on a chair. It was a wonderfully immersive way to finish off the tour. By mid-afternoon we were strolling back into the square, happily replete. A few dogs lay in sleepy mounds on the asphalt, shaded by the wooden horse. I felt like joining them.
The bus trip back down to Canakkale was quiet, apart from the damply whistling snores of Enid Hurley. A paper bag was passed around to collect gratuities for Ali and the bus driver, with much confusion around currency conversion. Lew made a little speech expressing our appreciation before thrusting the bag into Ali’s hands. It was like a cheery drug deal.
Michael Russo was already at the dock when we pulled up, loading Lyn’s and Griffin’s luggage into the boot of a glossy four-wheel drive. He enjoyed a mixed reception from his family, with Lyn wrapping herself around him like a limpet and Griffin nodding in his father’s general direction before sliding into the back seat. He didn’t look particularly happy, but then neither did Quinn.
The rest of us bid them farewell as we tumbled tiredly off the bus. Cruise staff stood beside a table which held a large urn of fruit punch, but not many people were stopping to partake. Instead we headed straight onto the ship, parting in the foyer with an arrangement to meet by the pool deck in half an hour for drinks.
I was still determined to use the stairs at all times, although the reality was a little dampening. I stood with one hand on the balustrade as Quinn and Ruby passed me at a run, laughing. Apparently they were going to race the entire distance. Youth really was wasted on the young. I began to follow but was halted by an agitated voice on the other side of the partition. It was a male, on a phone, and it sounded like he was begging somebody not to leave him.
You can’t give up now. You’ll be throwing away everything we’ve got. We can get through this.
I thought I recognised the voice so I moved a few steps around to the edge of the partition. There was a luggage trolley parked there.
Just stay strong, I’ll be back soon.
Something twigged. I turned to stare at the trolley, tuning the rest of the conversation out. There were four suitcases, and one of them was purple. A sparkly lemon-shaped tag dangled from the handle.
I gaped at the trolley for a few long minutes. Then I tugged my mobile from my bag and logged into the ship’s internet. I found the photo on Facebook and held the phone up, comparing the two. They were the same. Donald rounded the corner, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw me. We stared at each other in surprise.
‘Nell. Um, what are you doing?’
‘I think I recognise that case,’ I said truthfully, nodding at the sparkly tag. I dropped the phone into my bag and turned my attention to him. He looked pale. ‘I didn’t mean to listen in. Ah, is everything okay?’
‘Sure,’ he said slowly. ‘Although you do seem to make a habit of … never mind.’
I flushed, but decided it wasn’t worth trying to explain myself further. My explanation didn’t make much sense anyway, not even to me. Instead I smiled as I nodded towards the mobile in his hand. ‘Better be careful. You should have that on airplane mode. It’ll cost you a fortune.’
‘I have a special plan.’
‘Good to hear.’ I tried to inject a little humour into my voice. ‘I love special plans. Everyone should have one.’
‘Yes. Okay, then. Um, see you later.’
The man really was as flat as a tack. I gave a distracted wave and went back to gazing at the suitcase. The lemon sparkled cheerfully. It was more suitable for a thirteen-year-old girl than the companion of a nearly fifty-year-old man. But I knew that he preferred women closer to his own age. I pictured a muttony type, with short skirts and chandelier earrings. I took a deep breath. Whoever and whatever she was, it seemed that she, and Ashley Armistead, had arrived.
Chapter 6
Don’t think your readers haven’t noticed that you’re not getting as many columns
The bus trip back down to Canakkale was quiet, apart from the damply whistling snores of Enid Hurley. A paper bag was passed around to collect gratuities for Ali and the bus driver, with much confusion around currency conversion. Lew made a little speech expressing our appreciation before thrusting the bag into Ali’s hands. It was like a cheery drug deal.
Michael Russo was already at the dock when we pulled up, loading Lyn’s and Griffin’s luggage into the boot of a glossy four-wheel drive. He enjoyed a mixed reception from his family, with Lyn wrapping herself around him like a limpet and Griffin nodding in his father’s general direction before sliding into the back seat. He didn’t look particularly happy, but then neither did Quinn.
The rest of us bid them farewell as we tumbled tiredly off the bus. Cruise staff stood beside a table which held a large urn of fruit punch, but not many people were stopping to partake. Instead we headed straight onto the ship, parting in the foyer with an arrangement to meet by the pool deck in half an hour for drinks.
I was still determined to use the stairs at all times, although the reality was a little dampening. I stood with one hand on the balustrade as Quinn and Ruby passed me at a run, laughing. Apparently they were going to race the entire distance. Youth really was wasted on the young. I began to follow but was halted by an agitated voice on the other side of the partition. It was a male, on a phone, and it sounded like he was begging somebody not to leave him.
You can’t give up now. You’ll be throwing away everything we’ve got. We can get through this.
I thought I recognised the voice so I moved a few steps around to the edge of the partition. There was a luggage trolley parked there.
Just stay strong, I’ll be back soon.
Something twigged. I turned to stare at the trolley, tuning the rest of the conversation out. There were four suitcases, and one of them was purple. A sparkly lemon-shaped tag dangled from the handle.
I gaped at the trolley for a few long minutes. Then I tugged my mobile from my bag and logged into the ship’s internet. I found the photo on Facebook and held the phone up, comparing the two. They were the same. Donald rounded the corner, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw me. We stared at each other in surprise.
‘Nell. Um, what are you doing?’
‘I think I recognise that case,’ I said truthfully, nodding at the sparkly tag. I dropped the phone into my bag and turned my attention to him. He looked pale. ‘I didn’t mean to listen in. Ah, is everything okay?’
‘Sure,’ he said slowly. ‘Although you do seem to make a habit of … never mind.’
I flushed, but decided it wasn’t worth trying to explain myself further. My explanation didn’t make much sense anyway, not even to me. Instead I smiled as I nodded towards the mobile in his hand. ‘Better be careful. You should have that on airplane mode. It’ll cost you a fortune.’
‘I have a special plan.’
‘Good to hear.’ I tried to inject a little humour into my voice. ‘I love special plans. Everyone should have one.’
‘Yes. Okay, then. Um, see you later.’
The man really was as flat as a tack. I gave a distracted wave and went back to gazing at the suitcase. The lemon sparkled cheerfully. It was more suitable for a thirteen-year-old girl than the companion of a nearly fifty-year-old man. But I knew that he preferred women closer to his own age. I pictured a muttony type, with short skirts and chandelier earrings. I took a deep breath. Whoever and whatever she was, it seemed that she, and Ashley Armistead, had arrived.
Chapter 6
Don’t think your readers haven’t noticed that you’re not getting as many columns
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