‘Yeah,’ I reply, my eyes now fixated on his earrings. Not just cool studs or little hoops, these are long, yellow-gold, diamond-encrusted monstrosities which swing violently every time he moves his head. ‘It was a beautiful beach. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.’
He smiles. ‘But I saw you. Black swimming costume, straw hat. You were talking to the old lady, then you had a wee dander down to the water. Your towel got caught on the sun lounger while you were swatting away that bee.’
I’m officially creeped out. ‘You were watching me?’
‘I watch everyone,’ he replies, like it’s no big deal. ‘It’s a public place.’
He stares at me like he’s trying to unlock face ID on his phone.
‘Yeah, I’m leaving. You’re a fucking danger, mate.’
I knock back my drink and head to the bar, where I let the bar staff know that Colm is a big creepy bastard, and can they please put him on whatever maritime register they have. Jesus, is there anyone else I need to report for misconduct tonight?
As I’m walking towards the lifts, I see Harper and Jess heading my way, looking like they’ve never had a stressful day in their lives.
‘So great to see you, Sophie!’ Jess squeals, throwing her arms around me, almost knocking me over.
‘Likewise,’ I reply, surprised by her reaction. No one has ever been that pleased to see me. I suspect she might be a little tipsy.
‘What are you up to?’ Harper asks.
‘I’ve just left the singles’ mixer,’ I reply. ‘Awful. It’ll definitely be my last. You both look lovely.’
‘We’re hitting the nightclub,’ Harper tells me with a little jiggle. ‘Wanna join?’
‘Me? You don’t want me tagging along,’ I reply. ‘Besides, I’m not exactly dressed for clubbing.’
Harper steps back and looks at my dress.
‘In that dress, sure you are,’ she replies. ‘Let’s go.’
She links arms with both Jess and me, pulling us towards the stairwell. I personally would have taken the lift from deck five to six, but I keep that fact to myself.
‘Are you ready to party!’ Harper asks. I don’t know if this is a genuine question or just one of those statements that DJs make where the only correct response is cheering before the beat drops.
‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘Let’s do this.’
Chapter 37
Two decks below my cabin floor, we enter the main nightclub, Funkytown, open until 2 a.m. It’s has a grand entrance with staff checking IDs in case two kids try to sneak in disguised as a very tall man in a trench coat. Even at 10 p.m. the entrance is busy. People coming and going, lots of laughing and happy, raised voices, and inside it’s bursting at the seams. It looks like everyone on the ship has turned up and most of them are on the dance floor, some women already with shoes in hand.
In addition to Funkytown, there are also two smaller clubs, which offer different events, from ballroom dancing and cover bands to karaoke. They also have daytime events for those who just who want something a little more structured, including decade and genre-themed, Abba costume parties and even a silent disco which must look hysterical to those without headphones. Like a mob of zombies with rhythm.
‘Mai tais?’ Harper suggests, her head already bobbing along to a song I don’t recognise.
‘Fuck, yes!’ Jess replies. ‘I’ll give you a hand. Let’s start as we mean to go on.’
Start? I think she means continue on the road she’s already on. I’m not judging, I just need to catch up.
As they disappear to the bar, I take in my surroundings. I’m surprised to see how retro the nightclub is. For 2023, I expected something more modern and less kitsch, but it’s a cruise ship, not the Ministry of Sound. Saying that, I haven’t been to the Ministry in twenty years. For all I know, these days it might look like a Build a Bear workshop.
Funkytown looks like the club fromSaturday Night Fever, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. A huge space, around the size of the buffet restaurant, complete with illuminated chequerboard dance floor, rotating disco lights, with stools and plenty of seating dotted around the edge of the floor. A DJ booth is platformed above the dance floor and I spy guests dancing in cages, just willing go-go dancing to make a long overdue return.
Isla is here. Perched up against the bar, a designer-bearded man at her side. I’m guessing this is the boyfriend. His black shirt, unbuttoned to his chest, is somewhat fitting with the environment. All he needs is some flares and a medallion. He lifts his phone and snaps Isla holding her cocktail, then takes another of Isla from the side, drinking the cocktail. At least she’s drinking the bloody thing.
‘Mai tais!’ Jess shoves the drink in my face. ‘We drink then we dance.’
The dance floor is already jumping, which is a good thing. I’m never one to shy away from dancing, even if I’m the first one on the dance floor after a couple of drinks. And it’s not a case of concerned onlookers yelling for someone to come and get their grandma, I’m actually pretty decent. I can move. You don’t just forget how to party when you hit forty. If someone my age can’t dance, then they never could, but that’s fine. No one needs to be amazing when they hit the floor, participation is far more important.
