by Carola Dunn
Alec grinned at her as she sank into a chair. “They’re playing Schubert and Dvorak tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “You’ll enjoy that.”
“As long as I don’t have to dance to it!”
“All you need is practice, darling.”
“I feel such an absolute ass.”
“We must practise in private. There’s nowhere on board, but when we get ashore … In the meantime, suppose we go ‘stealing’ away to see what the moon’s doing tonight?”
Up on the boat-deck, it was a little warmer than the night before. The almost balmy breeze came from the southwest, rather than the east, sending wispy clouds drifting across a haloed moon.
“‘Wrapped in a gauzy veil,’” said Daisy, who knew her English literature if she knew nothing else, “but it never looks to me ‘like a dying lady, lean and pale.’ More of a ‘Goddess excellently bright.’”
“Mmmm,” said Alec, putting a stop to Ben Jonson and Percy Bysshe Shelley alike in the most agreeable manner possible.
For some minutes Daisy was too busy to contemplate the moon or attend to her surroundings. Low voices, the scrape of a match nearby, footsteps coming and going barely impinged upon her consciousness, but she was jerked back to awareness by a sudden, wordless yell, followed by a splash.
“Man overboard!” someone bawled, and others took up the cry.
Alec sprang into action. Grabbing the nearest life-belt, he hung over the rail, peering down at the water. “There!” He flung the belt. “Damn, he’s gone down again!”
Heart in mouth, Daisy leant beside him as a second life-belt spun down. In the moonlight, the bow wake was a white frill, losing definition as it spread. The water just below them was a dark, heaving mass, glimmering as it swelled and receded, with the white circles of the life-belts floating swiftly backwards as the ship steamed on. Daisy and Alec ran aft, along with an agitated group, trying to keep up with the receding circles.
Between the rings, something broke the surface. Arms reached upward, flailing, begging for help.
“The belt!” shouted several voices. “Grab the belt!”
As the drowning man floundered towards the nearest life-belt, Daisy discovered she was holding her breath. Suddenly she realized that the throb of the engines, the constant, unheeded heartbeat of the Talavera, had ceased.
“Fast reflexes on the bridge,” Alec commented.
“I think he’s got it,” someone said. “Yes, he’s got it!”
“Hang on!”
“Hold hard, fella, we’ll get you out of there.” That was surely Harvey, the second mate—and a dozen seamen had materialized on deck. “Here, men, this boat. Lower away, now! Ladies and gentlemen, out of the way, if you please.”
They moved back, crowded to the rail a little further along. Someone was sobbing. Daisy clung to Alec, weak with shock and still tentative relief. Creaking, the davit swung the life-boat out over the side and began to lower it.
“Lights!” called Harvey impatiently.
“How the dickens did he come to fall?” a man wondered aloud.
“I saw it,” a hysterical voice responded. “He was pushed!”
5
Electric lights sprang to life, drowning the shifting moonlight. Their faces white in the glare, the group at the rail stared at each other.
The sobs emanated from Lady Brenda. “I saw, I tell you,” she insisted, covering her blotched face with her hands. “Don’t look at me like that. I saw, I saw!”
On realizing who had made the startling announcement, most of the spectators turned back to the rail. Alec’s arm, which had tensed beneath Daisy’s hand, relaxed.
“Little fool,” he murmured, “just trying to be the centre of attention.”
“Maybe,” said Daisy, “but whether she saw something, or imagined it, or made it up, she’s had a shock. If she feels like me, she’s all quavery inside. Mr. Harvey’s busy, that beastly man she was with isn’t here, and she doesn’t seem to be with anyone else.”
“Great Scott, Daisy,” Alec groaned, “must you invariably find some lame duck to take under your wing?”
“I’ll just help her over the stile,” she promised, wrinkling her nose at him. “I hate to miss the rescue, but I’d better take her below. You watch and tell me all about it.”
With a sigh, Alec gave in. “All right, but don’t go putting any more ideas into her head. And tell her not to broadcast her story any further. She might start a panic.”
Daisy went over to the girl and put her arm round her shaking shoulders. “Lady Brenda, you don’t know me from Adam—or Eve, rather, but won’t you let me help? My name’s Daisy Dal——Daisy Fletcher. It was a beastly shock when he fell in, wasn’t it? I’m all shaky. We’ll both feel the better for sitting down with a cup of tea.”
Lady Brenda raised red-rimmed eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I have an open mind on the subject. We’ll talk about it, if you like; but if you’re certain of what you saw, you should tell the Captain.”
“Oh no! Ron—Mr. Harvey—says Captain Dane is a frightful Tartar.”
“Well, tell Mr. Harvey then,” Daisy said pragmatically, “but I wouldn’t go shouting it to the world if I were you. Come on, let’s go below now. It’s turned freezing out here.”
She urged the girl towards the aft companion-way. As the ship lost way, the rocking motion became more pronounced. Descending the steep, ladder-like stair to the promenade deck, they hung on tight to the rail.
Through the glass, they could see passengers inside thronging to the port side, where the man had gone overboard. The news had spread quickly. Quite a few people came out onto the open stern deck. Most rushed to the port rail, but several made a dash for the starboard side, where they leaned over, heaving. The increased motion had discommoded quite a few previously contented stomachs.
“I can’t go to our cabin,” wailed Lady Brenda. “Mumsie’s been sea-sick since we left the Mersey.”
“We’ll go to the ladies’ lounge.” Daisy glared at a man pushing through the door until he stepped aside and held it open for them. “I doubt many …”
“Say, Mrs. Fletcher!” Arbuckle hailed her. “Were you out there? Did you see what happened? They say some guy was pushed overboard.”
Daisy frowned at him, squeezed Lady Brenda’s arm warningly, and said in her firmest tone, “Someone fell over the rail. I expect he’d had a few cocktails too many. Alec threw him a life-belt and he managed to catch hold of it. If you hurry, you’ll see the poor chap hauled aboard.”
“Too much to drink, eh?” The look Arbuckle gave her suggested he didn’t swallow her story but was willing to go along. “Must be a fellow-countryman. With our danged Prohibition, people don’t learn to hold their liquor like they used to. You want to go rubberneck, Miss Oliphant?”
The witch was just behind him. “I believe not.” Thoughtfully, she regarded Lady Brenda’s pale face. “But don’t let me keep you, my dear sir. I dare say Mrs. Fletcher will not mind describing the scene above, which will be quite enough excitement for me.”
“Okay, ma’am. See you later then.”
“My dear Mrs. Fletcher,” said Miss Oliphant, “you have had a nasty shock, I’m afraid. Our good doctor would prescribe brandy, I suspect, but I cannot advise it. Be guided by me, and let me procure you some camomile and lemon balm tea. Both of you.”
“Oh yes, thank you, or anything hot.” Daisy supposed she must look as shaky as Lady Brenda, who was shivering convulsively though they were now out of the wind. “We’ll go to the ladies’ lounge.”
“Ask the stewardess for blankets and hot-water bottles, child, and tell her to boil water for a tisane.”
Miss Oliphant hurried off down the companion-way to the cabin-deck. Daisy, her arm around Lady Brenda’s waist, started for the lounge. As they approached the wide double doors to the Grand Salon, she heard a waltz beginning. A moment later, Phillip and Gloria came out.
“Daisy, I say, is it true … ? Here, I
say, old sport, you look rotten!”
“Thanks a lot, Phil!” Daisy pulled herself together. After all, the unfortunate man overboard was being rescued. It wasn’t nearly as bad as falling over dead bodies—well, finding them lying about—which she had an unfortunate habit of doing. “I’m all right, but Lady Brenda’s feeling pretty ghastly. Give her a hand to the ladies’ lounge, will you?”
“Oh, Daisy, did you see the guy fall in?” asked Gloria, as Phillip, ever the gentleman, took over the job of supporting the drooping girl. “Golly gee, that must have given you quite a fright.”
“Be an angel, Gloria, and don’t let’s talk about it just now. I’m worried about Lady Brenda.”
“Let me help. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, darling.” Daisy took over Lady Brenda again at the door to the lounge. “Ask the stewardess for blankets and hot-water bottles while I get her settled.”
The ladies’ lounge was decorated in ivory and half a dozen shades of pink, all lace and flounces, so twee as to be sickening. However, it did have comfortable chairs and a couple of chaises longues; and as Daisy had suspected, it was nearly empty at that hour. Lady Brenda was draped on a chaise and the attendant bustled about swathing her in rugs and hot-water bottles.
Daisy sank into a nearby chair, and Gloria perched on the edge of another, all agog. Though exhausted, Daisy had got over the worst of the shock. Now she wanted to question Lady Brenda about just what she thought she had seen, but it couldn’t be done with so many ears close by.
She was on the point of advising Gloria to find Phillip and hurry to see the end of the rescue, when it dawned on her that there might be no happy ending. The man might have lost his grip on the belt before the rowers reached him. Much better if Gloria stayed where she was, even if the interrogation of Lady Brenda must be postponed.
In any case the girl was still in no state to answer questions. She lay slumped against the cushions. As far as one could tell through the smeared powder, rouge, and eye make-up, her face was white as a sheet.
“She looks pretty bad,” Gloria whispered. “Shouldn’t we send for Dr. Amboyne?”
“He’ll be busy with the chap who fell in. Miss Oliphant—ah, here she is.”
The witch came in, with two of her blue glass jars in her hand. Daisy noted the red label on one. She was too worried about Lady Brenda’s condition to quibble. She couldn’t imagine any reason why Miss Oliphant might have it in for the girl, and so precise a person would surely not make a mistake about dosage.
Besides, if Lady Brenda became ill after drinking the tea, the culprit would be obvious. Miss Oliphant was not such a fool.
The stewardess, who had at hand all the necessary apparatus for making tea or coffee, had water boiling. In no time the herbs were steeping. The steam coming from the tea-pot’s spout smelled more like new-mown hay than lemons, more appropriate for horses than invalids, Daisy thought. However, she accepted a cup, glad to see that Miss Oliphant was also going to drink some of the medicinal brew.
“A sedative,” the witch said, smiling, “but very mild, and I happen to like the flavour.”
Gloria sniffed the scented steam, her nose wrinkling. “Gee, you mustn’t waste any on me,” she said tactfully. “I wasn’t out there when it happened. Let me help Lady Brenda with hers. Here, honey, let’s just sit you up a bit. There, that’s dandy. Take care now, it’s hot.”
As Lady Brenda reached for the cup and saucer with a tremulous hand, adorned with a large, diamond engagement ring, the familiar throb of the ship’s engines started up again.
“Oh,” she cried, “they must have got him aboard! Don’t you think so, Mrs. Fletcher? Now he’ll be able to tell them what happened.”
Daisy caught the slight stress on “he,” and wondered whether the brainless, “bright young thing” was sharper than she appeared. At least she had realized the sense in not parading her unverifiable story.
Miss Oliphant took a sip of the tisane, so Daisy tried hers. It tasted just as it smelled. Mentally holding her nose, she drank some more. At least it was hot and wet.
The Talavera’s roll was easing as she got under way, cutting through the waves instead of wallowing. Daisy finished her tea and was about to excuse herself to go and find out what had happened when the door to the lavatories opened and from the inner room tottered Wanda Gotobed.
“Has this bloody ship stopped see-sawing?” she demanded.
“Yes, madam,” the stewardess assured her. “It’s always a bit uncomfy when they cut the engines at sea.”
“Uncomfy! Why the hell did we stop? I’ve been sick as a dog, and all that stupid woman in there can say is fresh air helps some people and no one ever died of it.”
“Ginger or mint,” Miss Oliphant murmured to Daisy as the stewardess defended her colleague, “but I don’t suppose Mrs. Gotobed would accept anything from me. In any case, it is best taken before symptoms arise.”
“Come and sit down, Wanda,” Daisy invited. “I’m sure you’ll feel better shortly.”
“Oh, it’s you, Daisy. Have you been sick, too? I can’t see why they’d want to stop the engines in the middle of the sea, unless they broke down. Don’t tell me the bloody engines broke down?”
“No,” Gloria broke in, “a man fell overboard and they had to stop the ship to fish him out.”
Looking horrified, Wanda gasped, “Fish him … ? No, don’t tell me, Gloria. I’m not feeling strong enough for … Gawd, it wasn’t … it wasn’t my hubby, was it? Break it to me gently!”
“We don’t know who it was,” Daisy said, “but there’s no reason to suppose it was Mr. Gotobed. Was he up on the boat-deck?”
“He went up to smoke his pipe. He says the Smoking Room stinks. I came in here to powder my nose; then I started spewing up my guts and … Oh, Gawd, Daisy, what if it’s him?”
“I’m sure it isn’t,” Daisy said soothingly, but she did not recall seeing Gotobed among those who had gathered at the rail on the boat-deck. “I’ll go and see what I can find out.”
“Me too,” said Gloria, jumping up.
Daisy glanced at the heavy-eyed girl on the chaise longue. “I don’t think Lady Brenda should be left alone.” Especially alone with the appalling Wanda.
“I shall be happy to keep Lady Brenda company,” offered Miss Oliphant. “Another cup of tea cannot hurt her and might help.”
Daisy leant over Lady Brenda. “Just take it easy,” she said. “Don’t try to talk.”
Nodding, the girl touched Daisy’s arm. “I’m feeling much better. Thank you!”
“I’ll be back. Wanda, you don’t look at all well. Why don’t you go to your suite and lie down? I’m sure you’re worrying for nothing, but if … if there’s bad news, I’ll come and tell you, I promise.”
“Blimey, no. I’m that wobbly, I’d never make it. ’Sides, I wouldn’t want to be alone at a time like this.”
She certainly would not be alone in the lounge. A number of women had entered since the Talavera had resumed her voyage. Two or three, pallid-faced, staggered out of the inner room and sank into chairs. Others came in from the promenade, chattering about all the excitement.
“ … unconscious or dead, they say,” Daisy overheard as she and Gloria made for the door.
“But who is he?”
“No one seems to know.”
Almost certainly not Gotobed then. Someone would have recognized the occupant of one of the only two suites aboard, possessor of a glamorous wife much younger than himself, and therefore indubitable target of gossip.
“Alec will know if anyone does,” said Gloria.
“Not necessarily. He’s incognito, remember.”
“I bet he’s found out by now.”
They went out to the promenade. At once four figures converged upon them: Alec, Phillip, Arbuckle—and Gotobed.
“Mr. Gotobed, thank heaven!” Daisy exclaimed. “Wanda has been unwell, and …”
“She’s ill?” cried the anxious husband.
“No, not really, just suffering from the effects of the increased rocking when the ship stopped.” The men, even Wanda’s adoring spouse, all took on the smug look of those immune to sea-sickness. “But she’s feeling pretty rotten, and she’s got into a bit of a state. She says you went up to the boat-deck, and she’s taken it into her head it was you who fell overboard.”
“I was only up there a few minutes. Then I went back to the Grand Salon to wait for her. I must go to her!”
“You can’t go in there,” said five voices in unison.
“Ladies only, sir!” added Phillip, horrified.
“Wanda’s just fine,” Gloria put in. “Miss Oliphant’s looking after her and Lady Brenda, probably gotten her to drink a dose of lemon balm by now.”
“Miss Oliphant?” said Gotobed doubtfully. “She’s an admirable lady, but I don’t know …”
“I’ll go and tell Wanda you’re safe and sound,” Daisy proposed, “and bring her out to you.”
Wanda burst into floods of dramatic tears at the news. At least, she sobbed noisily into her handkerchief. Daisy could not help wondering if they were stage tears. The blooming bride might well be slightly disappointed at the survival of her rich, elderly husband.
Chiding herself for uncharitableness, Daisy patted Wanda’s shoulder. “Pull yourself together,” she urged. “Mr. Gotobed is worried about you.”
“Not half as worried as I was about him. It’s the relief, that’s what.”
“I know, but he’s waiting for you. Do come along.”
The sobbing ceased. “I must look a real fright. I must powder my nose,” said Wanda, and, handkerchief to face, hurried into the inner room.
Daisy turned to Lady Brenda and found her fast asleep. “The lemon balm really worked,” she said to Miss Oliphant. “At least, I’m not at all sleepy—but on the other hand, I don’t feel jumpy from shock anymore.”
Miss Oliphant smiled. “That is probably because you are a strong-minded young woman, but perhaps the tisane helped. I am delighted to hear that the unfortunate person who fell overboard was not Mr. Gotobed. Have you discovered who it was?”
