Page 36 of Gideon
“I can’t wait to get on that boat,” he says fretfully.
“You and me both,” I mutter, but for completely different reasons. I heft my rucksack as the bright orange tender boat comes towards us laden with happy tourists who are ready for an evening on the town.
Twenty minutes later I leave Oliver without a backward glance and race back to the suite. “Gideon,” I call out hesitantly but I’m greeted with silence, the suite lit only by the murky shadows of moonlight. The doors are open, letting in the distant sound of music on the air and the lapping of the waves, but apart from that the suite echoes with silence.
Nevertheless, I check all the rooms before coming up short in the lounge again. “Where are you?” I mutter, feeling urgency tremble in me. I’m probably going to get fired as soon as I see him, but at least I’ll know he’s okay. I clench my fists. What if he had a coughing fit and fell and hit his head? I shake out my hands. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m always concerned about my patients, but that’s my nursing head, and I am always calm. This feels far more personal and my hands tremble slightly. Something about this grumpy man just means more.
“Eli,” comes a voice from the door and for a split second I feel relief, but it isn’t him and I sag slightly.
“Hi, Peter,” I say, scrubbing my hand over my neck and feeling the gritty salt in my hair. “Sorry about going AWOL.”
“What happened?”
“Missed the tender.”
“I tried to ring you. Mr Ramsay was very worried.”
“Was he?” My question sounds plaintive, and he smiles kindly.
“Of course he was. Mr Ramsay thinks very highly of you.”
“I doubt that’s a true statement right at this precise moment,” I say wryly. “I’m probably going to get the sack. I couldn’t ring because my phone’s buggered. It fell in the sea.”
“Would you like me to ring around and get you a replacement?”
“You can do that?”
He smiles slightly. “Mr Jones, I’m the butler for the first-class suites. I can do anything.”
A small smile tugs free. “You sound drunk on power.”
“Better than the cooking brandy,” he says smartly. He pauses. “Are you looking for Mr Ramsay?”
“Is he okay?”
“Of course,” he says quickly, and my shoulders sag. “He went to find Mrs Pritchard, one of the other passengers. He thought she might have had word of you.”
“Shit,” I say despairingly. “What a bloody awful day.”
“Well, I’ll inform the captain that you’re on board safely.”
“Thank you,” I say gratefully. I pause. “I don’t suppose you have any idea of where they are?”
He smiles. “It came to my notice while I was having an evening walk that Mrs Pritchard likes the top deck.” He winks. “Not so many people about.”
I stare at him. What is he winking about? I sigh heavily. Whatever it is probably doesn’t mean good things. It also more than likely means that Gideon is in the thick of it.
I leave the suite, exchanging smiles and greetings and fighting the tide of people heading to the restaurants to eat. My stomach rumbles. I haven’t eaten anything since first thing this morning. The whole day has been spent quelling the urge to strangle Oliver, and it didn’t improve my appetite. Now that I’m on the ship and I know that Gideon hasn’t been taken to the med centre, I’m starving. I amend my thoughts. Not been taken to the med centreyet.
I jog along the running track that curves around the ship, offering a beautiful view of Nice glittering like a carpet of jewels in the night, and then mount the steps to the upper deck quickly, feeling my breath sawing in my throat. Shit, he’s going to send me away. I stop dead and shake my head. I mean shit, I’m going to get the sack. It’s because …
I pause on the stairs as I hear the laughter coming from above me.
I frown. Gideon’s not prone to fits of laughter but he’s had one a couple of times, usually in response to sarcasm. It’s a shame because it’s a lovely laugh, low and almost dirty-sounding but very contagious. I narrow my eyes.Has he picked up anyone downstairs?I think of the redheaded nurse who’s adopted a sultry sway every time she’s walked past us. Or the dark-haired ship steward who practically trips over his tongue every time he speaks to Gideon, to the extent that Gideon had asked me if he had a problem with his speech.
Another voice speaks, and I relax because it’s Constance.
I round the steps and stop in amazement before coughing as the heavy dope cloud engulfs me. “What the fuck?” I say louder than I intended, and they both swing slowly round to face me. For a second there’s total silence and then they both break into peals of laughter, holding on to each other. “Oh lovely,” I sigh. I glare at the pair of them. “Who brought the dope on the ship?” I finally say resignedly, prompting another flood of laughter.
