A Shop Girl at Sea

by Rachel Brimble

  Throwing caution and her heart to the wind, she took his hand and stared at their joined fingers as he gently brushed her skin with his thumb. Tears pricked her eyes. ‘But we still have a week together, so we’ll make the most of it.’ She met his beautiful gaze. ‘I’ll never forget you, Samuel. Not ever.’

  ‘Nor I you.’ His gaze wandered over her hair and face, his eyes intense on hers. ‘I’ll be sailing back on the Adriatic on the 11th of May. It’s the first ship leaving for England.’

  She stilled. ‘The 11th of May? But that’s longer than I’ve told Elizabeth. I didn’t think.’

  ‘Good, because now we’ll have longer together.’

  He was right. Pennington’s would no doubt consume her the moment she stepped through its doors so, if she had a valid reason to stay in New York longer, then she would enjoy every moment.

  Their food came and Amelia reluctantly slipped her hand from the warmth of Samuel’s.

  She picked up her knife and fork. ‘So, tell me about the railroad.’

  ‘Where do I start?’ He laughed as he speared some potato. ‘The welcome from the other workers isn’t the best. I think they would rather work along Americans than foreigners, despite the many numbers who work there, but I’m still enjoying it. Anything to do with mechanics and transport and I’m hooked. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t resent having to leave this amazing place. I just know I could make something of myself here. I’m as sure of it as I was when my father first took me to the Southampton docks.’

  ‘But you’re still determined to return home?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not sure how long I’ll stay there. Your words to me the other night didn’t fall on deaf ears. In fact, I’m convinced you were absolutely right.’

  Amelia thought he’d never looked more handsome, the low light making his blue eyes brighter and his skin darker. Desire pull low in her stomach and she quickly looked to her food.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Families. Duty. We should love and respect our kin, but not surrender our entire lives to them. I’m returning home and I will speak to Ma. This will be a trip to discuss things with her and my sisters, give them the chance to ask questions and, hopefully, I can allay their fears about money and their future wellbeing. I will make it clear Katherine needs to find work and Fiona must either find the father of her child or another way to keep the child fed and warm. I will send what funds I can spare, but it’s time my sisters lived in the real world.’

  ‘I’m so happy you’ve decided to do that.’ Amelia smiled, pride filling her heart with excitement for him and what might await him when he eventually returned to New York. ‘I have no doubt you’ll find your fortune here, Samuel. I believe anyone can.’

  ‘I agree, and that includes you, too.’ He laid down his fork and touched her hand, his gaze boring into hers. ‘Maybe you should do the same. Come back with me on the Adriatic, return to Pennington’s, but if it doesn’t hold the same power, the same magic, that RH Macy’s did for you, come back to New York. With me. What do you say?’

  Forty-Three

  Samuel ached from head to toe as he exited Grand Central station after a ten-hour shift, but his heart was already filled with ambition to master the building of railroads and stations. He had already learned so much and was entirely convinced that trains were the biggest advancement in the industrial age so far and there would be no going back from the benefits and advantages locomotives provided throughout the world.

  He could practically smell the potential for career advancement every time he struck a hammer to a nail or placed a rivet.

  Even though the work was backbreaking, he wanted to be at the heart of it and entirely committed to making his fortune. Nothing came to a man whose actions weren’t founded in loyalty. Yet more and more, his family felt lower in his priorities.

  Samuel had been over the moon when his new employers had granted him leave, understanding that he must temporarily return home. He would make his mother understand the money he sent home would be more than he’d ever been able to give her before and hoped, with some encouragement and reassurance, she would give him her blessing to pursue his dreams in New York. He would ensure his mother and sisters were all right and they understood that change was necessary for all of them if they were to survive as a family. Not once had his conscience returned to his father’s bidding since he’d been in New York. It was as though he was standing right beside his son, urging Samuel forward in his newfound liberty.

  He turned down a side street which, if he remembered rightly, led to a shortcut to the hotel. His money was dwindling and sooner or later he would have to find cheaper accommodation than where he and Amelia were staying. The trouble was, he didn’t want to be separated from her any longer than his work already demanded. She had two notebooks filled with ideas and plans for Pennington’s, her passion for New York still evident, no matter how hard she tried to convince him and herself that she belonged in Bath.

  How in God’s name he’d managed to land a job on the Titanic, survive its sinking and fall in love, he had no bloody idea. But all three had happened and now it was up to him to work out how to show gratitude for each. In his heart of hearts, he believed staying in New York was the first step in showing God, and every single person who’d lost their lives on the Titanic, that he would forever remember and respect their sacrifice.

  The heavy clomp of running footsteps came from nowhere.

  Before Samuel had time to adjust his thinking, two arms like iron bands clamped around his waist and body slammed him to the hard concrete, the punch to his face sending a burst of stars exploding behind his eyes.

  ‘Go the fuck home, you British piece of shit,’ a voice growled as low laughter rumbled somewhere in the distance. ‘You’re not wanted here. Go back to where you come from, preferably aboard a ship with the same destination as the Titanic.’

  Another rumble of laughter.

  ‘You think we believe the crap you’ve been spouting about survival. If you were on that ship, you were a turncoat. A man who took a place where a woman or child should’ve sat. You’re a deserter, a coward, and we don’t want your sort anywhere near us, Grand Station or New York.’

  Anger rose sharply in Samuel’s gut as he curled his hands into fists, the wet ground icy-cold along his spine. The man’s accusation slashed at his conscience as the reality he’d anticipated began. This was just the start. Once the public understood how many lives had been lost and how many men had survived, the backlash of injustice would be brutal. He’d not said anything to Amelia about how he could be ostracised, judged and condemned because he didn’t want to scare her. Didn’t want her to see anything other than optimism in their second chance.

  Did he get up and fight these men or stay the hell down? As if he had a choice…

  Taking a deep breath, Samuel rolled to his side and leapt to his feet in one fluid motion, his fists raised. The three men in front of him took a collective step back and the fire in Samuel’s heart fully ignited.

  ‘Come on, then. You want me to leave, make me,’ he yelled. ‘I’ve got as much right to be here as the rest of you.’

  ‘I don’t think so, you yellow-bellied coward.’ One of the men strode forward, the whites of his eyes bright in the grime of his dirt-smeared face. ‘You come to the station, fill another one of our jobs and spew stories how you survived the Titanic. It’s a load of bull. Why would someone aboard a ship like that want to work on the railroad? You’re not a seaman, you’re a labourer. Nothing more, nothing less.’

  The man swung a punch, but Samuel ducked and hopped to the side, grateful for life on the Southampton docks and its surrounding pubs. Brawls and fights were an everyday occurrence that a docker and seaman had little chance of entirely avoiding. He might not be the beefiest of men, but Samuel could fight if pushed. Little did his adversaries know, he had Amelia’s face tattooed in his mind and over his dead body would he leave this backstreet any other way than on his own two feet.

&nbs
p; The other two men came closer, their eyes menacing, the breadth of their shoulders illustrating a life of manual work and hard labour. Samuel was no fool. He didn’t have a chance in hell of fighting all three if they decided on a pack mentality. He had to find a way to talk them down if he wanted to walk out of here alive.

  Opening the space between them, he took a couple of steps back and held up his hands, ignoring the trickle of warm blood that ran down his cheek where he’d been struck. ‘Look, I don’t want any trouble. Whether or not you believe I was on the Titanic, I was. I was spared because I was ordered to row one of the lifeboats. I’m a sailor and talking about the Titanic as though what happened wasn’t real isn’t right or fair. That ship sunk in just over two hours. From people laughing and enjoying themselves, they saw, heard and endured things that no one on earth ever should. Because I survived, I want to stay here. Stay on solid ground where I can build a life in gratitude. If that isn’t good enough for you, I don’t know what else to say.’

  ‘You think we really give a shit what you have to say?’ the leader sneered. ‘You’ve got no right staying here and taking our jobs. Damn immigrants are taking over the whole country.’

  ‘That’s right,’ one of the others spoke up, his eyes narrowed. ‘The station is going along just fine with American workers. The likes of you just swan in and think you can do better than us. Leave right now or we’ll make you. Your choice.’

  Samuel looked at each man in turn, his heart beating fast as Amelia’s smiling face the night she’d returned from RH Macy’s flashed in his mind. He wasn’t getting out of this street standing. One way or another, he was either going to take a beating or be left for dead. But, by God, wasn’t it time he and Amelia stood up to the bullies, the people in this world who thought they had the right to dictate another person’s life, another person’s decisions?

  He stepped forward and raised his fists. ‘Then you’d better make me.’

  Forty-Four

  The phone in Amelia’s hotel room pealed through the silence, startling her from her sleep.

  She looked around, disoriented, fumbling for the receiver on her bedside table. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Miss Wakefield? This is reception. We have a Mr Murphy here asking to see you. If you’d like to make your way to the side room by the edge of the reception desk as soon as possible. Thank you.’

  The line went dead.

  Amelia flicked on the lights and picked up her watch. Ten past eleven. She’d thought Samuel was working today and would go straight to bed. Every night he’d returned from Grand Central station completely exhausted.

  She quickly threw back the covers and dressed before hurrying from her room. Something must have happened. Sickness unfurled inside her as she bounced from one foot to the other waiting for the lift. At last it arrived, and she travelled the four flights to reception.

  A few people milled around, while others nursed late-night drinks in the bar and in the comfortable armchairs by the hotel’s front windows. Amelia strode to the reception desk, approached a side door and knocked.

  ‘Come in.’

  She entered the room and stopped.

  Samuel was being tended by two members of hotel staff, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and younger woman with a pretty face and the most wonderful dark hair. Both frowned as they dabbed and wiped at Samuel’s face, his skin cut and bruised, dried blood zigzagging down one cheek, his hair matted and dirty. Care for him dried Amelia’s throat.

  ‘Samuel? My God, what happened?’

  ‘Amelia…’ He tried to smile and then winced, the crack on his bottom lip seeping fresh blood. ‘I had some fun and games with a few men from the station.’

  ‘What?’ She walked closer and slid onto the vacant seat beside him. ‘They beat you?’

  ‘Yeah. They got me pretty bad, but I’ll survive. We’ll always survive, right?’

  She looked into his optimistic eyes, filled with such determination. Despite his swollen and bruised face, he still looked so very handsome.

  The man tending him straightened. ‘I think that’s the best we can do for you, sir. Are you sure I can’t call a doctor to check you over?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Samuel reached for his jacket and shrugged it on, grimacing as he pushed his arms into the sleeves. ‘I wouldn’t mind sitting here awhile longer though, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Not at all. Miss Halliday?’

  The pretty young woman who’d been assisting in Samuel’s ministrations stood from where she’d been hunched in front of him and stepped back, her gaze glazed with adoration as she took a final sweep of Samuel before heading for the door.

  Amelia glared after her, a horrible spike of jealousy jabbing at her chest. Couldn’t she see how injured Samuel was? Fancy lusting after him when he was in such a state.

  ‘She’s nowhere near as pretty as you, you know.’

  She started and turned to find Samuel watching her, amusement in his soft gaze and a smile curving his lips.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, even as heat warmed her cheeks ‘How did this happen? Were you attacked at the station? Didn’t anyone help you?’

  ‘I was walking back to the hotel and three blokes jumped me. Seems they have a problem with anyone other than Americans working the railroad. That was the gist of it, anyway.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous. The building will take years. Can’t they see that there is more than enough work for a thousand men?’

  ‘No, all they see is a foreigner taking a job from an American. Apparently, they haven’t been impressed with me talking about the Titanic either.’ He closed his eyes and slumped back in his chair.

  ‘Why? What did they say?’

  ‘Nothing that I now suspect won’t be echoed by a million others once the true nature of the sinking becomes public knowledge.’

  Bitterness coated his words and Amelia gently touched his hand. ‘What do you mean? What did they say to you?’

  He opened his eyes. ‘They made it pretty clear that they weren’t sure I was telling the truth about surviving and, if I did, they hated me even more for being a man who escaped.’

  Amelia crossed her arms, anger making her tremble. ‘Surely, they understand that women and children could not have rowed those boats miles across the ocean to the Carpathia? Not everyone will feel that way about the male survivors. They can’t possibly judge anything when they weren’t there amid the chaos and terror. People will understand that experienced seamen were ordered to see passengers to safety however they could.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not. What I am sure of, though, is that there will be an investigation of mammoth proportions both here and in England. Everything about the disaster should and will be investigated. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of people will have died, others suffering from hypothermia and God only knows what…’ His angry gaze bored into hers. ‘And any men among the survivors, including me, will undoubtedly be targeted by the investigators and the press alike. If the fury of the men who attacked me is anything to go by, our return to England is not going to be full of fanfare and thanks to God. Instead, we’ll be stepping into a barrage of scrutiny, investigation and judgement.’

  Fear that he was right, that Samuel would subjected to the pressure of public opinion both in New York and England, caused sickness to form deep in Amelia’s stomach. She leaned close to him and cupped his jaw. ‘I will stand by you and all that you did for me and hundreds of others before we left the ship and afterwards.’ She pressed a gentle kiss to his injured mouth. ‘I won’t leave you to deal with this alone, Samuel. I…’ She swallowed. The depth of her growing feelings for him were absolutely terrifying. ‘I care about you too much.’

  He stared deep into her eyes, his jaw tight and his gaze intense before he reached for her and abruptly covered her mouth with his. The enormity of what they’d survived, what they still had to face, and the uncertainty of their future seemed to amalgamate, and Amelia pulled him closer.

  Deeper they kis
sed, his tongue finding hers as Amelia kissed him with all that was in her heart, her body heating with a desire like she’d never known.

  Slowly, they parted, their breaths harried.

  He brushed a curl from her temple. ‘I’m falling for you, Amelia.’

  Words battled on her tongue as her heart burned with love for this extraordinary man. A man who was a hero but could be branded a coward. She ran her hand over his cheek, stared at his beautiful mouth.

  ‘I think I’ve already fallen for you,’ she whispered. ‘And I’m not so sure that will be good for either of us.’

  He softly smiled, pulled her close and, once again, Amelia surrendered to Samuel’s care. To love and hope. They would be leaving New York on the Adriatic in two days… She prayed the world showed them and every other survivor compassion, because God knew, they would carry the guilt of their every breath for the rest of their lives.

  Forty-Five

  Ruby stood in front of the selection of wedding dresses Mrs Woolden, the head of the ladies’ department, had selected as possible choices for the new window display.

  ‘Hmm, none of them are really what I’m looking for,’ Ruby said, and stood back to look at them from a different angle. ‘I want something… something…’

  ‘With zebra stripes and tassels?’

  Ruby laughed. ‘Well, no. Not quite.’

  Mrs Woolden smiled. ‘Why don’t we try them on a mannequin? In my experience, wedding dresses never look the same hung as they do worn.’

  They walked into the back room and Ruby lifted one of the dresses from its hanger as Mrs Woolden moved a naked mannequin closer. They worked in silence, first trying one and then another. When they’d reached the fifth dress, Ruby’s head and arms ached, her frustration mounting.

  ‘I think it’s the necklines. I wanted something a little more modern.’

  ‘Modern? I think I have just the thing. Stay here and I’ll run along to the stockroom.’