A Shop Girl at Sea

by Rachel Brimble

  Did the designers of the ship – the Captain – really think these lifeboats offered anyone guaranteed survival? He’d heard officers saying there weren’t enough boats for all aboard and if Samuel’s wasn’t completely filled and had been ordered to sea, then most certainly other seamen were receiving the same instructions. There was a chance every passenger, every member of crew would perish. His thoughts turned again to his family. His mother and sisters. How would they manage without him? Without his money? His words of encouragement and optimism? They had already lost their husband and father, now they would most likely lose Samuel, too.

  He inwardly cursed his arbitrary thoughts. Why was he worrying about his kin when they were safely in Bath? Right now, he had other people’s relatives under his care. He had Amelia under his care.

  Samuel looked at his fellow rower and Archie’s face came into his mind’s eye. He hoped to God his best friend managed all right. Hoped to God he, and thousands of others, survived.

  Taking a deep breath, Samuel shouted, ‘I ask that you all remain as calm as possible so myself and Officer Lansman can row you to safety.’ Another flare lit the night sky, showering white sparks like falling diamonds before they disappeared on snaking wisps of smoke. ‘It’s imperative you let us concentrate. We must get away from the ship as quickly as possible.’

  The Titanic had grown eerily still on the water even as her tilting grew ever more pronounced. The ship was sinking and if he and his colleague didn’t get the lifeboat far away, as quickly as possible, there was every chance their small vessel would be drawn into the deep, dark depths of the ocean by the sheer force of the ship’s enormous suction.

  Gripping the oars so tightly he knuckles ached, Samuel met Amelia’s steady gaze. ‘Pull!’

  His arms soon burned from exertion, his fingers welded to the oars by the freezing, early morning temperatures. Onward Samuel rowed, gritting his teeth and focusing on moving them away from the Titanic, away from the screams and terror echoing across the ocean from the passengers still trapped aboard.

  Every face was focused on the ship behind him. Amelia’s hand was at her throat, her face so still it could have been carved from marble.

  Samuel’s mouth burned with bile as he forced himself to turn.

  The ship was slowly descending from the head. There could be absolutely no hope of delaying her sinking.

  He estimated that the Titanic would be beneath water within an hour.

  Swallowing hard, Samuel faced his charges, keeping his gaze on Amelia’s and ignoring the terror in his heart. ‘We will survive. We have to survive for everyone left behind. Do you hear me?’ He gripped the oars, braced and pulled. ‘We will survive!’

  On and on they rowed, the weeping of some of the women contradicting with the absolute silence of others. The baby in Amelia’s arms was quiet and he prayed her sleeping. Something in the distance caught his eye and his heart jolted. It couldn’t be… could it?

  ‘A light,’ he whispered. ‘A light,’ he said a little louder. He smiled. ‘A light!’

  They all looked across the ocean to the flickering in the distance.

  ‘We will all be saved.’ Samuel pulled on the oars, his exhaustion and terror miraculously lifting with his hope and prayers. Strength and fortitude powered through his body, pushing him on. He heaved on the oars. ‘Fear not, we will all be saved.’

  With an almighty roar, he pushed on, not really knowing if the light was real or imagined but determined to reach it. As much as he hated being given the chance to survive when so many could die, if or when they reached America, he would stop at nothing to build the life he and every other person aboard the Titanic had dreamed of.

  His family would receive his money, but Samuel would never again return to England.

  Thirty

  The decision had been made and Ruby felt liberated. She and Tommy would move in with Victoria as soon as she could accommodate them.

  Filled with optimism, she entered Pennington’s through the staff entrance.

  Another vile row with her mother last night had been the deciding factor that had pushed Ruby over the edge. Tommy had stood in their living room, his spine pressed hard against the faded wallpaper, his face etched with fear, his eyes watering as his sister and mother became enveloped, once again, in a physical confrontation.

  Ruby had yelled at him to go upstairs, but Tommy had remained frozen to the floor by fear. The sight of him quivering had been too much and Ruby had immediately surrendered, allowing her mother to push her to the floor, thus finishing the fight. Her mother had then stalked from the house, foolishly triumphant.

  Thankfully, leaving Ruby and Tommy to a night alone.

  Residual anger simmered inside of her as Ruby marched through Pennington’s brightly lit atrium, nodding hello to the passing customers. It was barely past nine, but already the aisles and central areas buzzed with activity. No matter the month of the year, Pennington’s hummed with an invisible pulse, a beating heart that fuelled its staff and the public alike.

  With its innumerable sparkling chandeliers, polished mahogany staircase, endless arrays of rainbow-coloured merchandise and smartly uniformed staff, Pennington’s presented a magical shopping experience. Somewhere people swarmed to see and be seen. A place of opportunity for women like Ruby who longed to make something of themselves. A place for men, women and children to see, touch and taste things they might not anywhere else.

  It was a prime example of what anyone could manifest in their lives. What she wanted to manifest in her life.

  Miss Pennington and Mr Carter were the walking embodiment of financial and romantic success who inspired Ruby to reach for more every day. She was under no illusion of the magnitude of work that must go on in the executive offices to ensure the continued, ground-breaking success of such a store, but her employers’ love and respect for one another outshone even their work.

  Ruby smiled as she walked. The glances and touches between Miss Pennington and Mr Carter were subtle on the shop floor, but their shared energy was tangible to all who witnessed it. Maybe one day she would go somewhere where abiding to the rules of propriety and convention wasn’t the only way. Where principles were a little less strict than they were in England. Where she could be with a lover – a woman – and not live under a constant shroud of fear, revulsion and the threat of violent opposition.

  In the staff quarters, she quickly locked away her coat and hat before heading to the stairwell that led to the design department.

  ‘Good morning.’

  Ruby started, her heart jolting to see Victoria standing outside the design room.

  ‘Good morning.’ Ruby offered a tentative smile, unsure of Victoria’s mood. Her green eyes were unreadable, her arms crossed, yet her shoulders relaxed. They had barely spoken a word in days. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Everything is fine.’ Victoria dropped her arms and came forwards, taking Ruby’s elbow and leading her away from the department door. ‘I need to know if you’ve made your decision about coming to live with me.’ Her eyes softened. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. I’m sorry. It’s just…’

  Ruby drew her gaze over Victoria’s face, her wonderful hair. ‘It’s just what?’

  ‘It’s just…’ Victoria’s eyes filled with sadness as though she held back tears. ‘I couldn’t bear it if one day something happened to you or Tommy at home, Ruby. Please, come and stay with me.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve spent the last two nights clearing out my spare room. There’s plenty of space, if you and Tommy don’t mind sharing. I have two beds, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers. I’ve laid a lovely rug on the floor. There’s—’

  ‘It sounds wonderful.’ Ruby touched Victoria’s face, a dangerous, yet necessary gesture that sped Ruby’s heart. ‘We’d love to.’

  ‘You let me babble on like that when you have already decided?’ She laughed, her cheeks reddening. ‘I feel like a foolish, eager youth now.’

  Ruby smiled, her heart near bu
rsting with love for this wonderful woman. ‘Let me know when we can move in and we will be there.’

  Concern shadowed Victoria’s eyes. ‘And your mother? What will she do? How will you tell her?’

  ‘You leave my mother to me.’ Ruby lifted her chin against the treacherous nerves that took flight in her stomach. ‘I will tell her bluntly and with finality. You are not to worry.’

  ‘But if she protests? Or tries to stop you?’

  ‘Unfortunately, I’ve been pushed countless times to prove my superior strength, both physically and mentally, over my mother. Tommy and I will be leaving. Have no fear.’

  ‘Oh, Ruby. I’m so pleased.’ Victoria pulled Ruby into her arms and squeezed her tightly. ‘We are going to get along so wonderfully.’

  Ruby closed her eyes and inhaled Victoria’s soft, floral perfume. She took this blessed moment to revel in the closeness, the soft roundness of Victoria’s breasts against her own. The sound of her satisfied sigh in Ruby’s ear…

  Thirty-One

  Sounds and smells that had enveloped Amelia during their horrifying escape and eventual rescue from the Titanic filled her senses, images floating behind her closed eyelids as she sat huddled beneath a blanket in the Carpathian’s saloon. Climbing aboard the ship under the brute strength of the crew, ropes and pulleys should have been a terrifying experience but gratitude she was alive, when so many were dead, had not left Amelia’s heart or consciousness for a moment.

  She squeezed her eyes more tightly closed, battling to keep her tears at bay. She hadn’t cried once from the time she’d been in Samuel’s arms when the iceberg struck to now, almost ten hours later.

  Convinced her grief had been paralysed by shock, cold or pure adrenaline, her tears had not fallen. But now, as they sailed towards New York, fear, confusion and desperation clawed at Amelia’s psyche. What on earth would she do now? There had been no sign of Mr Weir and she would soon be forced to presume him dead. Sickness unfurled inside her as Amelia opened her eyes and surveyed the desolation and grief surrounding her, men and women sitting and standing in dazed disbelief.

  Since they’d been brought aboard, the Carpathian’s care of the Titanic survivors had been incomparable. They were immediately given blankets and brandy in an attempt to warm them, each suffering from varying degrees of hypothermia and hysteria. Her lips had been so frozen from cold and fear, Amelia had barely been able to drink from the rim of the offered glass but, with Samuel’s gentle persuasion, she had swallowed the burning liquid and taken comfort in watching him to do the same afterwards.

  He stood across the room in deep conversation with a member of the Carpathian’s crew and she wondered what they were discussing. She and Samuel had briefly spoken about what they’d been through, what they’d seen, thought and felt, but now she was warmed with hot coffee, sandwiches and cake, her thoughts dwelt on the present and the future.

  She had no doubt Samuel’s mind was filled with the same.

  How would they ever enjoy anything of their futures when so many of their fellow Titanic passengers had succumbed to the icy waters of the North Atlantic ocean? She had overheard whispers among the Carpathian crew that barely a third of the passengers had survived. That meant the death toll could well be over one thousand souls.

  She could only imagine the pain and heartbreak the families of those poor, lost souls would suffer once news of the tragedy filtered to Britain and the States. Amelia closed her eyes. She had no doubt the press would treat this disaster as sensational and squeeze every last drop of blood out of the tragedy.

  Grief and resentment wound tight in her throat as Amelia clenched her hands together, vowing that whether she had days, months or years to live, she would not waste a single moment. Fury and a thirst for survival burned deep in her chest just as it had when she’d managed to rise from her master’s bedroom carpet after he’d raped her. Just as it had when her landlady had saved Amelia from leaping to her death…

  She’d fought her way out of a deep dark abyss before and she would again.

  Samuel came towards her, his gaze soft on hers as he sat beside her.

  Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. ‘They think we’ll be in New York in two, possibly three days.’

  Sadness for those who would never see the Statue of Liberty appearing on the horizon squeezed her heart. ‘And the number of survivors hasn’t changed?’

  ‘No, and for that I am sorrier than I can say. We must make their deaths mean something.’ He shook his head. ‘I won’t be coming back to England, Amelia. I can’t. Not now.’ His gaze drifted over her face, lingered at her lips. ‘We’ve been given a second chance that we must act upon. We owe it to all of those who died to live our lives in the fullest way possible.’

  ‘I agree. I thought your friend was right before all this, but even more so now.’ She exhaled a shaky breath and gently pulled her hand from his, lest she never let go. ‘As for me, I have to go back to Bath. Elizabeth was good enough to give me this opportunity and I must deliver what I promised.’

  His eyes filled with what looked to be disbelief. ‘You still call this trip an opportunity? After everything we and thousands of others have been through? You really are the kindest, most generous woman I’ve ever met. Do you know that?’

  ‘Kindness and generosity describe Elizabeth, not me. When she asked me to go to New York, she had faith in me to do a good job. To see, listen, taste and touch everything New York has to offer and how America is advancing in retail. Whereas I saw the chance to elevate myself, to travel and discover new things. The sinking and my survival only shows my selfishness.’

  ‘You were spared for a reason.’ His jaw tightened. ‘You have to believe that and push on. The sinking means you were chosen. To be more. To do more.’

  ‘Oh, believe me. I will never take my life for granted ever again.’ She stared at the weeping women around them. ‘And never again will I just think about myself. I want to help the families of those who died, but have absolutely no idea what can be done.’

  He brushed some fallen hair from her face. ‘I wish to do the same and we will. Somehow.’

  She stared into his beautiful blue eyes. ‘Are you scared?’

  ‘Now?’ He frowned. ‘No. I’m not sure I’ll ever be scared again after surviving this.’

  ‘I am.’ She inhaled a long breath. ‘I’m scared I’ll never be able to set foot on a boat again. I’m scared I’ll never be enough for all those who lost their lives and they’ll look down from heaven and think I’ve wasted every moment of what they’ve lost. I’m scared…’ She looked at him. ‘That I’ll never be truly happy.’

  Part of her longed to have Samuel take her in his arms and kiss her as he had before. The other part feared receiving comfort from him. Feared how it would provoke her to lean on him when she’d not leaned on anyone her entire life.

  Yet, she sensed that Samuel would never bend nor forsake her.

  ‘You will be happy, Amelia.’ His gaze burned with confidence. ‘You will succeed at anything you put your mind to, and you will live a wonderful life.’

  Hope painfully twisted her heart and she looked at their joined hands. ‘I assume there is no news of your friend? I had hoped he might have been assigned to row one of the other lifeboats.’

  ‘No. No news.’

  She looked up and, to her dismay, tears filled his eyes before he blinked and quickly stared across the room.

  ‘Samuel… I’m so sor—’

  ‘Don’t go back, Amelia.’ He sharply turned, his gaze intense on hers. ‘Stay in New York. Stay with me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I met you on a ship destined to sink to the bottom of the ocean. We spent time together as crew and passenger. Time that wasn’t strictly allowed. Yet, somehow, we managed to be together again and again. I kissed you. I held you. Stay with me. Let’s see what America has to offer together. Let’s take this opportunity to become the people we are meant to be.’


  The insanity of his suggestion echoed in her mind, but it was superseded by the excited thump of her heart, the wrenching pull in her stomach urging her to accept his proposal. To take his hand and leap into the unknown with a man she instinctually trusted.

  ‘We could find work,’ Samuel continued, the eagerness in his voice gathering strength, the light in his eyes brightening. ‘We could see the Statue of Liberty and Times Square. We could see it all. Together.’ He lowered his voice and looked deep into her eyes. ‘I promise I’ll look after you. Always.’

  Thirty-Two

  Samuel tightened his hold on Amelia’s hand, ignoring the voice screaming in his head, asking him what in God’s name he was doing. ‘This is a chance like neither of us has had before. I’m not suggesting such a leap lightly. I just…’ He shook his head. ‘We’ve been given a second chance. How can we not act on that? How can we not stay in America and seek our fortunes the way so many people on the ship intended? Don’t we owe it to them to do that much, at least?’

  Her cheeks had paled, and she studied at him with a look in her eyes he couldn’t decipher.

  ‘Amelia—’

  ‘I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not you, Samuel. I don’t take risks. I don’t sail around the world.’ She slipped her hand from his. ‘I have no skills, except for what I’ve been taught at Pennington’s. Of what I learned in service. Scrubbing grates, changing beds. Good stitching and sketching will hardly ensure me a fortune. Whereas you have charisma, charm and confidence. I have none of those things.’

  His gut clenched with annoyance that she would even think she lacked any of the things she claimed he had, much less say it. ‘Do you not see what you are? Who you are? You are kind, brave, determined and beautiful. What else do you need to start a new life somewhere else?’

  She shook her head, her gaze hardening. ‘You need more than those things. You need tenacity and strength, a will that refuses to bend. Unfortunately, I have a tendency to please people, to immerse myself in other people’s wishes and a will that… most certainly bends.’