by Janet Woods
‘Pardon me for interfering,’ Minnie said. ‘Do I look all right?’
‘You look perfect . . . that’s a pretty dress.’
‘It’s yours, and I borrowed it, as you very well know. Stop being so sarcastic.’
The casual statement was too much and Esmé glared at her as she climbed into the top bunk. ‘Yes, I know. Have you ever thought of asking me before borrowing something?’
‘You’ve never minded before . . . besides, you were nowhere to be found.’
‘I expect I was eating my dinner; and I have minded before – I just didn’t say so. Turn the light off when you leave, and try not to wake me up when you return, please.’
‘Oh, do shut up Es, you always get ratty with me when the curse is due,’ Minnie muttered, loud enough for Esmé to hear. The door shut with a definite thud.
Sighing, Esmé hung out of the bunk and clicked the switch, plunging the cabin into darkness. She didn’t want to argue with Minnie, and felt guilty for being mean to her, but sometimes she overstretched the bounds of their friendship.
Minnie was untidy . . . she left her clothes where she dropped them, and worse, left Esmé’s clothes where she dropped them, too. She felt as though she spent half her life picking up after her friend. Minnie was right though, the monthly curse was due.
She lay for a while, listening to the engines pushing the ship through the water. The crew’s quarters were situated near the stern. Their cabin was smaller than the room they’d shared in nurses’ quarters.
The sound of her heartbeat pounded loudly, as though its pulse had adjusted to the sound of the engines and was helping to drive the ship forward, instead of being the engine designed to power her body.
It must feel like this to be in the womb, she thought – or a tomb perhaps. Both reminded her of parents she couldn’t remember, who’d died in a boating accident when she and Chad were only two years old.
She wished there was a window, but they were below the waterline. The air being pumped through the vents was warm and slightly moist. Her bunk was an arm’s length from the deck-head, so she could reach up and touch it. Sometimes she felt claustrophobic, and longed for a window so she could allow a cool, fresh breeze to blow inside. Turning on to her side she gazed at the thin line of light under the door, which was the only way out of the small dark space that pressed in on her. She wished she hadn’t come on this voyage, which seemed never-ending.
During the night she thought she heard stealthy sounds, as though Minnie had returned and was trying not to make a noise.
‘Don’t turn the light on,’ she murmured. The next moment the door closed with a faint click. She tossed and turned, waking the next morning to find that Minnie’s bunk hadn’t been slept in.
Esmé showered and dressed then tidied the cabin. Her suitcase had slid partly out from under the lower bunk. She’d just finished straightening it up when the door was flung open and Minnie came in. She was still in Esmé’s dress, and her hair was in a tangle.
‘Where have you been all night?’
Minnie avoided her eyes. ‘Since when were you my mother?’ She opened her locker and began to toss clothes on to the bed, eventually murmuring, ‘Where do you think I’ve been . . . with Wally.’
Shocked, Esmé stared at her. ‘You’ve only known him for a few days.’
‘So what? He’s fun.’
‘Aren’t you going to get a shower?’ she managed to stammer out, as Minnie dragged her dress off and threw it to her.
‘I haven’t got time. I overslept. Thanks for the loan. It will need washing; I spilled something on it, and the seam came undone under the armpit.’
The something was brown, greasy, and smeared; as though Minnie had spread the stain trying to wipe it off. It was at the neckline, so she’d be able to sew an artificial flower over it if she couldn’t get the stain out. But she would have to sponge the perspiration with white vinegar and wash it before she tried to repair it. Perhaps the woman who worked in the laundry would allow her to use the sewing machine. The armpit seam had frayed, and was damp with perspiration.
Resentment bit her. ‘Why don’t you repair it?’
‘I don’t have time. If I’m late for work, that shrew in charge will chew my ear off. She’s worse than Matron ever was.’ Snatching up the company uniform Minnie hurriedly donned it and pulled a comb through the knots in her hair.
She caught Esmé’s eyes, and then giggled. ‘Oh, don’t look so shocked, Es, I was only joking. Nothing happened, though that’s not to say he didn’t try. I told him I had the curse, and then some of us went to his cabin with a bottle of wine. I fell asleep, and everyone was gone when I woke, including Wally.’
‘Be careful. We still have five weeks to go, and you don’t want to get yourself into trouble.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. If Wally wants me, he’ll have to put a ring on my finger first.’
‘And would you marry him?’
‘I might,’ she said casually. ‘He’s quite well off. His parents own a hotel. And he inherited a sheep farm from his uncle.’
Minnie wasn’t usually so mercenary. Why was Wally working on a ship instead of tending to his sheep? Esmé thought, then realized she was as guilty of interfering in Minnie’s life as she’d accused her friend of being in hers. She sighed. ‘Let’s not quarrel.’
‘It’s this damned cabin. It’s too small and stuffy. I heard a rumour last night. They say the ship isn’t paying her way and she’s going to be laid up. The crew will be paid off when we reach Australia.’
‘We have lots of passengers.’
‘Only booked on the outward run. Many of those in the economy section are migrants, and they cram them in. Anyone would think they’re in first class, the way they order you around. And they rarely tip.’
Esmé didn’t comment. She and Liam danced for passengers of every class, and they were mostly nice people, nothing like Minnie’s experience.
Esmé left her dress with Betty Jones, the obliging laundry woman. Given an experimental, but gentle tug, the seam frayed even more. ‘I’ll see to it, love. The sleeve seam will never hold. I could take the sleeves out. With you being a dancer and all, it could be your Charleston dress. It would be a shame to waste it.’
‘Thanks, Betty. I’m really a nurse by profession. This is a sort of working holiday.’
‘I can’t say I blame you. The way the world is going, it’s best to have a job you can fall back on. There’s always work for nurses.’
The Depression hadn’t had much effect on Esmé so far. She knew there was one, but had been shielded from it by her family, and their expectations that she’d carve out a meaningful career for herself. They had been right.
Esmé asked Liam Denison about the rumour later that morning.
He smiled. ‘The same rumour happens every time we sail.’
She shrugged. ‘I only came to keep Minnie company. She wants to stay in Australia for a while, but being alone without family scares me. This way we can see Australia first.’
He laughed. ‘It’s too big a country to see in one hit. I expect the company would employ you permanently if you wanted to come and go. I’m not sure about Minnie. The nurse in charge doesn’t like her. She thinks Minnie has the wrong attitude.’
‘We went through training together. She’s a good nurse who is highly qualified, but she doesn’t take to authority kindly. She needs to be in charge herself.’
Liam nodded. ‘Let me know what you intend to do. I don’t want to lose you as a partner, and believe me, your body will soon get used to the exercise. It didn’t take long for the stars to fall from your eyes.’
‘I don’t think I had any illusions. Though you’ve worked me harder than I expected.’
‘You needed it. Do you have a job lined up in Australia?’
‘I have the name of a nursing agency to contact.’ She wouldn’t stay in England and leave Minnie to fend for herself, if Minnie decided she wanted to stay in Australia for a while. Her friend w
as full of ideas, but she didn’t think of what might lie ahead in the future. ‘I believe there’s work available for nurses.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it, love. There’s a depression on. Do you have a place to stay, and savings to fall back on?’
He sounded concerned, and she smiled at him. ‘I expect we can find somewhere cheap to board until we find work.’ She remembered the money Denton had given her, now hidden inside the toe of a silk stocking in her suitcase. She wasn’t going to tell anybody that there was over one hundred pounds in her suitcase – enough for the fare home for both Minnie and herself if things went wrong.
‘There are a fair few first class passengers on board, so there will be tips to divide between us, as well. That includes the band and the singer, of course.’ Unexpectedly, he took hold of her hands, ‘You look pale, are you up to it today?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache, and didn’t have time for breakfast.’
‘Well, make sure you get some lunch.’ He took a bottle of aspirin from his coat pocket and shook two pills into her palm, following it up with a glass of water from the jug they kept at hand. ‘Right, let’s get on now. We’ll practise that rumba I taught you the other day. You need to get a bit more of a rolling motion into your body. This is a dance of lovers. The female is a temptress, teasing the man with her body. Pretend I’m Adam and you’re the snake.’
The more they danced the more aware of Liam she became. His body was a warm sinuous column she twisted around. He took her hips in his hands and drew her close against him.
It didn’t take much to imagine she was teasing him. She loved dancing with him, and melted against him, forgetting everything, and fighting off her inclination to move against him. Although well aware of the working of the human body, she’d never been so physically close to a man before . . . never experienced the raw need and the physical fusion of body and mind.
They rehearsed for two hours, and then Eric came in to remind her it was time to help set the tables.
‘Can you manage without her today, Eric? Esmé needs some fresh air, so I thought I’d take her for a stroll round the deck, then she can have the afternoon off to catch up on her personal chores before the show tonight.’
‘I told you we were working her too hard.’
‘So you did.’
The fresh air was a wonderful tonic. The sea was a moving carpet of dark blue, stretching to a paler horizon where it met the sky. The ship’s wake was a frothy track fading into the distance. Several of the passengers were up and about. An exercise class was going on. People sat in deckchairs, soaking up the sun, and they smiled and nodded to them as they strolled.
How odd that they were a small floating island in such a large, moving mass of water.
The day felt different from the ones that had gone before, as if she’d left the nurse in her behind and had settled into her new career as an entertainer. She could almost see her name up in lights, which was odd, because she’d never been that ambitious.
Liam glanced down at her, smiled and linked hands. ‘I don’t think we need to rehearse quite so hard now. Take half an hour to come up on deck every day, else you’ll begin to feel as though you’re in prison. The captain doesn’t mind if the entertainers socialize with the passengers . . . unless we get too close. And they don’t like the staff forming relationships when they’re on board, either. For her own good, perhaps you should remind your friend of that.’
She looked down at their linked hands. ‘Perhaps I should remind you that you have a fiancée with a sprained ankle to go home to . . . Jane, isn’t it?’
He chuckled. ‘I told you Jane had a broken ankle, not a sprain.’
‘You also told me her name was Pamela. Why the deceit?’
He didn’t deny it. ‘I didn’t want any romantic complications from you, or any complications with that friend of yours, especially. And in case we hadn’t worked out as dancing partners, having a fiancée recovering from a broken ankle would have given me an excuse to let you go.’
She laughed. ‘I hadn’t realized you were quite so devious. I’m contracted for the one return journey. I doubt if I’ll fall in love with you in that time,’ she said, imagining she might get over this schoolgirl-ish crush she had on him by the time they got home, for she certainly wasn’t in love. ‘As for dancing . . . are we compatible?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re the best ballroom partner I’ve ever danced with, and you make me look like a better dancer than I am. You can let go of my hands now.’
He released her, and gazing through slightly-hooded blue eyes that reminded her of Meggie’s, said, ‘You’re better than average, and you have good legs. What if I told you I’d like our relationship to go further?’
‘Are you telling me that?’
‘Yes . . . I think I am. I like you a lot, despite your hands-off manner. You’re fire and ice, Esmé. You have a passionate heart beating inside you.’
‘You said you didn’t want any complications.’
‘I was wrong. Since I met you I’ve discovered that I do.’
‘We haven’t known each other for five minutes,’ she said, then admitted, ‘I enjoy dancing with you, and I’m aware of the tension that such close proximity creates. What happened to your last partner? I take it you had one.’
‘She met someone and got married. That’s why I was in Poole, for her wedding, and to audition someone to take her place. I think we can relax a bit when we’re together now. You can call me Liam, if you like.’
‘I’d prefer to keep our partnership a working one. It’s hypocritical of you to question my friend’s morals, while on the other hand, expecting me to loosen my own. I don’t want to become anyone’s lover, however attractive they are.’
He grinned at that. ‘I was referring to your friend’s gambling habits. Wally’s a con man. She’s trying to impress him. He’ll fleece her of everything she’s got, and then ditch her. I hear he’s jumping ship when we get to Australia.’
She sighed, saying practically, ‘Poor Minnie . . . she hasn’t got much of her own so it shouldn’t take long.’
‘As for you becoming my lover . . .’ Laughter spilled from his mouth, but it was uncertain.
‘What’s so funny about it?’ she snapped, her headache forgotten.
‘You know more about me than you think, and you’ve got it all wrong. I have no interest in entering a casual relationship. I’m making plans for my future.’
Another person wanting to run her life, was her first thought, but the sigh she gave was almost inaudible. ‘What are these plans?’
‘I haven’t thought them through properly yet . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘The thing is, Esmé, I’d rather like you to become my wife in the future . . . I think.’
Arrows darted about in her stomach at this unexpected development, and there was a small, yawing sensation in the pit of her stomach. Was she ready to take such a step? ‘I hardly know you.’
‘We could easily change that.’ In the shadow of the lifeboat he inclined his head and gently kissed her mouth. It was a chaste sort of kiss, as though he’d plucked one from a jar labelled ‘sterile’. But then, she hadn’t had much practice at kissing.
‘I need time to consider,’ she said, surprised beyond measure to think Liam might have deeper feelings for her than he’d let on. So far he’d displayed himself as a pale shadow of George du Maurier’s Svengali.
Her own feelings were ambivalent. She was certainly attracted to him physically, and had been from the start of their working relationship. But now he was attainable her instinct screamed caution.
‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’
He kissed her again, then he turned and walked away, leaving her bereft of breath and lost for words. Her hand went to her mouth and she gave a little smile, wishing Livia were there to talk to. Her sister would surely have forgiven her by now.
Four
England
The hous
e was quiet except for the tick of the clock, the occasional hiss and snap as a knob of coal flared in the kitchen stove, and Meggie’s snuffled breathing, for she was recovering from a cold.
Her mother and brothers were out walking Shadow. Meggie had watched the cleaning lady leave and had thought about what she intended to do as she set the kitchen table for tea with buttered buns and some fruit cake. They wouldn’t be back yet.
The argument she had with her conscience didn’t last long, but still she felt guilty as she went through to her stepfather’s study. It was cold in there after the warmth of the kitchen, and a shiver ran through her body.
The key to the bureau was in the lock, though her stepfather hadn’t bothered to lock it. The document box itself was on a table. It glowed within the inner fires of the various wood used in its creation, and the intricate design of inserted veneer plums, grapes and pears attached to a twisting vine. Her mother, enthralled by its beauty, had placed the winning bid for it at the church fête, against spirited opposition. She had given it to her stepfather for his birthday.
The box was locked, but the key was kept in the bureau. Finding it, she opened the box and gazed at the papers inside. They were filed in alphabetical order.
She pulled out an envelope marked certificates, and found her birth certificate. She’d been born in Nutting Cottage and named after her two grandmothers. Margaret Eloise Sinclair Sangster. It was a grand name, but she couldn’t remember being called anything but Meggie Elliot. Mother, Olivia Sangster (Widow). Father. Richard Sangster. (Deceased).
Denton Elliot had adopted her.
There were other certificates, birth, marriage and death. Richard Sangster’s father was Henry Sangster; his mother had been called Margaret Sinclair, before her marriage. They’d lived in Foxglove House on the other side of the village; the big house that was boarded up. Her real father had been born there.
Was Major Henry Sangster, who lived in Nutting Cottage, her grandfather? She wondered about it. He must be, though her mother wouldn’t have anything to do with him. If he was mentioned she changed the subject, or pretended she hadn’t heard.
