Cover

Dedication

For Alex, with love and thanks for all your support and plot help, and because this one has a port hole on the cover. xxx

Michael has never …

Michael has never been anywhere as grand as this before. He hangs the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the handle, closes the door of his stateroom and takes it all in.

The bed is enormous. The towel placed on top has been crafted into the shape of a swan. He touches its beak. Clever. The bed linen is crisp white with the discreet blue-and-gold logo of the cruise company, Heracles, on each of the pillows.

There is a basket of fruit on a small table by a gold velvet armchair. Not apples and oranges and everyday pieces like that, but mango, kiwi, papaya and a bright pink fruit which has already been cut in half to expose a strange black and white interior – dragon fruit.

Michael picks up the silver spoon set alongside it on a white, logoed plate with a folded linen napkin. The spoon is pleasingly heavy and hallmarked, he notices, and stamped with the name of the ship – Immanis. He unties the thick, gold and blue velvet ribbon, unwraps the cellophane and takes a scoop of the dragon fruit. He’s expecting it to be delicious from the way it looks, but it’s strangely tasteless. Ah well. He cuts a slice of mango instead. The juice runs down his hand and he pops it into his mouth. Much better.

He goes into the black marble bathroom and rinses the juice off. There’s a walk-in shower as well as an enormous bath and a huge array of toiletries – not only shampoo and shower gel but exfoliators, body lotions and shaving gel. There’s also a full-sized bottle of his favourite aftershave which he has been ordering from a perfumier in Morocco since discovering it when he was on holiday there years ago. There’s a note underneath on which ‘With the compliments of the captain and crew’ is written in elaborate cursive.

He picks up the bottle, takes off the cap and inhales the woody scent. It immediately transports him back to memories of dusty squares, souks, leather stalls and hawkers trying to sell camel rides to tourists. He smiles. That was all a very long time ago. But he still orders his aftershave from the same little shop to this day, at least when he can afford it.

He wonders how they knew about the aftershave. He’s a bit of a social media addict these days, and comes to the conclusion that he must have mentioned it on his Facebook page at some point. He spends a lot of time on Facebook, looking for competitions to enter. And over the years he’s won a lot. Mainly things of no great consequence – a few chocolate bars here or an item of clothing there. A sofa, one time. Sometimes things he can’t even use, like a year’s supply of dog food. He gave that to a local shelter – they were delighted. Whatever the prize, the thrill of winning is always the same. He lives a quiet life these days – no partner, very few friends, not much of a social life. But he does enjoy his competitions.

The best thing he’s ever won is a car. Or at least, that was the best thing he’d won before this trip.

He doesn’t remember entering the competition to win the cruise. But he enters so many, especially to try to win holidays, that he’s not that surprised.

He’s jet-lagged after his long journey, but he knows what will sort him out – a soak in the hot tub on the balcony. Just the thing. He’s been looking forward to it since he received the email telling him he’d won, with a link to a virtual tour of the suite he’d be staying in. He loves hot tubs. He can’t afford one at home but is forever trying to win one. No luck so far – but this is the next best thing.

He strips off, folding his clothes neatly onto the gold chair, and takes the thick, deep blue robe from the bed to wrap around himself. As he unfolds it, a sign falls out which perkily states ‘Want to take me home? I’m available for sale in the gift shop!’

He smiles. He wonders how much a suite like this would cost if he was paying for it. A lot, he is sure. Why would someone with that kind of money steal a robe?

Still, he can see why they might want to – it’s about the softest thing he’s ever worn. He unties a gold ribbon from the disposable slippers, which are deep blue with the ship’s logo in gold. The soles are thick and sumptuous – wearing them is like walking on air.

He takes the mini bottle of champagne from the ice bucket, pops the cork and pours himself a glass. He doesn’t generally drink much these days, and certainly never alone. But it seems a shame to let it go to waste, and besides, being here, like this, is in itself a special occasion. One to celebrate, surely.

He pads over to the glass doors and slides them open. It’s a beautiful night. Stepping out on to the balcony, he puts his glass down on a small table, folds back the cover on the hot tub and leaves it to one side. He’s already put the ‘Do not disturb’ sign on the door.

He climbs up the wooden steps, puts one foot into the water, and 220 volts shoot through him, stopping his heart almost immediately. He falls face down into the water, where he remains until his bloated body is found by a cleaner two days later.

Prologue

The Immanis is eighteen decks high – taller than the Eiffel Tower – and the length of five football pitches. She is five times the size of the Titanic, not that anyone wants to think about anything like that right now as they embark, of course. There are twenty-five restaurants on board – one has two Michelin stars – and twenty-two bars, including one which only serves champagne, caviar and oysters. There are six pools, three theatres, two spas and a casino. There’s also a water park with slides and surf simulator, a zip wire between two of the funnels, a rollercoaster and a fully kitted out soft play centre, currently the largest anywhere at sea. In short, everything that anyone could wish for on the perfect Caribbean cruise is here.

And the suites! The twenty best suites are each two storeys high with enormous terraces and private plunge pools. Each one comes with its own personal butler who is on hand 24/7 to help with anything that is needed. Anything at all.

All the passengers are very excited – they barely have a care in the world. And why would they? What could possibly go wrong? Cruising is one of the safest forms of transport. Worldwide, nearly thirty million people typically go on a cruise every year. There are very few accidents. Very few. Almost no one thinks about the handful of people who go missing from these trips each year – most of these passengers arriving probably don’t even know about them. Naturally, almost no one yet has any idea that someone will go missing on this very trip. Preparations are already being made. Plans are in motion. They have been for a long time.

PART ONE

1

Antonio

New Year’s Eve 2021, 12:00

The Caribbean

‘Lola! Come on! You’re not concentrating!’ Jamie, the entertainment director, shouts.

High above the ground, Lola is spinning round and round in her harness, giggling hysterically, the flowing feathers of her costume trailing behind her.

‘It’s New Year’s Eve, Jamie!’ she calls. ‘Let’s have some fun, for once! Wheeeeeeeee! Wheeeee!’

Jamie stabs at the iPad that controls the harness and it moves slowly to lower Lola to the ground. She is still twirling, only stopping when the floor comes up to meet her feet.

I try to hide a smirk.

‘You’re no fun,’ Lola grumbles. ‘We already know this routine inside out. Why do we need yet another dress rehearsal? There are so many better things we could be doing.’ She yawns theatrically. ‘Like sleeping, for one.’

Jamie gestures at the iPad again. ‘Health and safety, Lola, as you well know. Periodically we have to check the harnesses, and that everything’s still all in sync with the app.’ He looks her up and down. ‘In case you’ve lost weight. Or put it on. Or—’

‘Rude!’ she cries good-naturedly. ‘How dare you suggest I’ve put on weight?’

I see him try to stifle a smile. He is trying to be strict but no one can ever resist Lola. Everyone loves her.

‘You know very well that I’m not suggesting anything,’ he says. ‘I just want to keep the Safety Officer off my back, and check that you’re not going to come crashing down on some poor unfortunate audience member’s head, or be accidentally slammed into the wall or floor. Unless that’s what you want, of course.’

Bit unnecessary, the violent imagery, I think. All three of us know these are basically box-ticking exercises.

Lola bites her lip and pulls an exaggerated look of contrition. ‘No, Jamie,’ she says in a little-girl voice. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t want that. I’ll be good now, I promise.’

He nods. ‘Glad to hear it,’ he says. ‘So, if you’re ready to behave professionally, Lola, we’ll get all the checks out of the way, and then you can go back to sleep or do whatever you want to do. Antonio – you ready too?’

‘Yup, ready to go.’

Jamie jabs at the screen, the music starts and our two harnesses rise slowly on either side of the stage as we grip the purple silk drapes which rise with them. I hold the fixed position we take at the beginning of the performance, secured only by one foot and one hand wrapped into the silk, and Lola rises in a mirrored position, only she is twirling her free hand and foot sarcastically, flicking Jamie vees and wiggling her hips from side to side. Jamie sighs and turns away from her. He probably has other things he’d rather do than be here faffing around with the harnesses, but it’s his neck on the line if anything goes wrong.

As we reach the top, the music changes and we let go of the silks. The harnesses also drop slightly at the very same moment, as if we are about to fall, which always draws shocked gasps from the audience. In their absence, Lola calls out a silly ‘ooooohhhhhh’, performs an unscheduled somersault and pulls a stupid face as our two harnesses make us ‘fly’ to meet in the middle, where we perform our dance, several metres above the stage.

At this point Lola stops messing around and we move in perfect sync, gliding towards, around and away from each other, swooping, turning, looping, meeting each other’s eyes and then turning away again. In perfect time with the music, telling its story. In perfect sync with each other.

We have performed this routine so many times it is almost meditative. Hypnotic and mesmerizing for the audience.

The final chords sound, we strike our finishing pose and are then slowly lowered to the ground, where Jamie unclips us.

Lola takes an over-exaggerated bow, collects invisible flowers which are apparently being thrown by an imaginary audience, mouthing ‘thank you, thank you’ and then asks: ‘Happy, Jamie? Are we safe enough for you now?’

Jamie prods at the iPad. ‘Yep. All done. That wasn’t so bad, Lola, was it?’

‘It was brilliant,’ she mocks, ‘I have literally never, ever had more fun in my life.’

Jamie ignores her sarcasm. ‘Good to hear. See you both later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in the meantime – the big boss is here for the evening show and I need you both in top form.’

Once Jamie is out of earshot, Lola says: ‘God, that guy is tedious.’

‘He’s just doing his job, Lola – doing his best to keep us safe and healthy. You should be pleased.’

She pouts. ‘It’s so boring though. And speaking of healthy, I’m desperate for a smoke – I’m going to get rid of this costume and go outside.’ She picks up her bag. ‘What are you doing now?’

‘I thought I might go to the gym.’

She laughs. ‘Rather you than me.’

‘What about you? Back to bed like you said to Jamie?’

‘Maybe later. I’m meeting Alice for coffee. Stuff we’ve got to talk about.’

‘Stuff? Like what?’ I ask. Lola’s always saying things like that to wind me up – she knows I hate it when she has secrets from me.

She taps the side of her nose. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know? Nothing for you to worry about – just girl stuff. See you later, gym boy. Enjoy your workout.’

2

Alice

New Year’s Eve 2021, 22:00

The Caribbean

I’ve been summoned to the captain’s table this evening. It’ll be my first time since being on board. Apparently, CEO Nico has come for a visit, and he wants to meet me. I’m told he’s been desperate to get a three-Michelin-starred chef on Immanis for ages, and I have now made that wish come true.

Cute.

I’ve dressed up for the occasion – it’s probably a bit over the top, but I’m in a Vampire’s Wife dress I was given by a very rich client as a thank you for a particularly good dinner party I catered. It’s about the first time I’ve been out of chef’s scrubs or pyjamas since I joined the ship. I’m looking forward to a night away from the kitchen, eating the best quality food, carefully prepared by my sous chefs and served by fawning waiters. What’s not to like? I hope Nico arrives soon; it’s a bit awkward making small talk with Leo by myself – he’s not exactly known for his conversational skills and neither am I. I’m always more comfortable in the kitchen than at the table.

TopSail is the smartest restaurant on board by far and is at almost the highest point of the ship, accessed by a dedicated glass lift. The sixty-cover dining room (tiny for a ship of this size for that extra exclusive feel) has huge windows which go all the way round and, in a somewhat retro way, revolves.

Tonight I’m also taking the opportunity to check how the restaurant appears from a client’s point of view, as I almost never get to do that. Chefs should eat in their own restaurants, but we don’t. We never have the time.

‘Nico, how lovely to see you,’ gushes the hostess, a young woman in a tight, floor-length dress covered in black sequins, as Nico steps through the door. All guests in this restaurant are greeted by name – the staff are sent pictures with their bookings to make sure they get them right. Where possible, there are also a few biographical details so the waiters and hosts can do bespoke schmoozing, plus a list of their foodie likes and dislikes to make sure everything is catered to their personal tastes.

‘Your table is ready for you. Captain Leo and Alice are already here,’ she tells him. ‘Please follow me.’

We stand as Nico arrives at the table and both shake his hand. ‘I’m so pleased you could join me for dinner tonight, Leo, Alice,’ Nico says. ‘I appreciate it. I won’t keep you long – I’m sure you have other people to see. And you should be able to enjoy your New Year’s Eve, of course.’

We sit down and a waiter offers us a choice of various types of bread, all freshly baked on site today. I choose walnut and he places it on my side plate with tongs.

Leo smiles politely. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you, Nico, as always. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to linger – I’m back on shift at midnight. The younger ones are more bothered about tonight’s party than me, so I’m happy to let one of them have the time off and take my turn keeping the ship on course.’

Nico nods. ‘That’s very generous of you – I’m sure they appreciate it.’

Leo laughs. ‘I doubt it.’

Some amuse-bouches are brought to the table and set in front of us. There’s a blob of wakame (basically, seaweed by another name, but in a high-end restaurant like this, it is always wakame) on an elaborate spoon adorned with orange fish eggs, a parmesan crisp with cayenne topped with Beluga caviar, and a tiny courgette muffin served inside a freeze-dried and lightly caramelized courgette flower. All of these are my creations, and all ones of which I’m very proud. The waiter describes each one in an impressive amount of detail, as I insist they do. We serve three different amuse-bouches every day of the week, and the menu changes daily, so the servers have a lot to memorize. But it’s important. People don’t come to a Michelin-starred restaurant just for the food – they come for the entire experience. I sometimes say it’s more like a theatrical production than a meal, and pretend I don’t see the kitchen staff rolling their eyes. I’m right, though – I know I am.

The waiter finishes his spiel, which he does to perfection. I must remember to congratulate him on his next shift.

‘This looks delicious, Alice,’ Nico says. ‘I don’t mean to be a fanboy, but I’m not ashamed to say I’m extremely excited to have you on board, and almost as excited to be having dinner with you today. I’ve eaten several times at your restaurants and I wanted to tell you personally what a pleasure it always is, and how delighted I am that you accepted this post with Heracles. You’ve already worked wonders with TopSail, and I’m sure you’ll put it even more on the map than it already is. If that makes sense.’

‘The food has always been excellent on Immanis,’ he continues, ‘but it’s really gone up a notch since you arrived. I hope that in the future, we might be the first ever cruise ship to have a three Michelin-starred restaurant. Wouldn’t that be something?’

I blush. That would be something. And not something I can promise by any means. ‘I’ll do my best,’ I say vaguely.

Three waiters appear in sync and whisk the used crockery away. The plates are replaced by elaborately and somewhat impractically shaped bowls of squid-ink soup with miso and pork belly.

‘I was very pleasantly surprised,’ Nico adds, ‘that you took the post, to be honest. I never thought we’d get a big name like you on board.’

‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘Who wouldn’t want to spend some time in the Caribbean? Makes a change from rainy old London.’ It wasn’t quite as simple as that, but I don’t want to shout about my reasons for wanting to get away, so I quickly move the conversation on.

Nico seems genuinely interested as I witter on about my favourite dishes, interspersed with some name-dropping of a few of the more famous clients I’ve served. Over the years, I’ve come to realize that most people are much more interested in hearing about who has eaten my food than about the food itself. However much I am known for my attention to detail when it comes to my dishes, a story about a celebrity ordering a £20,000 bottle of wine or being caught snorting coke in the loos always trumps me droning on about the provenance of my ingredients or the best way to grate truffles.

Once we have cleared our plates, they are again whisked away and replaced with wood pigeon breasts artfully arranged on crisped bok choy.

‘And I understand you’re staying on during the lay-up?’ Nico adds.

‘Looking forward to it,’ I say. And I really am. I made it a condition of my employment. The lay-up is only two months, but all I’ll have to do is cook for a skeleton crew, though I also want to use the time to develop the menus and strategies, and hope this might help me in my quest for a third star for the restaurant. I’ll be overseeing meals for about a hundred people instead of several thousand as the ship is renovated, and on the same money too, so it’s a pretty good deal for me. And after all that stuff that happened in London, I’m ready for some stress-free downtime.

‘Everything is organized for the lay-up, Leo, is it?’ Nico asks. ‘You’ve got the required staff to keep it ticking over?’

‘Yep – all sorted,’ he confirms. ‘Way more people wanting to stay on than we could take in the end. You think they’d be ready for a holiday away from the ship by now, but I guess they need the money. Or have nowhere else to go.’ There is an awkward pause. ‘I’m staying on too, as you know,’ Captain Leo adds.

‘And I appreciate that,’ Nico says. ‘I know Immanis will be in good hands.’

Dessert is brought out – a fruit salad, chopped into equally sized colourful cubes and delicately sculpted into a tower in a spun-sugar cage, sprinkled with edible glitter. As the two men ooh and ahh over the dessert and how pretty it is, the sparkly dressed hostess appears at the side of our table, her customary smile unusually absent.

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

Enjoyed this preview? ❤️ Do not stop here!

Read the complete book free online → 🔗

Continue reading now on BooksBarbecue and discover every page!

Love reading? Bookmark BooksBarbecue.com for more amazing books!

Happy Reading!