A Shop Girl at Sea

by Rachel Brimble

  The steward merely smirked and assessed Amelia from head to toe before raising his eyebrows. ‘Am I to believe you to be a third-class passenger, Miss? Only, it seems a number of first- and second-class passengers find it an amusement, a distraction, if you will, to venture to the lower decks to view the furnishings and clientele as objects of fascination. We are under strict orders that no one other than third-class are allowed in these rooms. These passengers deserve the same amount of respect as anyone else.’

  Shame washed over Amelia that she might be considered a voyeur of other people’s unfortune or daily struggle. Why had she not thought of how condescending it might seem to third-class passengers to have someone from second-class come down on what could be deemed as a slumming expedition?

  Samuel cleared his throat. ‘Miss Wakefield merely wishes—’

  ‘It’s quite all right, Officer.’ She touched Samuel’s arm and faced the steward. ‘I apologise. I am a second-class passenger and you’re right, I shouldn’t be here. I merely wanted to see the dining room and hopefully speak to some passengers for my work.’

  ‘Your work?’

  ‘Yes, I’m a window designer for a prestigious department store. It’s Pennington’s mission to ensure our clothes, accessories and all other areas of merchandise are available to everyone. Whatever their walk in life. Believe me, sir, if my employers were not funding this trip, I would most certainly be travelling third-class. I meant no offence. I’ll go.’

  ‘What is it you’d like to see exactly?’

  ‘Just the dining room. Maybe the lounge?’

  He looked from Amelia to Samuel, who shrugged, and then back to Amelia. ‘All right. As lunch is finished, you may see the dining room, but that’s it. Most of the passengers have left anyway. There will be a few staff you might want to speak with.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Amelia smiled. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  He nodded and stepped back, opening the doors.

  The third-class dining room was, indeed, emptying of its remaining diners but the differences between the class areas were immediately plain. The third-class dining saloon didn’t have the fancy wood panelling of second class, or the columns and pilasters of first, yet it was pleasingly decorated in whitewashed panelling and teak furniture, giving an airy feel, with comfortable-looking chairs and decently clothed tables.

  Amelia walked slowly, casting furtive looks at the remaining diners as they strolled towards the exit. Everyone seemed happy enough, their eyes and body language not as downtrodden and morose as Samuel’s response to Mr Weir’s comments earlier had led her to believe.

  All were decently dressed, even if flat caps and lace or ribbon hair adornments donned their heads, rather than the flamboyant women’s hats and gentlemen’s top hats of the upper classes. The colours of their clothes were a little more subdued but were as close to the current fashions as possible on a lower income.

  Pleasure swept through Amelia as she walked, Samuel’s quiet footsteps behind her.

  The ambience of the dining room was inspiring. As though the design and décor had been purposely considered as a way of giving third-class passengers a sense of luxury, of importance, no matter their work or reasons for travelling.

  Could not Pennington’s inspire the same in their merchandise? Surely, whatever ideas Amelia returned to Bath with for the upper classes, each could be made in cheaper, more affordable materials for the lower classes. Thus, giving everyone the chance to feel proud, fashionable and important.

  She faced Samuel. ‘I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.’

  ‘Are you sure? I can persuade the steward to let us see the general room. I’m pretty sure there’s a smoking room and bar, too.’

  ‘No, I already have ideas of what needs to be done at Pennington’s. My ideas around manufacturing and window designs are beginning to form splendidly.’ She grinned. ‘I’m sure Miss Pennington will agree with what I envision. Let’s leave the staff to their work.’

  He stepped back, gesturing with a sweep of his arm for her to lead the way. As she brushed past him, the escalation of her confidence and ambition urged her to encourage Samuel in his. The need to talk to him alone took over her common sense.

  ‘Samuel?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Might we meet later?’

  His gaze was intense on hers. ‘For?’

  ‘I’d like to talk to you alone. This evening.’

  His eyes flashed with surprise before he looked past her. ‘My shift in the control room doesn’t finish until eleven. How will you possibly—’

  ‘Leave my excuses to me. I will meet you on the promenade then.’

  Before he could respond – or she lost her nerve – Amelia headed for the dining room doors.

  Twenty-Four

  Samuel stared through the control room window at an endless sheet of shining black ocean, his thoughts swimming with possible explanations of why Amelia had asked him to meet her. What did her request mean? Did it mean anything at all? Did he even want it to mean anything when a ship-bound romance would undoubtedly bring more problems than satisfaction?

  Amelia might be a working woman, but she was also a woman of class and strength. Yet, her quiet sophistication, soft voice and beautiful smile contradicted the pain he’d seen in her eyes when she had spoken with such fervour about nothing standing in her way of building a good life for herself.

  How in God’s name did someone who had been orphaned retain the spirit and heart to rise? Not just rise, but forge a successful occupation at one of the country’s most illustrious department stores. He was by no means a shopper, but even Samuel had heard Pennington’s mentioned in the same sentence as Harrods and Selfridge & Co while aboard the Titanic.

  The woman should be dressed to the nines and sipping a cocktail in first class under the admiring glances of a millionaire or two, not wandering around with a seaman in tow.

  ‘Penny for them, Sam?’

  He started. ‘Archie. How are you?’

  ‘Good. All the better for seeing you. I looked for you after lunch but couldn’t find you anywhere.’ He wiggled his eyebrows, his brown eyes teasing. ‘Didn’t duck out of your entertaining shift, did you?’

  ‘I was around.’ Samuel turned his attention back to the ocean. ‘Not that I find everything about those shifts entertaining.’

  ‘No?’

  The teasing in Archie’s voice caused Samuel to face him. ‘What?’

  ‘I heard you went walkabout with a certain lady.’ He nudged Samuel’s shoulder. ‘I hope you weren’t up to no good.’

  Samuel made a show of checking some switches. ‘I was escorting Amelia around the deck, if you must know.’

  ‘Amelia, eh?’ Archie grinned. ‘Wasn’t that the name of the lady you couldn’t take your eyes from when she boarded? Hair the colour of melted chocolate and a face that would give an actress a run for her money?’

  For the first time ever, Samuel didn’t find Archie’s jesting about a woman Samuel might be taken with remotely amusing. Amelia was different. Intelligent. Kind. Caring. She deserved the utmost regard… from everyone.

  ‘As a matter of fact, it was her. Her name is Amelia Wakefield and I’d thank you not to speak about her in any way other than respectful.’

  Archie’s eyebrows shot to his hairline as he let out a low whistle. ‘Whoa, someone is a little smitten, I’d say.’

  Samuel glared, protectiveness for Amelia and himself unfurling inside him. ‘So what if I am? She’s a nice girl. A great girl, in fact.’

  ‘Well, you won’t get any interference from me, my friend.’ Archie slapped Samuel’s shoulder. ‘We’re aboard this ship for three more nights, why not enjoy some female company if you can? Could be two nights, considering the way the captain keeps pumping up the speed. You should tell her about your plans to stay in America, she might join you.’

  ‘Don’t start with that again.’ Samuel turned to check some papers beside him. ‘I’ll be back on the return ship, same as y
ou.’

  ‘For the love of God, man.’ Archie’s smile vanished. ‘Why don’t you stay? Jobs are going begging, people making money hand over fist in America. I know you think it’s none of my business what you do with your life, but I’ve got a strong feeling America will be the making of you. You could create a life of dreams there, Sam. Why waste this opportunity? When I get back, I’ll visit your family and tell them you’ve decided to stay. You can wire some money as soon as we come into dock. Keep them sweet for a while until you find work. Nothing could be simpler.’

  ‘Nothing could be simpler…’ Samuel murmured, frustration simmering as he gripped the papers harder. ‘There is nothing simple about my family. You know that. They need me, Archie. Ma, especially. I’m the only one bringing money into the house. I can’t just up and leave her without warning.’

  ‘Why not? When does she ever wish you luck, Sam? Ask when you’re going to settle down and marry? Never, because she scared when you do, you’ll be lost to her. She’s never going to give you a choice to leave so you have to damn well make it yourself. Stay in America. I mean it.’

  Archie stormed away and Samuel closed his eyes.

  He hated the rare arguments he had with his friend. Archie was his constant. A friend and ally in Samuel’s work and personal life.

  If it really mattered that much to Archie that Samuel stayed in America, could his friend be right? If he didn’t take this opportunity, would his entire life begin and end in Bath or Southampton? Alone and unhappy, potentially working year after year on the docks and aboard ships without building any sort of personal happiness?

  The next shift crew slowly filed in and Samuel gave a final check over the statuses in front of him, noting them down for the officer who came to stand beside him. ‘All yours. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Samuel walked from the control room, taking the stairs two at a time, and entered the maze of corridors and stairs that eventually brought him to the Boat Deck. He and Amelia had agreed to meet on the promenade, close to the second funnel.

  As he stepped through the door, apprehension stole through him and he sucked in a breath from the drop in temperature. He looked to the sky. It was a sheet of black, a million and one stars sparkling like diamonds, no clouds marring their beauty, the ocean a dark, motionless sheet. Still and unmoving, not a single wave breaking its crest.

  Samuel shivered and rubbed his hands together, hoping Amelia wasn’t outside waiting for him in these near-freezing temperatures.

  But she was.

  Although the deck was practically deserted, she sat on one of the benches, a stole tightly drawn around her shoulders and one of the ship’s complimentary lap blankets tucked around her legs. She stared across the sea, her brow furrowed and expression grave. Samuel had no doubt she was working, her mind whirling with plans and ideas.

  He had never met anyone so industrious, so passionate about their work and it made him want to find his vocation. A job that might light him up from the inside, too.

  Samuel smiled as he approached her, touched that she would keep to their plans regardless of the cold.

  ‘Amelia, what are you doing?’ Fondness for her swelled behind his chest. ‘You should have waited for me inside. I would have found you.’

  She smiled sheepishly. ‘There’s every possibility I could be hiding from Mr Weir more than waiting for you. All the second-class public areas are closed and most of the lights extinguished but, thankfully, he met with Mr Parker who invited him to first class for a drink. He wasn’t happy when I declined to join Mrs Parker in the first-class lounge, but I insisted he stay. I am almost certain we have at least an hour before he comes to my cabin to check I’m readying for bed.’

  ‘Seems I’m going to have to be mindful of your tactics.’

  ‘There’s not much people can make me do against my wishes anymore.’ A flash of determination burned in her eyes before it dissolved, and she tossed the blanket from her knees to stand. ‘Have you ever seen the water so still? It’s like a sheet of ebony.’

  He followed her gaze across the ocean. Nothing stirred. Not a wave. No ice. Nothing.

  ‘It’s kind of eerie,’ he said, quietly. ‘In all my years at sea, I don’t think I’ve ever seen water so completely calm.’

  ‘It’s beautiful.’ She sighed and faced him. ‘Let’s go inside. We’ll find a quiet spot somewhere.’

  ‘A quiet spot? Do you think that’s such a good idea?’

  She briefly dipped her gaze. ‘I want us to be alone somewhere so we can talk and not have Mr Weir descend on us the moment we’re not looking.’

  Before he could protest or give her a hundred reasons why them being alone was a bad idea, Amelia stepped towards the door beside them. Samuel stared after her, his feet welded to the deck and his mind reeling. If a senior officer caught him alone with a passenger without a feasible reason, he would be reprimanded. Possibly given a much lowlier role than he had now.

  Cursing, he followed her. What other choice did he have when he already cared so much for her and desperately wanted to hear what she had to say?

  She led him through the empty lounge and along a corridor where she stopped.

  When she lifted her eyes to his, they were filled with worry. ‘I don’t want you to think me presumptuous or improper asking to be alone with you like this, it’s just…’

  Her uncertainty was palpable, but Samuel didn’t think her presumptuous or improper. He took her confidence to be alone with him as a sign she trusted him and that pleased him more than she could ever know.

  ‘It’s fine.’ He smiled, hoping she saw the sincerity in his eyes. ‘You can trust me, Amelia. I’d never do anything to upset you.’

  A strange look passed through her gaze that he couldn’t decipher.

  The skin at her neck shifted as she swallowed, indicating her heightened nerves, but Samuel also recognised her familiar determination as she stared resolutely ahead, her jaw tight.

  Then she smiled back at him and his heart stuttered.

  Christ. Despite trying to be a gentleman at all times, imagining how it would feel to make love to Amelia rushed into his mind. Worse, so did the horrible notion of how it would feel when they had to go their separate ways when they reached America. She mattered. He had no idea why she should so quickly or so deeply, but who was he to dictate his heart?

  A young couple arm-in-arm passed by, giggling and whispering, their intentions absurdly plain. He glanced at Amelia and she held his gaze.

  Rare heat travelled over his neck. ‘What?’

  ‘You’re blushing.’

  ‘So are you.’

  She quickly looked to the floor. ‘I didn’t ask to see you alone to…’

  He looked into her eyes. ‘I know.’

  ‘I just… enjoy talking to you. Want you to be happy.’

  ‘And I am. Especially now, like this. With you.’

  Twenty-Five

  Ruby’s need to slide her fingers across the accessories glass countertop and touch Victoria’s hand taunted her, longing painfully twisting her heart.

  Hating her shameful desire, Ruby quickly looked from Victoria’s beautiful green eyes to the stands of necklaces behind her. ‘If Hazel Price is so gleeful in talking about the possibility of me and Tommy coming to live with you, I can only imagine what other staff are thinking, too.’

  Victoria raised her eyebrows, her gaze irritated. ‘And that worries you?’

  ‘Of course. For you, not me.’ Ruby’s deeply embedded protectiveness for those she loved rose. ‘I don’t want people talking about you. Undermining you and insinuating things that just aren’t true.’

  ‘Such as? What did Hazel say exactly? You do know what a spiteful madam she is, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, I know only too well, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept your offer and have the whole store talking about us.’

  ‘But we aren’t doing anything wrong, Ruby.’

  Victoria gently touched Ruby’s hand and s
he flinched, snatching her hand from the countertop.

  ‘Don’t,’ she snapped. Hurt flashed in Victoria’s eyes rending a painful slash across Ruby’s heart. ‘I mean, it’s just what they want to see.’

  ‘What who wants to see?’ Victoria’s eyes darkened, her colour high as she moved away to rearrange some scarves. ‘This is silly. If you don’t want to move in with me, then don’t. I was merely trying to help you and Tommy remove yourselves from a home which is clearly dangerous. If you’d prefer to keep things the way they are, that’s your choice.’

  ‘But I don’t want that.’ The need to touch Victoria, to reassure her, rushed through Ruby as she quickly moved along the counter and gripped the edge, her heart aching that Victoria might, for a single moment, think she would reject her in any way. ‘I just don’t want to bring trouble to your door, that’s all.’

  ‘If you think I’m the type of person to listen to gossip, be affected or upset by it, you don’t know me at all. As for you? I think you need to consider what you are forcing Tommy to continue to endure should you remain living with your mother.’

  Ruby stepped back. Never before had she seen such fury in Victoria’s eyes, such quiet venom in her voice. ‘Victoria—’

  ‘No.’ Victoria glanced at the other staff staying late for Pennington’s monthly stock take and lowered her voice. ‘This is your choice, no one else’s. I spent most of my married life with a man who worshipped me. A man who saved me from a father who thought no less about striking his daughter as he did his sons. You have a chance, Ruby, an opportunity to leave. If you stay, then there is nothing more I can do to help you.’

  ‘Excuse me, Mrs Lark. Could you help me?’

  ‘Of course, Milly.’

  Victoria moved away to help a colleague, leaving Ruby standing alone and feeling like a castaway on a deserted island. She had no idea that Victoria had lived with violence. No idea the same scars must be as deep in her heart as they were in Ruby’s. The knowledge only served to deepen her love, her connection, to a woman who would never return her affection in the same way.