it was eleventh-hour. Fate stepped in,’ said Olive. ‘And Ven. And Meadowhall’s late-night opening hours.’
‘I don’t care what stepped in, I’m just chuffed to bits and pieces. Oh Olive, we are going to have such a fantastic time – the three of us.’
‘You’ve remembered my swanky pink suitcase, haven’t you, Ven?’ Olive asked in a sudden moment of panic.
Ven feigned forgetfulness and shrieked, ‘Oh my God – no! It’s still on the kitchen table!’ Then she quickly nudged Olive and grinned. ‘As if.’
‘Oh, this is going to be so good,’ said Roz. She looked like her old self, light and smiley, as in the old days, before Robert the Brute took over her life and squashed all the joy out of her.
Oh God, I hope so, thought Ven. Because she knew that all wasn’t quite as it appeared on the surface.
It was less than a ten-minute journey to the bus station, during which the three of them twittered like an excited dawn chorus on the back seat.
‘I’ll pay the driver,’ said Olive, getting out her purse, as the taxi pulled up.
‘Ah, ah – no, you won’t.’ Ven slapped her hand. ‘I have been sent the cash to pay for all these peripheries like fares and coffees when we stop at the motorway services, so don’t you dare.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Roz.
‘Yes,’ growled Ven. They were always having this sort of ‘generous argument’. It infuriated her.
‘Bloody hell. Who donated the prize? Rockerfeller?’ laughed Roz.
‘Oy, it’s big business getting the right slogan. I could make them millions,’ sniffed Ven proudly.
They arrived at Barnsley Interchange where a crowd of people with similar tags on their suitcases were waiting, so at least they knew they were in the right place. The tags were all different colours, denoting which deck the suitcase was destined for.
‘Didn’t think there would be this many going from Barnsley,’ said Olive. ‘Half the ship will be full of Yorkshiremen.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ laughed Ven. ‘The ship holds more than three thousand passengers.’
‘Do you reckon B deck is more expensive than our C deck?’ whispered Roz, as the elderly owner of a suitcase with a B deck tag, in a blazer and tie, was asking an E deck man, ‘Is it your first time on the Mermaidia ?’
‘It’s our first cruise full stop,’ said E Deck Man.
‘It’s our thirtieth,’ said Mr B Deck, puffing out his chest. ‘Our eighth on the Mermaidia , isn’t it, Irene?’
‘Big-headed sod,’ said Ven. ‘If—’ She bit off what she was going to say. If Frankie were here, she’d have had him like a hungry Jack Russell with a rat!
‘Think I’ll nip to the loo,’ said Olive. ‘Oh heck, are you sure I can buy things on the ship? I had a nightmare last night that I didn’t have any clothes and was walking around naked.’
‘Olive, look at my suitcases.’ Ven gestured to her heaving luggage. ‘I’ve over-bought so much stuff. Share my wardrobe. You’ve been doing it since we were twelve anyway.’
Olive and Ven always were the same dress size. Olive never had a lot of money to spend on clothes but Ven had a real eye for fashion and was happy to let Olive loose in her wardrobe when they were teenagers. She used to think that loads of her clothes better suited her blonde friend. Greens and reds and violets always looked more stunning against Olive’s lovely long golden hair than her own auburn locks.
‘Thanks,’ smiled Olive. ‘I think I might have to take you up on that. Apart from the stuff you bought me last night, I’ve only got a couple of tatty rags. Oh God – I didn’t buy a swimsuit, did I?’
‘No worries, I’ve packed five,’ said Ven. ‘Or was it six?’
‘Trust you,’ said Roz.
‘And three trankinis.’
‘Trankinis?’ Roz burst into laughter. ‘Sounds like a cocktail for drag artists. It’s tankini, you twerp.’
In the toilet, Olive wished the bus would hurry up. She kept imagining a truck full of Hardcastles arriving
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