Stormy Waters

Patty is making hay. First of all, as the former roommate of the master thief, she is deemed to have some insight into the minds of these international criminals and now moves from table to table accepting a free drink then exaggerating this newly found knowledge.

Second, the ship needs another pre-dinner act for our last two evenings, so she’s agreed to host a karaoke competition as Granny-P; she’s already stoking up interest as she works the crowd.

I leave her to it; after this morning, dealing with the police and then ensuring all of my guests have all of their belongings back, I just want to have a few moments of peace. I need to find a quiet space on the boat so run up the stairs to the sky deck, which I know will be deserted at this time of day. My guests think I’m some sort of mastermind giving them adventures they usually see in films; it truly is insane that my disasters are other people’s entertainment.

As I get closer to the deck, the horizon opens up and with a quick glance behind me I run the last few steps hollering like no one is watching.

‘You look like you needed that.’

Bugger. Alan.

‘Just a bit,’ I say. ‘Anyway, what are you doing up here? All the excitement is down there.’

Looking over the railings on to the sun deck, we can see golden parasols opening to form a honey-coloured hive and we know that underneath them the bustle and buzz of gossip will still be in full flight.

‘You’ve done well. I wanted to tell you that,’ he says without looking at me, and as I can’t think of an answer I say nothing.

‘I was a real shit but you’ve come out smelling of roses.’

‘That’s what you do with shit, isn’t it? Fertilise roses,’ I reply.

‘I taught you something then,’ he laughs.

It’s now or never, I’m going for it.

‘Do you know where I live now?’ I start.

‘Of course I do,’ he replies.

‘And have you ever visited my house?’ I continue.

‘Yes, but you weren’t in,’ he tells me.

This is it.

‘I need to ask you something and I need you to promise not to make fun of me.’

‘Promise,’ he crosses his heart.

‘Have you ever bought me a gnome?’ I ask.

He bursts out laughing and I feel so stupid.

‘You promised.’

‘I’m sorry but that was the last question I was expecting. Why on earth would I do that?’

What seemed feasible and logical now seems ridiculous and my only consolation is that no one else can hear this conversation.

‘You don’t think I want to get back together do you?’ he asks.

‘Well, you did follow me on to this cruise.’ Embarrassment starts to turn angry.

‘I won it.’

‘And you’ve been overly friendly.’

‘To show that we’re both adults getting on with life, nothing more,’ he says.

‘It’s more than that,’ I protest getting more and more heated, ‘half the time it’s bordered on flirting.’

‘Flirting? I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he replies. ‘Would you rather I insulted you every time I saw you?’

Him being reasonable and calm is just infuriating me every time he opens his mouth.

‘You know what you’re doing?’ I feel bloody stupid now. ‘Trying to hedge your bets with both women.’

‘You have one hell of an imagination,’ he says getting up. ‘I’m going now.’

‘Oh, drop dead will you,’ I tell him.

I know it’s not the most articulate insult I could have thrown, but I’ve just humiliated myself and I need him to go. He does so, hurling more comments about my vivid imagination.

I want to howl, just like a werewolf. Howl and howl and howl. I’ve seen dogs do it when they’re left alone or feel extreme angst and I need that release. However, I can’t guarantee Alan is out of earshot and hearing me cry like a banshee won’t help my sanity case.

Nor will alcohol; I head back downstairs and straight for the gym. I find the punch bag instead. I pound it with everything I have and then more. This lasts about thirty seconds – they’re much tougher than they seem in films. The gym instructor looks me in the eye and suggests that I spar with him.

‘No thanks,’ I murmur, ‘I’m just letting off steam.’

He hits me with a little jab.

‘I said no,’ I tell him astonished.

‘You need this, I can tell,’ he counters and jabs me again.

I punch him back but he blocks and gets me round the side.

I try again and make contact. He holds his hands up to his face and tells me to go for it. I punch and punch and punch until I’ve beaten a smile back on my face.

I have sweated that complete humiliation out of my system by the time we’re finished.

‘You were right,’ I beam taking off the gloves, ‘I did need that.’

* * *

Getting ready tonight I look in the mirror and know that I’m glowing red with exercise rather than anger and embarrassment. I give myself a talking to.

‘OK girl, no more. You’ve done so much this year and now you need to get this into your head. IT IS OVER.’

I’m going to tell Patty what happened so that she can keep me on the straight and narrow from here on in. I head off to her cabin where she’s getting dressed for her new role as karaoke compère and spill the gory details.

‘Go on,’ I tell her, ‘say it.’

‘Told you so,’ she obliges then gives me a little hug.

‘But you probably had to hear it from him before you would believe it,’ she adds, ‘and at least this time your angst wasn’t broadcast on the internet.’

‘Do you think I’ll ever learn?’ I ask.

‘Think of this year as getting a diploma in breaking up,’ she says. ‘You’ve just graduated with honours.’

‘That’s a more positive spin.’

‘But you’ve passed the exam now, so stop retaking it.’ She hammers me on the skull to drive it in.