Page 30 of The Cruise Club

Betty had relished her morning at the library. She’d crushed the other Trivia participants, and when Carmen arrived, Betty was buried under a pile of prizes.

‘What on earth am I supposed to do with this?’ Betty said, holding up a T-shirt emblazoned with the Diamond Star logo.

‘Why not wear it?’ Carmen suggested as she wheeled Betty out.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Betty snapped, ‘but I can find a home for these,’ she added, stuffing a cruise-themed cap, mug, magnet and keychain into a tote bag.

‘You’ve done well. Shall we go and get some lunch?’

They returned to Betty’s cabin after a buffet in the Deck Café, and to Carmen’s surprise, Betty casually told Carmen that Holden would be accompanying her to the afternoon tea dance. He was due to arrive at three.

‘Dad would be pleased that you are enjoying some company,’ Carmen said as she carefully styled her mother’s hair.

‘Your father? Don’t be ridiculous, he wouldn’t give me a second thought.’

Carmen was about to argue that Des had given Betty a very good lifestyle but knew that any mention of her father would only set Betty off.

Her mother never had a good word for her deceased husband; she’d nagged him constantly, publicly and behind closed doors and Carmen hadn’t been surprised that her dad spent so much time at the shop.

As Carmen fastened a string of delicate pink pearls around Betty’s neck, she watched her apply a fresh coat of lipstick, her lips pursing in satisfaction.

‘Be careful with my necklace,’ Betty said as she thrust the lipstick into her bag and caressed the pearls at her throat, ‘they are from the Queen Conch and are rare and very valuable.’

Carmen had heard the story of her mother’s pearls a hundred times and knew that the vibrant pink tones of the necklace made it highly sought after.

They had been gifted to Betty on her wedding day by Des, who, at that time, was in the merchant navy and had come across the pearls when visiting the Caribbean.

‘Now, don’t get in the way,’ Betty said sharply, pinning a brooch to her lapel.

‘I haven’t seen that brooch before,’ Carmen remarked, leaning in closely to study the enamelled pin. ‘Is it new?’

‘Holden gave it to me, so you can keep your hands off it.’

‘It’s very nice.’ Carmen smiled. ‘How thoughtful of him.’

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.

‘That will be Holden,’ Betty said, her voice brisk. ‘I don’t want him seeing you in that ridiculous outfit. You’re past your prime so don’t pretend otherwise. And he certainly won’t want you to ramble on about chefs, and ageing authors who think they can write bestsellers.’

Carmen bit her tongue. There was no point in arguing about the guest speakers she’d enjoyed or justifying the lovely forest-green sundress that complimented her in all the right places.

Fran’s choice of outfit was gorgeous, together with jewelled sandals that matched perfectly.

Carmen’s hair was pinned up with tortoiseshell combs and she’d added a hint of makeup, pleased to see that she was developing a flattering tan.

Thanks to Fran, she felt good about her appearance and refused to let Betty dampen her spirit.

‘Don’t dawdle,’ Betty rebuked, ‘answer the door. Holden’s waiting!’

Carmen forced a smile. She wondered what Holden saw in Betty and whether his motives were genuine.

Why would he voluntarily want to spend time with a woman who constantly moaned and complained?

Indeed, there were far more attractive and better-placed passengers who might be eager to enjoy his company.

After all, Holden was good-looking and probably wealthy.

But Carmen reasoned that Holden hadn’t seen the real Betty.

His view was clouded, only knowing a pleasant, slightly infirm widow who enjoyed dancing but carried a burden in life.

Holden probably thought Betty was a saint for putting up with a daughter who, Betty said, refused to be dutiful and had been nothing but trouble since birth.

He had no idea of Betty’s sharp tongue nor her manipulative nature.

‘Hello,’ Carmen greeted Holden, ‘how kind of you to escort Mum to the dance.’ She stepped aside as Holden strode into the room, carrying a bouquet of fresh roses. Acknowledging Carmen, he leaned down to kiss Betty on her cheek. ‘Bet,’ he said, ‘don’t you look swell.’

‘Oh, Holden,’ Betty giggled, fluttering her fingers, ‘you flatter me, where on earth did you find these lovely flowers?’

‘Guest services can be very accommodating for someone special,’ Holden replied.

Betty took the roses and handing them to Carmen, told her to find a vase.

‘You’ve done something new to your hair,’ Holden said, gazing at her curls as Betty preened, her fingers brushing a silver strand into place.

As the compliments flowed, Carmen arranged the flowers then glanced at her watch. She’d miss Ruskin’s workshop if they didn’t get a move on.

‘I hate to interrupt,’ Carmen began, ‘but you don’t want to miss your dance.’

‘Allow me.’ Holden swiftly moved to Betty’s wheelchair. ‘Take it easy, Bet,’ he said, ‘save your strength for our waltz.’

Carmen stood aside as they left. Betty hadn’t bothered to say goodbye, but Holden smiled as he wheeled Betty away.

Checking her bag for a notebook, Carmen shrugged.

Anything that kept Betty occupied during the cruise was a blessing she hadn’t anticipated.

But as she made her way to Ruskin’s workshop, Carmen gave a little smile.

Betty’s new brooch, approximately the size of a coin and perfectly crafted into a pineapple, was dimpled in appearance with a leafy crown.

Carmen thought of her prim and proper mother. If Theo was to be believed, ‘Bet’ was now wearing the universal sign for a secret club.

Perhaps Holden’s gift wasn’t as innocent as it seemed.

Ruskin’s workshop took place in the games room, where chairs were neatly arranged around tables facing a large white screen. Carmen felt her nerves rise as she entered the crowded room. As she searched for a seat, she saw with relief that Sid, at a table in the middle, was waving.

‘Over here!’ Sid called and shuffled his chair to make room.

‘Have I missed anything?’ Carmen glanced at other participants, busy arranging notebooks and chatting as they fiddled with pens and pencils.

‘Not yet, but look, the man himself is here.’ Sid nodded towards the door as Ruskin strolled in.

‘Greetings, everyone,’ Ruskin said, moving confidently across the room to stand before the screen. ‘I trust you’re all ready to spark your creativity?’

The room hummed with anticipation, and Carmen stared at Ruskin.

He looked handsome in a navy shirt and chinos, with a healthy glow on his face.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away. Was she really feet away from her idol, ready to worship at his writing shrine?

Would the great man inspire her work and fuel her with ideas to get her redundant fingers dancing across her keyboard?

‘Some of you may be here, hoping to polish a story,’ Ruskin said, ‘while others wish to test their writing skills. But whatever you want to achieve, we have two hours to make it happen.’ With a winning smile, he stared at the expectant faces.

‘So, let’s dive into your imagination and see where the journey takes us. ’

Carmen was hooked from the start.

‘Why do you think I have anything worthwhile to teach you about writing?’ Ruskin asked the class.

Carmen’s hand flew up. ‘Well, you’ve sold millions of books, so you must know something about writing.’

Ruskin smiled, and a few chuckles rippled through the room.

‘That’s one way of looking at it, but you’re all here because you want to write. Am I right?’ He paused for effect. ‘I have only one rule, and that is, don’t procrastinate – just write!’

Ruskin launched into his presentation, and Carmen’s pen flew across the pages of her notebook as he explained his writing process.

When he posed writing exercises, he presented them as a game with few rules and many possibilities.

Ruskin explained that everything should be tried, from writing formulaically to writing wildly.

Carmen was fascinated by his suggestion that writers can train their waking minds to sleep creatively and untangle plots in dreams.

Before she knew it, the two hours had flown by. Guests thanked the author for his inspiring workshop and filed out, and Carmen watched as Ruskin signed a copy of his latest book for Sid.

‘We’ll catch up later,’ Sid called over his shoulder to Carmen. He clutched the book as he hurried off to find Fran.

Suddenly Carmen realised that she was alone with Ruskin.

‘You’re not wearing your glasses,’ he commented as he packed away his lecture notes.

Carmen’s fingers flew to her face. ‘No… I’m wearing contacts,’ she said.

‘Shame, I rather liked those heavy frames, but it’s good to see what lies behind them.’ Ruskin reached for his satchel and fastened it securely. ‘This cruise seems to be suiting you,’ he added.

Carmen felt flustered. Damn! He did recognise her! Tongue-tied, she scrambled for her notebook, packing it hastily into her bag.

‘You’re an author, aren’t you.’ His voice was smooth. ‘I was rude when we met in Maxos, I’m sorry that I didn’t take the time to chat with you.’

Carmen narrowed her eyes. Was Ruskin for real?