Caribbean Sunset with a Yellow Parrot (The Belchester Chronicles Book 5) Page 2

  Everyone was eventually gathered aboard in a vast room where even more Mimosas were the order of the day, and the gaggle of grey and blue-rinsed heads got together once more to say how much they were looking forward to meeting Butterfingers, Snotty, Hefferlump, and Hopalong again.

  Hugo, Beauchamp, and Enid surreptitiously shuffled to an adjacent table and sat there in sulky mystification. It felt like they had been marooned on another planet, rather than just boarded a ship. How would they ever get the hang of who was who? And exactly how did they address Lady A now? Would they really be expected to refer to her as Sniffy Golightly? The very idea was unthinkable: anathema.

  A public address system began to make announcements in deck order downwards as to which cabins were now ready and accessible to their occupants. Lady Amanda, Hugo, and the braying coven were called almost immediately.

  As Hugo trotted up behind his old friend and she opened the door of their suite, the only thing he could think of saying was, ‘Oh, cripes, old stick. There may be two beds, but where’s the privacy screen? How am I going to get into my jim-jams?’

  ‘You’ll change in the bathroom, the same as I will. It’s no worse than boarding school was, with all the strange dorm-mates we both must have met in those days,’ came an obviously rehearsed retort. ‘Wasn’t there someone in your dorm who always tried to get into bed with other fellows, claiming he was afraid of the dark or something?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten old Wet Rag Wilson. With him, his excuse was spiders, but he was always a bit too free with cuddling up close for safety.’

  ‘And we had Weirdo Smallwood. If it wasn’t the dark, it was thunder and lightning with her. Of course, none of us took long to twig what she was up to, then we made her apple-pie beds until she stopped.’

  ‘We put live frogs in Wet Rag’s shoes and frogspawn in his bed until he got the message. I suppose, with a bit of effort and forethought, we can rub along quite nicely in here, Manda.’

  ‘Without the actual rubbing along,’ replied Lady A. shaking her head to shift not only some unpleasant memories from her schooldays, but a ghastly vision of what Hugo’s turn of phrase had conjured up. Ugh! She’d never had any time for those sorts of goings on.

  The newlyweds had to wait for some time for their deck to be called, and had managed, each, another two Mimosas by then.

  At the lift’s doors, they discovered that the deck they wanted was not up but down, so they got in, both crossing their fingers that they weren’t actually sleeping in staff quarters, and pressed the appropriate button. At the cabin door, which seemed to be very closely flanked on either side by other numbered doors, Beauchamp inserted the key-card and threw open the door onto complete darkness.

  He fumbled for the lightswitch, then wished he hadn’t. It may be a double cabin. It may not have a window, being situated deep in the bowels of the ship, but it also didn’t have a double bed. It had bunks!

  Dinner was taken by all the Belchester Towers party in-cabin that night – preparing for battle the next morning, in the case of Beauchamp.

  Chapter Two

  At breakfast the next morning the members of the party from Belchester were told that their request for a table for four had been changed to a table for ten. No one could confirm who had made the request, but it looked like all those bound for the island of Caribbaya were to be eating together for the duration of the transatlantic crossing, unless otherwise requested.

  Hugo took his seat with a face like a slapped arse. He had hoped that they could hide away from all these old biddies, and here he was, marooned with only Beauchamp for male companionship. Douglas Huddlestone-Black was supposed to be sitting with them, but must have chosen to breakfast elsewhere. Stout fellow, thought Hugo, giving it some thought for the other mornings of their cruise. Lady A, of course, was in her element, making contact with that young thing she had been when she was a boarder in the dim and distant past. As a youngster she had lived life more in the raw, but over the years she had developed a veneer of sophistication and decorum which she now felt slightly slipping away.

  Enid’s face was completely closed, but there were bags under her eyes, and Beauchamp looked like Vesuvius must have appeared just before the big eruption that engulfed Pompeii and Herculaneum. It was little short of a miracle that he didn’t actually have smoke pouring out of his ears.

  ‘Good morning, Enid. Good morning, Beauchamp,’ trilled Lady Amanda, unaware that she was about to be blown to pieces by a hitherto unexploded bomb.

  ‘How dare you!’ shouted Beauchamp, turning red and not caring who heard him. ‘How bloody dare you pay for this as part of our honeymoon, then book us a cabin with bunk beds. How the devil you have the brass-necked cheek to sit there smiling at us when you’ve done something like that is beyond me, you chiselling old cheapskate.’

  The object of his fury smiled sweetly at him and replied, ‘But I didn’t. I booked you a double cabin. There was certainly no mention of bunk beds. There must have been some mix-up with the booking. I shall speak to someone as soon as we have breakfasted. I’m so sorry this has happened, but I expect you’ll look back on it, in time, as a rather amusing incident.’

  Beauchamp subsided back into his chair, doubting if he would ever feel amused by his mood when he had opened their cabin door last night, but he placed his faith in his employer in sorting out the situation. It did sound like a genuine error.

  The formal dining room was small, as most passengers on this ship opted for buffet-style dining, and did not rise much before luncheon. Nevertheless, a limited waiter service was available for those who wished to formalise their eating, and their orders were duly taken, the table soon filling with plates of fried eggs, bacon, mushrooms, sausages, smoked haddock topped with poached eggs, kippers, and eggs Benedict. Side dishes of fried bread, tomatoes and the inevitable pancakes and maple syrup covered any remaining space on the white cloth.

  Once the unpleasantness of Beauchamp’s furious outburst had settled, it was Lady Amanda who opened the conversation with, ‘Are you all going to stay with Windy? She can’t have room for us all.’

  There were polite little titters around the table, and Wuffles – she of the wild hair and dog-face – explained that they were all going to look at unsold properties in Parrot Bay, and weren’t they interested in buying something too? Everyone was being put up in one of the vacant villas, and they would spend some of their time viewing those that were not already sold, and setting up purchases where desired.

  ‘I had no idea Windy was going to do an estate agent’s number on us. How many properties are there? Have you all been before?’

  ‘Some of us have,’ replied Horseface. ‘All the villas that have already sold have sold to old schoolchums just like us. It’s a joint venture between Windy and Beep-Beep and the others already living out there helped them to start it. I believe those who have already purchased went out and stayed with Windy to approve the sites.’

  ‘Who in the name of God is Beep-Beep?’ asked Lady A, used to the use of nicknames, but never before having tripped over this one.

  ‘His name’s Devon Morris,’ explained Droopy-Drawers, her snow-white page-boy style bobbed hair nodding, her large breasts almost engulfing the remains of her food on the plate in front of her. ‘They met about six or seven years ago, had a whirlwind romance, sold up everything they had between them, and started investing in this island, building all the properties on Parrot Bay. As they sold them, this money would be invested for future development and a modest income for them. At least, I think that’s accurate. The idea is definitely to sell the rest of the properties.’

  ‘But why is he called Beep-Beep?’ queried Lady Amanda, not in the least interested in the history of the Parrot Bay properties, which she already knew, and more in this unexpected unfamiliar nickname.

  Fflageolet fielded this one. ‘Because his surname’s Morris. Being a younger brother, he was known at school as he was listed on the register – as Morris Minor, hence, this meta
morphosed into Beep-Beep, as time went by and his older brother left to go to Oxford.’

  Hugo lifted his napkin and buried his face in it in despair. The voices were assaulting his ears from all parts of the table, and the unaccustomed nomenclatures which bothered Manda not a jot were driving him dotty.

  ‘So, if some of the other properties have been sold to other old chums, who’s already living there?’ Lady Amanda asked out of good manners, as she knew perfectly well who had relocated to this tropical hideaway, but was anxious for no awkward silence to develop, as they had not seen each other for so long.

  Now Longshanks took up the explanation. ‘Well, apart from Windy and Beep-Beep, there’re Hefferlump Leclerc, Butterfingers Bartholomew, Snotty Nosegay, Hopalong Cassidy, and Eeyore Montrose.’

  At this point, Hugo actually started wailing, and threw up his hands in despair.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mr Cholmondley-Crichton-Crump, Windy knows how confusing it will be for you, so she’s producing little lists with everyone’s name and nickname, and their house number and name for reference for when we arrive.’

  ‘I shall go one better than that,’ declared Beauchamp. ‘I shall go to the information desk as soon as possible and ask if we can have some blank badges issued to us, on which each and every one of you can write your nickname, or whatever name you want to be addressed by, and then none of us can make a dreadful faux pas.’

  ‘Splendid idea, Beauchamp, old chap,’ chirped Hugo, applauding politely. This sensible gesture should go a little way towards preserving his sanity.

  ‘And I shall suggest that we wear them every mealtime, or whenever we might get together for a trip or for cocktails. We shall all then be well acquainted enough for we three newcomers to this school reunion to concentrate on the fresh nicknames on the island,’ the butler commented.

  ‘Where did you get him, Manda? I want one, too.’ Wuffles looked longingly at Beauchamp, as if there had never before been anything she had desired so much.

  ‘Hands off! Nobody touches my Beauchamp – except Enid, nowadays,’ conceded Lady A with a snide smile. This caused Enid so much fresh embarrassment that she, too, dived into her napkin and hid there, while the rest of the occupants of the table decided what to do next. It looked like she was part of a gang, and she couldn’t see any way out of it.

  Her new husband and his employer both rose to their feet first. They had, respectively, name badges and bunk beds to sort out ASAP. The general suggestion was that they meet at the pool, and perhaps have a bit of a dip and a short interlude in the sun, and the pair on other missions said they would meet them there.

  Still not having formed an accurate judgement of the character of the cruise ship, this did not happen. When Beauchamp arrived on deck with the badges safely stowed in his ‘cabin for now’, as he thought of it, and Lady Amanda trotted out into the sun knowing that a proper double-bedded cabin was being prepared for Beauchamp and his bride, there was no room to move for barely-clad bodies glistening with suntan oil, all with glasses in hand, swigging on what smelled, even from a distance, of something containing coconut rum.

  Every sun lounger was either occupied or covered in someone’s towel and belongings, crowds thronged round the bar, and the pool was absolutely heaving with young bodies horsing around. Reggae music blared from loudspeakers cunningly placed so that the cacophony could be heard from every corner of the pool deck.

  A svelte waiter with slicked-down hair sidled up to them and asked if he could get them a cocktail. ‘At this hour?’ questioned Lady Amanda, aghast at this lack of good form.

  ‘You are on a party boat now. No rules, lady. You have exactly what you want, anytime of day.’ At this, he had the audacity to wink at her and nudge her gently in the ribs.

  ‘You filthy dago!’ she shouted, shoving him so hard that he toppled backwards into the waters of the pool, accidentally joining in a game of volleyball played with a balloon filled with water, and scoring for a team that didn’t know he was playing for their side.

  ‘Manda!’ hissed Hugo, who had just watched this little drama. ‘You can’t call people dagos anymore. It’s against the law.’

  ‘So, arrest me. The man was making a pass at me,’ she hissed back.

  ‘Really? Are you sure?’ asked Mr C-C-C in disbelief.

  ‘And why not? Am I not still an attractive blonde, even if of the mature variety?’

  Hugo feigned a coughing fit, stuffed his hankie into his mouth, and went off in search of a quiet corner in which to cry with laughter. Manda was about as inviting as a river full of alligators. He just didn’t dare tell her.

  The old school party eventually found sanctuary in the ice-cream parlour, as the younger set came in for cornets and ice-lollies between their Banana Daiquiris and Blue Lagoons. They found Douglas Huddlestone-Black in there having a solitary coffee, but he made haste to finish and leave before they had all got seated.

  ‘He’s a bit more uppity than he used to be when he visited Mama Headmistress at school. Then, he was all over us like a rash. And he’s still quite yummy, isn’t he, even after all these years,’ said Wuffles, wistfully.

  ‘Maybe we’re just not. Still yummy, that is. Maybe he’s happily married, or even gay,’ suggested Longshanks, who was having trouble getting up on to a high stool at the counter of the parlour, being a shade under five feet tall, and taking size two shoes. She looked strangely like a child suddenly made old, rather than a woman of pensionable age.

  ‘Tell me more about this buying into Parrot Bay?’ asked Lady Amanda, who had been feeling rather left out of the main reason for the reunion. She had evidently been asked as a late extra, and was smarting a little at being thus overlooked.

  ‘There are ten properties as yet unsold, and we’re going to have a good mooch round them, and the island as a whole, and decide whether we want to invest in retirement in the sun.’

  The voices came thick and fast after that. ‘My parents are both dead now, and I’ve finally got probate on Daddy’s will.’

  ‘I was thinking of going somewhere where I could guarantee the weather for my poor, aching joints and the sun would be good for my eczema and dry skin.’

  ‘An annuity has just matured, and I think I could just about afford it, what with my private pension as well as the Old Age one.’

  ‘I’ve got loads stashed away in the bank for a rainy day, but why shouldn’t I use it for continuous sunny days instead?’

  Every one of them was serious about this, and it certainly gave Lady Amanda food for thought. She got so fed up in the winter with the constant cloud cover in the south of England. It was almost like being under a vast frosted glass dome, and she was beginning to feel like a Victorian specimen for some giant.

  Why shouldn’t she have a place in the sun as well? Obviously, she wouldn’t abandon Belchester Towers, but she could certainly do with somewhere warmer in the winter months. And she had a goodly stash of dosh in various accounts and investments.

  ‘The idea is very appealing,’ she said in quite a firm voice. ‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t consider joining you in this venture.’

  Immediately, three sets of eyes swivelled to stare at her: those of Beauchamp, Enid, and Hugo. Was she out of her mind, or would it be just another one of her adventures or whims? Who knew, but it might be fun trying the idea on for size – as long as they were included in the plan as well.

  ‘Nine Knickerbocker Glories over here, my man,’ she trumpeted in the direction of the waiter who was lazily polishing sundae dishes behind the counter. ‘And make it snappy!’

  Lunch was somewhat less formal than breakfast, as they had finally settled themselves down on a couple of benches on an upper deck where the music was not quite so loud, and had observed a barbecue being fired up for informal eating.

  Beauchamp was unanimously, and unfairly, voted to go downstairs, queue, then carry food back upstairs – a total of five trips before everyone was satisfied – and he smouldered as he finally ate his beef burger,
covered in ketchup that he fantasised was his employer’s blood, and wondered whether this would be the pattern of his whole honeymoon. Instead of being at the beck and call of just two people, maybe he’d find himself enslaved to a much greater number of omnipotent and merciless dictators.

  Well, he wouldn’t stand for it. This was his and Enid’s special time, and they would not be waiting on anyone but themselves. There were five additional lady wrinklies plus one other elderly man in ‘their’ party, and he was about to be confronted with six more elderly ladies and another crumbly old man. It just would not do.

  At this point, the voice of his employer broke into his reveries with some good news and some bad news. She gave him the bad news first. ‘I wonder if you would mind going downstairs and getting us all a long cold drink with which to wash down our scratch lunch?’

  His expression told her everything she needed to know, and she quickly added the good news. ‘There are ample staff for each villa at Parrot Bay, so that you two can have a nice rest.’

  Beauchamp was so surprised, he replied before he could think about the words. ‘Really? You actually mean that?’

  ‘Are you doubting my word of honour?’

  ‘Of course not, your ladyship. Now, how many orange juices and how many pineapple juices, ladies?’

  ‘Rum punch for me,’ came a unanimous chorus of voices. Beauchamp set off, sincerely hoping he would never have to deal with this bunch if they ever got tiddly.

  Douglas Huddlestone-Black avoided their company again at dinner, but Beauchamp was aware of some subtle plotting going on, and he feared for the once yummy boy’s safety, should this gang decide to pay him back for his unsociability.