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He laughed. ‘Non – bien sûr – certainly not. I just thought it would make a good photo opportunity.’
He encouraged us out from our cubby hole and posed us against the ship’s rail, with the hazy outline of the Isle of Wight behind us. The sea wind whipped at my hair, probably turning it into a bird’s nest of confusion. I really did need a haircut. Actually, looking at my sister, we both did.
‘Excellent. Thank you,’ he said at last.
We dropped our smiles and watched as he inspected the digital display of his camera with a frown.
‘Okay?’ Diana asked.
He looked up and I think he winked at her.
I say!
‘Parfait. Perfect,’ he said.
What did that mean? That we looked passable, or like a pair of mad-haired women knocking back some questionable drinks.
‘I hope you are going to give us editorial approval before you publish anything?’ she said rather stiffly.
‘I promise you will approve,’ he said.
‘That’s not quite what I asked,’ she muttered and took another sip of her cocktail. ‘This tastes like a Slush Puppy mixed with gin.’
I tried it and grimaced with shock.
‘Well, my motto is never look a free drink in the straw,’ I said, and took another nip.
‘It’s…’ Diana struggled for the right word.
‘Unusual,’ I said.
She nodded.
‘Perhaps we should find some food,’ I said, ‘it’s six thirty, and I’m actually really hungry.’
‘That is the sea air,’ Raphaël said, ‘always gives an appetite. Could I suggest the Bizet dining room? The buffet will be very crowded.’
‘So not too busy in the Bizet?’ Diana said.
He gave her another twinkling look. ‘Précisément.’
Perhaps he had heard this particular pun many times but was too polite to say so. I thought it was hilarious.
‘You’re not going to take pictures of us eating, are you?’ I said. ‘There’s nothing less attractive than a table with half-demolished meals and people chewing. Our father used to take photos of the family at every Sunday lunch and Christmas dinner, and it looked awful, as though we were in the middle of a food fight.’
‘No, of course not,’ Raphaël said with a nod, ‘and I absolutely agree.’
We put our half-finished drinks down and went back into the ship. There were helpful deck plans on each corner, so we knew where we were. Even so it took us a couple of false starts before we found the Bizet dining room, which was an oasis of calm, white tablecloths and bowing waiters who showed us towards a delightful spot by a window, where we could watch the sea moving swiftly past below us.
The only other person in there was an older lady, sitting nearby at a table for one. I hoped she had a companion who would join her. Still, she looked quite happy, and very elegant in a silky blue dress. We nodded and smiled at each other.
‘Isn’t this exciting, I never get tired of this part. Seeing the new people come on board, watching the crew organising everybody.’ She held out a hand, ‘Evelyn Beauchamp.’
We introduced ourselves.
‘It’s a lovely ship,’ Diana said.
‘Isn’t it? Oh, here comes my starter. I’m quite ravenous. Do have a lovely evening. Perhaps we can catch up later.’
