checked them all off on a list, ensured that they all had their luggage and then shepherded them to a waiting coach.
Then they were whisked in air-conditioned comfort along the East Coast Parkway past the glorious profusion of vast banks of bougainvillaeas, over the harbour bridges under the lee of the towering skyscrapers to the World Trade Centre harbour, and were very soon ensconced aboard the Island Pearl, their home for the next ten days.
Looking around her, Maggie decided that it was certainly sumptuous without being in the least bit tacky, and small enough for a definitely family feel. Her grandmother would have enjoyed it, Maggie thought with a pang, but then reminded herself that it was entirely her own fault she was missing it.
She was shown to her cabin, a surprisingly spacious twin down on the Java deck—by a freak of fate, she thought, on the same deck as the medical centre. There and then she vowed to tell no one that she was a doctor, or she’d be hounded by the malingerers if she so much as emerged from her cabin and caught them in search of the ship’s MO.
The cabin, she noted, was blissfully cool. Even this early the air outside was hot, and given time would soar into the eighties or nineties.
She peered through the porthole and saw a flotilla of little fishing vessels and small yachts milling about in the harbour. Fascinated, she propped her chin on her hand and watched for several minutes, until the public address system ‘ting-tonged’ into life.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ a well-modulated female voice began, ‘welcome aboard the Island Pearl. If you would care to make your way to the Malacca deck in half an hour where a buffet breakfast is awaiting you, the captain and crew will be pleased to meet you and give you details of the entertainments and facilities available for your enjoyment during your cruise with us. A map of the ship is posted by each companionway, and another copy is in each cabin by the door. We look forward to your company.’
Ting-tong.
Maggie realised that she was starving. Investigating the doors in her cabin, she found a little shower-room and a wardrobe. Hot, sticky and travel-weary, she had just stripped and was standing under the shower when there was a tap on the door.
‘Your luggage, madam,’ a voice said, and a suitcase appeared in the cabin.
‘Perfect timing,’ she said with satisfaction, and, towelling herself dry, she opened the case and studied the contents.
Not being spoilt for choice, she pulled out a cotton jersey T-shirt dress in pansy-blue that almost exactly matched her eyes, and slipped her feet into cotton sandals.
Tying back her damp hair into a pony-tail with a big fabric band, she brushed on a lick of lipstick and smiled falsely at herself.
Good grief! she thought. I’m nervous. How ridiculous.
With that she opened her cabin door, locked it behind her and made her way up to the Malacca deck.
She was eyeing the buffet and wishing Lucinda was with her after all when a sprightly woman in her sixties smiled at her.
‘Dazzling choice, isn’t it? I’m Rhoda. How do you do?’
Maggie took the proffered hand. ‘Maggie. I’m pleased to meet you.’ And she was, she realised, relaxing almost visibly. ‘Are you alone too?’
‘Yes—which is understandable. But you should have some gorgeous young thing in tow—how about the first officer? He’s spectacularly handsome if you like the Latin type. Bit short, but then you aren’t tall. Or one of the others—I saw the perfect man a little while ago. I do so love men in uniform, don’t you, dear? So romantic, somehow …’
Maggie laughingly restrained her. ‘Please, Rhoda! I’ve been working very hard and I’m here to rest. The last thing I need is a romance.’
‘Rubbish! Everybody needs romance! It’s the most revitalising thing in the world. Now let me see …’
Maggie eyed her new companion warily. ‘You don’t by any chance know my grandmother, do you? Lucinda Wells.’
‘Lucinda Wells—no, I can’t say I do, darling. Why?’
Maggie shrugged ruefully. ‘Oh, nothing. You just reminded me of her.’
Rhoda threw back her head and let out a rippling tinkle of laughter. ‘Oh, dear, excuse me … Is she trying to marry you off, poppet?’
‘You could say that!’
Rhoda patted her hand. ‘Can’t say I blame her. You’re far too pretty to let loose on the streets alone. I’d want you settled, too.’
But despite the constant roving of Rhoda’s eyes during breakfast in the Frangipani Room and the more formal welcome that followed it in the Penang Lounge, the perfect man remained mercifully invisible.
Shortly after the captain finished his welcoming speech, the ship’s engines thrummed gently to life and she pulled slowly out of harbour and began the lazy cruise down the Java Sea to Bali.
Rhoda went to scout out the sunbeds, and Maggie, glad of a little peace, explored the ship until lunch.
The afternoon found her under a sunshade with a book, enjoying the feel of the light breeze over her skin as the little ship cruised steadily down towards the equator. Despite the lazy day she felt ready for bed, a fact enhanced by the change in the time. Of course, it was in reality long past her normal bedtime, but before she could make her escape there was dinner to get through, and she found to her confusion that there was to be no escape. Her company was requested at the captain’s table.
When the ting-tong of the PA called them for dinner, Maggie looked at the two formal dresses she had brought, eenie-meenie-minie-moed and ended up with the midnight silk jersey.
She piled her hair into a loose heap on her head, teased out a few tendrils and twirled in front of the mirror.
What she saw was enough to send her scurrying back to the wardrobe, but bearing in mind that she would have to wear both dresses in the end there seemed little point in changing. It was just that, in the shop and with Jo and Annie egging her on, it hadn’t seemed quite so … Oh, well. Who was going to see, anyway? After all, she’d already seen the captain, and he was a widower in his late fifties with grey, thinning hair and undoubtedly a wallet full of family snaps he would pull out at the first opportunity! Perhaps she’d misjudged her grandmother after all?
She was the last but one to arrive at the captain’s table, and apologised slightly breathlessly for her lateness.
‘Nonsense, my dear,’ Captain Rodrigues said jovially. ‘We’re still waiting for one member of the party—ah, here he is. Ben, come and join us!’
‘I do apologise for being late,’ a deep, rich voice murmured from behind her. ‘One of the penalties of the medical profession.’
As he slid gracefully into the seat beside her, Maggie caught a glimpse of fair hair, blue eyes and a boyish grin above a crisp white dress uniform with gold braid and a red cross on the breast pocket before she lowered her eyes.
Bingo. The ship’s doctor. And that explained the siting of her cabin next to the medical centre.
She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or
