S.O.S. (8 page)

‘Really?' threw in Stacy, again.

The queue was edging forward, which was something. Jennifer could be about to laugh in the man's face, or possibly occasion him physical damage (Nobby's sort of language, I can only think – thought Stacy – is catching, maybe?).

Aggie chortled conspiratorially. ‘We've got a nickname for her, haven't we, Nobby?'

Nobby smiled his secret smile, while nodding with pride. ‘Our own little nickname, yes. Know what it is?'

‘Well of
course
we don't …' snapped Jennifer.

‘What is it?' put in Stacy – but she needn't, apparently, have worried: both Nobby and Aggie seemed quite unperturbed – were beaming, indeed, in tandem, as if newly beatified.

‘You tell them, love,' offered Nobby, with great magnanimity.

‘Oh no
you
, Nobby –
you
. Your invention, after all.' And she trained her struck-wide-open eyes on Jennifer and Stacy in turn. ‘It is, you know: all his own invention.'

Nobby cast down his eyes, as if to deflect the wilder
applause. ‘Just came to me one day on Quarter Deck, as I gazed at her aft.
Sylvie
, I said. Just like that. And she's been Sylvie to us ever since – isn't that so, Captain Honeybunch?'

‘He calls me that,' said Aggie, quite shyly. ‘But isn't it a simply perfect name for her? You see it's a sort of play on Tran-
sylv
-ania, isn't it Nobby?'

‘A sort of play, yes: a sort of play – yes indeed.'

‘Sort of taking out the middle bit, sort of thing,' clarified Aggie. ‘Ooh – stand by, Nobby – it's nearly photo time. You don't maybe know, Jennifer and …
Stacy
, is it? Yes – Stacy. First-timers, are you?'

As Jennifer and Stacy numbly nodded, Nobby was nodding too – his face full to bursting with indulgence and understanding.

‘Always got to be a first time, hasn't there?
We
were virgins, once.'

‘Nobby!' said Aggie, quite sharply.

‘Sorry,' whispered Nobby. ‘No offence, I'm sure.'

‘It's just that they take a ‘Welcome Aboard' photo of everyone just before you board,' Aggie rattled on. ‘We've got quite a collection, as well you might imagine. Always try to wear something a little bit different, don't we Nobby? For the photo.'

‘Always try,' agreed Nobby, rather airily. ‘Always do, yes we do – we always do try to do that, yes.'

Aggie simpered at him. ‘So we can tell them apart.'

Jennifer was casting her eyes wildly behind her, now (there must be escape!), but the narrow corridor was jammed with people as far as she could see: the only way was forward.

‘I need a drink,' she said.

‘There's generally a welcome beverage laid on of a teatime,' allowed Nobby. ‘Nice hot potful – and Sylvie can usually be relied upon not to let us down in the way of a selection of peerless scones and dainties.
Embark
, you know – that's another little word with an interesting origin.'

‘Look!' gasped Jennifer. ‘They want you to have your picture taken. It's your turn.
Look
!'

‘Do you know you're right? Best foot forward, Aggie! Yes –
embark
. ‘Barco', you see, is the Spanish word meaning ship – you go on the left of me, Captain Honeybunch … while ‘embarcar' – are you with me? Means to actually, so to say,
go on board the ship
. Follow? Well – doesn't take a great leap, does it, to see where we obtain the word ‘embark' from, no? Tell you what – what say you two join us for the photo? Hey?'

‘Ooh
yes
,' enthused Aggie. ‘We'd certainly have no problem identifying
that
snap, would we? Nobby and me – with our two new little friends? Oh – it's going to be a
wonderful
summer!'

The picture was pinned up later that very day outside the photo shop, on board ship, alongside hundreds of bright and glossy others. To the right of the vast and flowery wreath, Aggie and Nobby seemed to be in a state approaching rapture, their arms locked tightly around Stacy on the one side, and Jennifer on the other. And neither Aggie nor Nobby appeared to notice that Stacy looked quite pallid and thoughtful, as if gauging whether or not she could maybe just hold on for a few moments longer, or if in fact a bucket was urgently needed
now
 – and nor that Jennifer (maybe due to the fact that both rigid lips were pulled so well back as to reveal practically all of her teeth, as her eyes glowed dark) radiated murderous intent. Certainly one for the album, was Aggie's view – and she cheerfully paid out thirteen dollars for a pair of prints – one of them destined to be a small token of welcome, slipped beneath the door of the cabin on Six Deck registered under the names of their two new little friends (I think they must be sisters) together with a notelet inviting them both to meet up at six-thirtyish in the Piano Bar, for maybe a sherry before a three-course slap-up dinner in the Gondola restaurant. (Aggie had scribbled as a PS: Nobby is eager to ‘chew the fat' – another of those nautical terms, as it happens – but I'm sure he'll tell you all about it himself).

*

‘Ahhhhh …!' was the deeply appreciative and faintly bovine lowing sound that accompanied the spreading of Stewart's arms wide as Dwight, Charlene, Earl and Suki emerged from the covered gangway and into the softly carpeted Midships reception. ‘My very most
favourite
passengers, the Johnsons. Welcome
back
, I must say. Very, very, very good to see you all again, all you Johnsons. How was London? Weather nice and bright?'

‘Oh
hiiii
, Stoo,' cooed Charlene. ‘How you been?'

‘
Good
,' responded Stewart, with emphasis. ‘Doing good, Mrs Johnson – doing great.'

A little vernacular – a touch of home – went a very long way, Stewart had found in the past: you should see him with the Japanese – bowing away like one of those little plastic ostriches (or could they be emus?) one used to see around really quite a lot, one time, eager for their sip of water. A few bruised temples in the early days, yes, before he quite got the hang of the thing – but no dishonour, he would rush to assure you, was incurred or bestowed: I haven't yet, he would intimate with a twinkle, been threatened with a Samurai sword! (We're all friends here.)

As Charlene kicked things around with Stewart, Earl was bending down to murmur into his father's ear, Hey – what's with this jerk? Like it's maybe what? Ten whole
hours
since he saw us? And Dwight just shrugged and said Beats me: these English guys, I guess it's what they do, how they maybe really are.

‘Dee-aaad?' whined Suki. ‘I'm kinda bushed, you know? I split – grabba couple hours, maybe. See you guys – kay?'

‘Sure, honey,' approved Dwight. ‘Only don't go forgetting this goddam drill they put us through every single
goddam time. What's with the – jeez, that mother of yours: she ever gonna quit with this guy, or what? … yeah – what's with the alarm and all the drill anyways? Ship goes down, ship goes
down
 – am I right?'

Earl was smirking his agreement; he touched his father's shoulder. ‘Catch up with you guys.'

Dwight was nodding glumly.

‘Yeh sure. Your mother ever quits yapping to Stoo, then maybe I can get some shut-eye too. All we did all day is nothing and I tell you, boy: I'm pooped. Hey –
Charlene
, already – enough, yeah? Leave the guy alone.'

Charlene allowed herself to be led away, her eyes and fingers still fluttering their farewells to Stewart, who was winking hard and mouthing, while still his arms were spread so wide that anyone passing could easily assume him to be the sole custodian of prior knowledge of the truth that at any moment now something very large indeed was due to be hurled right at him, his role on earth to field it deftly. He turned then to face the next batch of (marked on his clipboard ‘I' for Important) upper deck cruisers, and seemed close to passing out with the pleasure this gave him.

‘All I
was
,' explained Charlene, as she and Dwight climbed the broad staircase, ‘was trying for him to tell me what the
toon
was?'

‘Toon? What toon is this now? What's this with
toons
, Charlene?'

‘Jeez, Dwight – sometimes I think you see nothing and you hear nothing and maybe you don't even
think
nothing. You didn't catch the
band
on the quayside? You didn't hear them?'

‘I heard sump'n. So what?'

‘So
what
? All it was was, like – the Queen's
guard
band or some goddam thing? With, like – the big fur hats?'

‘Yeh yeh …'

‘So anyways, there was this
toon
, right? They were playing? It was so
familiar
… you ever get that? When you
hear this toon and you know you know it but you just can't seem to …?' Charlene paused at the landing on One Deck and turned to search the shut-down mask that often now was all she saw where once her husband's face had shone so brightly, filled with wit and love. ‘No, Dwight … I guess you just don't, huh?'

But soon her eyes were dancing again as they fell upon
Julie
 – and Julie was already locked on and coming right on towards them (and
shee
-ut, thought Dwight – now of all times, now when all I wanna do is lie me down with a Jack on the rocks – now it's
Julie
we gotta do).

‘
Julie
, sweetie!' was Charlene's vast and dazzling greeting – and the wrists of both of them clanked and jangled as they clasped each other's hands as their eyelids closed up and their lips went off and sought out the heat of their respective cheeks or jowls. (Hey look, was Dwight's take – since
morning
they ain't seen each other: what
is
this?) ‘You didn't get off, sweetie? You been here all the
time
?'

Julie had on a cocked and sneering lip (rather like, you know – real late Elvis? When he was hamming it up? Yeh OK – but on Julie, this was for real).

‘London I know,' was her clipped and dismissive response. ‘London I been to.'

‘I got the most
darling
pieces of paddery in the
Harrods
store? You'll just love 'em, Julie sweetie. Catch ya in the Zip Bar, huh? Benny OK? Still with the stummick?'

Julie just shrugged, some.

‘Benny's OK. Benny's doing fine. What can I tell you, Charlene? Benny's Benny.'

And as she peeled away, Dwight just exhaled his relief.

‘Maybe now we can get to our cabin? Soon it'll be with the alarm bell schtick and I don't even got off my shoes.' And as he heaved himself up the final flight of stairs (and each tread – hey, he had thought this how many times? Each tread is real shallow, you know? So how come under me they always feel so steep?): ‘Benny's
OK
… Benny's doing
fine
. Huh. Benny ain't neither thing, I'm telling you, Charlene. Benny's one sick guy. So what's noo? I lived with Julie, all day long I'd be gnaw-shuss.'

‘God
sake
, Dwight: leave it already, huh?'

Dwight turned the key in the door of their cabin.

‘So,' he sighed, ‘what was it? You find out?'

‘What hell talking bout
now
, Dwight? I find out what?'

‘Toon. The toon. You find out what toon it was, or what?'

‘Oh
yeah
,' smiled Charlene, as she slipped inside. ‘It's like all these great pieces, you know? They're, like – part of your life and nobody knows what they're called? You gonna take a shower? Guess I'll take a shower.'

‘Yeah. So?'

‘
So
? So what's with all the
so
, Dwight?'

‘The
toon
, goddam it, Charlene. Jeez.'

‘Why suddenly you're so eager to know the toon, now, Dwight? Before you was saying you didn't even
hear
no toon.'

Dwight sat down heavily on one of the twin beds, and sank back his head with gratitude into the pillows.

‘Time to time, Charlene,' he barely whispered, ‘you drive me crazy. You know that?'

Charlene stopped stock-still.

‘I drive
you
crazy? I drive
you
? Oh that's
neat
, Dwight, you know? I mean, crazy from you – that's real
neat
. I'm gonna take a shower – I'm, like,
outta
here, Dwight – and maybe when I come back you've remembered some
manners
?'

Dwight closed his eyes and opened them and stared at the riveted ceiling. And then he roared up at it:

‘What's the name of the goddam
toon
?!'

‘Dwight God
sake
: next
door
they'll hear you!'

He turned on her weak and watery, imploring eyes, and said so softly:

‘The toon …? Hm …?'

Charlene flounced away towards the bathroom, tossing back over her shoulder:

‘Flintstones.'

Dwight blinked. ‘Ex
cuse
me?'

‘Flintstones, Dwight. Wassamadder – you ain't hearing so good?
Flintstones
. Da-da-
da
-da-da-da-fam-i-
lee
…?'

Dwight listened for a while to the gushing water from behind the bathroom door, and then he closed his eyes again. OK – so now I know. All she had to do was to
tell
me, yeah? For why I wanted to know, I can't even say. But now I
do
know, so I'm cool with it. Now I can rest easy. The toon was the toon from the toon. And that, dear Lord above us, is what I learned today.

I wanna sleep, is all. Is all I wanna do. But I gotta do this drill again, yeah? And then I gotta bathe and dress and then it's, jeez –
cack
tails with Julie and Benny and then I got dinner with Charlene and Earl and Suki and all she's letting me eat, now, is goddam
chicken
, on account of my bowels. And what's in my head? Tell you all that's in my head right now? It's yours for a nickel:
Da
-da-
da
-da-da-da-fam-i-
lee
… Cute, or what? Any which ways, I'm kinda stuck with it.