Here Come the Girls by Milly Johnson

to think that I was trapped on a ship with Dom Donaldson for sixteen days.’
    Then Roz did a double-take of her own, for there passing quickly by was a drop-dead gorgeous man she could have sworn was Raul Cruz, the Spanish Michelin-starred chef on the television. He disappeared through a door marked Staff. Roz would never have admitted to the others that she had a crush on him; it would have been far too childish at her age and not ‘Roz-like’ at all. They would have teased her rotten about it. They didn’t think she had a heart these days, never mind one that actually might beat fast with desire for a man. It wasn’t her imagination playing tricks on her, though. According to the brochure he had a restaurant on board the Mermaidia , so chances were it was really him. Roz gulped.
    There was a bank of check-in personnel so the queue went down pretty quickly and very soon Ven, Olive and Roz were standing in front of a desk, declaring that they hadn’t had diarrhoea or vomited in the last twenty-four hours. Although Olive had come pretty close after discovering the truth about Doreen and David the previous night, but decided to keep quiet about that. Then they were all individually photographed with a camera that looked like a giant eyeball and presented with little plastic cards which they duly signed.
    ‘These act as your passport and your key card, as well as allowing you to charge expenses to your account,’ explained the lady at the desk.
    Ven then produced her Visa. All expenses would be loaded onto that, and then Figurehead Cruises would reimburse her, apparently.
    ‘I hope they do,’ said Roz. ‘Wouldn’t like to think you’d be landed with all the champagne bills I’m going to run up.’
    ‘They won’t let me down,’ replied Ven. ‘Everything has gone smoothly enough so far.’ Oh boy, you really shouldn’t have said that , a sudden voice chided inside her head. If ever there was a passport to disaster on a plan it was to say that everything had gone smoothly so far.
    ‘Bloody hell, what a competition prize. I’ve only ever won some shampoo on a tombola. And it was for brunettes,’ said Olive, flying into a panic as her chain bracelet set off the metal detectors and she had to be frisked by a female security guard who looked as if she had come directly from Prisoner Cell Block H .
    They were given a boarding card with the letter L on it as they filtered into a large waiting lounge, but seeing as passengers with letter K had just been called to the ship, it wasn’t going to be a long wait. Then, immediately before they went on board, they posed quickly as a group in front of a photographer to capture the start of their holiday.
    Olive was full of nervous excitement as they passed up the gently sloping and winding tunnel into the ship’s body. Now it was Roz’s turn to be struck dumb as they walked through the door and into a cavernous reception area which was opulent to the point of palatial and open-plan to five storeys. Two great glass elevators were carrying passengers upwards and downwards, and a line of apparently all Indian men in white suits were waiting to escort guests to their cabins.
    ‘This way, ma’am,’ said one, after Ven told him her cabin number. His name badge read Benzir . He gallantly took Roz’s giant handbag from her and led them down a carpeted hallway, the walls studded with huge pieces of artwork, and then up in an enclosed lift to the ninth floor.
    Their rooms were next to each other. Olive’s pink suitcase had already arrived and was parked outside her door. She had assumed the pictures in the brochure Ven showed them were exaggerated or Photoshopped, and in real life her cabin would be a poky, bare space with a creaky hammock, but the photo didn’t even do it justice when she pushed open the door. To her immediate right was a huge open wardrobe space, a tower of shelves and an inbuilt safe, and layers of thick snow-white towels lined more shelves in the pretty