‘It must have been an amazing place,’ Sam murmurs. ‘I just can’t get my head around the fact that all these people woke up, expecting a normal day, and then boom. All over. It makes you realise how precious life is, don’t you think?’

  ‘Perhaps you should put that in one of your questions,’ I offer. ‘I spent today in Pompeii and it made me realise how precious life is. Where do you feel most alive and why?’

  She stops and stares at me. ‘That’s brilliant! I knew you’d be good at this. Hang on, let me write that down.’ She pulls out her phone and launches an app, typing in the question. ‘Two more to go.’

  ‘One of them ought to focus on the handsomest cat in Margate, don’t you think? So instead of asking what they’d do to impress your mum and dad, you could ask what they’d do to impress Samson.’

  ‘You’re on a roll,’ she enthuses, typing the question into her app.

  By the time we get back to the ship, late in the afternoon, Sam is decidedly pink from the sun despite her sunhat and liberal application of factor 50, which gives us our final question. I can’t believe that I’m actually quite looking forward to watching her strut her stuff at tonight’s singles event, but then these things are probably more fun as a spectator.

  When we get to the Nautilus lounge, Barry is already a whirling dervish of excitement and organisation. A large screen has been erected at the rear of the room to prevent the interviewers from seeing the people they’re going to be questioning, but we’re amused to find that the other interviewer is Brad.

  ‘Whoever he picks is in for the dullest date in the history of time,’ Sam remarks when he’s safely out of earshot. ‘Still, at least I know that whoever I pick won’t be him, so that’s something to be thankful for.’

  ‘I suspect the accent and voice would have given it away.’

  ‘Sam, darling girl,’ Barry coos as he bustles over. ‘I need to take you and Brad to another room while we set up in here. Have you got a drink? Good. Come with me. You look stunning, by the way, so gorgeous.’

  It may be a long time since I’ve seen the show, but I have to admit that Barry does an excellent job as host, channelling Cilla Black to perfection. Three men are carefully secreted behind the screen before Sam is brought in to wild applause.

  ‘Your friend seems to be entering into the spirit of it,’ a British voice says next to me. I turn to see a man who’s probably a few years older than me, with light brown hair and hazel eyes set either side of what would have been a perfect Roman nose had it obviously not been broken at some point. His lips are surprisingly full for a man, but they suit him somehow. I would describe him as striking rather than just ‘good looking’ and, like me, he’s wearing an amber badge.

  ‘Cameron,’ he says, offering me his large hand.

  ‘Ruby,’ I reply politely. ‘And yes, this is Sam’s idea of heaven. She’s a hopeless romantic, so this will play to all her strengths.’

  ‘OK, quiet, please, ladies and gentlemen,’ Barry calls, waving his arms to try to quell the din. ‘We’re ready to start. Sam, would you read your first question.’

  ‘Certainly, Barry,’ Sam simpers coquettishly, drawing a muted cheer of approval from the audience. ‘My first question is this. I spent today in Pompeii with my best friend, and the tragedy that unfolded there made me realise how precious life is and how we should seize every moment and live it to the full. Where do you feel most alive, and why?’

  ‘Great question, Sam,’ Barry enthuses. ‘Who would you like to answer it first?’

  ‘Number one, I think.’

  ‘OK. Gentleman number one, please answer Sam’s question.’

  ‘Hi, Sam,’ a deep voice with a strong Welsh accent says from behind the screen. ‘You sound like a lady who knows how to enjoy herself. Pick me tonight, and I’ll show you such a good time I promise you’ll die with a smile on your lips when your turn comes.’

  There’s a mixture of groaning and applause from the audience at the cheesiness of the response.

  ‘Number two, please?’ Sam calls.

  ‘Hi, Sam. I love the sound of your voice, so I know that I’d feel most alive wherever you were.’

  ‘Oo, bit needy,’ Cameron murmurs as the audience applauds.

  ‘And number three,’ Sam announces.

  ‘Hi, Sam. I was also in Pompeii today, and I know exactly what you mean. Life is as fragile today as it was when Vesuvius erupted. That’s why I’ve taken the plunge and come on this cruise and, if you pick me, I promise I won’t waste any of your precious time.’

  ‘Oh, good answer,’ I say to Cameron.

  ‘Question two,’ Sam announces. ‘I share a flat with my best friend and the handsomest cat in Kent. If I brought you home to meet them, what would you do to create a good impression? I’d like number two to answer this one first.’

  ‘Well, Sam,’ the voice says. ‘I’m more of a dog person myself but it’s a well-known fact that cats and dogs can live in perfect harmony as long as the cat is in charge. So, if you’re happy to take control, I’ll be right at your heel.’

  ‘Eeuww,’ I say to Cameron. ‘She won’t like that. Not only did he not answer the question, but she’s really not into submissive men.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he replies with a smile.

  ‘Number one. What’s your answer?’ Sam asks.

  ‘I love cats, Sam, and I’d be happy to stroke your pussy all night if it made you happy.’

  The audience groans at the double-entendre, and I can see Sam rolling her eyes theatrically at Barry.

  ‘Moving on swiftly, number three,’ Sam calls.

  ‘I’ve got a cat myself, so I know they need time and space to warm up to you. To begin with, I’d focus on getting to know your friend, until the cat felt ready to come and talk to me.’

  ‘Oh, he’s good,’ Cameron says. ‘I’m not sure he’s got the humour part, but they’re nice answers.’

  ‘Final question,’ Sam calls. ‘I’m a redhead, so I burn easily in the sun. What would you do to protect me? Number one.’ I can see her bracing herself for the answer and, when it comes, she’s proved absolutely right.

  ‘That’s easy,’ the voice says. ‘Firstly, if you pick me, we won’t be leaving your cabin so you won’t need to worry about the sun. However, we’ll have such a sizzling time that I can’t guarantee you won’t get some carpet burns.’

  ‘Dear God,’ I murmur to Cameron. ‘I didn’t think that people like him still existed. Actually, scrap that. I have met a few of his type, mainly Sam’s exes.’

  ‘Hmm. Number two?’ Sam asks.

  ‘I also burn really easily, and I’d be happy to share my suncream, and anything else, with you.’

  ‘Number three?’

  ‘I think the trick is not to spend too much time in the sun. So I’d plan regular breaks for coffee, maybe a long lunch in the shade, ice creams, and a cocktail by the pool at the end of the day. Maybe even a dip to cool off if we’re both feeling hot and bothered.’

  ‘That brings us to the end of your questions,’ Barry announces. ‘You’ll be spending a dream day with one of these men tomorrow. Which is it going to be?’

  ‘Easy decision,’ Sam tells him with a smile. ‘I pick number three.’

  ‘And that’s our Robin, from Surrey. Come round, Robin, and meet your date.’

  As Robin appears, I recognise him from the first bio I looked at in the booklet. Sam is evidently delighted as she practically throws herself into his arms.

  ‘May I ask a presumptuous question?’ Cameron says as the audience whoops and cheers.

  ‘As long as I reserve the right not to answer it,’ I reply.

  ‘I couldn’t help noticing your amber badge and, if I understand the traffic light system properly, that means that, like me, you’re not looking for a relationship at the moment.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Do you mind me asking what you’re planning to do now that your friend is going to be off with Robin tomorrow?’

  ‘I don’t know. I confess I hadn’t really thought about it.’

  ‘Tell me to get lost if you like, but I don’t have any concrete plans either, so if you’d like to buddy up to see Messina, I’d be more than happy to accompany you for the day. You’d be doing me a favour, actually. There’s a lady over there called Ashleigh who I suspect has definite designs on me, despite my amber badge, so I could do with rescuing.’

  My first reaction is to do what I would normally do and tell him that Ashleigh isn’t my problem and I’ll be just fine by myself, thank you very much, but I look into his face and I’m certain that, unlike slimy Guido, he’s not trying it on. And, although we’ve only exchanged a few words this evening, he seems easy to talk to.

  ‘Sure,’ I say recklessly, giving him a smile. ‘Why not?’

  12

  ‘So, I had a look at your bio last night,’ I say to Cameron as we disembark into the Sicilian heat. Although the cruise line has lots of tours on offer, Cameron and I have decided to do our own thing. Sam was initially riddled with guilt that she was going to be abandoning me so early in the cruise, and I confess I did let her wallow for a little while during our delicious dinner in the Italian restaurant before telling her that I’d made alternative arrangements, although I didn’t mention that they included Cameron.

  ‘I would have expected nothing less,’ he tells me with a smile. ‘I studied yours as well. Tell me about your bookshop.’

  Our conversation flows easily as we head towards Messina cathedral to have a look at the astronomical clock and hopefully climb the tower before the main tourist hordes arrive. I tell him about my life in Margate, and he listens carefully and asks questions.

  ‘I think I’ve been past it a few times,’ he says when I explain where the bookshop is. ‘Margate is part of my patch, and I have a few customers in the town.’

  ‘Customers?’ I ask with a smile. ‘I thought you were a police officer.’

  ‘I’m with Kent Police, yes. I’m a firearms enquiry officer.’

  ‘What does one of those do?’

  ‘It’s easiest to explain with an example. Let’s say you decided you wanted to buy a shotgun.’

  ‘Unlikely, but OK.’

  ‘It’s not that unlikely. You’d be amazed by some of the people who own shotguns. Anyway, you fill out the relevant application forms and get your doctor to certify that you haven’t been treated for any mental health conditions that might bar you from owning a gun. That all lands on my desk. I’ll come and visit you, have a chat about what you plan to use the gun for and generally make sure there aren’t any red flags. I’ll also check that you’ve got a safe place to keep it, all that kind of thing. If I’m satisfied, I’ll issue you with a shotgun licence and you’re good to go.’

  ‘Really? And there are enough people in Kent packing weaponry to make this a full-time job?’

  ‘There are enough people in Kent packing weaponry to keep three of us busy.’

  ‘Bloody hell. I thought it was illegal to possess a gun.’

  ‘No. The rules are very strict, especially with regards to firearms, which is things like rifles and pistols. If you wanted to own something like that, you’d need to provide a pretty compelling reason. But with shotguns, the onus is on us to prove you’re not a proper person before we can deny you a licence.’

  ‘Have you ever had to do that? Deny someone a licence?’

  ‘Oh, lots of times. I’ve had people swear blind they’re fit and healthy, only for the doctors’ report to contradict them. The most tragic are the ones who’ve owned guns for years but their mental health deteriorates to the point we have to turn their renewals down. These guns are often family heirlooms, so it’s like parting them from a favourite pet. I’ve had grown men in tears.’

  ‘And what do people use these guns for? I’m still not wild about the idea that lots of my neighbours are armed to the teeth.’

  ‘Clay pigeon shooting is the most popular thing by far. There are centres all over Kent and they’re all well subscribed. There are a few who do game shooting, and the farmers, of course. Most of them have at least one shotgun, and often a couple of rifles as well.’

  ‘What do they need rifles for?’

  ‘Keeping deer under control. Deer play havoc with the crops, and it’s illegal to shoot them with a shotgun. You must use a rifle.’

  ‘It’s a different world. Oh, look. We’ve arrived.’

  We’re standing in a piazza with what looks like an elaborate fountain to our left and the squat form of the cathedral in front of us.

  ‘The cathedral isn’t as old as it looks,’ Cameron informs me, studying his guidebook. ‘The original building was consecrated in 1197, but that one was pretty much destroyed in an earthquake in 1908. It then sustained more damage in the war, so the building we’re looking at is basically a twentieth-century reconstruction.’

  ‘What about the clock?’ I ask.

  ‘Same thing. It was built in 1933 to replace the original. It’s pretty clever though. There are seven layers of figures facing the square, and all of them move at different times.’

  ‘I remember reading that. Are any of them likely to move while we’re here?’

  ‘Not the bottom ones, as they only change once a day. We should get to see the next one up though, as that changes every quarter of an hour.’

  ‘What is it?’

  He consults the guidebook again. ‘The carousel of the ages of life. So we have a child, a young man, a warrior and an old man. According to this, the figure of death waves his scythe at them when they change. Should be fun.’

  I look at my watch. ‘Ten minutes until the next change. What else have we got?’

  ‘The layer above that is the sanctuary of the Madonna, and that changes at midday. We might see that later if we’re still here. Then we’ve got Biblical scenes that change four times a year, and another Madonna who receives a letter from an angel at midday. It all happens at midday, according to this. So Dina and Clarenza, above the Madonna there, ring the bells every quarter hour but the rooster between them flaps its wings at midday, and the lion at the very top also waves its flag, moves its tail, turns its head and roars three times at midday.’

  ‘Something tells me we need to be here then.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ He looks up at the tower and I’m struck by the way the sunlight catches his eyes, making them almost luminous. ‘Did you want to go and see about climbing the tower?’ he asks, oblivious to my staring. ‘Apparently, the views from the top are quite something.’

  Unfortunately for us, it turns out that the tower is closed today for cleaning and maintenance, so we retire to a coffee shop that was recommended by one of my guidebooks and order espressos and pastries instead.

  ‘Do you mind me asking why you’re an amber badge?’ Cameron asks as I take a sip of my coffee, savouring the intense flavour.

  ‘This whole cruise was Sam’s idea,’ I explain. ‘She never mentioned anything about it being a singles thing.’

  ‘Ah. From your tone of voice I’m guessing you weren’t enthusiastic about it when you found out.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But surely you must have smelled a rat when you had to write your bio and submit a picture? I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s normal on a cruise holiday.’

  ‘I didn’t submit my bio, Sam did.’

  He laughs. It’s a rich, deep laugh that makes me smile. ‘Tell me,’ he asks. ‘Does she always run rings around you like this? I mean, you seem a very smart woman, so I have to admit I’m surprised.’

  ‘Thankfully, no. And I hope she’s got the message that I might inflict serious injury on her if she ever pulls a stunt like this again. Would that make me ineligible for a shotgun licence?’

  ‘Too right it would. Anyway, when did you twig?’

  ‘Pretty much as soon as I met Orange Barry, but by then it was too late to escape.’

  ‘Never mind Friends of Marco Polo, I think Barry would fit in better with the Friends of Dorothy.’

  ‘What is cruising’s obsession with this “Friends of” concept? I saw something for the “Friends of Bill” in the daily programme. Who on earth are they?’

  ‘I think it all stemmed from the Friends of Dorothy thing. That was the code word for gay meetings on board ships back in the day.’

  ‘What day?’

  ‘No idea. Presumably when being gay was still frowned upon. Anyway, the Friends of Bill are the Alcoholics Anonymous members. Being on a cruise ship literally surrounded by booze is probably fairly triggering for them, so the Friends of Bill meetings are there to help keep them on track.’

  ‘And who was Bill?’

  ‘Bill Wilson, the founder of AA, I think.’

  ‘You’re a mine of information.’

  He smiles. ‘I try.’

  ‘OK, your turn. Why are you an amber badge?’ I ask.

  ‘In my case, I have to confess to shamefully not reading the small print. I had some holiday to use up and booked this as a spur-of-the-moment thing. A mate of mine at work is always going on cruises and banging on about how brilliant they are, and being part of a group sounded more fun than just sitting around by myself on a beach somewhere. Unlike you, I knew it was a singles cruise, but I didn’t realise it was a dating thing. I just thought we’d be a group of people hanging out together so we weren’t on our own.’

  ‘Ah. When did the penny drop for you?’

  ‘As soon as I read the booklet and saw the traffic light information, I knew I was in trouble. The moment I got to the Singles Mingle, I found Barry and grabbed myself an orange badge. I’d have got a red one if I could, but⁠—’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ I interrupt. ‘I tried that too. Didn’t the bio thing make you suspicious?’

  ‘Nope. Because I knew it was a singles thing, unlike you, I just thought it was a nice way of getting to know a bit about the other people in the group.’

  ‘OK, so I understand why you didn’t realise it was a dating thing either. But don’t you want to meet someone?’

  ‘I could ask you the same question.’

 

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