Page 19 of The Cruise Club

Stepping onto the firm ground, Fran and Sid were brimming with excitement as they disembarked from the ship. The morning sun was already casting its warm glow, and as Fran reached into her bag for her hat, Sid adjusted his cap to shield his eyes from the bright beams.

‘Oh, look,’ Fran called out and waved her hand, ‘there’s Carmen and her mum.’

Heading down the gangway, steering Betty’s chair to avoid bumping into other passengers, Carmen, in crumpled shorts and a T-shirt, already appeared hot and bothered. Meanwhile, Betty was cool in a cream linen dress and straw bonnet, holding out her cane and threatening to poke anyone in her way.

‘Cooee!’ Fran jumped up and down, her yellow kaftan billowing like a balloon. ‘Here we are, let Sid help,’ she said as Sid stepped forward to relieve Carmen of the wheelchair.

‘Be careful!’ Betty snapped to Sid. ‘My daughter has no sense of direction, and I’m lucky I’m not at the bottom of the sea.’

If only! Carmen thought and glanced at Fran, who winked with a playful smile.

‘It’s a short walk from the port into the old town of Rhodes. Shall we set off and see where we end up?’ Fran asked. ‘Sid has been reading a guidebook, so will point out things along the way.’

‘That sounds lovely,’ Carmen replied.

‘Mind the cobblestones!’ Betty yelled as they entered the narrow streets. ‘My poor old back is playing up something awful.’

Fran linked her arm with Carmen’s, and they began to stroll along, passing taxis and rental cars.

‘Oh, just look at all those windmills!’ Fran exclaimed and pointed to a long line of structures, their whitewashed walls standing majestically against a backdrop of brilliant blue.

The large sail-like blades were still, and Sid, glancing at his book, explained that the windmills were reminiscent of the medieval period when they were used for grinding grain.

‘It says here that some of the windmills have been converted into cafés,’ Sid read aloud, ‘and you can take in the view of the harbour while enjoying a drink.’

‘I need a drink. My mouth is so parched I might faint.’ Betty fanned her face.

‘Sid, why don’t you take Betty for refreshments while we pop into a couple of shops?’ Fran smiled at her husband.

‘All right, if that’s what you’d like,’ Sid said.

As Fran and Carmen set off, they heard Betty complaining about her aches and pains while Sid manoeuvred her away.

‘Sid is a saint,’ Carmen said, ‘I don’t know how to thank him.’

‘He’s one in a million,’ Fran agreed, ‘but don’t worry, Sid loves wandering about old ruins and will ensure he has plenty of sightseeing.’

‘Now he’s in charge of an old ruin.’ Carmen sighed. ‘Mum never seems to let up.’

‘Has it been a difficult morning?’ Fran asked as they passed shops selling leather belts and bags.

‘No worse than any other,’ Carmen said. ‘Betty is a law unto herself, and although I’m confident that she’s perfectly capable of bathing and dressing, she has a way of manipulating me into doing everything for her.’

‘Well, for the next few hours, you can relax and let someone else take over,’ Fran reassured Carmen, sensing her need for a break. ‘Time for a transformation.’

Carmen looked at Fran. She felt strangely comforted by the woman’s warm arm, linked through her own, and the kind words that wrapped around her like a hug.

Was this what having a friend felt like?

The quiet thrill of knowing someone enjoyed her company.

Carmen felt as though she was stepping onto unfamiliar ground.

It was strange to be listened to by Fran and spoken to as an equal rather than a burden.

Fran’s kindness was a gentle tide, washing away years of isolation.

Carmen wondered why Fran was so generous with her time when she could have enjoyed Sid’s company. But as she watched Fran head towards a quaint little shop, she decided to stop analysing everything, to do as Fran did, and live in the moment.

‘Just look at these loofas!’ Fran exclaimed as she stood beneath a rustic sign that invited passers-by to browse.

‘Let’s go in,’ Carmen urged Fran forward.

They were greeted by the shop’s earthy scent and the salty tang of the sea as they gazed at walls lined with shelves showcasing hundreds of natural sponges.

‘What do you think they are made of?’ Fran asked.

‘They’re an alternative to a synthetic sponge.’ Carmen touched the coarse texture of a round object. ‘I think they come from a gourd plant and soften when you get them wet. It’s said that they promote circulation.’

‘We all need some of that,’ Fran said. She reached for an oval shape, beautifully packaged with a tag that explained the benefits. ‘It’s good for doing that escalating thingy…’

‘I think you mean exfoliating.’ Carmen grinned.

‘In that case, we’ll have one each.’ Fran paid for her purchase and handed a package to Carmen. ‘There’s nothing like a good scrub to clear away the cobwebs.’

Accepting that Fran might be aware of Carmen’s many complicated cobwebs, Carmen thanked Fran and tucked the gift in her rucksack.

Back in the bright sunshine, they walked past the ruin of a church until they came to a small parade of boutiques, where Carmen hesitated.

‘I’m not sure if I feel like shopping for clothes today,’ she said.

With all her time taken up by Betty that morning, she’d not given a thought to her own outfit.

Beneath her tired old shorts and T-shirt, Carmen wore an ancient bra and shabby knickers, and the humiliation of removing her clothes in front of others was causing her anxiety.

As though sensing this, Fran was firm. ‘Now, let’s have none of that talk,’ she said. ‘It’s a little bit of “me-time” for you my dear, and I’ll be looking after you all the way.’ Without waiting for Carmen to argue, Fran guided her forcefully towards the shops.

Ruskin enjoyed wandering around the old town of Rhodes.

There was much to see, and he felt like he’d stepped back in time as he inspected the ornate iron gates and inns where, during the Crusades, Knights had stopped off on their way to the Holy Land.

Following the cobbled streets to the Palace of the Grand Master, he’d been impressed by the medieval castle, learning that it had been built in the fourteenth century by the Knights of St John.

With tall towers and fortified walls, Ruskin was taken by the many beautiful mosaics, especially a central panel depicting a leopard.

Now, Ruskin sat in a café named Socrates Garden.

He sipped a glass of chilled wine and dipped a slice of warm pitta into a bowl of tzatziki, his open notebook on the table beside him.

How would Detective Inspector Blake enjoy these winding streets and hidden gardens where many a mystery might be uncovered?

Ruskin’s mind raced, and picking up his pen, he began to make notes.

Suddenly, a commotion at the next table caused Ruskin to look up.

Sitting in a wheelchair, a woman insisted that a place be found beside an ornamental waterfall. Waiting staff busied around, moving tables and chairs to accommodate the noisy old lady. The man at her side thanked them and took a seat.

Ruskin sighed. Probably cruise passengers, he thought. In his opinion, some of the guests were pampered and spoiled, expecting everyone to bow to their demands.

Moments later, the couple were joined by a tall man and his partner, wearing matching polo shirts, Tilley hats and shorts. Ruskin heard the man say, ‘Ey up!’ as he sat down.

Ruskin sipped his wine, his thoughts returning to his detective.

‘Let me buy you a drink,’ a voice called out and Ruskin looked up to see Theo McCarthy towering over him. ‘That is if you’re tired of Alexander the Great, Hercules and the Persian Dynasty,’ Theo added. ‘Rhodes is full of history for your sleuthing mind.’

‘I’ll have a glass of this fine wine,’ Ruskin said, holding out his glass, ‘thank you.’

Theo sat down and ordered a carafe, then turning to Ruskin asked, ‘Are you on your own on this cruise?’

‘Yes, is there something wrong with that?’

‘Not at all, I’m alone too.’

Ruskin sniffed. ‘I’m very much single, having recently divorced and in no need of romantic liaisons, and in case you are wondering, I’m straight.’

‘I wasn’t, but don’t worry, I’m not trying to pick you up.’

Nearby, two women appeared, laden with shopping. ‘This is nice,’ Ruskin heard one announce. ‘Look who’s here,’ she continued, ‘fancy meeting up with Don and Debbie, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s the famous Mr Ruskin at the next table.’

Ruskin watched them deposit multiple bags.

‘Why don’t we all sit together,’ the woman said and, with a wide grin, waved at a waiter who soon rearranged chairs, grouping them around the tables.

‘Oh, Lord…’ Ruskin heaved a sigh. The last thing he wanted to do was make conversation, and to his horror, the dowdy bespectacled woman, in crumpled clothes, who kept appearing like a bad penny, was being placed on a seat beside him. She appeared to know Theo and smiled at him as she sat down.

Ruskin drained his glass and closed his notebook.

His peaceful day had ended. When his phone began to ring, he felt relieved and staring at the screen, saw that it was Venetia.

Ruskin was reluctant to speak to his ex-wife but knew that their conversation would distract him from the café crashers surrounding his table.

Replenishing his glass, Ruskin took the call.

Fran eyed Theo McCarthy sitting with Ruskin Reeve, and having arranged seating next to him, was determined to seize her opportunity and speak to the celebrated chef.

‘Mr McCarthy,’ she began, ‘we’re thrilled you’re on the cruise. My Sid here thinks you are amazing.’ She grabbed Sid’s hand and forced him to his feet. ‘He’s watched all your shows repeatedly and has collected all your cookery books.’

‘Please, call me Theo. I’m honoured that you’ve enjoyed my work.’ Theo reached out to shake Sid’s hand. ‘As it’s my round, why don’t you let me buy you all a drink?’