Trying not to get too discouraged, I carry on with my plans to go swimming. Perhaps ‘swimming’ is too ambitious, maybe wading up to my waist is more accurate. I pour myself into my swimming costume, feeling the Lycra grip and flatten anything that wobbles. I stand in front of the mirror, which gives me an entirely different reflection than the one I believed to be true at home. I frown. The black of the costume makes me look paler than I normally am. I should have self-tanned, even the gradual stuff that has no discernible guide colour, eventually ending up with runny, streaky thigh stripes that look like I’ve pissed myself. If I were blonde or a redhead, I could get away with this colour. People would just be like ’ah, she’s Swedish or Celtic, it’s fine,’ instead of forming finger crosses and waiting for me to explode in the sunlight. It’s too late to do anything about it now so I slather on sun cream, tie back my hair, cover up with a blue kaftan and slip into my sliders. At least my toenails are painted but given my swimming costume, perhaps choosing black gel might not have been the best option. Sun hat and beach bag in hand, I make my way back to the lift.
The main pool is located on the lido deck, which I initially read as the libido deck, making me question what kind of cruise I’ve actually booked. After rereading correctly (and feeling somewhat disappointed) I discover it’s on the top deck of the ship. It’s busy and loud.
In front of two huge waterslides, there are two pools. A larger one and one specifically for kids, some who appear to be battering a beach ball around, mainly off each other’s heads. The screams from the waterslides are both frightening and hilarious. The main pool isn’t quite so frantic but despite what looks like a hundred sun loungers placed around the deck, I can’t see any free. It’s going to be like the buffet all over again only with no cake to ease the discomfort. I just want to lie down, read Dawn French, and avoid sunburn wherever possible. Is that too much to ask?
As I continue to scan the deck, I catch the attention of a member of staff. She looks late teens and very happy to be here.
‘Are there any loungers available?’ I ask, already knowing the answer. I might as well have asked if she could reverse the ageing process.
She gives me a very sweet pity smile. ‘The waterslides are quite popular,’ she says. ‘On sea days, you have to be up here early to nab a lounger. We discourage people from laying down towels to save chairs, but it does happen, I’m afraid. We do have an adult pool on deck nine if you want to try there?’
‘I will!’ I reply, wondering how I could have missed this on the deck plans. Adults-only sounds ideal. ‘Thanks for your help!’
I promptly turn myself around, and flip-flop myself back to the lift, just as Justin Timberlake’s voice begins blasting over the speakers. I’d rather sit in the smoking area than endure that.
The adults-only area is thankfully a completely different atmosphere. There’s a shaded space to the left with comfy white couches and tables, and a retractable roof covering a large oval-shaped pool. While it’s still a busy area, and filled with couples, I feel completely at ease. I notice a pool bar at the back with waiting staff carrying drinks to guests and it’s all very civilised compared to the chaos at the pool above. Surprisingly I find two loungers on the far side. It’s as if they knew I was coming. I place my book down and head to the bar.
The cocktails are listed on a board, twelve of them in total. Everything from piña coladas and mojitos to rum punch and something called a Gully Wash. I settle for a Bahama Mama, which is rum, grenadine, orange and pineapple juice, vowing to make my way through the list before the week is out. Grabbing a towel from the pile at the side, I take off my kaftan and make myself comfortable at the side of the pool. The music here is far better than upstairs. Instead of Justin bloody Timberlake, there’s a softer, almost Caribbean-style music playing. Maybe I’m just getting old or maybe it’s because I’ll shove the cotton bud in a little too far if I’m forced to listen to ‘Can’t Stop the Feeling’ one more time.
Two chapters into my book, I order a Gully Wash. It’s condensed milk, coconut water, gin and angostura bitters. It arrives in a martini glass, frosted with sugar, looking like a runny, watery cup of bird poo. I hope that’s nutmeg sprinkled on the top.
‘On the Gully Wash already?’
Startled, I whip around to see the man from the pub, while Gully Wash splashes down my chin and cleavage.
‘You scared me!’
‘Apologies. Just wanted to say hi!’
‘Hi!’ I respond, placing my drink on the side table while wiping the booze off me. ‘Nice to see you again.’
It was nice to see him. All six foot of him, bare-chested in his pool shorts. He doesn’t have a six-pack, or anything close to a sculpted body. It’s not quite a dad bod, he’s just a thicker guy and I am not complaining. I survey the deck, expecting to see his significant other running behind him, ready to knock me out if I get too close. So far nothing.
‘Mind if I join you?’ he asks, motioning towards the second lounger.
‘Sure,’ I reply nonchalantly, going back to my book, when deep down it’s already been established that I do not mind, please sit down immediately and yes, I will marry you, thanks for asking.
He lays a towel on the lounger beside me and starts applying sun cream to his arms.
‘I heard you were with us, Captain Simon. Couldn’t stay away, huh?’
I look up from page twenty-eight to see a member of the pool waiting staff coming towards our loungers. I look around to see who he’s speaking to.
‘Hey, Owen, it’s been a while! Yeah, thought I’d take in the sights. Take advantage of the cocktails, eat some of Hana’s sushi, you know how it is.’
Owen laughs. ‘I had some futomaki yesterday. Insanely good. Nice to see you anyway. What can I get you?’
He turns to me. ‘Is that good? I’ve never actually tried one.’
I look down at my drink. ‘It’s dreadful. Absolutely not my favourite.’
‘Hmm, just a tequila sunrise then,’ he tells Owen, who scurries off to the bar.
I want to get back to my book, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
‘You’re a captain?’ I ask. ‘Army or sea?’
‘Sea,’ he replies.
