Alice-Miranda at Sea by Jacqueline Harvey

thank,’ Alice-Miranda replied.
    â€˜So, my daughter’s here, on the ship?’ Ambrosia pouted.
    â€˜Oh, yes. She’s just over there.’ Alice-Miranda pointed towards the children at the table. ‘She’ll be so relieved about the mix-up. I think Jacinta had begun to wonder if you were avoiding her and that would be just plain silly, wouldn’t it?’ Please, come and join us. There’s space at our table and Jacinta would love to see you,’ Alice-Miranda coaxed.
    â€˜Well, I’ll come and say hello, but really, I’m sure I’m supposed to be somewhere else.’ Ambrosia fluttered her eyelashes and tilted her head ever so slightly towards Chef Vladimir.
    â€˜Pff, I’ll see you later, darlink,’ Vladimir purred at Ambrosia.
    â€˜Do you know each other?’ Alice-Miranda asked.
    â€˜Yes, of course. Vladimir runs a gorgeous restaurant in Moscow. Michelin stars and that sort of thing. I flew up there last week with some friends and he tells me they’re now booked solid for six months. The rotten paps from Gloss and Goss wouldn’t leave us alone.’ Ambrosia looked smug. ‘But it was all in a good cause.’
    Alice-Miranda frowned. She didn’t like to hear Mrs Headlington-Bear talking about the paparazzi. They were the last thing Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Lawrence needed this week. At least everyone on board had signed a confidentiality agreement not to disclose any details before or after the wedding. And all inbound and outbound telephone calls were being monitored, too. Aunty Gee’s security wasn’t taking any risks.
    Ambrosia Headlington-Bear spent another few seconds surveying the party.
    â€˜I can’t believe I don’t recognise anyone,’ she said, barely masking her disappointment. ‘Oh, except the Queen, of course – and that dishy Lawrence Ridley. I thought there’d be movie stars by the boatload.’
    â€˜Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Lawrence were keen to keep it a mostly family affair,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘Is Mr Headlington-Bear joining you for dinner?’
    Ambrosia stared vacantly at the crowd, apparently lost in her own thoughts. ‘No,’ she replied absently.
    â€˜Well, please, come and sit with us,’ Alice-Miranda urged.
    Ambrosia followed the tiny child, her kaftan swishing and flouncing. She was the sort of woman people couldn’t help noticing.
    Jacinta had been concentrating so hard on her dinner she’d almost hoovered up the entire contents of her plate.
    Ambrosia glided over and stood behind her daughter. ‘Hello Jacinta, this is a surprise. Have you got a kiss for Mummy?’
    Jacinta swallowed her last mouthful. She wiped her hands on her napkin, stood up and turned around to greet her mother.
    â€˜I see you’ve still got a good appetite, darling.’ Ambrosia glanced at the empty plate. ‘Mind the grease on Mummy’s new dress.’
    Jacinta gave Ambrosia an awkward hug. Her lips barely grazed her mother’s cheek.
    â€˜Your mother hadn’t realised that you were here,’ Alice-Miranda explained.
    â€˜Of course not,’ Jacinta frowned. ‘Why would anyone important invite me to anything interesting?’
    The atmosphere around the table heaved under the weight of unspoken words.
    â€˜Hello Mrs Headlington-Bear,’ Millie spoke. ‘I’m Millie – it’s good to finally meet you.’
    â€˜Oh, hello. And for goodness sake, call me Ambrosia. Mrs Headlington-Bear sounds positively antique.’
    Ambrosia browsed around the table before her eyes came to rest on Lucas. She studied him carefully. ‘And who are you, young man?’
    â€˜I’m Lucas Nixon.’ He stood up and offered his hand. Lucas stared at her with his piercing black eyes, and then smiled his million-dollar grin.
    â€˜And who do you belong to, Lucas?’ she asked.
    â€˜My father is Lawrence Ridley,’ he