He should be grateful he hadn’t been commandeered to first-class. God only knew how he would manage to keep up with their demands if the thought of entertaining second-class irked.
Striding from the control room, Samuel walked along the winding corridors. The higher he rose through the decks, the more the clanking and banging in the working underbelly of the ship gave way to an increased volume of laughter, conversation, clinking glasses and music.
Samuel emerged onto the Boat Deck which was also one of the second-class promenades. It seemed as good a place as any to tip his cap and engage in some conversation. Fighting to silence the internal voice in his head telling him he was expected to behave like a puppet in a theatre, Samuel drew back his shoulders, pulled on his most amiable expression and stepped to his task.
The late afternoon sun drifted towards the horizon, purple-grey clouds stretching across the sky like lengths of gauze. Passengers had taken to the deckchairs and loungers, woollen blankets placed over their knees and hat brims shielding their eyes.
Wherever Samuel looked, happy faces and friendly nods came his way which he returned, the tension in his shoulders relaxing. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad assignment, after all.
He strolled further, stopping to speak with an elderly couple, learning that they were sailing to New York to celebrate their ruby wedding anniversary. The more people he spoke to, the clearer it became that New York had been in the minds of many wedded couples for honeymoons, anniversaries or birthday celebrations.
Then there were the families sailing away from England in pursuit of a better life.
He only had to look into the eyes of the people he spoke with to know if it was for happy or desperate reasons they were onboard.
Glancing towards the deck’s railing, Samuel stopped, his eye caught by the caramel hair of the woman who had captured his attention that morning.
What was her name? Ann? Audrey? Amy… Amelia. Amelia Wakefield.
Samuel smiled, pleased she stood alone and, at least momentarily, unchaperoned.
He looked around, searching for the older gentleman she’d boarded with but Weir was nowhere to be seen.
Clearing his throat, Samuel approached her. ‘It’s a beautiful afternoon, Miss Wakefield.’
She jumped, her dark eyes startled and then wary as she pulled her hands from the railing and stepped back, opening the space between them.
Confused by her clear unease and lack of smile when she’d seemed so happy just a few hours before, Samuel also stepped back and raised his hands in a gesture of no harm. ‘Excuse me, I’m sorry if I scared you.’
‘Scared me?’ Her cheeks reddened. ‘You did no such thing. I was distracted, that’s all.’ She looked pointedly past him as though purposefully avoiding his gaze. ‘And yes, it is a beautiful afternoon.’
Samuel stared at her, discomfited by her obvious nervousness. ‘I hope the delay at Southampton hasn’t spoilt your excitement, Miss?’
‘Not at all. I thought how the crew handled the near collision with the other ship when we departed was remarkable.’
‘Yes. Ironically, the other ship is called the New York. It somehow came loose of its ropes.’
‘I see. Well, it was most admirably navigated.’
She turned to the sea and Samuel followed her gaze. ‘My name is Officer Samuel Murphy, Miss. At your service. If there’s anything I can do—’
‘There isn’t, but it’s nice to meet you, Officer Murphy.’
Samuel stared into her dark eyes as her gaze lingered on his, his curiosity about this beautiful woman escalating. ‘Well, I hope you might have need to call on me during the voyage sometime. I understand I’ll be walking these decks almost as much as I’ll be helping to sail the ship.’
She stared at him a moment longer before turning and glaring out over the water, an aura of unmistakable hostility enveloping her.
He cleared his throat. ‘Pardon me for asking, Miss Wakefield…’
She pinned him with her glare, her cheeks mottled.
‘But are you quite all right?’
‘Of course.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
Torn behind offering her some words of comfort or leaving her alone, Samuel hesitated. Neither option seemed appropriate. ‘Might I walk you back inside? It will get chilly once the sun goes down.’
‘I’m fine where I am, thank you.’ She turned back to the water. ‘Good afternoon, officer.’
He stared at her turned back, slowly gliding his gaze over her hair, the curve of her neck, down to her elegant hands gripping the railing. Although astoundingly beautiful, an indescribable sadness also surrounded her. No, not sadness. Tension. Like she had been waiting for him to pounce.
Samuel walked along the deck but couldn’t resist another look over his shoulder at Amelia Wakefield. It pained him to leave a woman in distress, but he wasn’t on the street, in a shop or at a dance. He was serving on the greatest ship in the world and Miss Wakefield was a paying passenger.
Space had to be enforced.
Self-control implemented and instinctive gestures restrained.
Yet still, he risked another look, but this time she’d gone.
Thirteen
Ruby stood back from the mannequin she was dressing and eyed it critically. Something wasn’t quite right. Frustrated, she removed the pale pink sash before carefully lifting off the hat. She placed both on the chair beside her, put her hands on her hips and studied the range of headwear on display in Pennington’s ladies’ department. Maybe the ivory dress would look better accessorised with blue. Or maybe green. Or lemon.
She briefly closed her eyes, not wanting to consider anything lemon and have it remind her of Victoria and the loan of her beautiful dress on the night that never happened.
Selecting a pale green hat, decorated with dark green ribbon, leaves and ivory-coloured flowers, she returned to the mannequin, positioned the hat and stood back a second time. Much better.
Humming happily, she selected a dark green sash.
As she turned, the sight of Tommy under the hand of one of Pennington’s security watchman made her freeze, the sash falling like a feather through her fingers.
The watchman raised his eyebrows. ‘He says he belongs to you.’
‘Um, yes, he does.’ Ruby hurried forward. What on earth was Tommy doing here? ‘He’s my brother.’
‘I see. Well, brother or not, it’s not good for Pennington’s reputation to have him roaming around, touching whatever he fancies without a care in the world. I’d assumed him a thief from the way he’s been wandering around for the last half an hour.’
‘I apologise.’ Ruby eased Tommy from the watchman’s grasp and steered him behind her. ‘I’ll look after him from here.’
‘I don’t think Mr Carter would be happy with me just leaving him—’
‘If Mr Carter would like to speak to me about it, you know where I am.’ She pulled back her shoulders, her insides churning despite her bravado. ‘If there’s nothing else…’
The watchman narrowed his eyes at her and then Tommy, before turning and walking out of the department.
Ruby released her held breath and gripped Tommy’s arm, marching him into the back room and dropping the curtain. ‘What are you doing here? You can’t just come into the store looking for me. Does Ma know you’re here?’ She threw a hurried look towards the curtain. ‘Oh, God, don’t tell me she’s here, too?’
‘No, she’s at home.’
‘Then why—’
‘Because she’s drinking with some fancy man, that’s why.’ He snatched his arm from her grasp and marched to the settee, sinking heavily onto it. ‘I’m not staying there while they’re smooching and kissing. It’s disgusting.’
Revulsion clenched Ruby’s stomach. ‘Well, who is he? Did you get a look at him? Someone new? One we’ve seen before?’
‘No, he’s new and dressed a bit better than the others, I suppose. But still, they’re drinking and she�
�s flirting and it’s disgusting.’
‘Ma didn’t see you?’
‘No, I let myself in the house as quiet as a mouse after school because I didn’t know what state she’d be in. Then I heard laughing in the parlour. So, I sneaked my head around the door and there they were, all over each other on the settee.’
‘It’s enough to turn my stomach.’ Ruby grimaced, trying to think of the best place to put Tommy until her shift finished. There was no way she’d send him home alone now she knew her mother to have company. ‘Right then, you’d better wait in the staff dining room.’ She glanced at the wall clock. ‘I’ve an hour until I finish so I’ll get you a cup of tea, a pencil and some paper. You draw me one of your lovely pictures. All right?’
Tommy’s eyes lit with relief. ‘I can wait here for you?’
‘Yes.’ She winked and ruffled his hair, before walking to a bureau where the paper and pencils were kept. ‘Let’s go, and you’d better pray we don’t bump into Mrs Woolden or Miss Pennington. Or Mr Carter, for that matter.’
Ruby peered around the curtain. Mrs Woolden was nowhere to be seen and the shop girls were all busy with customers. Confident they wouldn’t ask questions, even though she knew there was every chance someone might mention Tommy being here to Mrs Woolden upon her return, Ruby gripped Tommy’s wrist and propelled him through the department and onto the second-floor landing.
The store was heaving with customers and Ruby was grateful for the cover they provided as she hurried Tommy along, heedless to his occasional exclamations about the strength of her grip or the multitude of wonders that caught his eye. At last, they entered the back staircase leading to the staff dining room and Ruby breathed a little easier.
She might not have friends at Pennington’s, but she didn’t have enemies either. Fingers crossed, no one would take umbrage with Tommy waiting for her and mention it to their supervisor.
They walked down the stairs and upon sight of the woman coming up the stairs, Ruby inwardly cursed. Fine, so there were enemies and there was Hazel Price.
Hazel’s thin lips curved into a slow smile, her contemptuous gaze fixed on Tommy. ‘Well, well, what do we have here, Miss Taylor? Your beau?’
‘Of course not. Tommy’s my brother. Now, if you’ll excuse us…’ Ruby moved to step past her.
‘Hello, Tommy.’ Hazel offered Tommy her hand, her brown eyes gleaming with curiosity. ‘I’m Miss Price. Nice to meet you.’
Tommy glanced nervously at Ruby and she nodded her permission. If they demonstrated some manners, maybe Hazel would leave them be. Tommy shook her hand before shoving his own back into his trouser pocket.
She lifted her eyebrows. ‘So, where are you taking him?’
‘He’s going to wait in the dining room until I’ve finished my shift.’
‘Oh, dear, Miss Taylor. Do you really think it’s a good idea to be sneaking around with your family when you should be working? I’d say Miss Pennington wouldn’t really think that the ticket.’
Ruby’s cheeks warmed. ‘Then pretend you haven’t seen me, and Miss Pennington won’t be any the wiser, will she?’
‘Are you asking me to keep a secret?’ Hazel smirked. ‘Well, I suppose I can keep another of your secrets, if that’s what you want. Nice to meet you, Tommy.’
‘What do you mean another secret?’ Ruby swallowed and purposefully squared her shoulders, keeping her gaze steady with Hazel’s. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’
‘Oh, but I do, Miss Taylor. I know plenty.’
Sickness unfurled in Ruby’s stomach as Hazel wriggled her fingers in a semblance of wave and ascended the stairs, her quiet laughter grating on Ruby’s stretched nerves. What could Hazel mean? Does she know Ma is a drunk? That we live on the bread line and if it wasn’t for my wages we’d be on the streets?
She glanced at Tommy and he looked back at her with wide, worried eyes. She quickly forced a smile. ‘Come on. Let’s get you settled, shall we?’
They entered the staff dining room and Ruby pushed Hazel to the back of her mind, glad that there were only a few people present on their tea breaks. She led Tommy to a table in the far corner where he’d hopefully stay out of trouble and go relatively unnoticed.
‘Now, keep yourself to yourself and if anyone talks to you, be polite and tell them you’re waiting for me. With any luck, that will be enough, and no one will feel inclined to cause either of us further aggravation.’
‘I’ll be good, Ruby. I promise.’
She kissed his cheek before heading for the door, her mind reeling with what Hazel could possibly know. Ruby briefly closed her eyes. She had more secrets than most. Some more shaming than others.
And to people like Hazel Price, that knowledge would be an endless source of entertainment.
Fourteen
Amelia reached for her water glass as she surreptitiously watched her fellow dinner companions. The table of twelve was split equally between British and American couples. The style of their clothes were somewhat different, but she hadn’t noticed anything in particular to keep in mind for her return to Pennington’s. At least, not yet.
‘So, Mr Weir, what is it you do?’ The husband of the American couple beside her had a booming voice.
Mr Weir laid down his knife and fork. ‘I work as the head of the men’s department at Pennington’s in Bath. Perhaps you know of it?’
‘Pennington’s? No, I can’t say I do.’
‘Well, I certainly do,’ his wife exclaimed. ‘I understand the store compares quite admirably with Selfridges and Fortnum and Mason.’
Amelia smiled into her glass. A compliment like that would feed Mr Weir’s pride until summer.
‘It does indeed, madam,’ he beamed. ‘Miss Wakefield has been our head window dresser for a number of weeks now and we both take great pride in working there.’
‘Ooh, a window dresser. How exciting. Do you find your work interesting, Miss Wakefield?’
Amelia set down her glass. ‘Very much so. I have learned so much and hope to continue working at Pennington’s for many years to come.’
The woman raised her eyebrows. ‘Don’t you wish to marry, my dear?’
‘Maybe. One day. But, for now, my work more than sustains me. Have you been to London? Is that from where you are travelling?’
The husband sat back in his chair. ‘It is, indeed. London’s a great city. Not on the scale of New York, of course, but good enough.’
‘You’re from New York?’
His wife smiled. ‘Yes, we are. I do apologise, we haven’t even introduced ourselves. My name is Winifred Carlton and this is my husband, Marshall. We love to travel, and London has been on our list for quite a while. Although, I am looking forward to going home. We’ve been away for six weeks.’
‘Six weeks? How wonderful.’ Amelia sat forward in her seat, her interest piqued. ‘Can I ask, how did you find the department stores in London compare to those in New York?’
‘Oh, it’s very difficult to state the differences. The London stores are better in some areas and New York’s in others.’
‘I would love for you to explain what you mean, Mrs Carlton. I want to soak up as much as I can about America’s department stores and the American way of life while I’m there. For example, what do people like to do in the evenings? Are the social classes quite so apparent as they are in England? Do you find—’
Mr Weir coughed. ‘Miss Wakefield, you are asking an awful lot of questions.’
‘We don’t mind in the slightest.’ Mrs Carlton laughed and reached for her wine. ‘Your questions are most interesting. I can only assume your trip to New York is more business than pleasure?’
‘It is.’ Amelia glanced at Mr Weir before addressing the woman again. ‘Would you mind sharing in what way London stores do things better than New York and vice versa? You see, Pennington’s strives for innovation, and it seems to me America leads the way in that area.’
‘It certainly does.’ Mr Carlton beamed. ‘And I’d wager th
ere is no one better than my wife for you to discuss the merits and flaws of shopping with.’ He turned to Mr Weir. ‘What do you say to joining me in the library for a brandy while the ladies talk?’ He stood and held out his arm towards the dining room door. ‘Any talk of shopping and I make a speedy departure, lest I never recover from Mrs Carlton’s enthusiasm with my wallet.’
Mr Weir looked at Amelia and then Mr and Mrs Carlton, indecision in his eyes. Amelia bit back her smile. It would be torture for him to leave her to lead the conversation as far as Pennington’s was concerned, but there was no way she’d forgo this opportunity. The more she could learn before they arrived in America, the better. All information would prove useful, no matter how small.
At last, Mr Weir stood. ‘I trust you know where the library is, Miss Wakefield?’
‘I do, but I think I’ll head back to my cabin once Mrs Carlton and I have finished talking. I’m really quite tired.’
‘I should really escort you.’
‘Not at all.’ Amelia held his gaze, her tone firm in her determination that she begin to enforce some time alone. ‘I am perfectly all right to return to my room unchaperoned. Shall we meet at nine for breakfast?’
He pursed his lips before he gave a firm nod. ‘As you wish. Good evening to you, Mrs Carlton.’
‘And to you, Mr Weir. Good night.’
Satisfaction and opportunity unfurled inside her as Amelia faced Mrs Carlton. ‘So, you were about to tell me about New York’s strengths and weaknesses?’
Coffee was served and an hour had passed before Amelia bid Mrs Carlton good night. Her mind reeled with the new and interesting information she’d learned. Hurrying from the dining room, she walked along the maze of corridors towards her cabin, desperate to make a note of everything Mrs Carlton had divulged.
As she emerged onto one of the decks, she noticed Officer Murphy talking to two attractive young women and an older woman Amelia assumed to be their mother. The younger women stared at Officer Murphy with stars dancing in their eyes, blushing and giggling while their mother looked on with pride.
A Shop Girl at Sea Page 6
