Victoria Cooke - The Holiday Cruise - The feel-good heart-warming romance you need to read this year

‘No thank you, love,’ the frail white-haired lady said with a smile.

‘Well if you change your mind, we’re located on deck fourteen, fore. The entrance is port-side.’ She handed over a glossy leaflet, which the lady took politely before moving on.

‘Nicely done,’ I said when we were alone again.

‘Not really. The first day is always a tough sell. Expect most of them to be just like those two – they’re tired from travelling, and they just want to get into their cabins and shower. Some are even quite rude.’ She straightened her tunic in readiness for the next target.

‘If it’s such a tough sell, why do we bother?’

‘Because, it plants the seed … and it’s our job.’

I thought back to the time I rang all my customers, trying to win them back. ‘Good job I’m used to rejection.’ I sighed.

At four p.m. we had a muster drill for the guests up in the Jazz Lounge. I seemed to have forgotten most of my training, but luckily I was teamed with Kristy and followed her lead. As soon as the drill was complete, the ship’s deafening horn sounded, signalling our departure. I raced up to the promenade deck, which was already teeming with passengers, eager to see the sail-away. A wave (pardon the pun) of excitement hit me as we moved slowly out of the berth. I leant against the rail to watch as the giant ship moved so elegantly and gracefully from the cruise terminal, away from Fort Lauderdale.

Mansions lined the large port. Their vast gardens backing on to the water were so close, I was sure I could jump the distance from the ship should I have wanted to. Tiny boats were dotted around us with the people aboard waving as we passed the harbour wall and entered the open sea. Guests sipped champagne on the deck whilst looking back, waving farewell. It was magical, and for a moment, I forgot I was there to work. Instead, I was at one with the guests, finally enjoying the excited atmosphere of a cruise. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine Daniel there with me, at sea, as I’d always hoped he would be.

‘Come on.’ Kristy bashed my arm, breaking my moment. ‘Back to work.’

By half past five we were back up in the spa. Bizarrely, plenty of people had pre-booked treatments when they booked their cruises, so I actually got to do a few massages. It almost felt like being back at The Hollywood Hut. The spa seemed to attract all sorts – a well-heeled, well-to-do lady; the burly male owner of a building company. It didn’t matter; they were on holiday and making it count.

Marissa, an older, well-to-do American lady was my first customer. She’d been widowed for fifteen years and often cruised alone. I hadn’t even commenced buffing her nails when she asked: ‘What possessed you to pursue a life at sea away from all the people who care?’ in her southern-belle drawl.

I gave her the same short version of events that I’d given Kristy the previous day, to which she ummed and ahhed. ‘My husband, Earle, was a bore. He never wanted to do anything but sit on the front porch reading the paper. That was if he wasn’t working of course, which he was, most of the time.’

I smiled politely and continued to buff her nails.

‘What I’m trying to say is, sometimes the departure of our men is a blessing.’ She winked.

I felt a little uneasy that she seemed happy her husband had died. I wouldn’t even wish that on Daniel, but I knew what she was getting at and nodded in acknowledgement.

‘You’re lucky to have found your freedom at a young age.’

Long after Marissa had left, her words resonated. You’re lucky to have found your freedom at a young age . Whilst I didn’t feel young, in comparison to Kristy at least, I knew what she meant. I had to make my time count just like Marissa was. I thought back to the sail-away, when I’d pushed myself into imagining Daniel by my side. I made the decision there and then, to leave him at home and filed him under ‘memories’ rather ‘imagination’. I wouldn’t let him impinge on my new chapter in life.

We finally finished work at nine p.m. and I slumped into one of the chairs at reception, smiling.

‘You’re very happy for someone who’s worked non-stop since the crack of dawn with a … now how did you put it … “hangover from hell!”.’ Kristy said, flopping into the leather chair next to me and closing her eyes.

‘Do you know what I like about it? Working on the ship I mean,’ I asked.

‘Not really,’ she replied wearily.

‘Being busy and having a purpose. It’s been a while since I’ve felt like that.’ Back in the village, trying to save the business had been a necessity and a welcome distraction but being on the ship felt like I was part of something, a team, and that felt good.

‘Well you’re in luck. Tomorrow is a sea day and it’s formal night, so there’ll be plenty of walk-ins on top of the bookings we’ve already secured. There’ll be a giant scoop of busy for you.’ She winked. ‘Fancy a drink?’

‘You know what? I think I do.’

The dance team weren’t in the bar when we arrived as the evening show was still on, and I sensed Kristy was more relaxed for that reason. As we sat down with our drinks, a few officers entered. They intimidated me a little in their pristine white suites, very Officer-and-a-Gentleman -like. A little shiver of excitement ran down my spine.

‘Hannah,’ Kristy muttered. ‘Stop staring at them.’ She looked tense.

‘Sorry, I didn’t realize I was.’

‘We don’t bother the officers.’

‘I didn’t even realize I was. What’s the big deal?’ I asked, resisting the urge to look back over at them.

‘It’s like an unwritten code. You don’t bother the ranks above you. Only talk to them if they talk to you first, that kind of thing.’

I made a face. ‘Well that seems daft – there was nothing in training to suggest that.’

‘Like I said: It’s unwritten.’

‘So where do we fit in?’ I asked her, interested. Wherever I came in the pecking order couldn’t be worse than the status I’d earned back home – worst wife, worst business owner, object of pity for the whole village. Before she got a chance to answer, a guy strode towards our table. He was striking.

‘Hey, Kristy, how’s it going?’ he said in an American accent before turning to look at me. ‘And who’s this?’

‘Hi, Pete, this is Hannah. She’s just joined us in the spa.’

‘Oh hey, Hannah, welcome aboard!’ He flashed me a wide, bright grin and held a hand out for me to shake. It was a split second before my brain could register it. ‘I work in the gym next door, so you’ll see a lot more of me.’ Pete was toned and muscular in a lean, I-work-out way, and his naturally highlighted blond hair was shaggy and unruly. He had a friendly, attractive face, and the way he leant over the table to talk to us suggested an easy confidence. I estimated him to be in his late twenties.

‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ I said, coolly taking his hand whilst trying to act as if my being introduced to gorgeous American gym instructors happened all the time.

He turned to the bar and shouted over to the barman, ‘Hey, my man George, could I get a water please?’