Chapter 18

The shit figuratively hit the fan just after lunch the following afternoon. A rumour started circulated around the ship like wildfire that a passenger had gone overboard the night before. Apparently her husband had woken from a drunken stupor and discovered his wife missing and despite appeals over the ship's tannoy she had not reappeared. The general consensus amongst the crew and other passengers was that she had accidentally fallen from her balcony when she was almost incapably drunk.

The captain decided not to turn round and look for her. We were in the middle of the Atlantic after all and no-one had any idea when she actually fell overboard, so the chances of ever finding her alive, or even finding her body, were almost non-existent. Me and the rest of the staff of the cocktail lounge had to make written statements to the First Officer about the woman's condition when her and her husband had left the bar the night before, apparently that was the last place they were in before they retired to their cabin. Her husband was distraught, blaming himself for getting so drunk he was not able to look after his wonderful wife. Of course the rumours soon started. They had had a drunken argument and he had pushed her off the balcony; She had something terminal wrong with her and had decided to end it all by jumping from the ship; Her husband had been shagging her bent over the balcony rail and they'd got carried away in their drunken passion and she'd accidentally fallen overboard. All the wildly inaccurate fantasies that tend to spread amongst almost four thousand passengers and crew when none of them has a clue as to what did actually happen. Well that wasn't strictly true of course. One person knew exactly what had happened to the poor woman.

And I wasn't saying a fucking word...

Sadly, I wasn't able to tell the rest of the passengers that the poor dead woman wasn't worth grieving over and the mood on the ship became rather sombre for the last leg of the cruise back to Majorca. All entertainment was cancelled out of respect for the poor victim and her husband which meant Josie was able to spend the evenings in the bar with me instead of performing. The lounge was very quiet, just a few passengers and crew sat at the tables and not drinking much- all no doubt thinking there but for the grace of God etcetera- so I was able to spend much more time than was usual with my lovely wife. I wished I could tell her what had happened and how my early life now had the closure I had always felt it needed, but decided that perhaps it would be better if I just kept my mouth shut and instead concentrated on our future together.

We eventually docked two days later in Palma where we had to give our statements once again, this time to the Spanish police. They thankfully decided that the conclusions drawn by the ship's captain were correct and the incident had just been a tragic accident that happened occasionally on cruise ships when someone had partaken of far too much alcohol. All-in-all I couldn't have planned things better if I'd tried.

So that's it really. The end of my story about how I committed the perfect crime and got away with it. Did I have any guilty feelings? Not really. Well not at first anyway. I had served twenty years for a murder I didn't commit and this just evened the score in my eyes. Now, almost fifteen years later, I do feel a little remorse sometimes when I look back on that dark day in my life. When I consider things rationally, I tend to think that maybe I do have something to thank Claire for, despite the fact she got me sent down for a huge chunk of my early adulthood. Looking at things from a 'glass half full' perspective, if I hadn't have been sent to prison I would never have met my best mate and only true male friend Archie; If I hadn't have met Archie, I would never have gone to Majorca; If I hadn't have gone to Majorca I wouldn't have met the true love of my life, Josie. So, everything considered, if I had never met my ex-wife I would not be living the happy life I live now.

However, those feelings of remorse don't last long on the odd occasion I think of Claire. What is it the mafia say? "An eye for an eye – A life for a life". Well she'd taken a significant part of my life from me so I'd done the same to her. She had changed from a lovely, pleasant little girl into a nasty vindictive bitch and in the process turned a good, ordinary, hard-working man who loved her dearly into a cold-hearted, stone-cold killer.

So ... Fuck her!...