The Missing Sapphire of Zangrabar Read online

  Southampton was little more than an hour from East Malling, which was just long enough for me to calm down and question what I was doing and what had caused my husband to cheat. Was it my fault? Had I caused this?

  I had gained a few pounds. That was something I couldn’t hide from. At school I had been on the gymnastics team and had continued running for fitness until some point in my thirties when I just stopped. I couldn’t say why I had, it had just happened. Then I bought a larger dress size without worrying about it. There was a vague memory that at the time I had told myself not to worry, I would lose the weight soon enough. But I hadn’t, and I had never really tried to.

  Now that I thought about it, maybe this was partly my fault. Our love life had tailed off, but that was natural and normal, wasn’t it? We had been together for thirty years, surely it was normal that we had sex less often now. But he was having sex without me. Was it because I had allowed myself to get fat and Maggie hadn’t?

  A speed camera flashed as I passed it.

  Oh, lord! How fast was I going? My glance at the speedo revealed that I was doing eighty-seven. I was on the M3 passing Waterlooville in my little Ford Fiesta and I had just been caught speeding. I never went over the limit. If asked, I would have said that my car wouldn’t do eighty-seven.

  What was with that anyway? My husband had a six-figure job and drove a Bentley, but he had argued that when we went out, we went in his car so there was no need for us to own two expensive cars and like a fool I had never put up much of a fight. Somehow, I had been driving a second hand, worthless car for more than a decade while sitting on bank accounts full of cash my husband paid no attention to and I made my own money. Was that on me? Or was it on him? I was getting angry again. Angry at myself and at Charlie for separate reasons. No matter what I had done, Charlie had no right to cheat on me. That much I was certain of.

  My internal back and forth took me all the way to the docks at Southampton where I discovered I had no idea what I needed to do next. Large, billboard-sized signs guided me to the port and there, as I turned one more corner, was a huge ocean liner. Between me and it was a vast carpark filled with cars of every colour and size. The ship was still half a mile away across the slab of tarmac and as I drove toward it, and it filled the view completely, I felt my heart rate quicken. Excitement and anxiety competed to be the dominant emotion.

  A steady stream of people were heading toward the ship, toward an entry point at ground level in the centre of the ship’s side where the process of filtering down into a line to gain access had created a crowd. I looked around for somewhere to park and in doing so spotted a glass-fronted portacabin bearing a sign that read Ticket Office on its roof. There were parking spaces in front of it.

  I left everything but my handbag in the car as nervously, I went inside. Inside, the portacabin was a plush office with two immaculate and prim looking ladies in a blue uniform with dusty yellow neck scarves.

  ‘Good morning,’ one said. ‘Are you looking for an upgrade? Or to book your next trip?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ I said. My pulse was hammering in my head now. This was daft. What was I doing?

  ‘Please take a seat. Marie and I will be able to help with your enquiry,’ she indicated to the seats in front of the desk she was sat behind.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ Marie asked, getting up as I sat down.

  I stared at her for a bewildered second. ‘Err, yes please.’ My mouth was dry from the gin I had knocked back an hour ago.

  Marie walked a few feet to where a coffee machine sat on a table. It was one of the ones that could dispense anything from tea to coffee to hot chocolate and more.

  ‘A coffee, please. Two sugars,’ I said when she paused by the machine.

  ‘One coffee, two sugars coming up.’ There was a happy bounce to her voice, like she loved her job and getting coffee was the best part of it.

  ‘Now what can we do for you?’ asked the lady that had first addressed me. I glanced at her name badge where I read Bianca in bold letters.

  ‘I want to buy a ticket for a cruise,’ I said with as much casual confidence as I could muster. Could a person even buy a ticket at the port? Was that a thing?

  Marie placed a coaster in front of me and a small white cup on top of it. I thanked her but didn’t pick it up for fear I would rattle and spill it. I was feeling foolish and exposed and that was heightening my nerves.

  ‘What sort of cruise interests you?’ Bianca asked as she swivelled a computer screen to show me some of the many options. ‘We have packages in all price ranges. Our Caribbean cruises are very popular as are our shorter excursions to Scandinavia. Have you sailed with us before?’

  I gulped. It was time to go for broke. With a slight tremble in my hand, I pointed out of the window. ‘I want to go on that one.’

  There was no mistaking what I wanted. The ship filled everything in view.

  Bianca risked a glance at her colleague. ‘That ship leaves in just a few hours. I can check if there are any available rooms if you would like me to.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ I breathed a silent sigh of relief that she hadn’t instantly said it wasn’t possible, but now I was also worried that there might not be any rooms left. Surely such a massive vessel couldn’t be one hundred percent full though?

  As Bianca tapped some keys, Maria picked up the questions, ‘Where is it that you are hoping to go? This vessel is the Aurelia. Its first stop is Madeira and then it is on to St Kitts in the Caribbean. A lot of people will fly home from there of course but it will travel onward to America, stopping at Miami and New York before…’

  Bianca cut over the top of her, ‘I’m afraid there are no rooms available, Mrs…’

  ‘Fisher. Patricia Fisher. Really? No rooms at all? I really need to get away,’ I heard pleading in my voice. I hadn’t thought this through at all, I had just reacted and now I worried I might have to go home again. Where else could I go?

  ‘The only room available is one of the upper deck royal suites,’ Bianca explained. Her tone made it very clear that she had seen that the room was available but hadn’t considered me a person that could afford it. She hadn’t said it, but I was feeling uppity about it, nevertheless.

  ‘How much is it, please?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, err. That depends which cruise you wish to take.’ Bianca was surprised that I had asked and was now looking at the screen again, no doubt looking for the figure that would shock me. ‘Our shortest cruise…’

  ‘I want around the world.’ It had come out more forceful and determined than I had expected. I never spoke to people like that.

  Bianca glanced to see if I was serious, saw that I was and clicked the mouse again as she squinted at her screen. I was going to pay for the royal suite and go around the world in style. How dare she think I couldn’t afford it?

  ‘The three-month around the world cruise, starting and ending in Southampton and staying in the royal suite is… seventy-three thousand five hundred pounds.’ Bianca locked eyes with me, perhaps wanting to see how I reacted to the number. Could she see the blind panic in my eyes? She looked away again. ‘Of course, that comes with over two thousand pounds worth of on-board spending money, and as a guest in the royal suite you have complimentary breakfast and lunch everyday that you are on board and free access to all classes and entertainment.’

  Oh, well that’s okay then.

  Seventy-three thousand pounds. Oh, my God. What was I going to do? ‘And there are no other rooms?’ I asked. There had to be another room. There just had to be.

  ‘I’m afraid not, Mrs Fisher. This is our largest, newest and most popular ship and this is the most popular time of year for cruises.’

  ‘When is the next ship that does have space for me?’ I asked, my voice now barely more than a whisper. The confidence of a few minutes ago, now long forgotten.

  Another mouse click, ‘Next Tuesday the Anubis docks. I can check that for you if you like.’ Bianca and Marie were both maintaining their p
rofessional politeness, engaging with the crazy woman and trying to help her.

  I picked up my bag from the floor by my chair. I couldn’t wait here until next week.

  ‘Thank you,’ I mumbled as I floated out of their office, my brain barely connected to my body and operating on autopilot. Okay, it had been a crazy idea, but what did I do now? I got back into my car and turned on the engine but as I pushed the gear stick down and back to engage reverse, I stopped.

  What did I do now?

  Was I supposed to go home? What then? Patch things up with Charlie? I wasn’t ready to see him yet. How could I even look at him? I wanted to cut his thingy off and mail it to Maggie. But if I didn’t get on the ship, what did I do? I was a fifty-two-year-old, overweight woman with no proper career and a marriage in tatters. I had no children, I had no real friends, the only one I had was sleeping with my husband and everything I knew, everywhere I considered to be home, everyone I knew, would remind me of my cheating git of a husband.

  I slipped the gear stick back into neutral and turned the engine off again. Yes, it was nuts. Yes, it was almost all my money and yes it was probably a really stupid thing to do, but I was getting on that boat and I was going to have the time of my life.

  With my jaw set and my lips pursed I shoved the door to the portacabin ticket office open again and stormed in with purpose in my stride.

  ‘I’m doing it,’ I declared.

  The Aurelia

  Forty minutes later I was at the back of the crowd of people funnelling into the ship. I had a suitcase balanced on top of a suitcase that I was dragging behind me and another suitcase that I was kicking along in front of me.

  My car was parked surprisingly close to the ship in an area reserved for the royal suites. I had parked it between a Maserati and Rolls Royce and then had a fight with the two security chaps there as they assured me the area was reserved for guests staying in the royal suites. When I produced my ticket, I thought they were going to argue and claim it was counterfeit. I didn’t fit the mould. I got that. I had a car worth less than the other guests’ shoes and I didn’t look like I had any money at all. Even my suitcases looked cheap – because they were.

  They let me pass with a polite look of disbelief and though I suspected they were supposed to carry my luggage or call someone that would, they didn’t. As usual, I said nothing and put up with it. So, I had to struggle with my stupid suitcases and the one I was trying to push along in front was fighting me every step of the way. It had four little wheels, but one kept digging in, stopping the suitcase in its tracks and threatening to topple it.

  Just as I joined the back of the queue, it dug in again. I kicked it once more, but it didn’t move. Just a few more feet and I could put my other suitcase down without the other people still joining the queue swarming around me to get on board first. I put my knee against it and shoved. It tipped over forward away from me. I lunged to grab it, but the suitcase I had on top of the suitcase I was dragging shot forward with my motion and fell onto my back leg. As that went out from under me the suitcase in front fell over forward with my hand still grasping the handle so that I performed an untidy plié and fell on my arse.

  Laughter erupted from the crowd in front and behind me. It wasn’t just me on the floor they were laughing at though, it was the burst suitcase and the size eighteen knickers that had strewn themselves across the floor that caused the most amusement.

  Wishing the floor would just swallow me and knowing no one was coming to my aid, I swore quietly and started grabbing my underwear. A teenage boy handed me a pink pair of lacy pants. ‘Here you go, gran,’ he said as he laughed and ducked back to his family. His dad high-fived him as they laughed. The wife knew it wasn’t funny but did nothing to berate them as she tried to hide her own mirth.

  As I stuffed the last of the offending garments back in my bag and wondered what God had against me, a hand touched my arm. ‘Are you alright, madam?’ I looked up to find a man in a bright white, spotless uniform with four gold loops around each cuff. He had a matching white hat with a black peak on his head and the shiniest black shoes I had ever seen. He was perhaps forty, or maybe very late thirties and was exceedingly handsome. He was tall too, at least six feet three inches.

  ‘Just a little suitcase trouble,’ I explained. Behind the man, half the crowd were still watching me, waiting to see what hilarity I might provide next probably. Meanwhile the people still streaming from the car park were adding to the crowd of people waiting to funnel onto the boat and all I wanted to do was get on board and set sail before I had a chance to come to my senses, ask for my money back and run away.

  He saw me glance at the crowd queuing at the door, ‘Perhaps I can help you, madam. I’m Alistair Huntley, the captain of this fine vessel and your servant. May I ask, are you travelling alone?’

  ‘Err, yes?’ I replied as if I was asking if that was okay. I fumbled for my ticket, but I didn’t have to say anything as he reacted as soon as he saw it.

  ‘Madam, our royal guests do not queue to enter the ship.’ He turned, raised his hand and clicked his fingers at two men who were stood doing nothing much near the entrance everyone else was queuing for. They rushed over, clearly subordinate to the man trying to help me. ‘Rex, Harrison, take the lady’s bags.’ As they picked them up, I noticed that one of the men was much older than the other. His age out of place simply because the very menial task of carrying luggage felt like something a junior member of staff would perform. Where the younger man looked barely eighteen, the other was well into his fifties. They both smiled politely, making eye contact as they took my belongings. The younger man had the fresh look of youth. Where he shaved, undoubtedly a requirement of the job rather than a necessity, it was clear that his facial hair wasn’t really growing yet. The older man had a scar that ran through his left eyebrow and down onto his cheek. His left eye was clear and bright though, so whatever injury had caused the scar hadn’t robbed his sight. As they stood up with the luggage to await further instruction, I saw his right hand was missing two fingers. The captain asked me, ‘May I have the name of your suite, please, madam?’

  I had no idea. I stared at my ticket, looking for the line of text that would provide the answer he sought.

  When I looked back up, he said, ‘If I may, madam,’ taking the ticket from my unresisting hand. ‘The Windsor Suite. A very popular choice, madam. You have exquisite taste. May I escort you to your lodgings?’ he asked as he offered me his arm to take.

  Goodness. I could get used to this.

  I looped my arm through his and we left the rude boy and his father and all the other riffraff behind as I was escorted to a private door hidden beneath an awning not fifty feet from where the crowd were still queuing.

  As we walked, the man engaged me in polite conversation. ‘Madam, as captain, may I personally welcome you aboard Aurelia, the world’s largest ocean liner. Aurelia was launched in March 2017 right here in Southampton by Queen Elizabeth herself. She was built in Belfast by Reilly Shipping and took three years to construct. The interior fit was completed in South Africa and took a further nine months. To keep it stable they had to make the ship very wide. It is one hundred and two feet wide which means the Aurelia can only just fit through the Panama Canal, as it is just one hundred and five feet at its narrowest point. About thirty feet of the ship sits beneath the water, which is a small percentage of the ship's overall height. There are twenty decks, fourteen of which are for the guests. The bottom six house the two thousand five hundred staff, provide storage space for fuel, food and other provisions and the ship’s mighty engines. Aurelia is one thousand three hundred and twelve feet long. For comparison, the infamous RMS Titanic, was eight hundred and eighty-three feet long. In terms of space available, the Aurelia is nearly five times larger than the Titanic.’

  While he was talking, and I was looking about and trying to take in as much as I could, we boarded an elevator. I had expected stairs but remembered he had just told me that the ship w
as twenty stories high. Of course, there were elevators. There were probably escalators as well in some of the open areas. One thing was clear, I was going to need a map. As it travelled upward, the music playing quietly in the background changed. I had never consciously noticed lift music before but when the new track came on it was Lady in Red by Chris De Burgh. The stoic façade I wasn’t aware I was clinging to started to crack. Charlie and I had danced to this at our wedding. It was the song he had picked for our first dance. He said it reminded him of the night we met.

  The elevator pinged, and the doors swished silently open to allow bright sunlight from outside to flood in. We were now high above the land outside, my view uninterrupted, save for some glass, all the way over Southampton and the South Downs and beyond. I couldn’t focus on it though, my eyes beginning to well up.

  The captain was still talking but had finished telling me about the ship he proudly captained. ‘One final word of caution, madam. We have recently suffered several thefts from passengers staying in our best suites. Jewellery mostly. I can assure you we have our best men on it, but please make sure your priceless and most sensitive belongings are securely locked away in the room’s safe.’

  I almost laughed at the concept: I didn’t have priceless jewellery. But the laugh choked in my throat. I was giddy with all that was bombarded my senses. I was being treated like royalty, a deliberate strategy no doubt reserved for their top guests given the price they pay but I doubt many get escorted to the suites by the captain himself. It was all too much. The song had finally struck home what had happened to me today. I was a spurned woman, my husband giving his affections to another. The captain’s steady arm was the thing keeping me upright as the emotion of the day threatened to overwhelm me, but even that couldn’t stop the tears as they finally broke through the flood gate and began to run down my face.

  ‘Here we are, madam,’ said Captain Huntley proudly as he stopped me in front of a large door marked with the title Windsor Suite at eye height. As he let go my arm and reached for the door, I looked up at him with tears silently streaming down my cheeks and he saw the mess I had become. His eyes widening in a brief flutter of panic and confusion, ‘Is everything alright, madam?’ he asked.