Ride the Wave Page 2

  But now she was looking at a really big boat and wondering why she was trying to do the whole thing again.

  ‘Last call for boarding!’

  ‘Oh!’ she cried and picked up her hand luggage, running for the boat, mixing with the stragglers. ‘Sorry!’ she said to the woman in the funny little hat who was checking boarding passes.

  ‘For what?’ the woman asked.

  ‘I’m late.’

  ‘You’re only late if you see this boat sailing off without you. Have a good time,’ the woman said with a wink, handing back the pass.

  Eden smiled nervously and walked up the ramp, stepping aboard. She found herself in a large square hall, lined with shops and restaurants. She stopped dead centre, shocked at the size of it. ‘God, it’s huge,’ she muttered to herself.

  She felt something at her side, and she turned to see a woman standing next to her, looking up with her. She was wearing a leather jacket and a wide-brimmed hat, kind of hipstery. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, pretty in a cocky way. ‘Big boat,’ she said to Eden.

  ‘Yep,’ Eden said.

  ‘You a passenger or you just work here?’ the woman asked with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Passenger.’

  The woman raised an eyebrow. ‘That wouldn’t have been my guess.’

  ‘Why not?’ Eden asked, only half interested in the answer. She needed to find her stateroom.

  ‘Because you’re hot. Like, a ten. You shouldn’t need to do this. You could just whistle, and every available woman in two square miles would come running like dogs.’

  Eden was far from flattered. She’d heard this type of crap before. It wasn’t a real compliment; it was a come on. Not even a very good one. Eden had only been on the boat ten seconds, and she wasn’t up for it. Certainly not with this cocky wannabe, who was cute but screamed immature. ‘I can’t whistle,’ she told the woman with as little warmth as she could manage. She’d never been good at telling people to fuck off, she was way too polite.

  ‘No? I could teach you,’ the woman said with a smirk.

  Eden was officially done. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. Need to find my room.’

  The woman looked knocked. ‘Just tryna make friends.’

  Eden didn’t buy that, but she said, ‘Well, my name’s Eden, nice to meet you. But I really have to go.’ She started walking.

  ‘I’m Max!’ the woman called after her. ‘See you around!’

  ‘Bye Max,’ Eden said and stalked off as quickly as her legs could take her without breaking into a run. She saw a sign that said ‘Staterooms,’ and she followed it until she eventually ended up at her residence for the next week. It was small, wood effect, with a porthole. Eden looked out of the little window to find herself facing a large beam. ‘Partial sea view. Sure,’ she muttered to herself as she glanced around to find her suitcase waiting for her, delivered by the porters. On the bed was a towel in the shape of an elephant. She picked up the elephant and sat down with it on her lap, looking around her. She was suddenly unsure what she was doing on this boat. If it was filled with the likes of Max, it was going to be a long week.

  But she couldn’t let some player put her off this quickly. This cruise had been an act of hope. Or possibly desperation, hard to say for sure. Most likely, it was a combination of the two. Eden could live with that. She just hoped that if she did meet someone on this cruise, she wouldn’t ruin it too quickly by being herself. She had to be the Eden people liked and wanted. Confident, cool, coifed. That Eden moved through the world with ease, got what she wanted. And if she wanted love, that Eden would need to be maintained. She was faking it with the hope of making it. Because one day, Eden hoped to feel like the person she pretended to be.

  How she really felt was awkward, unsure, unhappy. She was also certain that any attractiveness she possessed was only from good make-up, good hair, good clothes. It was less than skin deep, even. Eden was like an outfit she put on, and when it was on, people were nice to her and smiled when she entered a room and tried to hit on her five seconds after meeting her in the halls of ocean liners. But the thing was, the Maxes of the world, whatever it was they thought they wanted, if Eden gave them a chance, they'd soon change their minds. To let anyone get close, she would have to take the outfit off. And then? They ran like hell.

  Would it be different here? Eden prayed it would be. That she could truly be the woman she pretended to be. Then someone would love her. Really. Properly. Whatever that meant.

  Three

  Natalie peeped out of her stateroom anxiously. It was two minutes past seven. Dinner time. She had to go downstairs to the dining hall, where she had an assigned seat. She wondered if she could just sack it off, go to one of the buffets dotted about, eat quickly and come back to the room. But part of her knew that if she did that, she’d be eating alone for the rest of the cruise. And she was here, she’d done it. She’d travelled to the port and gotten on the boat. She had to at least try to get into the whole thing. If only so she could tell her sister she had.

  She walked down the hallway and took the lift down to the ground floor, walking through that big foyer that looked like a shopping centre. She didn’t dare look up for fear of vertigo, the place was colossal. She darted through the doors of the dining hall. Inside was a brightly lit, semi-fancy dining room: chandeliers hung from the ceiling, proper tablecloths, wait staff in bowties. Natalie thanked god she’d put on a nice dress. Although the clientele was varied in age and styles, pretty much everyone had made an effort. Women in dresses or suits and ties, flowing locks to grade one buzzcuts, all trying to look their best. But of course they were, Natalie mused as she looked around for her table. Because everyone was trying to get laid.

  She found her table and sat down. It had six spaces, and three of them were already occupied. One spot was taken by an older lady in a twinset and pearls, with long grey hair swept into an elegant French twist. The card in front of her read Florence. On her lap was a sleeping shih tzu in a vest that had the words Emotional Support Animal on it. Florence glanced at Natalie for only a moment and looked away. Natalie got the distinct notion she’d been disregarded. Two seats over was a high cheekboned black woman in her forties wearing a deeply stylish silver suit and a look of bemusement, Angelique. Next to Natalie was a young woman who was on her phone, Max. She was swiping a dating app.

  ‘I thought the point of this cruise was that you didn’t have to do that,’ Angelique said in a light Jamaican accent, nodding at Max’s phone.

  ‘Are you crazy? This is exactly the place to swipe. I’ve never been in such a high concentration of available women before. Might as well start eliminating suspects,’ Max said, glancing up from her phone briefly before getting right back to business.

  Florence looked at Natalie, disdain in her eyes. ‘You’re young,’ she said. ‘Are you going to be spending dinner on your phone as well?’

  ‘I wasn’t planning on it,’ Natalie said nervously.

  Max glanced up as Natalie spoke, only apparently noticing her for the first time. ‘Oh. You didn’t come up on my app,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not on any app,’ Natalie told her. She’d tried all of them, they didn’t work. At best, she’d meet someone like Gabby, just looking for a good time.

  Max raised an eyebrow. ‘Good job you sat down next to me, then. Might have missed you completely.’

  ‘Good lord, let the girl get her breath,’ Angelique said with a chuckle. ‘It’s night one, and she’s only just sat down.’

  But Max curled a smile. ‘She’s right. We’ve got all week.’

  ‘Oh,’ Natalie said, slightly shocked to realise that Max, a decade younger than her and quite attractive in a smug way, was flirting. ‘Well… I’m sure your app will keep you busy,’ Natalie said, slightly panicked.

  ‘I’m covering my bases, that’s all. But maybe I’ll let kismet do the work. I mean, you’re sat right beside me.’

  ‘Saints preserve us,’ Florence said. ‘Where’s the waiter? If I
’m going to have to listen to this, I need a drink.’

  ‘I got you,’ said Angelique, and she turned and caught a waitress’s eye, drawing her over with a confident gesture. She flew over with a bottle. ‘White?’ she asked the table.

  ‘I prefer red, but you’re here with it, so fill the glass,’ Florence said.

  Everyone else just said yes, and the waitress began to move around the table, filling the glasses. As Natalie took her first sip of wine - a fine vintage if you were into paint stripper - more people turned up to fill the final spots, two very giggly women who seemed a bit tipsy already. ‘Sorry we’re late, stopped off for an aperitif,’ one of them said, a woman with a mop of curly red ringlets who liked her clothes a bit on the loud side. She sat down in front of a card that said, ‘Saz.’

  Her companion, ‘Caz,’ slid down next to her. She had a curly head of hair too, only blonde. Her clothes were equally colourful. ‘Yep, just a little cocktail to start us off.’

  Natalie took in Caz and Saz, and she couldn’t be at all sure what the situation was. They could have been friends, they could have been a couple, they could have been sisters, you couldn’t possibly say.

  ‘Hi, everyone!’ Caz said, looking around. ‘So, how’s everyone’s first day?’ She didn’t pause to get any answers. ‘We’ve just been checking out the boat, seeing what we might want to do for the week. Did you know there’s a climbing wall! Crazy!’

  ‘I think I’ll probably skip that,’ Florence said, taking a sip of wine and making a face. ‘Good god, that’s dreadful.’

  ‘You just gotta cut it with some sparkling water,’ Angelique said, topping her glass off with Perrier.

  Saz took a sip from her freshly filled glass. ‘I’ve had worse.’

  Caz laughed. ‘She’d drink rubbing alcohol.’

  ‘Only if I had to,’ Saz said as the waitress finished filling and moved to the next table.

  ‘When would you have to?’ Florence asked.

  ‘Who’s the little fella?’ Caz asked of the sleeping dog on Florence’s lap, ignoring the rudeness.

  Florence looked at her lap. ‘His name’s Jonty. Don’t touch him.’

  ‘Oh. Alright-’

  ‘This wine is terrible, bring me a wine list,’ Florence demanded of the waitress, filling glasses at the next table. She smiled as though Florence wasn’t annoying the shit out of her and went off to fetch the list.

  ‘You’re gonna order off the menu? But this is free!’ Caz said, shocked.

  ‘If I drink this, it will have a cost,’ Florence said. ‘I’ll be found dead tomorrow morning in my stateroom.’

  Max, who’d had half an eye on her phone, still swiping under the table, glanced up. ‘If the waitress comes back, I’m gonna get a shot of tequila.’

  ‘Ooh!’ Saz and Caz responded together. ‘We’re up for that,’ Caz spoke for the pair.

  Max looked around. ‘Should I just order shots for everyone?’

  ‘Oh, no thank you,’ Natalie said quickly. Natalie had found out in her younger years that nothing good came from tequila.

  ‘It’s a no for me too,’ Angelique said. ‘I start the evening with a shot, I’ll be naked on a pool table by the end of the night.’

  ‘That’s very specific,’ Florence said.

  Angelique winked at Florence. ‘Shit happens.’

  The waitress turned up with a wine list and took food orders. When she reached Max, she ordered four shots.

  ‘Who’s the fourth for?’ Angelique asked.

  ‘My quiet friend, here,’ Max said, nodding at Natalie.

  ‘Oh, but I said-’ Natalie began but was quickly interrupted by Max, saying with a hand on Natalie’s wrist, ‘Trust me, you need it.’

  Natalie was irritated by Max’s aggression, but she knew she’d be doing that shot. Though Max was a bit obnoxious, she was also attractive and knew it. Natalie had never been good at saying no to that type of woman. That’s how she’d wound up wasting the last six months on Gabby.

  Eventually, food and drinks turned up, and Max thrust a shot glass into Natalie’s hand before she could even taste her starter, a lobster bisque. Natalie looked at the glass for a moment, wondering if she should just say no.

  ‘Get it down you,’ Max ordered.

  Natalie gave a polite smile and downed it. Caz and Saz cheered. Florence tutted. Max winked and said, ‘Good girl.’ Angelique shook her head. ‘Just don’t go near any pool tables and you might be alright.’

  Natalie put the empty glass down and turned her attention to her bisque. One tequila wasn’t the end of the world, she could handle that. But any more than that and-

  ‘Waitress? Four more tequilas!’ Max yelled across the dining room.

  Oh, dear.

  Four

  Unaware that she was in the same dining room as a co-worker, Eden was finishing up a terrible bisque, sat around a table of people who were getting on like a house on fire. They’d been strangers twenty minutes ago, and now they were laughing and chatting and developing inside jokes, as quickly as that. Eden couldn’t understand how people did this. She could never throw herself into the fray. It took her time to get to know people. She’d been at her new job two whole months, and she still didn’t really feel like she’d made any friends yet. She’d gone out for Friday drinks numerous times, but she hadn’t felt that connection with anyone. The only person she really thought she might like avoided her like the plague. Natalie.

  She was easily the smartest person at the company, and Eden admired the hell out of her. She knew her stuff, worked insanely hard, was always ready with a creative solution for any problem that cropped up. Eden’s boss had let it slip that she’d been singled out for her job but hadn’t wanted it, which Eden found to be deeply intriguing. It also made Eden feel like she was forever in her shadow. Next to Natalie, Eden could only ever be a Jonny-Come-Lately who was pretending to know what the hell she was doing. Eden had done everything she could to learn from her, which Natalie allowed. But any time Eden edged in the direction of non-work chit-chat, Natalie blew her off. Eden had been forced to give up on ever making a friend of Natalie.

  Eden wondered how Natalie’s holiday was going. Better than hers, most likely. Because she was stuck like some awkward dork at a table full of the socially capable.

  ‘Eden!’ said an older woman with glasses on a chain around her neck. Her name card read Beatrice.

  Eden jumped in her seat. ‘Yes?’

  ‘We’re just talking about pets. Do you have any?’

  ‘Oh. No,’ Eden replied. She wished she could expand, but there was no way to wax lyrical on the subject of a lack of pets.

  ‘I don’t have any either,’ said Steph, a young woman in a waistcoat and tie, with a hairdo that looked like she’d handed the hairdresser a picture of Megan Rapinoe with strict instructions not to deviate from it. ‘I’ve always wanted a dog, but I’m allergic to their saliva. And I don’t like cats, they scratch your furniture. Can’t abide fish, too stupid. Oh, and forget about birds, all that bloody squawking.’

  Eden nodded, thinking, well, apparently, you can talk quite a bit about pets you don’t have.

  ‘Have you ever considered a horse?’ Beatrice asked her.

  ‘Don’t think I could fit a horse in my one-bed,’ Steph replied snottily.

  ‘I’ve got three of them,’ Beatrice said, to no one’s surprise. She positively screamed horsey. Eden would have put down serious money she had a closet chock-full of forest-green gilets. ‘Beautiful creatures.’

  ‘How long have you had them?’ Eden asked, trying to stay in the conversation.

  ‘Let’s see,’ Beatrice replied. ‘Well, Monty’s a beautiful Arabian, I’ve had him for eighteen years. Boris, my Clydesdale - I named him before the election, I’d like to point out - I’ve had him five years. Oh, and Juliet is my lovely little Friesian, only had her a year. She’s a spirited one. Gave me quite the kick last winter, broke two ribs, spent six weeks in the hospital,’ Beatrice finished with a fond c
huckle.

  ‘What!’ Eden exclaimed. ‘She hospitalised you?’

  ‘She didn’t mean it,’ Beatrice assured her. ‘She was just a bit peeved because I switched my hay supplier and she could tell. My own fault, really.’

  ‘I’m gonna stick with my labs,’ decided a woman named Maggie at the other end of the table. She’d introduced herself as a journalist here on a freebie in exchange for five thousand words on her experiences on a lesbian singles cruise. Eden thought she seemed the most interesting member of the table so far. ‘They’re halfway to horses anyway, the size of the maniacs.’

  Mary, an Irish lady in her sixties who’d casually dropped the striking fact that she was a former nun, exclaimed, ‘Heavens, I feel quite boring with my cat now.’