All At Sea

A cruise by herself wasn’t what Janette had planned . . .

GOING on holiday alone hadn’t been Janette’s plan. It had been Carol’s idea to book the cruise. Carol was nursing a broken heart (again) and thought a trip away would do her good.

Janette would come back feeling “like a totally different person”, her friend promised. For two months she texted Janette at least twice a day about holiday clothes, which sun cream would be best for Janette’s skin and how much fun it was going to be, just the two of them on a two-week cruise around the Med.

Then Carol rekindled her relationship with Terrible Terrance. The texts dried up; Janette’s phone calls went unreturned.

With a sinking feeling Janette realised two things: the deadline to get a refund on the holiday had expired, and Carol was going to bail on her. She waited for Carol to come out and say, “Janette, I’m not coming.”

She waited till the day before the holiday to announce that Terrance was ill and, though it would break her heart to miss the trip, she couldn’t abandon him in his hour of need.

Janette had seen Terrance coming out of the betting shop just that morning, the picture of health, but she looked Carol straight in the eye and said that it was a real shame, that she hoped Terrance would be feeling better soon and that she’d send Carol a postcard.

Carol looked taken aback. She evidently assumed that Janette would cancel the holiday. But why should she?

Although a Mediterranean cruise wouldn’t have been her first choice for a solo holiday – she’d rather tour the art galleries of Florence – Janette had paid for this holiday and she was going.

Now, here she was, folding her clothes into the shelves in her tiny cabin and realising that she was, quite literally, at sea. She couldn’t go home even if she wanted to.

Still, why would she want to? She had her Kindle loaded with about 20 Agatha Christies, and her ipod for listening to podcasts.

Really, it would be like having a holiday at home, except someone else was doing the cooking and there was sunshine and a pool.

If she felt like socialising, the brochure offered any number of opportunities, from karaoke to kayaking off the coast of Spain.

When she went down to dinner on the first day Janette discovered the first important fact about a cruise – every guest had a specific dining seat, always with the same table of people, which meant that you would get to know people whether you liked it or not.

Janette was unsure about this. She was a sociable person but also a bit shy.

The couple sitting next to her, Douggie and Sandra, immediately befriended her, particularly once Janette let slip that she was meant to be here with a friend who had been unable to attend.

“We’ll look after you, won’t we, Douggie?” Sandra said, smiling. “We’re old hands at this cruising lark!”

She was a pleasant-faced woman with a mop of blonde hair and wore a pink top featuring an embroidered parrot.

“Thanks,” Janette murmured, not sure that, at sixty-five, she really needed looking after but appreciating that Sandra and Douggie were only trying to help.

And help they did. At breakfast, lunch and dinner they regaled Janette with stories from their previous cruises, all told with humour and lots of laughter.

They encouraged her to try boules, to sample salsa, and to play poker – just a bit of fun!

When Janette sneaked off for a bit of peaceful sunbathing they chanced upon her and would not leave until she had agreed to join them at the cabaret evening.

It was at this evening, standing at the bar and choosing from a bewildering array of cocktails, that Janette got chatting to a craggy-faced man called David who, it turned out, had grown up in the village next to Janette’s.

In what felt like no time at all the first week was over. Janette looked at herself in the mirror of her tiny bathroom, at her brown, freckled skin and laid-back glow, and realised something – she had barely glanced at her Agatha Christies, and she was having fun. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

That afternoon the ship docked in Sardinia and the passengers explored the island’s white-sand beaches, stunning clifftop views and picturesque marinas.

Just as they were embarking, Janette received a text message. It was from Carol.

I’ve had it with Terrance. Thinking I might fly out and join the cruise at your next port. Where are you headed to next?

Janette stared down at Carol’s text with a sinking heart. All she had wanted before this trip was for Carol to say she was coming, yet now Carol was talking of joining her, Janette realised that she didn’t want that. Not at all.

She could picture Carol making mean comments about Sandra’s birdthemed tops, turning up her nose at the

food, sniggering at the entertainment and telling them all how she could have had a career in show business if it hadn’t been for her dodgy knee.

Heaven knows what she’d say about David who, although just a friend, was bound to set off Carol’s competitive streak which meant she had to charm any male.

Janette knew, with the certainty of someone who has been hiding the truth from themselves for a very long time, that Carol would ruin this holiday for her.

But what could she do? Carol had paid for this holiday and had every right to join the cruise if she wanted to.

She pondered for a while. She knew it was always best to tell the truth, but something like this was best said face to face. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to encourage Carol to come when it was the absolute opposite of what she wanted.

Then she had an idea. It was a little peevish, perhaps, but it would leave the decision of whether to join the trip or not entirely up to Carol.

This was a lie. It was, in fact, perhaps a 60-40 gender split. Biting her lip, Janette sent the message.

The reply took 24 hours to arrive. Carol wouldn’t be joining Janette after all. Terrace had begged forgiveness and he was taking her to the races that coming weekend.

Reading Carol’s message as she lay on her sun lounger, Janette smiled to herself. Across the deck, she could see David approaching, carrying two colourful cocktails.

Janette tucked her brown legs under her, switched off her phone and stared up at the deep blue Mediterranean sky. Carol had been right about one thing, at least: you could come back from a cruise feeling like a totally different person. n Well, you’d be in good company, Janette typed in

reply. It’s almost all older single women on this cruise. Female solidarity!