‘Hello, Ray.’
The newcomer was a slim man of indeterminate age. He wore slacks of eye-watering, skin-hugging tightness and a flamboyantly frilled shirt. He had melting brown eyes and sensuous lips, and wore his hair tied back.
Ray gave an ingratiating simper. ‘Hello, Mr Deadman, hello Captain Rumbuggery. Oooh!’ Ray let out a squeal of laughter and clapped his hand across his mouth.
‘What is it, Ray?’ asked Deadman.
‘I just wanted to ask you about Miss Darling’s dress for the screen test. Would you like to go with the crushed silk or the eau-de-nil?’
‘Why not ask her?’ said Deadman. He beckoned Ann over to make the introductions. ‘I don’t believe you two have met.’
‘Oh?’ Ann eyed Ray with her customary calculation.
‘Miss Darling,’ gushed Ray, ‘how very bona to vada your eek at last. Fantabulosa! Such an honour, I’m such a fan.’
‘Oh!’ said Ann again, clearly dismissing Ray from her ‘to do’ list.
‘I thought we’d better see what we can do with your riah …’ Ann gave her hair a self-conscious pat. ‘… and have a little conflab about your cossies. If we stroll down to my cabin, would you be interested in inspecting my wares?’
Ann gave the camp costumier a dismissive look. ‘I shouldn’t think so.’
‘Ooh, you are awful!’ Ray flapped limply at Ann’s arm. ‘I’ll think you’d carry off the raw silk very well. How d’you think she’d look in the raw, Mister Deadman?’
‘Ask any casting director in Hollywood,’ said Deadman nastily. Ann scowled at him. Ray gave a falsetto giggle.
Ann’s eyes narrowed. ‘If I throw a stick will you leave?’
‘You’re such a tease – just my type.’
‘I don’t think so, fly boy. I got a pair of wings and an undercarriage you ain’t never gonna be interested in.’
Ray let out an even higher-pitched squeal of laughter. The Captain’s glass shattered in his hand.
‘Ooh you’re soooo naughty. I’m so looking forward to dressing you. I’ll just go and lay on some chiffon …’
‘Sure,’ drawled Ann. ‘Knock yourself out.’
‘… and then I’ll come and find you. Don’t go away now.’
Ann watched him go with pursed lips. ‘Who’s the squirt?’
‘Ray? He’ll be dressing you for the movie,’ Deadman told her. ‘He’s a wizard with a needle and thread. Back in Hollywood they call him Fey Ray.’
‘I can imagine. But who says I’m goin’ on this cruise to nowhere?’
Deadman smiled the smile of the shark he was. ‘Doesn’t the sight of Dong make you kinda curious?’
The memory of the crudely drawn picture flickered to the forefront of Ann’s mind. ‘Maybe,’ she admitted. ‘But let me get this straight – you’re askin’ me to spend weeks on a beat-up old ship, the only female on board, with dozens of sailors, gawpin’ and lustin’ after me and watching my every move? What sort of goil do you think I am?’
‘An actress.’
‘OK, OK.’ She held up her hands. ‘Ya persuaded me. But what’s this cargo the old seagull keeps yabberin’ on about? Contraband, he said.’
‘I’m not saying anything.’ Deadman glared at the Skipper. ‘And neither is he. ’Cause if he doesn’t keep quiet, then the authorities might find out what really happens at those fish finger parties he throws.’
A guilty, fear-stricken look flickered across Rumbuggery’s white-bearded face. ‘You can’t prove nothin’.’
Ann stood up. “Well if I’m joinin’ this crazy ship I need showin’ to my suite.’
The Skipper stared. ‘Suite? Oh, sure, suite.’
‘Yeah. I gotta powder my nose.’
‘Huh?’ The Skipper stared at Deadman, who closed off one nostril with his index finger in order to mime snorting up some powdered substance …
Ann stamped her foot. ‘I mean I want to take a crap, only I was too ladylike to say so, OK?’ She turned her back on Deadman.
‘Classy broad,’ muttered Deadman under his breath. Raising his voice, he added, ‘Skipper, maybe you could get someone to show Miss Darling to her suite.’
Rumbuggery staggered to the door and hailed a passing crewman. A young, well-muscled, long-limbed, lithe figure dressed in a tight-fitting sailor suit stepped into the doorway.
Rumbuggery introduced the seaman. ‘Roger the cabin boy.’
Ann eyed the creature standing before her. ‘Is that his name or an invitation?’ She turned to Deadman. ‘Things are looking up. Maybe this cockamamie cruise won’t be so bad after all.’ She gave Roger a full-on dazzling smile. ‘Hello there. Come on up to my place – wherever that is. Lead on.’ She gave Roger a pat on the backside. ‘I’m Ann, but you can call me Darling.’ She winked outrageously at Deadman. ‘Don’t wait up, mother, I’m going outside and I could be some time. If you hear me scream, stay the hell out.’
Deadman and the Captain watched Ann and Roger leave. Rumbuggery’s lips were pursed. ‘I still shtand by what I shaid – this is a foolhardy mission, based on the word of a mind-ravaged lost soul. Itsh dangerous and no place for a woman. A woman’sh place is in the home, peeling potatoesh, whitewashing the coal cellar and taking spidersh out of the bath.’
Deadman raised an eyebrow. ‘I think Miss Darling’s place is in a cat’s home.’
‘I don’t think much of women on shipsh.’ Rumbuggery took a long pull from his bottle. ‘Truth be told, I don’t think much of women at all. The love of my life ish thish.’ He tapped his bottle. ‘And my ship – better than a woman any day.”
‘How come?’
‘Shipsh never need yet another pair of shoesh. Shipsh never ask if their bow is too wide or if their rigging is sagging. You can rent a ship to others by the day and you can tie up a ship without it ever complainin’!’
Deadman shook his head. A leading lady with the morals of a degenerate baboon, a rum-sodden old sea-dog in command and a dresser more camp than a scout jamboree. He sighed. It was going to be a long voyage …
The ship rang with orders.
‘Cast off fore – cast off aft.’
‘Aye aye, Skipper.’
