by Lee Strauss
She hated how snobbish that sounded, even to her. Third-class patrons stared unabashedly, and though Ginger did her best to dress simply, wearing her plainest frock and straw hat, there was no escaping that she came from privilege. The folks here wore worn, unfashionable clothes in bland colours. The women kept their hair in large, dull, tangled buns on the tops of their heads. The men’s hair was longer than what was fashionable, and greasy without the aid of hair cream. The children ran around in bare feet. Wanting to appear friendly, Ginger tried smiling, but the women only frowned and pushed their children behind their backs, as if Ginger might be there to snatch them away.
Along with the dog kennel, other animals were stored there, mostly chickens and some piglets. There were even some cats, but Ginger imagined they lived on the ship to keep the rodent population down.
Ginger placed Boss on the ground, and said in greeting, “Hello, Scout.” She’d learned the waif’s name the day before and that he was an English orphan stowed onboard by one of the bellboys, his cousin Marvin.
“’Ello, miss.” Scout kneeled, his scratched-up bare knee against the dusty wooden floor. “’ello, Boss, me mate. ’Ave to widdle, do ya?” Ginger handed over Boss’s leash, and Scout disappeared with him. She wondered about the boy. Beneath the dirt on his face, the youngster’s eyes were bright with optimism, his eager smile always at the ready. She was moved with a desire to help the lad, and perhaps he could be of help to her.
By the time he returned with a happy and much-relieved terrier, Ginger’s plan was formulated.
“’Ere you go, miss,” Scout said. “Boss did great.” He flashed his large, toothy smile.
Ginger suppressed a giggle. “Understood.”
Scout stared at her as she stood there, probably wondering why she hadn’t skedaddled up the stairs the way she did last time. She hurried to relay her proposition.
“I’m in need of some help, Scout, and you look like the honest sort.”
“Oh, I am, miss. Me mam taught me manners ’fore she died. And virtues, ma’am. Like ’onesty.”
“Your mother sounds like she was a wonderful lady.”
“She were, miss.”
“I want to hire you to help me with Boss. He needs more fresh air and exercise than I’m able to give him.” This was partially true. Though Ginger had time to walk him, Boss’s presence in first class was deeply frowned upon and was prohibited at all the social events she planned to attend. She felt guilty about leaving him alone in her room so often.
“Yes, miss. I’d be ’appy to ’elp, but the guards at the door wun let me up.”
“You let me worry about that. To be clear, this is a job, not a favour. I’ll pay you three shillings for the duration of the trip.”
Scout’s young eyes lit up. “I’m yer man, miss.”
Ginger fought the grin threatening to burst through. “I thought so. You have to be discreet, as other passengers with dogs aren’t...bending the rules so much as I...”
“I is a ghost, miss. Practically invisible. And I know this ship like me own ’and, even the guard man dun know how much I know. There’s plenty of places to take Boss where we won’t bump into the likes of...”
Scout blushed, as if worried he might’ve offended Ginger by pointing out her class. She hurried to allay his fears.
“Exactly.” She winked and handed him the coins. “No one in first class should even know Boss exists. Why don’t you take Boss now? And I’ll meet you on the second-class deck behind the engine room in an hour.”
Scout reclaimed Boss’s leash. “I just need to tell me cousin.”
Ginger patted Boss’s head. “You be a good boy. See you soon.”
Ginger watched the interaction between the taller lad—lanky, with broad shoulders and a dark patch on his chin—and his young cousin. Marvin examined the coins and nodded his approval. Satisfied, Ginger ascended and made a deal with the seaman—it was amazing what a few bob would get you. When she reached the open deck, she took a long breath of the fresh sea air to cleanse her lungs.
Putting her self-professed sleuthing skills to work, she followed Scout and Boss, careful to remain a good distance back and out of sight. Scout did exactly as he promised, kept to second class in crannies and back areas reserved for storage. His kindness to Boss extended to the times when he didn’t know he was being observed, which came as a huge relief to Ginger. In exactly an hour, thanks to a pocket watch Scout possessed, they showed up at the engine room door where Ginger arrived only minutes before.
“How did it go?” Ginger asked, scooping Boss into her arms.
“Jus’ fine, miss. Me and Boss are chums.”
“Indeed, you are.” Satisfied by Scout’s character, she kept him in mind should she need him for another job in the future.
Chapter Five
On the second night, the ship’s crew planned a special cocktail-and-mingle event. Ginger held up a silk sea-green sleeveless gown with satin shoulder straps to her neck and then a gown in sapphire blue with sheer mid-length sleeves. The fabric of both dresses rippled just above Ginger’s ankles. She chose the green to match her eyes, draping long loops of pearl beads around her neck. She added a matching headband with a large, dark feather pinned to the right side near her temple.
Haley wasn’t as excited and steadfastly declined any offers of dress loans from Ginger. “I’d probably spill something on it.”
“I doubt that,” Ginger replied. “You have the steady hands of a surgeon.”
“I’ll just wear my suit,” Haley insisted. “Or maybe, I’ll stay here and keep the boss company.”
Boss popped his head up upon hearing a version of his name.
“Nonsense!” Ginger made another effort and held out a simple pale-peach frock. “How about this? It’s a lovely colour for you. It’ll bring out the golden highlights in your beautiful chestnut hair. In fact, you can keep it. I never wear it anyway.”
“I don’t need your castoffs. And I don’t have ‘golden’ highlights.”
Ginger cocked a well-plucked brow. “I beg to differ.”
“Fine.” Haley snatched the dress from Ginger’s hand. “But I’m not wearing”—she waved at Ginger’s prominent feather—“that.”
Ginger, feeling she’d won a small victory, said nothing. She sat at the dressing table and applied her makeup: smoky eye shadow reaching well-defined slender eyebrows, two applications of mascara, round spots of rouge under each high cheekbone, followed by a layer of mandarin-orange lipstick. She held a tissue to her mouth and pressed her lips against it.
Ginger considered Haley’s reflection. She had an uncommonly wide jaw, but it was balanced out with a full mouth and lips. Her eyes were dark and shrouded with a sense of mystery. Somehow it all worked together and what should be a plain face was rather pleasant. With a bit of makeup, she could be striking.
“I could teach you.”
“Teach me what?” Haley said.
“How to put on makeup.” Ginger swivelled to face her. “Darling, it’s easy and, well, you are rather pale.”
Haley waved a hand in front of her face. “This is how the good Lord made me. Folks can take it or leave it.”
Ginger grinned. She gave her friend credit for her aplomb.
* * *
Several electrical chandeliers lit up the cocktail lounge, its magical effect inducing a skip to Ginger’s step. She loved parties and entertainment. A light chatter emanated from the populated tables amidst the melodic background music produced by a proficient pianist in the corner. She approached the bar with Haley at her side.
“The captain and Mrs. Walsh are here,” Haley whispered.
“I was sure they would be,” Ginger replied before approaching the couple. “Captain, Mrs. Walsh! How are you?”
The captain grasped Ginger’s hand with both of his, perhaps holding on a mite too long. Ginger pulled away and extended her greeting to Mrs. Walsh, whose grasp was far less eager. Haley followed suit, and Ginger noted that the captain
only gave her a quick single-handed shake.
“Quite well,” Captain Walsh responded. “And you? I hope you are enjoying your journey so far?”
“Indeed. It’s been entirely pleasant.”
“What would you like from the bar?” he asked.
Ginger expressed a desire for a Mary Pickford, and Haley asked for a Sidecar—American cocktails—but fortunately, the waiter hailed from Boston and had likely learned of them as Ginger and Haley had, by visiting illegal speakeasies.
Ginger wasn’t the kind who made a habit of breaking the law, but Haley dragged her out for a night of dancing and frivolity six months after her father had died. “You need to do something fun, Ginger. Your father wouldn’t want you pouting about like this.”
Haley was right about Ginger’s father and about how much Ginger liked to have fun, and “speakeasy night” became a regular weekly outing. Their clandestine efforts, sneaking through dark streets, avoiding beat cops, and tapping on basement doors with a secret knock, provided a similar sort of emotional rush her work in the war had given her, with the bonus of it not being a matter of life and death or national security!
When Captain Walsh waved the waiter over to order for them, Ginger glimpsed the captain’s polished gold cuff links, which sparkled in the glimmering light of the chandeliers.
“You’ve a nice selection of cuff links, Captain. I noticed the silver ones from yesterday with the fleur-de-lis.”
The captain frowned. “Yes, those are a favourite of mine, sentimental reasons, but sadly, they’ve disappeared.”
“Disappeared? As in you misplaced them, or were they...stolen?”
“I can’t be certain, but, I hate to say it, I fear the latter.”
“Perhaps I can help to find them.” Ginger perked up at the thought. “I’m quite the finder of things, you know. My stepmother constantly loses miscellaneous items, which I manage to find. Once my father had a valuable piece go missing from his office and I tracked down the culprit, a devious member of our household staff.”
The captain grinned, apparently enjoying Ginger’s bright and positive attitude. “If you could acquire my missing possession, I would indeed be grateful, but please know that I shan’t be disappointed if your pursuit is unfruitful. I rather expect they’ll soon be melted down and sold.”
Ginger smiled and sipped on her drink, enjoying the tangy rum and pineapple juice blend.
Haley nudged Ginger gently and whispered, “Two o’clock.”
Ginger glanced to her right in time to spot Mrs. Fairchild waddling towards them with a reluctant Mr. Fairchild.
“Hello, Mrs. Gold, Miss Higgins!”
Ginger and Haley greeted the couple.
“Are you going to delight us with a dance tonight?” Ginger asked.
“Oh, goodness gracious, no. We’ve no mind for this distasteful music.” She winked. “We’re here for the alcohol. We’ve three weeks of Prohibition to make up for!”
Ginger lifted her glass, “Quite right.”
“Oh, but the ball, that’s another story,” Mrs. Fairchild said after ordering chardonnay for herself and whisky for her husband. “For that, we’ll dance all night long. Waltzing is what I’d call real dancing. It’s planned for the last night, did you know? By the way, I simply adore your gown. Did you get it in New York? They must import from Paris.”
“They do, indeed, and yes, I bought this on Fifth Avenue.”
Nancy Guilford arrived fashionably late, wearing a ruby-red cocktail dress with long beaded tassels, and a white feather boa draped over one shoulder. A shiny red headband encircled her blonde bob, which also sported a large feather, white to Ginger’s black. Ginger felt a wave of irritation at being out-dressed by the woman.
The actress slinked past Ginger and Haley with barely a glance, her attention set firmly on the captain. The man nodded subtly, some kind of secret message? But not so subtly that Mrs. Walsh hadn’t seen it. The frown on her already churlish expression deepened.
Ginger’s attention was brought back from Mrs. Walsh by a jazz band setting up to replace the pianist, who promptly made his way to the bar and ordered a beer. Some of the tables were moved to the side to broaden the dance floor. Soon, the energetic music began, and enthusiastic dancers hopped to their feet.
The captain’s interest in Ginger made her feel uneasy. Every time she’d glance his way, she found he was already staring at her.
Haley was right about him. He certainly wasn’t showing respect to his wife by his blatant staring. In fact, she feared he was about to ask her to dance. To divert a possible awkward moment, Ginger took the offensive.
“Don’t you just love this new jazz music, Mrs. Walsh? It’s such fun!” The woman’s expression was one of horror, but Ginger ignored her and turned to the captain before she could respond. “Captain Walsh, you should ask your wife to dance! Wouldn’t we love to watch them, Haley?”
Haley looked surprised by Ginger’s interference, but answered with a straight face. “I can think of nothing more enjoyable.”
Captain Walsh’s eyes flashed with confusion. He was one who had the utmost authority onboard and who was used to being thoroughly in control, and Ginger had shifted his footing. He cleared his throat and stood.
“I’m afraid I’m needed on the bridge.” He put on his captain’s hat. “Ladies.”
Mrs. Walsh, apparently not wanting to remain in Ginger and Haley’s company, excused herself immediately afterwards.
Haley muttered quietly, “Smooth work.”
“I feared he was going to embarrass his wife by asking me to dance.”
Ginger and Haley positioned themselves on high stools and observed the dance floor. As expected, Miss Guilford was continually engaged, gentlemen practically lining up and panting to dance with her. Poor Patty Applebalm was left alone at the table to guard Nancy Guilford’s belongings. Next to the actress, Patty, with lines deepening around her eyes and mouth, sat in her simple blue gown. A wilting wallflower, indeed.
Ginger regarded the dapper gentleman from the evening before, whose eyes, like all the other men’s eyes, were on Nancy Guilford. When the song ended and Miss Guilford returned to her table with a flourish, the man sauntered over.
Haley saw him too. “All men are alike,” she said with reproach.
Then the dapper man surprised them both. Instead of asking Nancy Guilford to dance, he asked poor Patty!
“I recant what I just said,” Haley murmured. “There’s still a good one left.”
Even more than Patty’s shock and joy at the man’s offer, Ginger enjoyed the expression of dismay and incomprehension on the actress’s perfect face.
The dance ended, and Ginger ordered another drink. This time she chose a nice 1911 Clicquot champagne. “Why not?” she said with flair. “I paid full fare.”
“Make sure you drink a glass of water too,” Haley said. “And you are going to dance tonight, aren’t you?”
“Why would you say that? I’m happy to listen and tap my feet.”
“Because of him.”
Ginger swung around to see the dapper gentleman heading towards them. She admired the way his soft summer-linen suit fit his six-foot frame. His slicked-back hair was well-styled, parted on the side and trimmed neatly around shapely ears. Only a hint of grey at his temples and a few lines fanning from his hazel eyes suggested his age.
“If you don’t mind,” Haley said, leaving quickly. “I have to use the convenience.”
Before Ginger could stop her friend, the gentleman stood before her, offering his hand. “Would you like to dance?”
He spoke with a strong, clear English accent, and Ginger couldn’t resist his charm. She lifted her gloved hand to accept his. “Certainly.”
Up close, Ginger noted how the golden threads woven into his snappy blue tie brought out the gold flecks in his hazel eyes—intelligent eyes—which regarded her warmly.
“I suppose an introduction is in order,” the man said as he spun her around the dance floo
r. “I’m Basil Reed.”
“Mr. Reed, I’m Mrs. Gold.” Ginger smiled up at him as she said it, but she wanted to be clear that she wasn’t interested in a mid-Atlantic fling.
The music was too loud for them to converse, and the beat kept their feet moving. Ginger broke into the Charleston, her legs kicking at the knee ahead and behind, her arms swinging in time. Her pearl necklace jumped across her chest.
Basil Reed turned out to be a worthy partner, matching her beat for beat, his leather-bottomed shoes sliding expertly along the floor. Fashionable argyle socks peeked out from under the hem of his trousers.
“Thank you, Mr. Reed,” she said with a smile as the man walked her back to her seat. “That was great fun!”
He removed a cotton handkerchief from his suit jacket and mopped his brow as he smiled at her. “The pleasure was all mine.”
“I must start taking Boss out on longer walks,” Ginger said, her hand to her chest as she caught her breath.
Basil Reed arched a brow. “You take your boss for walks? What on earth is it that you do?”
“No, no,” Ginger said, laughing. “Boss is my dog. He’s a Boston terrier, you see. Boss is short for Boston, and as my friend Miss Higgins insists, he does think he’s the boss.”
“I take it he’s in the kennel.”
Ginger replied without hesitation, “Of course.”
At the bar, Ginger said, “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Reed.” Ginger returned to her seat next to where Haley sat waiting, and Basil Reed sauntered back to his table on the other side of the room.
“So?” Haley said, with an exaggerated wink.
Ginger pretended not to notice. “So what?”
Before Haley could prod deeper, Ginger’s attention was directed elsewhere. Nancy Guilford was having words with the captain who’d returned from the bridge. Ginger couldn’t hear what was said, but the cross look on the actress’s face proved the conversation wasn’t pleasant. The captain spun on his heels, spurning her. Her face flushed as red as her cocktail dress, and she flung her champagne flute to the floor where it shattered to pieces.
