Flora's Secret

by Anita Davison

  ‘The wind’s dropping and we aren’t pitching quite so much. I can’t leave it too long or she’ll bash herself to pieces out there. I’ll see if any of the crew are willing to help.’ He gave her an awkward pat on one shoulder, then loped off along the internal corridor that run through the entire ship to the aft deck.

  A stone settled beneath Flora’s breastbone as she watched him disappear round a corner.

  The thought struck her that Bunny might have been right about Max being an inexperienced sailor, but if so, why had he been heading for the aft deck, when the dining room lay in the opposite direction?

  Chapter 15

  Only the most stalwart of the passengers turned up for the late luncheon, which consisted of sandwiches and coffee arranged in the dining room. Neither Eloise nor Hester had put in an appearance, and eating became a balancing act as plates and cutlery skittered across table tops, the ensuing embarrassment covered by uneasy laughter.

  Bunny’s bravery and Max’s lucky escape became the main topic of conversation, however, Dr Fletcher’s pronouncement that his injuries were little more than a wrenched arm and concussion proved something of an anti-climax.

  ‘Probably didn’t realize how powerful a rogue wave could be,’ Gerald said in response to a question someone posed as to what Max was doing outside. He swiped a ham sandwich from a tray, pointing it at the group of animated young boys at the far end of the room. ‘The storm doesn’t appear to have spoiled their appetites.’

  Miss Ames’s mouth puckered in distaste at the group of children who darted between the tables.

  ‘There’s Ozzy! Yoo-hoo, Ozzy, darling!’ Monica’s high-pitched wail made Flora wince, while red-faced, her son hid behind Eddy.

  A ship’s officer called for quiet, and when the general chatter had died down, announced what everyone already knew, in that the wind and rain had dropped, but outside activities were still hazardous. When he informed them that the bridge tournament would go ahead after luncheon as scheduled it was greeted by light clapping and a wave of sighs.

  ‘That’s something anyway.’ Gus Crowe’s face visibly brightened.

  ‘I doubt they’ll be playing for money,’ Gerald warned.

  ‘Not even a little side bet, my friend?’ Crowe gave a knowing wink.

  Gerald didn’t reply, at which Crowe narrowed his eyes, one finger placed against his nose. ‘Ah, I get it, the little woman wouldn’t approve, eh?’

  Monica scrambled to her feet, carefully avoiding Crowe’s gaze. ‘Flora, dear, there’s a musical recital planned for this afternoon with a gramophone every bit as good as Gerald’s. Ozzy would love to go and I suggested Eddy attend as well, if you approve of course. It will keep them occupied whilst we attend the bridge tournament in the library.

  ‘Perhaps I could take them?’ Flora suggested. It would be a good excuse to stay away from Bunny, and it wouldn’t do her any harm to spend some time with Eddy. Not that he would notice her presence if a gramophone was involved.

  ‘They will be supervised by a reliable group of grown-ups.’ She regarded Flora with her head on one side. ‘He’ll be quite safe, you really shouldn’t worry.’ Her words were accompanied by a discordant scraping back of chairs as the passengers made their way out to the staircase lobby.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Gilmore. I’ve been a bit distracted lately.’

  ‘I had noticed, my dear, and think nothing of it.’

  ‘Do you think I’m being overly protective?’ Flora picked at a button on her sleeve. She couldn’t quite forget those menacing voices that whispered to her outside the dining room, or consign them to no more than an empty threat.

  ‘A little, my dear.’ She covered Flora’s hand with her own for a heartbeat before pulling away. ‘However, it merely shows how conscientious you are, which cannot be considered a bad thing. I wish I had a treasure like you for my girls.’ A speculative gleam appeared in her eyes. ‘I don’t suppose you would think of leaving your current employment?’

  She replied with only a silent smile, although with Eddy going off to Marlborough next term, she would be virtually redundant.

  ‘I’m only delighted Ozzy has found such a congenial friend. Will you be joining us in the library for bridge?’ Monica asked as they stepped onto the promenade deck.

  ‘I’m not sure yet. I don’t even play.’

  ‘Huh, as if that matters.’ She flapped a dismissive hand. ‘Better than staying alone in your suite.’

  Flora thanked her again, having agreed to think about the bridge idea before they went in different directions. Perhaps Monica was right and it was better than being alone? Though how was she was going to face Bunny after that episode in the lobby? Regret mixed with longing as she recalled the feel of his chest pressed against her bodice and his cold breath on her cheek.

  *

  At a few minutes before three, Flora joined a group of both familiar and unfamiliar faces gathered in the library, where sofas and armchairs had been pushed against the walls, the space occupied by an arrangement of card tables, each containing four chairs. Flora took the empty chair beside Monica, who was quick to reassure her that Eddy and Ozzy were looking forward to their musical afternoon, and Gerald had agreed to collect them at tea time.

  ‘That doesn’t give him much time for bridge,’ Flora observed.

  ‘Oh, he isn’t keen. He’ll play one game and then give up and look for something more entertaining.’ She patted his arm on the table. ‘Won’t you dear?’

  Gerald beamed at Flora in response, then addressed the surrounding tables. ‘Anyone care to wager who’ll turn up after that gale?’ He nodded to where Mrs Penry-Jones sat a few feet away. ‘I’ll lay evens on Miss Smith coming to the tournament,’ he lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘She was quite a star at poker last night. Took a hundred dollars off me.’

  ‘Did she indeed?’ Flora was alerted to a different side of the feeble companion.

  ‘I’ll accept that bet, old man.’ Crowe swept two glasses from a tray borne aloft by a passing waiter, one of which he set before Gerald. ‘Didn’t see her at luncheon. Perhaps she’s got her head over a bowl at this very moment.’

  ‘Thank you, but I didn’t want a drink,’ Flora said, pleased to see Crowe look embarrassed.

  ‘How indelicate of you, Mr Crowe.’ Miss Ames inhaled sharply through narrowed nostrils. ‘She could be suffering. Seasickness is exceedingly unpleasant.’

  ‘Just a little joke, you know.’ Crowe reddened, and eased his collar away from his neck.

  Flora hid a smile, noting how crass Crowe was with the male passengers but reverted to an embarrassed schoolboy when chastised by a woman. She gave the rapidly filling room a searching glance, but thus far there was no sign of Eloise. Banting or not, she must have been ravenous by lunchtime.

  ‘I see the weather hasn’t affected you, dear lady?’ Gerald addressed Mrs Penry-Jones as if she were deaf, though she occupied a table not six feet away.

  ‘I never get seasick.’ She sipped from one of the glasses handed to her by a waiter, then peered at it, her nose wrinkled. ‘Hester, on the other hand, turned positively green earlier and had to lie down.’ She moved her cane from one side of her chair to the other, catching Crowe sharply on the ankle. ‘I doubt she would miss a game though. She’s quite an enthusiast where bridge is concerned.’ He drew his foot rapidly under the table, apparently too proud to rub it in company, despite the fact it must have hurt. Gerald smirked, but Crowe scowled back, most likely because he was already down on their wager.

  ‘I hope our young hero is fully recovered without any long-term effects?’ Gerald changed places and took the empty seat beside Flora.

  ‘That was valiant of him to go after Max like that,’ Miss Ames said.

  ‘Foolhardy if you ask me.’ Crowe caught Flora’s hard look, adding, ‘But very brave.’

  ‘Ah, here he is now.’ Gerald indicated to where the crowd had parted to allow Bunny through.

  He had changed his clothes, his
hair darkened by water slicked back behind his ears. He worked his way towards them, hindered by a volley of back-slapping from those around him and hearty congratulations for a job well done.

  Flora’s stomach did a strange flip as the memory of his muscled chest pressed against hers flooded back. Her pulse quickened and she pretended to be absorbed in something Monica said.

  Perhaps she should have obeyed her first instinct to remain in her suite with a book, but as the time for the tournament grew nearer, she was inexplicably drawn to their exclusive group. The atmosphere on board had undergone a subtle, but noticeable change in the last three days, especially in the dining room.

  Enthusiastic greetings and the swapping of places to chat went on at the other tables as normal, though few ventured near Table No 6, as if those who had shared the victim’s last evening were tainted by Parnell’s death.

  There was also the possibility that if she denied herself the ship’s company, she might miss a vital clue as to who killed Parnell, or of discovering whether Eloise’s fears were valid or not.

  ‘I persuaded one of the crewmen to help me get Matilda back under canvas,’ Bunny said when he reached them. ‘Odd how she managed to shake loose from the straps which were secured tight when I checked them earlier. No damage though, thank goodness.’ He accepted a glass from a waiter of what looked like fruit punch, but which probably wasn’t. ‘Has anyone found out how Max is?’

  Flora sneaked a sideways look at him and away again, but his expression held only warmth, and no embarrassment.

  ‘I imagine he’s tucked up in bed with his devoted bride in attendance.’ Gus Crowe gave a knowing wink.

  ‘Did I hear you say earlier that you don’t play bridge, Flora?’ Monica asked, her nostrils narrowed in distaste at Crowe’s insensitivity.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ Flora replied. ‘Is it difficult to learn?’ She had no real interest in the game, but she wasn’t going to admit Bunny was her main reason for being there, despite what had happened between them in the lobby.

  ‘It’s similar to whist.’ Gerald picked up a pack of cards and proceeded to shuffle them. ‘Each player takes a turn as dummy. A trump suit is chosen and players bid the number of tricks they expect to achieve with their hand, and whether they wish to have a trump suit or no trump.’

  ‘You must follow the suit of the player who starts,’ Monica added. ‘If unable to do so, you can play any card.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Bunny joined their conversation, grinning. ‘Thus the trick is won by the highest trump, if there are trumps. Points are also awarded for honours, and—’

  ‘Enough!’ Flora lifted both hands in surrender, wishing she hadn’t asked. ‘All these rules are giving me a headache.’

  ‘It will make more sense when you begin playing,’ Monica said.

  ‘Or maybe not.’ Bunny cast Flora a sideways look she pretended not to see.

  ‘Didn’t I say she would never miss a game of bridge?’ Mrs Penry-Jones muttered darkly, her gaze on the door.

  Flora glanced to where Hester eased between the chairs as she made her way towards their table a wave of scent in her wake which struck Flora as being too heavy for her. She couldn’t recall having noticed her wearing scent before, but the thought didn’t last as when Gerald held out a chair for Hester, he extended his other hand behind her back, into which Crowe slid a folded banknote with a roll of his eyes.

  Gerald held the note up to the light, squinted at it ostentatiously, then pocketed it.

  ‘Quite a character that Gerald, isn’t he?’ Bunny said, sotto voce, his head ducked towards Flora. Then before she could respond, his smile dissolved into a frown. ‘Look, Flora, about earlier. I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘Please don’t worry about it,’ she waved him away, her cheeks burning. ‘I would sooner forget about it if you don’t mind.’ She wanted nothing of the sort but recoiled at the idea of having her indiscretion discussed in company.

  ‘I don’t want to forget,’ he insisted in a fierce whisper. His expression changed to concern and he leaned closer. ‘Is something wrong? You keep staring at the door.’

  ‘You know what’s wrong,’ she whispered back. ‘But that’s not what is worrying me right now,’ Flora lied. ‘Eloise wasn’t at luncheon and she’s not here now.’ Flora voiced the worry that had nagged at her all morning. ‘She’s avoiding me again.’

  ‘There’s not a great deal you can do if she’s reluctant to talk about it.’

  ‘We had an agreement.’ Rising, Flora skirted the table, glad to be escaping Bunny’s intense stare. ‘I’m going to find her. I won’t accept any excuses, either.’

  ‘Flora!’ Bunny called out, but she ignored him.

  ‘Never mind her, Mr Harrington.’ Mrs Penry-Jones’ stentorian voice accompanied the loud drum of her fingers on the tabletop. ‘Are you going no trumps, Monica?’

  *

  Flora’s angry footsteps took her as far as the bottom of the stairs leading to the promenade deck. She slowed to a halt and leaned her back against the wall, her eyes closed as she recalled Bunny’s stern expression when she had thrown her arms round his neck. She had embarrassed him, and now she was herself embarrassed.

  Well, he could have his wish. She would be nothing but coolly polite to Mr Bunny Harrington for the rest of the voyage.

  Pushing away from the wall, she shoved roughly past an elderly matron who blocked the door to the promenade deck, uncaring of the outraged, ‘Well!’ that sounded from behind her.

  The wind still sang through the winch lines, but outside Eloise’s stateroom, the rain had reduced to little more than a light drizzle, which failed to penetrate the deck canopy.

  Flora gave the door a determined rap with her knuckles, then immediately did it again, but no sound came from inside.

  ‘Open the door, Eloise,’ she muttered, then louder, ‘you’ve avoided me for long enough!' She rattled the door handle, but it refused to turn.

  She blew air between pursed lips and peered in at the window beside the door, but the blind was pulled down, leaving only a small gap at the bottom where it had snagged on something.

  Flora crouched lower, her hands cupped round her eyes to block out her reflection in the glass. ‘Eloise!’ she called in a harsh whisper through the thick glass.

  At first glance, the room looked empty, apart from an upright, deep green ladies’ boot that poked out from behind the partition. Knowing Eloise’s messy habits, she assumed it had been thrown there in a careless moment, but a closer look revealed the row of buttons across the arch were fastened – with a foot inside it.

  A trickle of dread squeezed her chest. She backed away slowly, glancing to left and right in search of help, but the deck remained deserted.

  Rhythmic footsteps from the boat deck sent her to the rail where the purser crossed the boards below her.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she called out to him in panic, ‘I need your help urgently.’

  His smile of welcome faded as he bounded up the outside companionway, reaching her in a few strides. ‘What’s the problem, Miss?’

  ‘There’s something terribly wrong with my friend. Do you have a key to these staterooms?’ Anticipating her request would be met with a caveat about company policy, Flora grasped his arm and pulled him resolutely towards Eloise’s door.

  ‘I-I’m not sure I ought to simply barge in. Perhaps she’s sleeping, or er-entertaining?’ His brows lifted in apology as he gave the door a tentative knock with his knuckles.

  ‘Don’t you think I’ve already tried that?’ Flora gritted her teeth, her fists clenched at her sides. ‘Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious. I’ll wait out here if you insist. All I ask is that you take a look.’

  He appeared about to say something but then changed his mind, showing he was weakening.

  ‘Please’ Eloise’s door stayed firmly shut and with every second that passed, her greatest fear crystallized, knowing had she been all right, Eloise would have heard the commotion by now.

>   With a resigned sigh, the purser rummaged in a pocket, withdrew a key and unlocked the door that gave with a sharp click.

  Forgetting her promise, Flora pushed past him, then came to an abrupt halt at the end of the bed.

  ‘Hey, Miss, I can’t just let you in, I have to—’ He halted behind her and released a shocked breath. ‘Oh, my.’

  Eloise lay on her back on the floor, her arms flung outwards from her sides. Between her neckline and mid-thigh was a harsh, bright scarlet splash against the cream silk of her dress. Her unnaturally black hair formed a cloud of curls round her head, her vivid blue eyes open, but seeing nothing; devoid of pain or even surprise.

  Flora’s heart filled her chest and something thick and fuzzy stuck in her throat. Her stomach heaved and the cabin tilted around her.

  ‘Don’t look, Miss.’ Strong hands pulled her backwards, though his words seemed to come from underwater.

  Her knees crumpled as his order came far too late. She hung onto his arm to keep herself upright, her gaze fixed on the splash of red that grew and filled her vision.

  This couldn’t be happening. It had to be one of her dreams and she would wake soon, shivering and tearful.

  ‘Is everything all right, Mr Willis?’ a tentative male voice called from behind them, followed by a shocked gasp.

  ‘Fetch the doctor, would you, Brady?’ The purser wasted no time. ‘Then inform the captain.’

  Heavy footfalls marked the man’s retreat as the purser gripped Flora’s upper arms and hustled her back out onto the deck where the wind tugged at her skirt. ‘Miss, I have to lock this door again until the captain arrives. Shall I send for a stewardess to stay with you?’

  ‘Bunny,’ Flora murmured his name as a reflex.

  ‘Who, sorry?’

  ‘Mr Harrington. He’s at the bridge tournament.’ The deck spun and she grabbed an upright support to steady herself. Bile rose into her throat and despite a salt-tinged wind rushing past her face, she couldn’t breathe. She broke away from the purser and ran along the wet deck until the metal bars of the rail bit into her thighs, halting her. She gripped the polished wood top so hard, her fingers cramped in protest. The pain came as a welcome distraction, though not enough to still the words that echoed in her head: Eloise is dead.