Pacific Stars

It had been more than ten years since they had a taken a trip together. The last had been a hectic caravan holiday to the Victorian countryside with the kids complaining that they weren't living it up on the Gold Coast like their school friends.
Margi and Ray could not afford the Gold Coast, nor could they understand how the other families could. A sensible couple they shunned unnecessary debt and lived what they considered a comfortable life. The kids called them misers.
The misery of the caravan trip had spelled the end of family holidays. The beauty of the Grampians went unappreciated by the three teenagers and their constant demands for cinema outings and overpriced take away had Margi and Ray bickering about money. It all ended in a silent, sullen car ride back to suburban Adelaide.
It would be different now. Margi and Ray had been saving for this trip for years. The kids had left home and now took their own junk food laden trips up the coast and had finally visited the Gold Coast with their mates. Eventually the caravan holiday of the previous decade was referred to with reasonably good humour.
Since they were sweethearts, before they were married and tied to mortgages and school fees, Margi and Ray had dreamt of taking a luxurious cruise, stopping to visit tropical islands, sun bathing on the perfect pool side deck and dining with the captain under a shimmering chandelier.
They had deliberated over the most interesting itinerary, spent countless hours pondering which line provided the best value and sought advice from experienced friends on which cruises were the most comfortable.
They had settled on the Pacific Star. Their journey would take in six Pacific islands, New Zealand and a couple of points of interest on the Australian coastline.
The Pacific Star catered to active older couples and singles with a mix of onshore adventure, superior on board entertainment and relaxation. The travel agent had assured them they would find plenty of like-minded companions in their ‘age bracket’ ( mid to late fifties) and the glossy brochures promised those lush tropical islands, luxury cabins and dining, friendly staff and entertaining cultural experiences.
Margi had dieted for six months and went to the sales to purchase a selection of colourful, sophisticated outfits for herself, a few bits and pieces for Ray and a set of matching luggage in honour of the journey.
Together they researched their destinations, learning about the dominant religions, customs and economic status of each island they would visit and places of interest in proximity to each stop.
Now the day was here. Youngest daughter Felicity delivered them to the Passenger Terminal where they would board the Pacific Star, next door to the docks where shiny new cares were delivered from around the world.
Felicity helped with the luggage, noting that it also matched with the suitcases of at least ten other ‘oldies’ preparing to board the cruise ship. She hugged them close and joked that she hoped they wouldn’t get bored and lose their retirement fund on the pokies. Then she left hem standing there alone, surrounded by people ‘of their age bracket,’ looking at the Pacific Star; the luxury cruise liner that would be their home for the next four weeks.
A slim young woman in a nautical uniform approached them with a whiter than white smile and asked to see their tickets. She took the, up the gang plank and gave them directions to their cabin; showing them a room where they could have a complimentary photo taken to commemorate the occasion.
They took each other’s hand and walked uncertainly down the corridor to find cabin number 511. Margi looked down at their entwined hands. She thought she needed to moisturise. She noted Ray’s knuckles, swollen with arthritis and stained grey from decades working as the town mechanic. She looked up and caught Ray’s eye. They smiled, each silently realising that they could not remember th last time they had held each other’s hand.
“Let’s find this cabin of ours and spruce up for that photo then,” he said planting a kiss on her cheek and stroking the lines that crinkled around her eyes as she grinned, blushing slightly at the un-used to attention.
The pair wandered in, expecting to take wrong turns and get lost on the enormous cruise ship but finding themselves unexpectedly at their door within minutes. They unlocked the cabin and walked in; the weight of unconscious nervousness starting to lift as they sat down on the bed.
The room was smaller than they had expected and it didn’t quite match the brochure’s carefully crafted images; but they’d kind of expected that anyway. It was comfortable, had a small window and a little TV with a couple of chairs and a table.
“We’ll be out on deck most of the time at any rate,” said Margi.
Ray looked at Margi. He remembered that caravan holiday. How she’d worked so hard to keep the kids entertained, prepared the meals in the tiny caravan kitchenette and kept smiling when she felt like crying; knowing they could not give the kids what they asked so pointedly for. He loved his kids, was proud of them, but during those two weeks there were times when he came close to hating them. If anyone else had spoken to his wife, or himself like those teenaged monsters he would have given it right back to them. He felt his shoulders tense at the memory and told himself to relax. This would be different. They didn’t need to plan anything; it was all taken care of. The kids weren’t here and they were happy. Happy. All they needed to do now was have their picture taken. The bags had miraculously appeared in the room. Luckily Margi had thought to name them with special leather tags.
Ray hated photos, but he knew Margi would want this. He took his toilet bag from the new suitcase and pulled a comb through this thick curly but greying hair and brushed his teeth out of habit. He always did before they went out.
Margi re-applied her make-up and combed and re-sprayed her hair. She also brushed her teeth; then re-applied her lipstick. Ray realised that she was still nervous. So was he. They’d never been away together, alone. They didn’t know any one of the hundreds of people on board this ship and they were here for four weeks. He looked gratefully at the television.
Margi was looking through the brochures that detailed the activities and entertainment on board the ship, she stopped flicking through the pages gleaming with delicious meals and sundrenched pools with glamorous people reclining on banana lounges (why was no one ever swimming?) and started to read. Ray glanced over.
“What is it Love?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she murmured and turned the page again.
They went and joined the queue to have their photo taken. While they were waiting they got talking and arranged to have dinner with some of the other couples. Over dinner they became friends with the two other couples and Margi asked if they’d join them for karaoke the next evening.
The others said they’d never tried karaoke but with a few drinks it could be fun. Ray had never sung and agreed he’d need a few stiff drinks before he got up in front of anyone. He hoped there would be enough people that he could keep off the stage all together.
The next night Margi put on a sparkly new dress and spent extra time doing her hair. She clipped big diamante earrings on. She was ready early and they arrived early to an almost empty Pacific StarS karaoke lounge.
Ray went to the bar and ordered cocktails while Margi went straight away to view the song selection. Before the cocktails were made she was up on the little stage warming up with Moon River. Ray stood, a mojito in each hand, looking and feeling as if he were seeing his wife for the first time. She looked so glamorous in her sparkly dress and big shiny earrings and her voice was spectacular. Ray had heard Margi sing in the shower and while she cleaned the house. He’d heard her girlfriends talk about her voice after they’d been to a few karaoke nights at the local bar; but he’d never really thought much about it.
Now as more people began to trickle into the lounge he watched as they stopped to listen and he heard them make appreciative comments and he felt proud as he handed Margi her cocktail when she finished her song to a long and loud applause.
Their new friends arrived and a few of them entered the night’s competition with Margi. Ray demurred, saying that Margi had enough talent for both of them. She chose Summertime as her number for the night and knocked everyone dead with her sultry voice. Ray thought she looked more alive than she ever had. He noted the men in the room appreciating her curves as she got into the music.
No one was surprised when she won the competition and Doug, the barman, asked her to come back the next night. She glowed as she accepted.
The next evening she sang the Chattanooga Choo Choo and wore bright red lipstick. She was buoyant from the compliments she’d received while relaxing by the pool with her detective novel during the day.
The audience had grown and there were double the number of entries. But it was clear to Ray that there was no real competition. His wife was a star; emerging from her sensible slacks and neat cardigans resplendent in her sequins and announcing to the world that she was alive and ready to sing in as beautiful and sexy voice as anyone had ever heard.
After she was awarded the best of the night she was asked to sing a few more. She accepted with grace and performed a set Billie Holiday would be proud of.
The next night she was back and surprised everyone when she performed a country classic; Jolene. It was beautiful and it seemed that the winning pattern would continue. But this time a rival emerged in Pacific StarS Karaoke lounge. Barbara was a single lady who appeared to be a shade younger than most on the cruise, about 45 Ray guessed. She had a great voice and there was no doubt that she was an attractive woman. She had plenty of confidence and it appeared she also knew Doug and a some of the audience.
Ray watched her and thought that she was flirting. He gave Margi a squeeze. He realised he felt nervous for her. He’d expected she would win easily, just like the other nights. At the end of the competition the audience voted and a draw was announced. Doug, the barman, thought for a while and suggested Barbara and Margi have their own competition in two nights time. Five songs each, any genre, as long as the song was already on the karaoke machine. They could see him the next day to choose their set.
Word spread that there was a to be a sing-off on the cruise ship. Margi’s reading was interrupted with words of encouragement throughout the day. She spent a lot of time in the shower practicing and Ray could not imagine anyone could better her.
The karaoke had consumed their holiday, but he did not mind. In a few days they would visit Tahiti, but that was far from both of their thoughts.
The winner of the competition was to be chosen by popular vote, based on applause, and the lovely Barbara could be seen prowling the decks buttering up her audience, even practicing her songs by the pool. Margi that that those tactics were overt and unnecessary. She kept to her detective novels and practiced where she was most comfortable, in the bathroom.
The big night came and she fretted that she’d only brought one good evening dress. Ray assured her she looked great and her voice would do the work anyway. She jazzed it up with a bow and set off early.
They arrived at Pacific StarS and stopped at the door. Barbara was already there. And she was practicing. And she an audience. They held hands, something that had become familiar over the last few days, and walked in.
Ray ordered the mojitos. Margi went through her songs again with Doug, and waved a friendly hello to Barbara. Barbara smiled stiffly back, clearly focussed on winning.
The competition started. The singers were to take turns with the level of applause measured after each set and again at the end. Doug had early on declared himself a master in measuring applause appreciation levels and would be the ultimate judge.
Margi opened the first set and received a resounding applause. Barbara followed and even Rayy struggled to see who was the better performer. Both women favoured jazz and blues classics. They both had rich smoky voices and held the audience in thrall with expert timing and a few well chosen dance moves.
For four songs the women were evenly matched. The fifth song was to be all important. Barbara went first and upped the ante with a brilliant version of The Lady is a Tramp.
Then on walked Margi. She’d changed. Really changed; she was now wearing jeans and a barely buttoned up snug fitting shirt. She’s spiked her hair with a spangley gel and she wasn’t really walking. She was strutting.
Ray held his breath. He wasn’t sure what was coming next. He’d heard nothing about this in the bathroom rehearsals.
The track started with a spray of guitar and the soulful, doleful mood of the room became electric. Margi grabbed the microphone and took on the late great Jimi Hendrix. She’d chosen Hey Joe, and as she crooned over the top of the crashing guitars Ray could see she owned the room again.
Margi finished to rapturous applause. She reminded them all that even though they’d raised (sometimes terrible) kids and they might be in the ‘older age bracket’ they were the original children of rock n roll! And they weren’t that old anyways.
The next day they visited Tahiti and had a wonderful tropical cultural experience – then Barbara and Margi took over the karaoke in the Pacific StarS lounge and entertained their friends.