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‘There are some very fine Danish pastries available this morning. Perhaps I could bring you a selection?’
‘Perfect,’ I said.
Now this was the life. I sat up in bed, surrounded by my pillow menu, drinking freshly brewed coffee and eating Danish pastries which were still warm from the oven. Alfred fussed about a bit with the curtains and then left me to it.
‘I hope the interview goes well,’ he said, pausing by the door. ‘Mr Dainty has a way of drawing people out which is quite remarkable.’
He would have to be, I thought. It was becoming obvious that Diana had been pretty much a closed book to me for quite some time.
At seven thirty the channel went live and there was Dick, looking even broader than he did in real life. It must be true that the camera adds ten pounds, I’d often wondered about that. And beside him, looking like a rabbit in the headlights was Diana.
‘Good morning shipmates, and here we are back again for more fun and frolics with Dick’s Diary. Welcome, Diana, welcome indeed to my little mancave. It’s not much, but it’s home. Now sit there and get comfy.
‘Now then mateys, we have such a treat for you this morning. We have Mrs Diana Wedderburn. Who for nearly forty years was married to one of the Voyage Première line’s most respected and longest serving captains, Casper Wedderburn. Now then, Diana, tell us, where did you and the captain meet?’
Diana hesitated for a moment, she looked as though her mouth was dry and her mind blank.
‘Go on, Diana. You can do this,’ I muttered, willing her to relax.
And then she took a deep breath and trotted out her well-rehearsed answer: in the queue at the supermarket. She had dropped a giant pot of Greek yogurt on the conveyor belt and some of it had splattered over Casper. Luckily, he hadn’t been in uniform, otherwise the dry-cleaning bill would have been significant. They got chatting, he helped her to her car with her shopping and invited her for coffee to get over the excitement. The rest was history.
Except, like the pattern of their relationship, although she didn’t know it at the time, there was then a three-week break before she heard from him again, because Casper was sailing the following day to New York and back on the Atlantica and had neglected to tell her. That said something about him, didn’t it.
‘How marvellous,’ Dick said, his eyes glistening, ‘I was on the Atlantica too. For three years. Such a beautiful ship. The Hollywood stars we saw there, you wouldn’t believe it. And then you got married and settled down?’
‘To be honest we were never very settled, because of course, Casper was often away at sea. But eventually, he persuaded me to accompany him, and we went all over the world together,’ she said, sounding a little more composed.
‘How exciting. And out of all the places you have travelled to, which was your favourite port?’
Despite Dick Dainty being rather a boisterous character, he obviously had the ability to make people relax and draw information out of them, and Diana started telling him all sorts of things about her travels, and even laughed a few times.
He seemed to find everything interesting, chuckled appreciatively in all the right places, and it felt no time at all had passed when I realised someone off screen was obviously encouraging him to wind up the interview. There was also a very cross-looking man in yellow oilskins and a sou’wester fidgeting in the background, with a clipboard in his hand.
‘Oh dear, our time is up, in fact we have gone well over time, which is a shame, because I, for one, could talk to Diana all morning. But I can see Wally the Weatherman is waiting to tell you all about the weather forecast for the next twenty-four hours. He’ll be on in five minutes, so don’t go away. I warn you now, he’s in storm gear, and he has a face like thunder, so it doesn’t look too good. Anyway, happy sailing, bless your hearts, and see you tomorrow for more Dick’s Diary. And remember, Dainty by name and Dainty by nature!’
He unclipped his microphone and helped Diana out of her chair with a very respectful air, while Wally the Weatherman sidled past him, muttering.
‘You’ve overrun again, Dick, and it’s not Wally it’s Walter, how many times do I have to tell you?’
Dick pursed his lips and ignored him. ‘Goodness me, I think that went extremely well, Diana. Thank you so much. You have such a lot of fond memories, I’m sure. And a lot of interesting stories. I wonder if we shouldn’t have you in again?’
At that point the screen changed for some views of the ship and then the on-board shops with the latest offers flashed up in red.
I sat back in bed and gave a huge sigh of relief. It had gone well, she had been funny, informative and hadn’t dried up once. I was proud of her and very impressed. I couldn’t wait for her to get back so I could tell her.
Diana came back to the Picasso suite about ten minutes later to find me still propped up in bed and the television on with the sound turned down. Wally the Weatherman was still mouthing silently at the camera, his sou-wester tipped rakishly over one eye.
Diana pulled a face, gave a groan as though she had just completed an iron man challenge and flopped into a chair.
‘Welcome back, media star! Weren’t you good? I could have listened to you all morning. That story about the theatrical knight of the realm being left behind in Jamaica had me in stitches. Standing on the dock shouting up at the ship, “don’t you know who I am?” Who was it? You were very discreet. Did he really believe the ship would just wait for him? Alfred brought me my breakfast. I’m sure he will bring you some too if you ring the bell. How are you feeling?’
Diana kicked her shoes off.
‘Rather excited, actually. A bit shaky inside. I suppose it’s the adrenaline. It’s the most unexpected thing that’s happened to me for a long time. You really thought I was okay?’
‘You were brilliant,’ I pointed at my tray. ‘You need some coffee and one of these bear’s claws. They are absolutely delicious.’
‘You’d tell me if I made a mess of it, wouldn’t you?’
