Beshad started, stared, eyes wide. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Somebody has been serving this child alcoholic drinks, and for your sake, I hope it wasn’t you.’
‘I just came on at eleven,’ he stammered. He shot a nervous glance at the other bartender. ‘But, ma’am, there’s no way we would allow someone your daughter’s age to buy alcohol. She’d have to show her sea pass to pay for it, and then we’d know she was underage.’
I stood there, slack-mouthed, letting the truth of what he’d told me sink in. I confronted my niece. ‘Julie, who bought those drinks for you?’
Another tear leaked out of her eye; she swiped it away with her free hand. I felt her shrug. ‘Some boys.’
‘Boys,’ I repeated. ‘You mean those boys who hightailed it out of here just before I showed up?’
She nodded.
I dragged Julie over to a chair and helped her sit down. ‘If they were buying you drinks from the Tiki Hut, Julie, they were not boys. They were men.’
‘I knoooow,’ she sniffled miserably.
‘Were they from that Crawford family, Julie? Jason and whatshisname, Colin?’
She shook her head, ponytail wagging. ‘Nuh, no. Not Connor,’ she sobbed, but she was staring out to sea when she said it, so I suspected she was lying. After a moment, she turned a tear-stained face to mine. ‘Are you going to tell Mom?’
‘Of course I’m going to tell your mother!’
‘She’s going to be so mad. She’ll tell Dad and I’ll be grounded for the rest of my life!’
‘Everybody makes mistakes, Julie Lynn, but smart people learn by them.’
‘Aunt Hannah?’ Julie whimpered. ‘I think I’m going to barf!’ Her eyes were wide and frightened; she pressed a hand against her mouth.
With me holding on to her arm, we reached the rail with only seconds to spare. Julie leaned over it, spewing her breakfast and what remained of the drinks she had consumed all over one of the lifeboats that was tethered several decks below.
There is nothing quite so pathetic as a sick child. Until the dry heaves passed, I held Julie close, stroking her hair.
‘Seasick?’ someone asked, passing behind us.
‘You could say that,’ I replied.
Several minutes later I escorted Julie back to her cabin, sat with her until she drank an entire bottle of water, then tucked her into bed to sleep it off.
ELEVEN
‘In 1609, a fleet of nine ships owned by the Virginia Company of London set sail from Plymouth, England with fresh supplies and additional colonists for the new British settlement at Jamestown, Virginia. Admiral Sir George Somers commanded the flagship, the Sea Venture, but en route there was a terrible storm and the ship was dashed against Bermuda’s treacherous reefs. The crew managed to get to land and so began Bermuda’s settlement.’
Theresa Airey, www.bermuda.com/visitors
Needless to say, Georgina was not amused when I tracked her down at the spa. Technicians were still applying a clear coat over the Chick Flick Cherry on her toenails when I ratted Julie out. ‘That little…!’ Georgina sputtered, waving away the technician and rising to her feet. Slightly hampered by neon-green toe separators, she shuffled toward the door, closely followed by the technician who kept repeating, ‘Ma’am, ma’am,’ as she tried to rescue my sister from the certain tragedy of ruining a forty-dollar pedicure.
I’d planned to spend the early afternoon on deck, sightseeing and taking photographs as the ship negotiated the intricate shipping channel between the coral reefs, making its way north around St George’s Island, before heading south-west across the top of the main island and tucking into King’s Wharf, the cruise ship harbor directly opposite Hamilton, the capital of Bermuda. Instead, with Julie passed out next door, I spent the time in my stateroom with Georgina, trying to talk her out of hunting down the whole Crawford clan with a double-barreled shotgun.
‘Even if we could identify the actual lowlifes responsible for giving Julie those drinks, they didn’t exactly force Julie to swallow them,’ I pointed out reasonably. I thought about Julie leaning miserably over the rail, heaving. ‘And I think she’s learned her lesson.’
Georgina frowned. ‘Ruined my day, I can tell you.’
‘I can imagine.’ I squeezed her hand. ‘When the ship docks, Ruth and I are planning on going ashore. Do you want to come?’
Georgina rose wearily to her feet. ‘No, I’d better stay here with Julie. You two go on ahead.’
‘Tell you what, Georgina. Ruth and I will case the joint. Then tomorrow, we’ll all go out and explore. Sound good?’
‘Fine,’ she said, without much conviction.
I walked my sister to the connecting door and waited while she checked on her daughter. ‘Why don’t you stay in our cabin for the time being?’ I suggested. ‘You can keep the door open; that way you won’t disturb Julie.’
‘Disturb?’ Georgina snorted. ‘I’d like to shake that girl until her eyes rattle in that empty skull of hers. But don’t worry, I won’t.’
Something outside the window caught my eye. The view was no longer the endless blue of the Atlantic Ocean. ‘Look,’ I said, pointing to the balcony window where the twin clock towers of the Royal Naval Dockyard were picturesquely framed. ‘We seem to be in port.’
Georgina wrapped her arms around me and gave me a serious hug. ‘I forgot to thank you for taking care of Julie. Not everyone would have stepped in like that.’
‘We’re family,’ I said. ‘That’s what we do.’ I retrieved my handbag from where it hung on the back of a chair. ‘Ruth is waiting for me in the atrium. Are you sure you don’t mind?’
Georgina made sweeping motions with her hands. ‘Shoo, shoo! Don’t worry about me. That’s why God invented room service.’
Since we missed it, Ruth and I had a late lunch – a proper fish and chips – at the Frog and Onion Pub, a building reclaimed out of the cooperage of the old fort. The shopping arcade in the clock tower offered porcelain, fine china and crystal, silverware, Harris Tweed jackets, and the kinds of Scottish woolen goods typical of duty-free shops everywhere, and were of absolutely no interest to me. I was much more taken with the charming boutiques that featured local art and crafts, and I managed to pick up a few souvenirs for the grandkids at a shop called Bermuda Triangle. With a name like Bermuda Triangle, how could I resist?
At the Dockyard Glassworks I bought a rum cake for Paul, then spent a good hour drooling over the pieces on sale at Bermuda Clayworks. My credit card would take a major hit, but I couldn’t resist one of Joe Faulkner’s contemporary salt glaze ceramics – a whimsical, tilted teapot with a teal-colored, orange-peel texture.
Carrying our shopping bags, Ruth and I visited the visitors’ information center near the ferry landing, weaving our way to the ticket counter through untidy racks of overpriced souvenir hats and T-shirts. We bought four three-day bus and ferry passes that would allow us to explore the island at our leisure. By then we were exhausted, and a proper English tea was in order. Fortunately, there was a tea room nearby.
The next day, with Julie up and about, but still looking a little green around the gills, we all ventured ashore.
As punishment for her poor judgment at poolside the previous day, Georgina had banned Julie from participating in the teen excursions she’d previously signed up for. Missing the glass- bottom boat cruise wasn’t a particular heartbreak, but when her mother yanked her out of the teen swim with the dolphins excursion, too, the lesson stung.
To her credit, though, Julie took the two days we’d set aside to explore Bermuda as an opportunity to rehabilitate herself in our eyes, tagging along with the adults and at least pretending that she wasn’t embarrassed to be seen in our company. ‘We promise not to bore you with talk about income taxes and the stock market,’ I told my niece as we were passing through ship’s security in order to disembark.