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

I drank some more, and more, and more.

Chapter Three

‘Okay, Tom, slow down.’ I couldn’t make out a word he was saying; my brain was still foggy from the wine, and my mobile phone reception wasn’t brilliant.

‘… Some kind of emergency …’ was all I picked up, but there was worry in his tone. Concerned, I went upstairs and perched on the windowsill in order to catch a better signal.

‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that – what kind of an emergency?’ All sorts of thoughts raced through my head: a fire at the B&B, a terrible accident of some sort, some awful feedback about the spa idea …

‘She said nail, a nail emergency. I had no idea how serious these things could be, Hannah. She was waving around your leaflet and said she needed you right away.’ Relief washed over me and I chuckled. Poor Tom, he’d been single for as long as I could remember and had no clue about women.

‘Ahh, okay. Don’t worry; she’ll live. I’ll be there in half an hour.’ It was the first time in a while I’d allowed any humour to penetrate the gloomy fog I’d been living in. It felt almost as good as it did giving Cherry a piece of my mind.

When I arrived at the B&B, Tom led me into the breakfast room with his head bowed and expression grave, seemingly still uncertain as to the severity of the nail injury.

‘Oh, thank God!’ a thick Geordie accent greeted me as I walked in. A young woman was sitting at a table, waiting for me.

‘Hi, I’m Hannah, and you must be …?’ I smiled at the woman, who must have been in her early twenties. She was dressed smartly in a dark suit and had a full face of make-up, with blonde hair scraped back in a neat bun. I wondered if she was an air hostess.

‘Cathy. As you can see, my nail has come clean off.’ She held out her hand. She had four red talons and a white, rough nail visible on her index finger.

‘Acrylic tips. Nothing I can’t fix.’ I glanced up at Tom, who was hovering nervously with a puzzled look on his face.

‘It’s a nail extension, Tom, just a false nail that’s come off. It’s nothing to worry about.’ He looked relieved, presumably grateful there wasn’t likely to be any claim for damages. He scuttled off and I turned my attention to Cathy.

‘So what brings you to Tinbury?’ I asked, going into beautician mode.

‘Another emergency, like.’ I could listen to her accent all day; there was something soothing about it, even though she was clearly in a crisis. ‘Me car broke down yesterday. I’m supposed to be in Southampton today for work, and if I don’t get there by tomorrow, I’m screwed. Now I’ve wrecked me manicure, and I’m supposed to look immaculate.’

‘What is it you do?’ I was curious. Southampton seemed a strange place for an air hostess to be based.

‘I’m due to start work on a cruise ship, in guest services; it’s my second contract after spending a few months back at home. If I miss that ship, they won’t fly me out, and they definitely won’t give me another contract.’ Her forehead crumpled.

‘Where’s your car now?’ I asked, wondering if there was anything I could do to help.

‘It’s in the garage. Tom very kindly arranged to have it repaired swiftly. I should have it back in a few hours and then I can get on my way.’

Cathy kept up a steady stream of chatter whilst I buffed and prepped the nail. She told me all about life on board a cruise ship, and despite my despair about my own situation and my red-wine hangover, I found myself smiling. It sounded so exciting.

‘Waking up in a different place every morning is just magical. It never gets old either – the itineraries change so much, and so do the staff, including the officers.’ She winked animatedly. ‘I’ve been all over the world and got paid to do it!’

‘It sounds fantastic. I’d always wanted to go on a cruise holiday but never got around to it. I suppose it’s not something single people do,’ I added sullenly, placing the acrylic nail over her own and pressing it down.

‘Oh, you’re way off! Lots of single people do it; with so many staff members looking after you, you’d never feel alone. Or at least that’s what the guests say. Last time, I shared a tiny cabin with a snoring dancer and would’ve killed for some time alone.’ She laughed.

‘Maybe. I’ll need to start earning some money first. I don’t exactly have the financial means for luxury travel anymore.’ I didn’t intend to overshare; she was just so bubbly that I felt I could tell her anything. ‘My husband has just left me for another woman so I’ve been neglecting my business. In fact, you’re my first customer of the week.’

Her face fell. ‘Oh no, what an arse. I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have kids too?’

‘No, we never had any, he … Daniel never wanted any.’ She looked at me with sympathetic doe-like eyes.

After a moment she squealed. ‘Oh my God!’

‘What?’ My eyes shot down to her hands. Had I dripped glue on her skin somewhere?

‘You should totally apply to work aboard! They have salons on most ships, you know; most of the big ones have full spa facilities.’

I laughed. She was clearly joking. I couldn’t just swan off to work on a cruise ship when I had a business to save. I rummaged in my bag to find a close-matching red nail polish.

‘I’m not joking,’ she said. ‘I’d think about it if I were you. It doesn’t sound like you’ve much to hang around here for. The wages aren’t great, but you’ve got no living costs, and with tips most people manage to save a fair bit. You should at least look into it.’

‘Okay, I’ll look into it.’ I humoured her. Her naivety was sweet. What did she know about running a business, paying a mortgage? She’d barely entered adulthood.

As I walked up the cobbled street towards home, my mind wandered, and soon I was imagining a life at sea, far away from this village and its inhabitants. Because the sensation felt so odd, it took me a minute to realize I was smiling. It was such a silly notion, but pretending to be young and carefree for a few moments wouldn’t harm me.

***

Cathy’s cheer was infectious, but once it absorbed into my skin, by contrast, it highlighted something else. Jen’s haunted expression the night before. I slid out my phone. There were no missed calls from her, no messages. Nothing. I’d really upset her.

I keyed out a text but it took a few attempts to get it right:

Jen, what I’d said was out of order. Of course I appreciate you. You are everything to me. I love you

Jen, forgive me for my awful outburst. You’re all I have.

I love you and I’m sorry

Jen, I’m sorry. My head is in a mess and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.

Hannah

x

Just seconds after I hit send, my phone buzzed to life. Jen.

‘Hi,’ I answered nervously.

‘A text message apology?’ she fumed.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered as my breath caught. Jen had been mad at me before, but never mad because of me. My heart felt broken. ‘I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them.’