘But I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life and if Alan is hinting that he wants to come back, at least I have to know for sure,’ I say.

‘Even if nothing happens, I have to know that I turned it down for the right reasons. I don’t want to wreck our family if I have the chance to reconcile it, just to prove a point.’

‘I’ll make you a promise,’ says Patty. ‘I’ll withhold all judgement; I’ll be nice to Alan and I’ll watch from the sidelines. If I think he’s making moves to come back, I will tell you. If, however, all I see is lovey-doveyness with Amanda, which is all I’ve seen so far, I’ll tell you that too – honestly.’

‘That’s all I ask.’ I hug her. ‘Breakfast?’

‘Thank goodness for that, I’m starving.’

Patty’s first chance to observe comes sooner than either of us anticipates. Julien Dubois and Amanda are greeting everyone at breakfast. They’ve been working on pastries today and this morning a sensory overload is drawing us in like sirens to the rocks. Patty takes a glance around the room to find Alan; I’d already done that, he’s working the tables taking congratulations for Amanda. He nods a hello when he spots us and to her credit, Patty gives him a polite wave.

It would be rude not to partake and like everyone else, with the first bite I am transported to butter and sugar heaven. Oh, how do two simple ingredients combine to create such bliss?

Maybe I don’t need a man, maybe I just need an endless supply of Danish pastries.

I look around the room and it’s as if someone has given all of the guests an aphrodisiac. Mr Smarmy and Ms Mercurian are taking turns to feed each other yum-yums and strawberries, mopping each other’s chins (which I do find a bit unsavoury). I feel the need to escape before there is a brioche-incited orgy.

Anyway, I have to sort out the accessories for tonight’s fancy dress. Naturally, it’s an eighties movie theme and we Mercurians are going as the Ghostbusters complete with ghosts and Pillsbury Doughboy.

While the Mercurians are on shore visiting today’s port, La Coruna, I’ve got to persuade the DJ to play the theme tune as we walk in so everyone will feel a little bit special. Then I have to see if I can get these water cannons to fire green silly string so that it looks like gunk.

A travel agent’s work is never done.

I’m going as the goofy receptionist but using my lilac Granny-Oke wig; it’s bizarre but I feel the need to get some use out of it.

I think about what Patty said and wonder if she’s right, that my patio is being tended by a gardener who doesn’t know his contract has been terminated. Like a wife who won’t accept that hers has.

Costumes sorted, I’m going to have a few hours of sunshine before tonight. I might even get a little bit active and have a little swim. Alternatively, I could just lie back and watch the beach volleyball, although I can’t imagine it will be anything like the Top Gun scene.

The Mercurians have returned and it seems that many of them bypassed the recommended colonnaded town square and headed straight for the beach instead. Now back on deck they’re relaxing just as earnestly; bodies are stretched out in the sun, well-intentioned books have been abandoned and, everywhere, people watching from behind sunglasses is in full swing.

That’s exactly what Patty is doing. Never one to do things by halves, from behind her magazine, she has Alan under surveillance. If the singing career doesn’t work out, I’m sure she could find work as a private investigator, complete with a theme tune of her own. Damn, I now have The Professionals theme playing through my brain, which is a real nuisance as The Amateurs might be a better name for the operation.

As I’m getting dressed for the evening, Zoe calls me to ask how it’s going.

‘Have you seen Dad?’ she asks.

‘Yes and I haven’t made him walk the plank yet,’ I joke.

‘Mum...’

‘Sorry,’ I say, ‘he’s being quite nice, to be honest.’

‘Well that’s a good sign, isn’t it?’ she asks.

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t it would seem.

‘Well, it would be a poor showing if we couldn’t be civil,’ I say, playing it down so as not to raise her hopes. I have to stop this conversation.

‘Darling, I’m sorry but I have to go,’ I tell her. ‘I mean, I still have to get dressed, see a magic show with a talking parrot, have too much dinner and then get a group of people dressed up as Ghostbusters. I tell you, it’s insanely busy.’

We laugh at the ludicrousness of my schedule.

Off to my first appointment with a magic act. I sit with the Mercurians and once more, we’re all dazzled by the outfits. I tell them my theory about the portside costume exchanges and we debate whether they sparkle so much to distract you from the sleight of hand.

Tonight’s show is all about audience participation.

One by one people are called up on to the stage; they have their valuables taken off them, put into a velvet bag, smashed with a hammer and then miraculously returned to them in one piece. I realise the magicians know what they’re doing but I’m not sure I’d have the courage to hand over my valuables. What if I’m the one time the trick goes wrong? It has to happen sometime but fortunately not tonight.

More importantly the climax of the show runs smoothly too; the assistant gets into the familiar magician’s box and we all know what happens next: she is sawn in half. The blade cuts through her knee-line and then her neckline. All the time, her bejewelled navel is on display. How do they do this?

Another swirl of the box and the assistant is back in one piece. A huge round of applause greets her. Although we’ve all seen this on TV, when it’s happening right in front of you it is mind-boggling.

Next on my to-do list is the fancy dress, such a tough, tough gig. The Mercurians gather outside the ballroom and as arranged, I give a nod to the DJ, our theme tune cranks up and we burst into the room, proton packs at the ready, spraying silly string and yelling out ‘Who you gonna call?’

A great team effort except for Alan and Amanda, who decided that they (for that read she probably) didn’t want to spend the evening in a boiler suit, so they’ve come as Richard Gere and Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman. Patty would give me a ‘told you so’ look at this moment.

I wonder whether lifelong cruise devotees keep an array of fancy dress costumes as I watch my Mercurians partying with Mannequins, Lost Boys and, of course, Seeking Susans.

I did want to have a word with the team who turned up as the cast of Grease (two years short of our magical decade), but they don’t win the group prize so I keep shtum. The winners are dressed as Top Gun characters and although our khaki boiler suit costumes aren’t that different, they do have a guy who spends the whole evening with cardboard fighter plane wings attached to him and therefore can’t reach the bar or buffet table.

All credit to him.

You forget how many classic movies there were: Terminator, Godfather and James Bond; both Bonds just wore tuxedos but Don Corleone distinguished himself from the secret service agent by carrying a hobby-horse head with him.

Come morning, I imagine there will be some very sore human heads. As I leave them to it, the cocktail bar is in high demand with guests consuming concoctions of every colour. I’m happy to back out early and win the lightweight of the evening award. We have two more shore visits and then we’re home to start diets.

A diet to go on holiday and then another when we get back; no wonder the industry is worth billions. And while on holiday we don’t see the irony in the three five-course meals we consume.

I get undressed and into bed. It’s been a good trip and provided the next two days go smoothly, we should be able to mark this down as another success for Mercury Travel.