“Hello,” I said politely, and shook both women’s hands when they were offered.
“We’re Ken and Barbie,” the shorter woman said with a little apologetic laugh. “I know, right? It’s actually Kendra and Barbara, but all our friends call us Ken and Barbie, and it’s become second nature by now. You’re Sophea, aren’t you? I heard the captain talking about you. You’re American? We’re from Ireland, although you wouldn’t know it the way Barbs speaks. She’s veddy, veddy BBC neutral.”
Barbie was in the process of giving me a good visual once-over. She nodded as her companion spoke, but other than saying, “Pleased to meet you,” didn’t offer much to the conversation.
“Yes, I’m Sophea. I was just on my way to find a steward or ship person to see if there is a shop on board. I wasn’t sure if there was because it’s so small, but I am praying there is because otherwise everyone is going to get tired of seeing my employer and me in the same clothes.”
“Your employer?” Barbie asked at the same time Ken made a face and said, “Dear me, dear me. Lost your luggage, did you?”
“Something like that.”
“You must have a generous employer to take you on this trip,” Barbie said.
With the memory of the scene Mrs. P had made in the tea shop uppermost in mind, I gave them both a bland smile and declined to comment on the eccentric old lady who was probably even now stripping the cabin bare of all she could stuff into her luggage. “Very generous.”
“There is a shop,” Ken said excitedly, waving her hand toward her midsection. “We got our suits and these darling wraps there! I didn’t know there was going to be a pool on board. Honestly, the thought of swimming in a pool sailing on a ship just seems like the height of decadence, doesn’t it? And at night! But it’s so warm out, it’s like swimming during the day.”
“It certainly does seem decadent. Where is the shop located?”
“On the lowest deck. That’s two below us. It’s right next to the first aid. You can’t miss it.”
“Awesome, thank you. I’ll head right down there.”
“Have fun!” Ken said chirpily. “We’ll let you know how the pool is. Honestly, a late-night swim in a pool while sailing down a river… it’s just so crazy, isn’t it, Barbums?”
Her voice drifted off as they headed upstairs to the pool.
I poked my head back into the cabin. “There’s a shop where we can buy clothing. Are you ready?”
“For many things,” Mrs. P replied, coming forward, making a good attempt to hide a scarf that had been draped decoratively along an end table. “What did you have in mind? Will I be required to dance? I have a scarf, if so.”
“No dancing, and you’re going to put that and anything else you’ve pilfered back later,” I told her sternly, taking her arm and escorting her down the passageway.
It took us a bit to get there, since the ship, a small river cruising variety, was not one of those behemoths that roam the ocean and didn’t have elevators, but at last we made it to the lowest level of the ship, where the shop was tucked away. Inside the shop was a tiny desk holding a variety of travel-size items like aspirin, shampoo, and razors. A couple of t-shirts bedecked the wall, as well as a stand containing a variety of the same navy blue one-piece swimsuit as I’d just seen on the two Irish women. There were also a couple of men’s trunks in pale salmon and a box displaying sunscreen.
But no everyday clothing.
“Hello,” I said to the woman who was on her knees setting out some sort of anti-viral hand sanitizer. “I was told that you had some clothing available for purchase. Do you have anything more than swimsuits and t-shirts?”
“I want a swimsuit,” Mrs. P said, and plucked one from the wall, holding it up to herself. “I shall bathe my soul with my sisters in the light of the morning sun.”
“Bound to be chilly then,” I pointed out. “But if you really want one, that’s fine with me.”
“All our costumes are behind the screen,” the shop woman said in heavily accented English, nodding toward a fabric screen that had been angled to hide the back part of the room.
Costumes? I shook my head as I scooted around the screen, assuming it must have been an odd phrasing.
I stared at the collection of sparky, bespangled, and billowing tulle offerings that hung from a variety of hooks and available coat hangers.
“No, she meant costumes,” I said, my heart falling.
“What sort of costumes—oooh!” Mrs. P pushed past me into the secluded area, and perused the offerings with a delight. “Fancy dress! This trip will be more fun than I thought. I like this one.”
I eyed the skimpy Cleopatra-esque outfit, and didn’t say a single thing.
At least, not about that.