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I wondered where Diana was and more importantly, what she was doing?
It was ten thirty. Well past her normal bedtime. Would she have gone back to Raphaël’s cabin? Was she even then, enjoying some hot bedroom activity? I couldn’t imagine it for some reason. Diana might be coming out of herself, but I didn’t think she was out that far. She was more the sort to hesitate in the doorway and hurry off.
I fidgeted about for a few minutes, adjusting the curtains, filing a rough nail and then checking the time again. And then my phone pinged.
A reply had come through from Eddy, and a photograph of him and his brother standing in a hole outside the patio doors, next to an old card table which was covered in beer cans and empty crisp packets. They were waving their spades above their heads. His thinning hair was standing on end, and he looked very happy. And muddy.
He was wearing a disreputable Christmas sweater I had bought him as a joke four years ago. I could tell he hadn’t liked it; well what man really wanted a jumper with light-up snowmen on the front? But as he kindly said after Christmas, it was very warm and would be perfect for gardening.
It made me smile and I felt a sudden burst of affection for him. He might never make it to the GQ sexiest man of the year award, but he was fun, good company and above all, kind. And I loved him, and he made me laugh. I was a very lucky woman. And I realised I missed him, a great deal so I sent him a message telling him so.
He replied and said he was missing me too, which was nice. And he signed off his email with three kisses, which was most unlike him.
I sent him another quick message back and attached the photo I had taken of Diana with her face smeared in chocolate.
I was disturbed out of my affectionate thoughts by a loud rattling and fumbling at the door, and a moment later Diana burst in. She was barefoot and looking distinctly rattled.
‘Are you okay?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I just need a moment to calm down. What have you been doing?’
‘I didn’t get to the show because I had too many drinks with Evelyn, and then she went off to bed and just as I thought I might do likewise, Thelma and Carol and their husbands descended on me and swept me up like the child catcher. Les is a tax inspector and Carol is a bookkeeper. Thelma used to be a secretary and Ken is a retired accountant, although he now likes to make models of medieval cathedrals out of matchsticks. He also likes washing his car. They were as stimulating a set of companions as you would imagine. They wanted to know where you were, although they had spotted you in the Puccini with Raphaël. And a strange, rather unattractive man called Gerald came up to us and started talking about potholes and his divorce. I felt like telling him if he got some dentures that fitted and a clean shirt, he might have more luck with women. I pretended I needed the loo and made a run for it. He’s probably still there, droning on about how his ex-wife had no concept of forgiveness and how unfair everything is. Never mind about all that. What have you been doing?’ I asked. ‘And where are your shoes?’
Diana leaned back against the closed door and blew a sigh of relief.
‘I’ve been making a complete tit of myself,’ she said.
‘Right. Are you okay?’ I said, rather worried.
She came into the room and sat down on her bed.
‘Yes, I’m fine. Just inwardly cringing with embarrassment.’
‘Why what happened?’
‘I just need the loo and then I’ll tell you,’ she said, ‘and I need some socks, my feet are freezing.’
‘Yes, where are your shoes?’
11
A few minutes later she came out of the bathroom in a white, fluffy dressing gown, and rummaged in one of Alfred’s carefully presented drawers until she found some socks, patterned with flamingos which didn’t exactly go with the rest of her outfit.
‘Go on, I’m all agog,’ I said.
‘Well. We went to one of the more exclusive restaurants – the Italian one. The Puccini. I have to say it was really good, and he’d booked a table. I don’t think I had felt so uneasy for a very long time. A mixture of nerves and a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that I eventually identified as guilt. But why should I feel guilty? It wasn’t as though I was doing anything illegal.’
‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘Go on.’
‘He said, “I hope you like Italian food, after all the ship is heading towards Italy. We might as well get into the right mood.” And I said, absolutely, and at the same time I was wondering if I would be able to eat anything at all. Although I was quite hungry. And he did the pulling out my chair thing, and the waiter fussed around us, bringing breadsticks and a bottle of sparkling mineral water and lit the candle on the table. We looked at menus. I honestly couldn’t concentrate on the words; it could have said anything. And so I said have you decided what you want? And he gave me this meaningful sort of look and he said slowly, “Diana, I know exactly what I want.”’
I gasped. ‘Oooh-er. That sounds…’
Diana nodded. ‘Exactly. That’s what I thought. I felt quite odd and worried. So I said, “I’m going to say something before this goes any further.”’
‘Good for you. Please, go on.’
‘I said something like, “It’s very nice of you to take such an interest in me – I know you are very tall, and quite athletic. And attractive. But I think you should know that I am not looking for any sort of… thing.”’
