A Shop Girl at Sea

by Rachel Brimble

  ‘Um… Miss Wakefield. I believe Mr Weir is expecting you to follow him.’

  ‘Hmm?’ She blinked. ‘Oh. Yes, of course. Thank you.’

  ‘Not at all.’ He grinned. ‘It was entirely my pleasure.’

  Her cheeks blushed a pretty pink before she smiled again and rushed along the deck after her chaperone, her dark hair swaying beneath the brim of her hat and her green skirt floating around her ankles.

  Samuel barely heard the family that approached him next.

  Ten

  Ruby knelt on the floor in Pennington’s main window, pins pinched between her lips, as she lifted the hem of a mannequin’s skirt. The nervous energy surrounding her was palpable, made all the more intense by Elizabeth Pennington walking among her workers inspecting their labours.

  They had half an hour before the window’s curtain was lifted and Pennington’s Titanic window was revealed to the masses of people walking back and forth along Milsom Street.

  Even by Ruby’s self-deprecating standards, she had to admit she’d excelled herself. The window design was by far Amelia’s best so far and Ruby and the rest of the team had done their utmost to ensure it shone.

  ‘Now, ladies, as Miss Wakefield won’t be with us for the next three weeks, please don’t hesitate to ask if you should need my help.’ Elizabeth smiled as she stood at Ruby’s elbow. ‘That said, Miss Wakefield’s design was very clearly drawn, and you have executed it to perfection. You have all proven just how well you are able to work without your supervisor here to help things along. You have all made me immensely proud.’

  Ruby inserted a final pin and rose to her feet. They did indeed have a lot to be proud of. Elizabeth’s concepts and how she liked Pennington’s to be ran were high and, with this window, they had excelled.

  ‘Now then…’ Elizabeth looked at her wristwatch. ‘Let’s make sure any last bits and pieces are cleared away before you make your way outside. I don’t want you to miss the inevitable cheers and exclamations when the curtain is pulled back.’

  With a final glance over the display, Elizabeth left the window leaving the rest of them to follow and Ruby quickly returned her pins and tape to their box. Giving a final tug to a couple of jacket lapels and adjusting a mannequin’s hand, Ruby gave a furtive glance at her colleagues, steadfastly refusing to return their smiles. It didn’t matter how much she would have liked to have joined in with the celebrations, she could not afford the luxury of friendship while she lived with her mother.

  Already aware that Elizabeth had been studying her for longer than usual this morning, the last thing Ruby wanted was to rouse additional curiosity. No matter how hard she’d tried to disguise the cut on her cheek from her mother’s ring, the livid red mark remained obvious. Humiliation burned inside of her as she left the window, silently praying that no one asked her how she had come to hurt herself.

  A stiff upper lip at work was possible as long as no one showed her sympathy.

  She was already worried about seeing Victoria. Her questions were inevitable considering Ruby hadn’t arrived for their evening out. The mark on her face would ensure Victoria wanting answers. Ruby inhaled a shaky breath. She would come undone if Victoria were to sympathise with her or, God forbid, she should touch her fingers to Ruby’s skin.

  She quickly glanced at her watch and realised it was almost time for the big reveal. She hurried towards the staff exit and through the alleyway to the front of the store. Crowds had already gathered thanks to Mr Carter’s tantalising advertisements about the new window in yesterday’s papers. The excitement about the Titanic’s maiden voyage had reached fever pitch and Mr Carter had ensured Pennington’s was also at the very top of people’s imaginations.

  Finding a spot at the back of the crowd, Ruby peered over the shoulders of the people in front of her, but even on her tiptoes, she couldn’t see the entirety of the window.

  ‘Miss Taylor, come and stand with me.’ Elizabeth appeared beside Ruby, her gaze warm. ‘As someone who has worked exceptionally hard on this project, you deserve a front-row seat.’

  Before she could object, Elizabeth had gripped Ruby’s elbow and propelled her through the crowd to stand at the front.

  ‘You know, Ruby, you have been a marvel in Amelia’s absence. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you have been at the store from early to late almost every day this week. Your hard work is much appreciated.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Of course, I don’t like my staff to be overworked, but it’s impossible the window would have been finished to such a high standard had you not shown such commitment.’ Elizabeth’s smile wavered as her gaze wandered to Ruby’s cheek for a brief second before she returned her focus to the window. ‘I know Amelia is fond of you so if you have need to talk to me while she is away, my door is always open.’

  Ruby swallowed. ‘Yes, Miss Pennington.’

  Amelia had told Elizabeth she was fond of her? Her supervisor might have offered the hand of friendship now and then, but Ruby wouldn’t have said Amelia particularly pressed the idea of them becoming closer. In fact, it seemed Amelia had her own reasons for keeping things professional. The only obvious aspect about Amelia was that she had ambitions to excel at Pennington’s – clearly something Elizabeth recognised, having sent her on a scouting expedition to America.

  Whereas Ruby’s ambitions lay in getting her and Tommy out of their home and somewhere safe. That, and the strength to accept her love for Victoria would never come to anything and she was best advised to keep it hidden.

  If her secret desires were ever made known to her employers, she’d undoubtedly lose her position on top of everything else she struggled with. Her savings were nowhere near enough to start making escape plans, but she and Tommy would bide their time. One day, they would be free.

  Mr Carter looked at his wife and winked before they strode to the front of the window and faced the crowd.

  Elizabeth smiled, her voice raised and clear. ‘Good morning, one and all. It gives Mr Carter and me such pleasure to see so many of you here and eager to witness the unveiling of Pennington’s latest window. I am proud to announce that we have two of our employees aboard the Titanic and ready to set sail to America, as we speak.’

  There was a rush of whispered conversation and intakes of breath among the crowd before Miss Pennington continued.

  ‘They will soon be on their way across the Atlantic to check up on our friends in American retail so that we might garner and share new ideas in fashion, homeware, silks and satins. Pennington’s prides itself on innovation and bringing you the very best the world has to offer.’ She looked at her watch, exchanged a glance with Mr Carter and then opened her arms. ‘It is exactly midday, the Titanic is leaving port, ladies and gentlemen. I give you Pennington’s newest window.’

  The curtains drew back and the cheer that rose from the crowd was so loud, Ruby could not stem her laughter or avoid putting her hands over her ears.

  The window looked outstanding.

  A mammoth image of the great ship was spread across the backboard behind eight supremely dressed mannequins, donning everything from the finest to the most affordable in Pennington’s jewellery, fashion and accessories. Colour flashed from every corner, jewels glistened, and the hats almost moved under the imagined sway of their feathers, flowers and adornments.

  The crowd surged forward and soon fingers pointed in every direction as more and more wonderment was discovered and admired.

  ‘Well, Ruby, I really hope you’re proud of yourself.’ Elizabeth smiled, before walking away towards the store’s entrance.

  Ruby stared after her and crossed her arms, hugging herself. She couldn’t be sure, but maybe, just maybe, the knotting in her stomach was pride. A feeling that had never, ever visited her before and it felt wonderful.

  Truly, truly wonderful.

  Eleven

  Amelia closed her cabin door behind the steward, walked to the middle of the room and stopped, entirely stunned by her surroundin
gs.

  Although the room was not particularly big, there was a decent-sized bed, a mahogany wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a small writing desk with a chair, beautifully upholstered in ivory damask. A woven rug sat atop the linoleum floor and the most darling washstand and mirror completed the interior perfectly.

  The room was as grand as she’d dared to imagine, and even though there was a second bunk and she’d have someone joining her, the fact she was here was still beyond her belief. What she would give to possess a camera so she could share pictures with Elsa and Martha upon her return. They wouldn’t believe their eyes any more than she could!

  She danced a jig and laughed aloud, before slapping her hand over her mouth and collapsing backwards onto one of the beds.

  How was it possible she was here? Already she had seen so many people, so many faces, clothes and hats. She had heard accents originating from every part of the globe and met the most exemplary, welcoming staff she’d ever encountered.

  If this was a mere glimpse into second class, she couldn’t imagine the luxuries in first. She had to find a way to visit every deck of the ship. From bottom to top, she wanted to see it all.

  Pushing up from the bed, Amelia picked up her suitcase, vanity and hatbox, and hauled her luggage to the bed. Extracting her dresses, she carefully hung them in the wardrobe, contemplating again how generous Elizabeth had been in making her presentable for the trip. She carefully arranged her hats on the wardrobe shelf, her shoes at the bottom, before setting out her limited jewellery, brushes and comb by the small sink and mirror.

  Satisfied and happy, she left her cabin to reunite with Mr Weir as he’d requested once she had unpacked.

  She tentatively knocked on his cabin door, which was just across the corridor from her own.

  ‘Ah, Amelia. I trust your room is to your satisfaction?’

  ‘Oh, yes. It’s wonderful.’

  ‘Good. These rooms are… indeed, adequate. Have you met the person with whom you’ll be sharing?’

  ‘Not yet. Have you?’

  ‘No, but the gentleman is most definitely already aboard. His belongings are well and truly in situ.’ He gave a disapproving sniff. ‘All over the place.’

  Amelia bit back her smile.

  ‘Now, I think we should take a walk and find somewhere to have some light refreshment. I understand luncheon will be served once we set sail.’

  Mr Weir closed his door and Amelia walked beside him, barely able to contain her laughter that he thought his cabin merely adequate. She didn’t doubt for a moment he was as overjoyed as she with their accommodation… if not the untidiness of his travelling companion.

  They walked out onto the deck and looked to the quayside below. People continued to board, the first-class passengers now arriving in earnest. Amelia stared, once more entranced. The latest and most fashionable cars, carriages and luggage lined the dock as finely dressed men, women and children alighted their vehicles and stared up at the ship.

  A rainbow of colours lined the gangplank. Huge, richly adorned hats interspersed with flat caps and bowlers. Class divides and reasons for boarding the ship were illustrated by the slow plod of immigrants, the happy saunter of those embarking on an adventure or the tilted chins and proud gait of the privileged. Voices filled the air and Amelia’s heart raced as she breathed deep, wanting to inhale every aspect.

  ‘Well, it’s a wonder the ship will stay afloat,’ Mr Weir murmured. ‘There is enough furniture, pianos, food and Lord only knows what already aboard and now they’re hoisting on motor vehicles. It’s said nearly two thousand passengers and crew will be travelling. Not to mention the number of tonnes the ship must weigh.’

  ‘It’s a sight to behold.’ Amelia sighed, her cheeks aching from the breadth of her smile. ‘I doubt we will see anything like this ever again.’

  ‘Indeed. I wouldn’t have thought Mr Carter and Miss Pennington would consider a second investigative trip of this scale. Come, let us find a drink. I have a taste for some lemonade.’

  Surprised once again, Amelia followed Mr Weir. To think he might enjoy a glass of lemonade amused her. She couldn’t have imagined him to drink anything other than tea or the finest cognac. His layers were being revealed one after the other and she hoped it boded well that he might lessen his careful watch over her the longer they sailed.

  They wandered into a glassed room serving drinks, the weak sunshine filtering through the many windows, sparkling on every chandelier, mirror and drinking glass. The space was, as everything else, exquisite.

  They weaved through the tables and chairs and Amelia glanced around, her happiness slowly faltering. One gentleman after another looked her way, their appraisal of her clear in their staring eyes and quirking lips. Unwanted vulnerability rose and she steadfastly kept her gaze on Mr Weir’s back.

  The penetrating study she received lingered on her skin like a brand, sending her reeling back to the shame and degradation that haunted her. Her mind filled with how she’d naively believed her past master’s kindness towards her came without condition. How she’d thought he respected her and considered her a valuable member of his household, her work appreciated and needed.

  Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  Tears burned and her hands trembled as vile memories tormented her. Leering eyes, lingering touches…

  ‘Ah, this table will do nicely.’ Mr Weir smiled. ‘We have a view of the deck and the horizon.’

  He held out her chair and Amelia gratefully sat, her hands tightly clenched around her purse, her eyes lowered.

  Although Mr Weir continued to talk, his words sounded far away as Amelia’s pulse thundered. She wanted to leave. Get off the ship. Tell Elizabeth she was incapable of taking this trip… this opportunity.

  Once they each had a glass of lemonade, Mr Weir sipped his drink and sat back in his chair. His grave expression and the sternness in his eyes immediately dashed Amelia’s hopes of him lessening his watch over her throughout the voyage. She picked up her glass, the liquid trembling in her shaky grip. Was it not the reality that men everywhere could change their personalities and intentions on a whim?

  ‘Now, Miss Wakefield, your full attention, please. We have much to discuss.’

  She met Mr Weir’s gaze as her defences rose. How had she even begun to think she could shed who she really was during this voyage? It was ingrained in her skin, scarred inside her heart. It did not matter how far she travelled, she was Amelia Wakefield.

  A woman violated.

  Twelve

  Samuel stared across the water as the Titanic sailed from port and into the English Channel, headed for Cherbourg, where they would pick up more passengers before repeating the same in Ireland.

  Then, at last, they would set sail for America.

  Pride swelled inside him as he worked alongside his fellow crew members, carrying out their superior’s commands, the relative relaxation of seeing the second-class passengers aboard now fading as the job of getting the ship safely out to sea took precedence.

  Whatever this voyage might mean to others, for Samuel it meant liberty. A chance to stretch his skills, his experience and dreams. Guilt threatened as the satisfaction he’d felt at saying goodbye to his mother and sisters a few days ago echoed in his conscience. It niggled that he’d volunteered – pursued – this chance with such passion when his motives lay more in the escape than money. Yet, the need to have some time for himself, no matter for how short or long that might be, burned hotter than ever.

  He wanted to breathe. Pretend it was only himself he had to look out for.

  Even for a while.

  His mother’s shock after his father died had given way to depression and then a neediness that hadn’t been there when her husband lived. She’d leaned on Samuel emotionally, mentally and financially until it had got to the stage that he woke each day with a clawing suffocation hanging over him. Now, he was escaping, and although it felt necessary to his own wellbeing, he feared the affect his abse
nce might have on his mother.

  ‘Officer Murphy. A word, if I may?’

  Samuel blinked and stepped back from the controls to face his senior officer. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Your shifts at the helm will be split between time on the ship’s decks. The same applies to every seaman of your rank. As well as your role as part of the sailing crew, you are also commanded to spend time looking after the second-class passengers and making their time aboard as entertaining and interesting as possible.’

  Entertaining? What in God’s name… Samuel straightened his shoulders. ‘Sorry, sir. What exactly—’

  ‘It is White Star’s wish that the Titanic not only provide the fastest and most luxurious voyage to New York the world has ever seen, but also the most memorable. Passengers are to be given the chance to speak to us. To learn as much as they wish about the mechanics of the ship, seamanship or anything else they might want to know.’

  Annoyed that he was to be entertainment, Samuel looked past the officer. ‘I understand, sir.’

  ‘Your face says differently, Murphy.’ The officer’s gaze bored into Samuel’s. ‘Serving on this ship is an opportunity you don’t want to waste. If you prove your capabilities on this voyage, you will undoubtedly be invited to sail on the Titanic again. I assume that’s something you aspire to? I oversaw your appointment; Murphy and I won’t be happy if I am proven wrong in selecting you among the hundreds of sailors from Southampton who applied.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Samuel cleared his throat and buried his misplaced pride. ‘I will not let you down.’

  ‘Good.’ The officer gave a firm nod. ‘Then you are dismissed until 1900 hours upon which time you will return to the control room. In the meantime, you are to report to the second-class decks and play host to the passengers. Dismissed.’

  The officer walked away, and Samuel lowered his salute. As much as he’d enjoyed welcoming the passengers aboard, the thought of bowing and scraping didn’t sit well at all. Would he have anything in common with these people? Even the second-class passengers seemed to have a pretty penny or two, judging by their dress and manner.