The two women take a beat to glare at one another.
The captain bows to both ladies, and I notice he discreetly avoids lingering on how naturally beautiful Cassandra is, compared to how gaudy-looking and heavily made up her raven-haired mother is. Barbara Cartland, eat your heart out.
They make their way down the line to Garry who is puffing out his chest so much it looks ridiculous. Cassandra stops abruptly, lifts her sunglasses and asks him, ‘Who is in charge of childcare?’
He points my way, and the two ladies make a beeline for me. She looks me up and down as though I’m for sale. I give her a weak smile. ‘Welcome on board the?—’
‘British? Yes, you’ll do nicely. It’ll be so good for my son’s English. Here…’ She reaches into her handbag and retrieves a massive wad of notes. My eyes almost pop out of my head. ‘Take this. Keep him entertained and out of everyone’s hair for the entire trip. Takefullresponsibility for him. Do you understand?’
I nod slowly, staring at the money she’s jabbing at me. Childcare is very much part of the service on board. The manual was very clear about it.
‘He’s got a mouth like a sewer,’ growls the older woman. ‘And I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him if I were you.’
Gosh.Talk about lazy parenting. Poor demon hell-child. No wonder he resorts to playing tricks and repeating foul language. He’ll be starved of love and attention, bless him. I’m no great lover of children but how bad could he be?
‘Well, he’ll hear no cursing from me, and I’ll do what I can to make sure he has an excellent time.’ I beam brightly at the two women. ‘Thank you, but there is no need to tip. Everything is included in the LoveIt Holidays service. I’d be honoured to look after him.’ I gently push Cassandra’s hand away. ‘We hope you have a very enjoyable stay on board theLove Ahoy!Nothing is too much trouble.’ Practically word for word Garry’s gloating from yesterday. At least he should be pleased.
Cassandra shrugs and stuffs the wad of notes back in her handbag. The two women are followed by a party of expensively dressed men, sophisticated young women and a few trendy teens talking rapidly in Turkish. None of them carry so much as a small piece of luggage between them as they forgo any pleasantries and behave as though none of us are standing there to greet them on board. Once the last straggler has disappeared onto the boat, Garry turns to me with a livid expression. The other reps crowd round.
‘What the fuck?’ he spits, trying to keep his voice down. ‘We fuckinglivefor those tips.’ His reddening face is screwed up tight in anger. ‘That was about two grand there you just turned down, you stupid cow.’ He raises both hands as though he wants to throttle me, causing me to flinch. The others are no better. Shaun is rolling his eyes in disgust while the girls are shaking their heads from side to side disbelievingly.
‘You idiot,’ snaps Astrid. ‘Now they’ll not tip at all for the entire trip.’ They stomp away from me while the captain reminds them we have to carry all the luggage to the correct cabins even though none of it is labelled. This seems to infuriate them even more as they thud back down the plank to pick up the thirty or so suitcases that have been abandoned by the cars. We begin picking up the heavy cases and bags. Lord knows how we are supposed to know whose luggage belongs to whom. It’s only as I bring up the rear that a thought suddenly occurs. Where’s the child? I drop the bags onto the decking and race back down the plank towards the cars. They have started their engines. They are ready to drive off. I wave my arms about frantically. ‘Wait! Wait!’
I run to the first car and peer in through the window. Empty. I race to the next, banging on the window for it to stop rolling away. Empty. I run to the next and try to peer in, but the windows are too dark. I yank open the door and see a small child on the back seat, wearing a T-shirt with a picture of He-Man on the front and written underneath the slogan, ‘By the power of Grayskull’. He is swinging his legs and licking an ice lolly. His face and hands are sticky. As he lifts his sweet face towards me, his floppy dark hair hangs down into his adorable, huge dark eyes.So cute.He stops licking and takes a second to speak. I wonder how much English he speaks.
He screws up his little nose. ‘Fuck off, lady, I’m busy.’
I stare at the boy and diplomatically choose to ignore what he’s just said on the grounds that he might be repeating the adults and unaware of what he’s saying. ‘Hello. I’m Maddie. It’s time to get on board,’ I say, pointing towards the gulet. ‘The boat is about to leave.’
He shakes his head and continues licking.
‘We really need to go. Look, your mother is already on board and your grandmother. Everyone is waiting for you.’
‘Not coming.’
How do you administer discipline to a five-year-old? I have no idea. ‘We have more lollies on board. And chocolate. Do you like chocolate or sweets?’
This appears to get his attention. The driver takes this opportunity to twist around in his seat. He lifts his sunglasses, a frustrated glint in his eyes, and says something rapid in Turkish as all the cars beep at him to get a move on.
The child considers what he says, looks from me to the driver and back again. ‘How much chocolate?’
‘All of it. Whatever you want.’
He stares at me as though assessing whether I’m telling the truth.
‘Good,’ he says, shuffling along the seat. ‘Because my parents do not allow me to eat anything with sugar. They are mean. I hate them.’
Oh dear.As soon as we shut the car door, it speeds away, tyres squealing.
* * *
After scanning the allocation list, I manage to get the child to the right room and knock on the door. Silence. The boy rolls his eyes and tuts loudly. ‘They are pretending not to be in.’
I gulp. Surely not. I knock more vigorously this time, and we hear loud thumping steps coming towards the door which is flung open with considerable force. A thick-set, bare-chested man stands scowling at me before he looks down and a warm expression spreads across his face. He greets the child in a strong Turkish accent. ‘Emir! There you are. Me and your mother were just…wonderingwhere you are.’ He’s a terrible liar. I peer behind him to see his mother splayed on the bed in a state of undress. His father digs into his trouser pocket and pulls out an even bigger wad of notes than earlier. He smooths his wet-look, jet-black gelled hair from his handsome face and raises his eyebrows mischievously.
‘Here. Take this. Keep him entertained.’ His eyes twinkle as he winks, thrusts the money at me and shuts the door in our faces.
I swallow hard and look at the cash in my hands. ‘This can’t be normal behaviour?’ I whisper, not expecting an answer.
