Here we are, my mate Tracey and I, in posh togs, standing on a platform at London Victoria, staring in awe at the Orient Express. We can't believe we're going on it. We simply cannot believe it.
I've only seen the Orient Express a handful of times – mostly from car windows, once from a station as it sped through, but every time it sent a thrill coursing through me, as if I'd snatched a glimpse of a mythical creature. There is something deeply romantic about the Orient Express. It's a train from a bygone age, the "lightning luxury train" that evokes memories of intrigue, obscure European royalty and impeccable table manners. It's advertised as a "more gracious, elegant" form of travel and promises a "sequence of unforgettable moments". In short, I can't wait to get on it.
There's only one slight thing I'm worrying about. We're not going to Venice, but on an Orient Express day trip during which we're going to have to solve a murder mystery performed by actors we almost certainly won't recognise. It's nudging perilously close to the murky world of "audience participation" and I am not entirely sure Tracey is up to it. I look round the platform. There's a small group of people in period costume. They're making excessive hand gestures and talking very loudly. They're clearly actors. Time to test the waters. "One of them is the murderer," I whisper to Tracey.
Tracey, who has also been looking round the platform, turns to me. "I thought we might be the youngest people here," she whispers back. "I thought it would be all lovely old couples on their golden wedding anniversaries. I thought we might meet two old Miss Marple types, but now I realise the two old biddies are you and me. It's up to us Emma. We're going to have to solve the case."
The gauntlet is down.
The carriages are beautiful. We're in plush armchairs, the marquetry is exquisite, the table has a cloth on it and we've been given champagne. We're about to be treated to a five‑course meal. I don't think either of us has stopped grinning since we got on. Tracey, however, has a niggling concern. We're two courses in and we've only seen one of the suspects, Tamara Crispin-Pettiface, the "other woman", the mistress of the deceased. The 6th Lord Deville has died, face first, in a bowl of semolina. He had a vast fortune, a last minute change to his will and six people who all want his money.
"This is not the way to run a police investigation," says Tracey, drily. "We're being given food instead of clues. Morse would never have let it get to this."
No. He wouldn't. But there's no need to worry. We are visited by all the suspects in turn, who give us morsels of information and then loudly proclaim their innocence. "Do I look daft?" wails the buxom nurse Brenda E Ware. Tracey narrows her eyes. It requires no response.
At this point, we're about four hours into the trip. It's fair to say that the majority of our carriage are now sailing three sheets to the wind. We're all loudly declaring our murder mystery theories and I wouldn't bat an eyelid if a good old singsong sparked up. An hour later and the actors coming into the carriages are taking their lives in their hands. We think it's everyone. I have to stop Tracey making a citizen's arrest. It's not much of a stretch to say that we're not really travelling in a golden age of ladies and gents, we've all got the day off work (apart from me) and are hell bent on getting shit-faced.
Having said that, if you're going to get a bit pissed, the Orient Express is certainly one of the nicest places to do it. The food is fantastic, the service beyond compare (it's worth going for the toilets alone), but be warned – we went on a blazing day and it got very hot so my advice is to take a hand fan. We would have liked to see more of the actors for the murder mystery (everyone on our carriage was longing for a few scenes with more than one actor), but other than that it's a thumbs up. They promised us a "sequence of unforgettable moments" and they delivered.
• Venice Simplon-Orient-Express (0845 217 0799, orient-express.com) provided the trip. The Murder Mystery Lunch on the British Pullman costs from £295pp, including a five-course lunch, wine and champagne, and lasts around five hours. The next departure is on 24 August
Follow Emma on Twitter @EmmaK67
