“What do you think? Too many feathers?” she asks, as she strikes a pose for my camera

“You can never have too many feathers” I reply

What I am actually thinking is “fine if you were trying out for a part in Swan Lake (which seems unlikely) , but otherwise, yes, way too many feathers”

Her name is Grace, of which she has little. What she does have is a shit load of money and three men hanging on her every word.

We first met Grace on New Years Eve. It was around 10.30 and we were walking through the ship’s lobby. Coming towards us was this tiny woman (tiny in height anyway) whose lips and cheeks had received rather too much attention from a needle and a cosmetic surgeon. She wasn’t pretty! But she was striking in her incredibly high heels and a very colorful dress which was either way too long for her or had a short train. It was hard to tell . She was hanging on to the arm of a handsome but rather overweight Mexican man in his mid thirties dressed entirely in white.

Suddenly she screeches at the man in white “Mario! Just look at these two fabulous men”.

For some reason we liked her immediately!

“ You have to take a photograph of me with them” she continued.

At which point, without even asking, she grabbed both of us and struck her first pose. Not happy with that, she rearranged us and struck another pose which involved thrusting her pelvic area onto Gordon’s hip.

She was all over us, hands exploring different parts of our bodies. Meanwhile Mario just stood, camera in hand, watching with an air of resignation. She never stopped talking or moving. Way too old to be a little firecracker, but that is what she was.

Eventually she released us. Gordon sent his trousers to the cleaners and we made a mental note never to let her get that close again.

Two hours later she was a whirling dervish on the pool deck where a New Years Eve dance party was in full swing. She had all her body parts swaying to the music on the dance floor. Mario decided wisely not to compete. He stood on the side, his eyes never leaving her, while Grace moved from one man to another, regardless of whether they already had a partner. If she wasn’t making a spectacle of herself then, she was a moment later when one of her heels got caught in the train of her dress and she went face down on the dance floor skidding rather alarmingly towards the pool. Mario was smiling to himself as she picked herself up screeching with laughter and continued to shake her booty. It is hard not to like her.

The next evening we are dining in Toscana, a specialty restaurant on board ship. Next to Toscana there is Restaurant Privee, which is, as the name suggests, a private restaurant. It can only be accessed through Toscana. It seats 10 people round a large oval dinner table under a splendid Murano glass chandelier. Entry is by invitation only and the restaurant has to be booked in advance at some considerable cost.

The door from Restaurant Privee opens and Mario walks out. He is wearing a very tight white T shirt which he shouldn’t be, and an equally tight white pair of jeans. He walks directly over to our table.

“We are having a small celebration in Restaurant Privee” he says “ and Grace would love it if you would come and say hello”. He was obviously embarrassed at having to deliver the message. It felt more like a summons than an invitation.

It was also a little disturbing to think that Grace had the ability to find out which of the seven restaurants we were eating at that night, and exactly where we were sitting, but she obviously did.

Even more disturbing is that the last time we were in Restaurant Privee was 11 years ago. It was a very strange evening which featured a game called “Spin the Penis”. If you would like to check it out you can scroll back to May 25^th 2013 and a blog entitled R.T.W., or click on https://andrewsfabuloustravelblog.me/2013/05/25/r-w-t/

As this evening’s invitation came from Grace we were hoping we weren’t in for a similar experience.

We followed Mario into the room where Grace rushed over to us, flung her arms around us and let her fingers do the walking. We had already forgotten rule #1. Don’t let Grace get near you. She was sitting at the head of the table with one man on either side of her. To her right was a very handsome man who Grace introduced as her husband.

I tried not to look shocked, while I mentally did cartwheels, rapidly reassessing Grace and her lifestyle.

They were celebrating his 70^th birthday, although he looked years younger. He stood to greet me and we chatted for some time. I liked him immediately. He was charming, friendly and completely at ease. He explained that the trip was a going away gift to Mario who was moving to Dubai, which I have to say is the perfect place for him

“Can you imagine” hubby said “ we have nurtured Mario for many years and given him everything, and this is how he pays us back” He was smiling in an amused way as he watched me silently reassessing once more. He reached out and put his arm around me.

Message delivered and received loud and clear, I thought.

He and Grace had been married for fourty two years, he told me. This was Grace’s second marriage and she had children from her first marriage. So Grace must be around the big seven 0 as well. The cosmetic surgeon may not have turned her into a beautiful woman but he had definitely made her look years younger.

They spend their time between Los Angeles and Las Vegas, a combination of places that makes me wonder about their source of income.

While I was talking to Hubby, Gordon was talking to the man on Grace’s left. His name was Tim. He was a surprisingly unattractive man considering the company he was keeping. He was dressed entirely in black, an interesting contrast to Mario. Was it intentional, I wondered? We spent some time with them over the next few days. Everytime we saw them Mario was dressed all in white and Tim was all in black. Grace, Hubby and Mario had one of the owners suites on the ship, while Tim had a regular cabin. We never could work out what Tim’s part was in this little foursome.

After ten minutes, Gordon and I made a polite exit and returned to the way less interesting masses in Toscana, me kicking myself for not having my camera.

The following night we met them at Jacques, another Specialty restaurant, but this time there were only three of them. Mario was missing. It just gets more intriguing by the day.

This time I had my camera.

The next night all four of them were eating together. Halfway through the meal Grace, Hubby and Mario all left the table. Tim remained on his own.

Twenty minutes later Hubby returned and sat down next to Tim. They spent the rest of the evening chatting. Grace and Mario never returned.

The following day they were gone. They had left the ship.

It was all very intriguing to say nothing of frustrating. I desperately wanted to know more. In situations like this my imagination runs amok, thinking of all sorts of wild possibilities. But this time I had the sense that the reality was even wilder than my imagination.