All at Sea with Truffles Read online

  Take cover! Mrs Golightly’s about!

  “Well,” said Sheila, “there’s me, who would never dare to go out in public nowadays with shorts on, what with my thighs (oh dear, her obsession with her thighs, I sighed - they’ve always looked okay to me!) and blimey, look at her, she doesn’t care a hoot!” “I don’t want to look at her,” said the man next door. “It’s making me feel ill. I think I’ll go and get a pint!” And he got up and moved off. His wife smiled at Sheila. “At least after seeing her,” she said, “he’ll now appreciate what he’s got.” I looked about at the other people and, although some were thin and some were fat, none were anywhere near Mrs Golightly’s size. People were dressed in all sorts of weird swimming costumes or sun- worshipping outfits - and not all of them flattering, I can tell you. But on holiday everyone just wants to relax and enjoy themselves and I expect that’s why they wear all these funny outer coverings that they’d probably never dream of wearing back at home.

  After a while, as Mrs Golightly did not appear to be about to move, interest died and the hum of chatter started up again. Nobody else got into the pool - well, there wouldn’t have been enough room, would there? And I expect the children were too frightened. After about half an hour she dragged herself out of the pool, shook herself a bit, giving us all a sick-making display of wobbling flesh, and lumbered back the way she’d come. A collective sigh came from the other sun worshippers and things returned to normal, although I noticed that nobody else fancied going in the pool!

  A little later Sheila had baked enough in the hot sun, so she said, “Come on, Truffles, let’s go and see what’s happening on the grass deck.” That sounded good to me, so off we went. When we got up there we could see quite a lot of people playing games with balls and Sheila waved to Ron and Connie, who were playing the ball and mallet game with four other people. “How are you?” called Connie. “Come and join us this evening in the Martini Bar before dinner.” “Great,” said Sheila, “see you there at about 7.30.” There were no empty seats nearby, so we walked round to the other side of the grassy space to find one. She sat down and I lay on the grass and had a pleasant roll! We spent the rest of the morning there. It was lovely.

  My tummy was signalling that it must be nearly my lunch crunch time and Sheila must have thought so, too, as she looked at her time-telling machine and got up. We strolled back towards the entrance, passing a couple of people lying in the sun who recognised Sheila and hailed her, so she stopped for a chat. It turned out that they were the Essex couple, Val and Ken, who had been at the trivia quiz with her. I didn’t know that Sheila had told them all about me and that, by a strange co… coi… coin… chance Val had read my previous diaries! “So this is the famous Truffles, then!” said Val, giving me a pat. “I’ve read your book, Truffles, and I loved it.” I was rocked - unbelievable! Fancy us meeting someone, on a ship of all places, who had actually read my book. Val, you’re my friend for life, I thought! I rubbed myself around her legs and then wished I hadn’t because they were covered with that horrible oily stuff! Sheila laughed, “Well, Val, as I told you the other night, Truffles is going to be writing a new book about her experiences on the ship, so maybe you’ll be in it now!” Everyone around laughed and looked at me – and, I don’t mind telling you, I felt really chuffed! Ken and Val asked if she was planning to go to the trivia quiz that evening. “Yes,” replied Sheila, “if it’s before the show. If I bump into the Scottish couple anywhere I’ll invite them to come, too, and we’ll see if ‘Team Triangles’ can wipe the floor with the rest!” (What on earth is she talking about? I wondered. Surely they’re not going to be doing the cleaning!) “It’s earlier than the show, so we’ll see you there then,” the others said, and so we continued on our way.

  We got into the elevator, which we had to ourselves, and rode down to Deck Five and the main shopping street. I wondered why we’d not gone straight back to the stateroom. By this time my tummy was making quite urgent noises and I didn’t want my lunch to be held up for much longer. We walked up the street, and as we got to one of the drinking places Sheila stopped and spoke to a couple of people who were sitting outside it. These were her other trivia friends, Bobby and June. “I guessed you’d be here,” said Sheila. “I know Bobby likes his tot of whisky before lunch!” June nodded, lifting her eyes to the sky, and Bobby raised his glass and said, “Och, this is yure wee cat then!” I could hardly understand what he was saying. He certainly didn’t have a Cornish accent - it was an accent I had never heard before. And why was he calling me a ‘wee’ cat? It made it sound as if I had bladder problems! Mind you, I thought, I wouldn’t mind a wee! All the more reason to get back to the balcony and my box. I pulled at the lead. “Okay, Truffles, I know you want your lunch,” said Sheila. “I won’t be a minute.” The others chatted away for a while about this and that and I sat waiting impatiently. At last they finished their conversation and June said, “See you this evening at the quiz,” and we made our way back. En route Sheila stopped at the general store and bought a packet of some crunchy things for herself. “I’m not going to have a big lunch today,” she told me. “I’m going to sit outside with you and just have a coffee and crisps and some of the fruit.” I wondered why. I know she likes to make the most of all the wonderful food she can get in the ship’s special eating places, as she doesn’t bother to cook much now she’s on her own at home.

  Back at the stateroom, I rushed out to the litter box while she was opening a letter she’d found. “Oh great,” she said, “an official invitation to dine at the Captain’s table on the last formal night. I was hoping I’d get one, but as I’m on my own now and not part of a couple I wasn’t sure I would.” I was puzzled. What was she going on about? She told me that for many years, whenever she and Peter had cruised with this particular company, they had been invited to dine with the Captain because they were on the VIP list (though she didn’t tell me what VIP meant or exactly why they had got onto such a seemingly exclusive list). Oh well, whatever makes her happy, I thought. My lunch was much more important! I gave her a sharp miaow and she came down to earth again and filled my bowl with some shreds of salmon that she’d stored in the cold cupboard, topped with some of the cheesy treats she’d got in Gibraltar. Bang tasty, I thought!

  We sat outside in the sun and I dozed whilst she idly flipped through her library book and some of the papers that were in the stateroom. I could get used to this sort of life!

  Some time later Sheila went inside and I heard her opening and shutting doors and drawers, reappearing after a while wearing a smart new outer covering. I blinked. It was a bit early for her to change into evening attire. “I’m off to the Elegant Afternoon Tea Party,” she said. Oooh, get you, I thought. How posh is that? Ah, now I realised why she didn’t have much to eat at lunch - she was going to fill herself up with cakes! Cakes and chocolate have always been her downfall, that’s why she’s got the thighs she’s always on about! “There won’t be any canapé delivery today. I cancelled it because I knew I’d be out,” she went on. She checked the time. “I’m a bit early,” she said. “I don’t want to be the first to arrive, so I’ll hang on a bit.” She sat down on the sofa and I dozed off again.

  When I awoke she had gone. I stretched lazily and treated myself to a nice scratch. I do not have fleas, I might say; some drops that Sheila puts onto my neck keep the little blighters at bay, but there is nothing like having a good scratch. You know when you get an itch somewhere and you scratch it gently and then the more you scratch the more it seems to itch, and then the more you scratch the more pleasurable it gets? I’m sure you must know the feeling! I finally stopped scratching and went for a drink, and then I peered through the glass wall again at the C and the sky - nothing in sight except a flock of birds whirling overhead. Thankfully, they weren’t Frigate Birds! I’m sure those black demons are going to haunt my dreams forever! This lot looked like the ordinary seagulls we see back home - nothing frightening about them. I sat an
d watched the white frothy stuff rushing behind us as we moved through the C and then went back to my corner. As I lay there, soaking in the sun, I was reminded of a cat joke that you might like to hear. I apologise to Val and other readers of my previous books, as I have included this joke in one of them before, but it might be new to the rest of you:

  Once upon a time there was a little cat who had died and gone to live in Heaven. After a few days God came to see how he was getting on. “I see from my records that you were a very good little cat when you lived on Earth,” God said, “so is there anything that I can get you to make you feel at home here?” “Well,” said the cat, “I’ve always wanted a lovely squashy beanbag bed, but my owners could never afford to get me one.” “Of course you can have one,” replied God. “I’ll get it ordered.” As God continued on his rounds, he met a group of little mice who had also recently died and moved into Heaven. “How are you all settling down?” God asked them. “Is there anything you’d like as a treat, as I know that on Earth you were all very good and well-behaved little mice?” “Oh, please, Mr God,” said the mice, “we’ve always wanted to run faster, so we’d love some roller skates.” God smiled and told them that he would get them some. About six months later, God was walking around and met the cat, who was lying in the sun on top of his lovely new squashy beanbag bed. “Hello, cat,” he said. “How are you enjoying your new life up here?” The cat replied, “Oh, I’m having a great time! My bed is just so comfortable and the meals on wheels are delicious!”

  Time passed and Sheila returned. I greeted her with a purr and an ankle rub. “I enjoyed the tea,” she said, “though I don’t actually drink tea.” Oh dear, I thought, here we go again - how can you drink T? It’s a letter that is written down in your human words. You don’t drink it, you write it! And, anyway, how come she enjoyed it if she didn’t have it? My mind was boggling again! She continued, “Yes, well, I had my usual coffee, but oh, Truffles, the cakes and the little pastries and the sandwiches! It was just like being at The Ritz. There were also some handsome waiters to serve us - we all felt really special! Bit of a difference from my usual UN-elegant afternoon tea back home, with a mug of coffee and a bun!” she giggled to herself.

  She took off her tea party outfit and put on the ship’s towelling robe and paw covers. Then she spoke into the talking gadget by the bed before sitting on the sofa with a glass filled from the bubbly bottle. She started to watch the moving-picture machine. “I just ordered your dinner, Truffles,” she remarked. “A real treat for you - pigeon tonight!” Pigeon, I gasped - bring it on! I’ve always craved the pair that I see sitting on the trees at the bottom of our garden, but I’ve never been able to reach one. Fancy them having pigeons on the ship! What next! This whole cruise experience was like a dream, and I was starting to think I never wanted to go home! But, there again, all good dreams come to an end. When I thought about it more sensibly, however, I didn’t really think I wanted to spend the rest of my life surrounded by the dreaded C - our back garden was much more practical and I had all the little birds who lived in it to watch!

  My pigeon dinner was duly delivered by Marcello. I was hopping up and down with anticipation. Their heady smell underneath the silver dome was driving me crazy! He remained chatting for a few moments with Sheila and, although he was a nice man, I was just willing him to go so that I could get cracking on the pigeons! As soon as the door had closed behind him, I pawed at Sheila’s leg impatiently. “Goodness, Truffles!” she exclaimed. “Hold your horses!” (Why on earth is she suddenly bleating on about horses? I thought. I’m not interested in horses, I’m only interested in pigeons!) She extracted the pigeons and picked out the bones leaving me a nice bowlful of the meat, which she stirred into its delicious gravy. It tasted like pure nectar tome! “You polished that off in double-quick time,” she said. “I can see I shall have to order you that dish again one night!” Too right, I agreed, licking my lips. When I carried out my after-dinner whisker-washing routine that evening I took my time - I wanted to keep the taste with me for as long as possible!

  Meanwhile, Sheila had carried out her usual pre-evening ablutions and had changed into her third set of outer coverings that day. “I’m off now,” she told me. “I’ve got to meet Connie and Ron at the Martini Bar for a drink, and then I’m going to the Trivia Quiz with the others. Hopefully it will finish before dinner - I wouldn’t want to miss that after having no lunch.” (Even with all those cakes inside you? I thought sarcastically!) “I’ll see you later then, after the show,” she said, stroking my head, before grabbing her handbag and leaving. I jumped up onto my cushion on the sofa and idly wondered what a Martini Bar was.

  When Eduardo came in later on he seemed a bit flustered. “‘Ello, Trufools,” he said. “You ‘av to wait for your teetbeet tonight. My boss come round soon and so I ‘av to ‘av everything look good quick!” You always make everything look good, I thought, so whatever it is, you don’t have to worry about it! I retired to my bed in the corner and sat there quietly. I didn’t want to get in his way, as he seemed so nervous. As usual, he worked quickly and ef… eff… effici… well, and he made a magnificent monkey (or maybe it was an ape?) out of a couple of the towels. He must be wanting to impress his boss, I reckoned. As he was just replacing the bubbly glass that Sheila had used, there was a knock at the door and two man crew members walked in, the first with a definite air of superiority about him. I can always recognise an air of superiority because, of course, I have one myself (except when being terrorised by giant black seabirds!) Eduardo stood to attention. The boss man smiled and told him to relax. “Eduardo, you are one of my best stewards,” he said. “I’ve never failed you on an inspection yet!” He gave a cursory glance around the stateroom and bathroom. “Excellent, as usual,” he said, nodding, and the man behind him wrote something down on the paper he was holding. “Ah,” he said, noticing me in the corner, “this must be the cat we have on board. It’s the first and only time we’ve ever allowed an animal on board. But I see no mess or cat hairs, so I am satisfied that you are handling things okay. Well done.” I bristled a bit at what he was saying - I do not leave cat hairs about and I certainly never make any mess, and Sheila is most particular, as I am, about leaving my litter box in pristine condition all the time. But I guessed he had been sent here by the Elf and Safety people, so was only doing his duty. I had to keep reminding myself that I was, indeed, lucky to have been allowed on the ship in the first place. It was obviously an unheard-of thing! I heard Eduardo telling him that I had a litter box outside, which Sheila kept absolutely clean and that she disposed of my waste in the correct manner. He also told the boss how well behaved and quiet I was. I knew Eduardo was my friend! The boss and his sidekick departed and Eduardo breathed a sigh of relief. “Zey are very particular about hygiene on zis ship, Trufools, and zey ‘av to be sure we do theengs proper!” I agreed with him. It was nice and reassuring to see that they double-checked every single thing - even though I didn’t think I needed any more personal checking! “‘Ere’s teetbeet now, Trufools,” he said, popping a plump sardine into my bowl. “Enjoy!” And I did...

  Much later Sheila came back. She seemed to be in a happy mood and a bit giggly. I supposed she’d had a few too many of those naughty drinks and frowned at her. “Oh, look! A monkey!” she said, picking up the towelling figure. “Isn’t Eduardo clever?” After a brief visit to her water box, she put on my lead and we went off for her usual casino session. We had to wait a while, as another person was sitting at Sheila’s favourite machine. So she dragged me round the shops again, which were still open, and she nearly, I say nearly, bought another handbag. I heard her mutter to herself that, although she liked it, she’d hang on and see what was in the shops in port the following day when they were ashore, in case there was one she preferred. She had been keeping an eye on ‘her’ machine and saw that the person on it had given up in disgust when nothing had come out of it, so she claimed her place in front of it. “Now, Truff
les,” she said, “I might get lucky this time. Someone else has put a lot of money into it, so perhaps it’s ripe for the taking!” No chance, dear, I thought! She stuck her little piece of paper into the machine’s chest and started the button-pressing process again. Boring, boring, boring! I wondered if I could get away with not coming here the next night - I’d much rather just stay in bed sleeping! At least I was getting used to the noise in the casino by now and it just rippled over me like the squawking of a flock of seagulls! I was almost nodding off when a tremendous roar came from a crowd of people sitting round a nearby table, their eyes glued to a large, round spinning machine. The casino person sometimes threw a little ball into the rim of the big spinner and that was what the people were watching so closely. A man jumped up from his seat and everyone was patting him on the back and cheering. “Well,” said Sheila, “he’s had some good luck, but I don’t think I’m going to get any tonight. Come on, let’s go.” And off for the usual Amoretto coffee session we went!

  Whilst we were sitting there, the hossifer Sheila knew came up and joined us. “I hear you’re going to be at the Captain’s table on the last formal night,” he said. “Perhaps I can sit with you at thedinner as you are all alone?” Perhaps her luck has changed for the better after all, I thought! “Yes, thanks very much, that’ll be nice,” she replied. Oh yes, I thought, she’s playing it cool - that’s a good move! He stayed a few more minutes talking and then left, saying that he’d see her with the Captain’s other guests when they co… con… congr… met up for the pre-dinner drinks. With a brief salute, he smiled at her and walked away. Sheila looked down at me. “And don’t you go reading anything into that, Truffles,” she laughed, “he’s much too young for me! But it will be nice to have an escort.” She finished her drink and we returned to the stateroom.