The Woman in Cabin 10(44)

She caught me looking at her in the mirror and grinned.

“Apparently I’m down for a facial, so I took it off. I told you, I’m quite the makeup artist.”

“Oh, I didn’t . . .” I trailed off, feeling myself blush.

“Contouring,” Chloe said. She swung the chair around to face me and winked. “Honestly, it’ll change your life. I could turn you into anyone from Kim Kardashian to Natalie Portman with what I’ve got in my cabin.”

I was just about to make a joking reply, when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, and I saw with a shock that one of the full-length mirrors behind the desk was moving, swinging inwards. Another door? Seriously, how many concealed entrances did this boat have?

Tina’s head jerked up from the laptop as Eva came through the gap, smiling politely.

“Can I help you, Miss West?” she asked. “We keep our client lists and confidential information on that computer, so I’m afraid we don’t allow guests to use it. If you wish to use a computer, Camilla Lidman will be delighted to arrange one for your cabin.”

Tina straightened awkwardly and turned the laptop to face the desk again.

“Sorry, darling.” She had the grace to look slightly shamefaced. “I, ah . . . was just looking for the list of treatments.”

Since there was a full list in the press pack, it was a slightly lame excuse.

“I would be delighted to give you a printout,” Eva said. There was no hint of coolness in her tone, but she looked at Tina rather appraisingly. “We have the usual types of massage and therapies, facials, pedicures, and so on. The manicures and hair treatments take place in this room.” She indicated the chair that Chloe was perching on.

I was just wondering where the other treatments took place, as there was only one chair in the spa, and no more room on the upper deck as far as I could make out—the hot tub and the sauna took up most of the rest of the space—when the deck door swung open and, somewhat to my surprise, Anne Bullmer came in. She looked a little better than last night, her skin less sallow, her face somehow slightly less drawn, but her dark eyes were circled with deep shadows as though she hadn’t slept.

“I’m sorry,” she said, breathlessly, trying to smile. “It takes me so long on the stairs at the moment.”

“Here.” Chloe stood up hastily and tried to edge out of the way into an unoccupied corner of the room. “Have my seat.”

“There’s no need,” Anne said. Chloe began to insist, but Eva cut across their polite exchange with a smile.

“We’re heading to the treatment rooms now, in any case, ladies. Lady Bullmer, if you would like to take a seat here. Miss West, Ms. Blacklock, and Mrs. Jenssen, shall we make our way down?”

Down? Before I could wonder what that meant, she opened the mirrored door behind the desk—a touch at the frame sent it swinging inwards—and we began to descend a set of narrow, dark stairs, one after the other.

The contrast, after the light and air of the reception room, was extreme, and I found myself blinking, my eyes trying to get used to the low light. Small electric tea lights were placed in holders at intervals along the staircase, but the flickering yellow glow they cast merely intensified the darkness around them, and as the boat tilted slightly over a big wave, I had a momentary wash of vertigo. Perhaps it was the staircase disappearing into darkness below us—or perhaps it was the realization that the lightest of touches from Chloe—who was directly behind me—would send me tumbling into the back of Tina and Eva in front. If I broke my neck, there would be no way of knowing that I hadn’t simply tripped in the dark.

At last, after what seemed like an interminable descent, we stopped in a small lobby. There was the sound of water from a small electric water feature in a niche on the wall, the kind that trickled endlessly recycled water over a stone globe into a bowl below. The noise should have been soothing, and probably would have been on dry land, but the effect on a boat was somehow different. I began to think about leaks, and emergency exits. Were we below the waterline here? There were no windows at all.

My chest started to feel tight and I clenched my fists. Don’t panic. Do not, for God’s sake, have a panic attack down here.

One. Two. Three. . . .

I realized that Eva was speaking, and tried to concentrate on her words, not on the low ceiling and cramped airless space. Perhaps when we got into the treatment rooms, and were less crowded, it would be better.

“. . . three treatment rooms down here,” Eva was saying. “Plus the chair upstairs, so I have taken the liberty of selecting therapies that we can run concurrently.”

Please, please, please let mine be an upstairs one. My fingernails were digging into my palms.

“Miss West, I have you down for an aromatherapy session in treatment room one with Hanni,” Eva said, consulting her list. “Miss Jenssen, you are having a facial in treatment room two with Klaus. I hope you don’t mind a male therapist? Miss Blacklock, I have booked you a mud wrap in room three with Ulla.”

I felt my breath quicken.

“What about Lady Bullmer?” Chloe said, looking around. “Where’s she?”

“She is having a manicure upstairs.”

“Um . . .” I spoke diffidently. “I don’t suppose . . . could I have a manicure upstairs, too?”