“I’m not sure that’s hygienic,” he says.
“I’m refusing to wear one,” the other sister says. “They can make people go mad.”
“You’re already mad, so that shouldn’t have scared you off,” Felix says.
“I’m serious,” she says. “Sophie Blyth wore one last year on Mungo Roland’s yacht and went completely off her head. Shouted at everyone all week and refused to eat anything but raspberries. Mungo said he was tempted to leave her in Mustique to find her own way home.”
To me, the most remarkable part of this story is that she knows someone named Mungo. Followed closely by the fact that Mungo owns a yacht.
The ship rocks again.
“Am I imagining it, or is the rolling getting worse?” I ask.
“It’s definitely getting worse,” says the sister who knows Mungo. “Do you get seasick?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll probably be fine.” I hope, anyway.
“I’m sure they have patches at the infirmary,” Felix says. “Shall we go see if we can find one?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Good idea.”
“I’m off to the casino,” Lauren says. “There’s nothing like saucy conversation with a handsome stranger at a craps table.”
“Ooh, can we join you?” an unidentified sister says.
“Of course,” Lauren says happily. “Do you two want to meet us there after the infirmary?”
“We’ll see,” Felix says. “I hear Hope here has a gambling problem. Not sure she can be trusted.”
“Is that true?” Prue/Pear asks.
“No, actually. Betting terrifies me.” As someone with no financial cushion, the proposition of losing money is not something I equate with “fun.”
“No!” the sister exclaims. “Youmustlearn! We’re absolute whizzes at blackjack. We can teach you. Prue once won forty grand in Vegas at a hen do.”
Ah. So the one talking is Pear. She has slightly shorter hair and a mole just under the left side of her mouth. I commit this to memory.
“Promptly blew all the money on a handbag,” Felix says.
“I did not ‘blow’ the money,” Prue says primly. “I bought a Birkin. They appreciate.”
She looks at me as though for corroboration.
I nod, trying not to give away my horror at the idea of a purse costing more than half my annual salary. Even Lauren does not traffic in that level of luxury.
Yet, anyway. By the way her eyes have lit up at this story, I’m sure she aspires to.
“Well, good luck at the casino,” I say. “Maybe we’ll see you there in a bit.”
Felix and I walk down the hall toward the elevators.
“Sorry about Kitty and Lydia,” he says when we’re out of earshot.
For a second, I’m confused.
And then I am incredibly delighted.
“Was that aPride and Prejudicereference?”
