Читать книгу ELVIS SAILS AGAIN - DAVID J CHRISTOPHER - Страница 7

"I think he was a little surprised that's all. But I think good surprise," Elvis said.

Naomi and Bernard looked less sure.

Jock failed to keep the look of sheer horror from his face. That he thought this was patently the most stupid thing he had heard for many years was clear from his bewildered expression. The idea that Elvis and Naomi could roll back the years and start up where they had left off in 1985 was bizarre. He thought briefly about trying to save them from their folly. But then he remembered the more unattractive alternative, which might involve taking the flotilla out himself and thought better of it.

"If Elvis and Naomi want to spend a fortnight in the Greek sun, meeting their customers up close, then who am I to put a dampener on it," he thought to himself.

After a few short seconds he regained his composure.

"Wow, that's err quite a surprise. Didn't know you were so front line," he stammered.

"Back to the shop floor, back to our clients, the reason why we are here, it will be so rewarding. Given that we are going to the front line perhaps we should call up one of those TV companies and invite some cameras along. What's that programme called on TV where the bosses are filmed doing different roles in their businesses. Back to the Shopfront or something. We could call this Back to the Seafront. I'll ask Moira to look into it."

As with many of Elvis's crazier ideas this one would never see the light of day because Naomi made a mental note to have a quiet word with Moira to ensure it was assigned to Elvis's Bottom Draw, where all madcap schemes went to die. The thought of being captured on film for all to see made her shiver.

"That's decided then, all we've got to work out now are the logistics of getting to Nidri by 5pm this afternoon," chirped Elvis. "Moira?"

"Impossible," Moira told him.

"Nothing is impossible, Moira. Impossible is merely a challenge waiting to be overcome."

Elvis loved his positive thinking courses, spouting mantras at will, he had one for every occasion, especially when they were being applied to someone else.

"Remember Moira, if you aren't part of the solution then you're part of the problem."

"You're the flipping problem," muttered Moira under her breath.

But not even a supercharged Anthony Robbins was going to come up trumps on this one, Nidri by 5pm, as predicted, turned out to be an impossibility. When Moira reported this back to Elvis he pouted.

"Moira, think outside of the box."

"I know who I'd like to be outside the box," she thought, but again she just smiled.

After an hour's further research, she had the best answer she was going to come up with. Elvis and Naomi would fly to Corfu, stay the night there, before catching the morning ferry to Igoumenitsa, and then take a taxi to Nidri. They would arrive in good time for the departure of the flotilla.

"I can only get economy class," Moira warned Naomi. "He's not going to like that one bit. I can hear him now."

"But do you have a clue what it's like flying cattle class?" Naomi mimicked. "Hell on earth. Plastic cutlery, no free newspapers, and worse of all no free champagne in real glasses."

"Best tell him," Moira said as she knocked on Elvis' door. "Stand back."

"But I can't let my people down," he told her when she told him the itinerary. "Can't you get us to Nidri tonight?"

"Not unless you intend to use some of your inherent hot air," said Moira a little more loudly than she had intended.

She decided that the cabin class she had booked could remain a little surprise.

"Well, I suppose that will have to do. I'll let Jock know the bad news. I only hope that he's not too disappointed," Elvis told her in the end, with not a hint of gratitude for her efforts.

If Jock was disappointed, he hid it well on the second Skype call of the day.

"No problem," he said. "The guests spend the first night of their holiday afloat, but firmly attached to the pontoon at Nidri. We have a meet and greet dinner, and everyone gets pretty drunk to be honest. The briefing in the entertainment suite next morning is at 10am and the boats usually leave at about 11am or so. So, you won't be missing anything crucial if you arrive here in time for that."

"That's the spirit," encouraged Elvis.

"I'll email you over the itinerary, Elvis. You will look at it won't you?"

"Of course," replied his boss.

Elvis spent the next hour going round the office asking if everyone was OK and explaining that he and Naomi had been called to Nidri in an emergency.

"How come the only time he does this is when he's going away?" Moira asked Bernard as they watched the spectacle.

Tour finished, Elvis said his goodbye to Bernard, and then picked up his travel information from Moira. Of the email that Jock had by now sent him, he took no notice.

"Best foot forward," he said to no-one in particular, as he strolled from the office towards his shiny blue Lexus. "Greece won't know what's hit it."

"God help them," muttered Moira, "first the economic crisis and now this."

Elvis pressed the electric gate opener on his dashboard as he turned into his driveway. The wrought iron gates swung open as he passed through. He parked the car right outside the front door as he always did. The house was pseudo Georgian. It had a covered porch, or portico as the estate agent would have it. Five bulging suitcases were waiting.

Who are we taking with us?" called Elvis. "These can't be for us surely?"

Naomi appeared at the door.

"Very funny," she replied. "I'm not going without some of my little luxuries."

"Think back, darling, the last time we did this we could fit everything we took into a keep dry bag."

"But we are no longer in our carefree twenties Elvis. We are comfortably, even luxuriously, middle aged. I need a little help and it's all in here," she pointed to the suitcases.

"When I look at you I don't see middle aged," purred Elvis.

Naomi's face softened to a smile.

"You and your flattery, will get you everything," she said, "But I do need you to promise me one thing about this trip though"

"Anything, my darling Naomi."

"There are to be no naked transom showers," Naomi said with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Now I do remember those," said Elvis. "Deserted bays, skinny dipping, a little ooh la la."

"You can forget your ooh la la too," Naomi said. "Not with my back."

Elvis looked back at the suitcases.

"Are you serious? We can't take this lot with us. We are staying on a 34-foot Bavaria not a 70 foot Catamaran. We need to travel fast and travel light."

"I need my little luxuries Elvis. I'm not spending two weeks anywhere without my hair-dryer, hair straightener, foot spa, and face massager."

It took a bit of negotiation, but, by the time the Executive Airport Transfer car arrived, Elvis and Naomi had reduced their luggage requirement to two suitcases.

"Let's start as we mean to go on," said Elvis to Naomi as they settled into the leather seats. Plugging his headphones into his phone, he smiled and settled back to listen to his daily affirmations.

"It's all happening perfectly, I can handle it, life supports me..." purred the woman's soft voice.

Naomi prodded him.

"Perhaps you could let me listen to that when you've finished. I think I might need it."

Ninety minutes later their driver pulled up at Gatwick Airport in good time for their flight.

"We're here," said Elvis waking his snoozing wife. "Loads of time in the Executive Club Lounge before we take off. What could be better?"

Access to the lounge was one of the perks of his Air Miles Silver Card. He loved the relaxing atmosphere. He loved the way the person on the reception desk scrutinized his membership card minutely to make sure he wasn't some interloper. Most of all he loved the fact that this perk was actually funded by the vast majority of BA's customers, who ironically couldn't take advantage of it.

"They'll be putting out the fresh sandwiches about now," he told Naomi, "with cake and fruit too. Eat as much as you like, it's all free, and don't forget to help yourself at the bar as well."

"Your dietary reawakening was a little short-lived darling," remarked Naomi, "remember what the nice lady on the NHS helpline told you. A little restraint goes a long way."

Thirty minutes later the couple strode up to the lounge doors.

"Ah this is bliss," said Elvis.

An elderly uniformed man sat at a desk, tapping on his computer aimlessly. He looked up.

"Can I help you, Sir?" he asked. "Come from a barbecue have we?"

Elvis had dressed ready for action in Greece. He was wearing old khaki shorts and a striped shirt unbuttoned at the neck. On his head he had a rather battered straw boater.

"Yes, most amusing, I see what you mean," Elvis said. "Bit of an emergency, forgot the long trousers, sorry."

The doorman was seeing out his time until retirement at this popular posting. Nevertheless, he took it seriously and saw his role as being akin to a concierge at an exclusive London members club. He regretted the lounge had no formal written dress code. In its absence he saw himself as the last bastion of decency. If he had his way, he would have required full suit and tie.

"Yes, we do prefer long trousers sir, but the real problem today is your footwear. Unfortunately for health and safety reasons, bunions, verrucae, corns, that type of thing, we cannot accept persons wearing....flip flops."

He emphasised "flip flops" with every ounce of distaste he could muster.

Elvis argued his case but to no avail. All he achieved was a red face and indigestion. Eventually he realised this was not an argument he was going to win. With a defeated shrug he turned and barked dictatorially at Naomi.

"Come on, we are clearly not welcome here today, I shall take this higher but for now we're leaving."

"You leave if you want," Naomi replied. "I'm looking forward to the sandwiches and cake, plus a glass or two of sparkly stuff. I might even take a shower and use those wonderfully fluffy white towels. I'm going in, I'll see you at the departure gate darling."

With that she smiled sweetly at the beaming attendant who opened the double doors for her, and she disappeared from view.