Oceans Apart

by Clare Revell

  The train pulled into Southampton Central. Oliver rose and made his way to the luggage rack at the end of the carriage. Just a short taxi ride now to the docks, then this part of his journey was at an end. The best part was yet to come. Meeting Connie. Assuming he found her. She’d be one person on a ship of almost three thousand passengers, plus crew.

  It’d be ironic if the first time he saw her was in New York after all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wednesday 25th July 2018.

  The ship was huge. Much bigger than Connie had ever imagined. The many decks of the Queen Mary 2 towered above her. Craning her neck backwards, Connie’s breath caught in her throat. She felt dwarfed, insignificant, and way, way out of her league. What was she doing here? Whatever made her think this was a good idea?

  Around her, the other passengers chattered and smiled. Children’s faces shone with excitement. It was the first week of the school summer holidays and the weather had been unbroken sunshine and extreme temperatures since May. Very much like the summer of 1976 she reminded the grandchildren when they complained. At least they hadn’t had to use standpipes as the only means of getting water yet.

  One couple beside her, obviously on their honeymoon, talked of their hopes and dreams and their new life together. A tinge of sorrow crept into her heart. She’d thought the same when she and Ezra married, but the reality was as far from the dream as it could get.

  Connie moved to one side, allowing others to board ahead of her. The sun blazed down from a cloudless blue sky. She reached up to adjust her glasses, which had automatically darkened in the bright sunlight, and wide brimmed, white straw hat.

  Excited conversation rose, almost deafening her. A tall, distinguished man with grey hair passed. For a moment, for one crazy second, she thought it was Oliver. She took a step, to maybe go after him, to assure herself that it wasn’t. Her bag slid from her shoulder and she twisted to catch it.

  At that moment someone crashed into her. She stumbled into the wall and landed on the deck with a loud thud.

  White-hot pain riddled her shoulder—the same one she’d broken all those years ago—muffling the apology from a high-pitched voice. Her case handle fell from suddenly numb fingers. Clutching her shoulder with her free hand, Connie leaned against the wall. She bit her lip against the pain, salt burned her eyes. What a way to start a holiday.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  Connie opened her eyes to see a man in a blue naval uniform standing in front of her. “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “I saw what happened. The kids need to be a little more careful.”

  “It was an accident. They’re just excited. Please don’t get cross with them.” She shook herself, regretting the movement, and cradled her arm tighter.

  “Let me take your bags and get you down to the ship’s doctor to be checked out.”

  “There’s really no need,” she protested. “I can see a doctor when I get home if it still hurts.”

  The officer winked. “Well, the doc’s just sitting in the med bay doing nothing, so we may as well go and bother him. What’s your name?”

  “Connie Johnson. Mrs Johnson. And I haven’t finished the boarding process yet.”

  He smiled. “First Officer Rand at your service. Don’t worry about that. Is your husband here?”

  Connie shook her head. “I’m a widow.” She paused as the young man’s face fell. Young man—he was probably the same age as Paul. “It’s been many years now.”

  “Let’s get you on board. You can fill in the health forms whilst with the doctor.” He snapped his fingers and an even younger sailor appeared. “Can you take Mrs Johnson’s bags for her while I help her to the med bay? Better bring them there for now. And collect her boarding pass and other cards please. Then find Captain Merrick and ask him to join me in the med bay.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Thirty minutes later, arm in a sling, Connie sat quietly whilst First Officer Rand, Chief Medical Officer Roger—she’d found his name Doggie or was it Jolly Roger ridiculously funny for some reason—and Captain Merrick talked softly on the other side of the room. The Captain was a nice man, fairly young, but then wasn’t everyone nowadays?

  She sipped the tea someone had made her, swallowing the pain killer. Despite her fears, her shoulder wasn’t broken again, just bruised. A couple of days in the sling and she’d be fine.

  Captain Merrick strode across to her as she finished her tea. “Mrs Johnson, are you travelling alone?”

  “My friend is meeting me in New York, but yes, I am. I can’t be late, please don’t put me off the ship.”

  Captain Merrick smiled. “I don’t intend to do so. I was asking as I’m planning on changing your cabin and giving you a free upgrade for the duration of your stay with us.”

  Stunned, Connie just stared at him. Wow. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that. “Thank you,” she managed. “That’s very kind, but there’s no need.”

  “It’s the least I could do after you were injured boarding my ship. I’ve arranged for all your cards and boarding pass to be changed.”

  “Thank you.” Connie stood slowly. Mercifully she’d packed her one good dress. She’d need it every meal now, not just for the formal evenings. “You’ve all been so kind.”

  Captain Merrick picked up her bags. “I’ll show you the way myself.” He glanced at the First Officer. “Mike, the ship is yours until I get back.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Connie walked with the Captain to the upper decks. Her original cabin was one of the least expensive—and that was saying it quickly. Nothing was cheap on a cruise—especially on the flagship of the fleet. But her new cabin, a Queens Grill Duplex, was mahoosive, as Sarah would say. More like a suite—with sitting room, dining room, bathroom, and balcony on one level, then a wide, winding staircase leading up to a huge bedroom and two further bathrooms on an upper level. It came with a butler who’d unpack for her and get her anything she wanted, twenty-four hour room service, and meals in her room if she didn’t want to eat in the exclusive Queens Grill dining room.

  Wow. She’d have to video call the kids from the ship later. They’d never believe this in a hundred years. Or perhaps she would just film it herself and send it through the group message chat, if she could remember how to do it. Might be better.

  Once she was alone, she sat on the bed for a moment and cradled her arm. Her mind went back to the man she’d seen on the dock. The one who looked like Oliver. But he was in New York, not Southampton. It must be her mind playing tricks on her.

  Old age, Connie, she told herself. Or wishful thinking. Now, she’d rest a few minutes before unpacking and exploring her new world of the next few days.

  Oliver trotted down the stairs to the lower floor of his state room. This wasn’t the small inside cabin he’d booked. Judging by the short laugh the purser gave, he probably thought he was insane when Oliver queried it and then asked if he could be switched back.

  This was one huge room that stretched up to a yet another, spread out over two levels. Dining and sitting room, three bathrooms, bedroom, and private deck outside the huge patio windows. One of the most expensive on the ship—a Queens Grill Duplex. What did he need three bathrooms for? And he didn’t even have to unpack. His own private butler had already done that for him.

  And he knew exactly who’d changed the booking. He would have texted Anthony and had words, only he hadn’t brought his phone. On reflection it was a silly thing to do, or not do, as the church in Lyme Regis had said they’d call him this week with their answer.

  He shook his head, glancing around the huge room. He hadn’t packed for this. Yes he’d put a black suit in his case, and a tie, but an ordinary tie. The brochure said formal, and that was as formal as he was had been prepared to go. But now? Maybe there was somewhere on board he could hire a tux.

  A knock at the door had him turn and stride to open it.

  A man in white uniform stood there. “Mr Voight?”
>
  Oliver nodded. His private butler stood there with another case. “Hello.”

  “This was delivered to the ship, sir, with instructions for it to be given to you after you boarded.”

  Oliver took the case. “Thank you. Um, am I meant to tip you? Silly question, but I’ve never travelled first class before and I’m not sure what the protocol is?”

  The butler shook his head. “It’s already included, sir. The lady is the next stateroom hasn’t travelled first either. Maybe you could find your way around together. Would you like me to unpack this one for you?”

  “Thank you, but I can do it.” Oliver shut the door and carried the case up the wide winding staircase into the bedroom. There was only one person who could have organised this and that had to be the same person who’d changed his booking.

  He hefted the case onto the bed and reached around to unfasten the, lock, straps and the zip. A note lay on the top of the folded clothes.

  Dad,

  You’ll need these—formal is every night where you are now. Economy, really? A man like you doesn’t travel like that. Besides, you’re the Captain’s uncle. So I took the case to New York by jet and left it with Johnny for you. I also tucked your phone inside the jacket pocket, just in case I need to contact you over the next few weeks.

  Anthony.

  Oliver shook his head. As always, the letter contained as much emotion as a block of ice. So unlike Connie’s letters had been over the years. Picking up the phone, he headed out through the doors onto his private balcony. He leaned on the railing, temped to toss the phone into the sea once the ship left Southampton. Instead he put it onto silent. Then he sent Anthony a message.

  thank you for the case of clothes. very thoughtful as i had forgotten to pack the tux i only wear under protest. i won't thank you for the upgrade. the small cabin was more to my taste. and i trust institute funds aren’t paying for this. this is a vacation. not business. which is why i flew over and am sailing back. two separate trips in one.

  A message came over the tannoy, summoning all passengers to their muster stations for an emergency drill. That meant it was 16:00, an hour before they sailed. He grabbed his life jacket and headed to the correct place to listen to instructions on what to do should the worst happen.

  He stifled a grin as the Captain then spoke over the tannoy. He knew that voice only too well—his nephew Johnny, Patricia’s brother’s son. Maybe they’d bump into each other at some point. Although with the passenger list of nearly three thousand, he doubted it. Even though Johnny evidently knew he was on board, he didn’t want a fuss made.

  Once the drill was over he headed back to his stateroom to put the life jacket away.

  The ship’s horn sounded several times and the engines kicked up a notch. The deck thrummed beneath his feet and then rumbled as the huge vessel began to move.

  Oliver headed out onto his balcony and watched fascinated as the dock grew smaller and then vanished.

  The sun glinted on the waves. He tried to think of a better word to describe the sound the water made on the hull as the ship eased and sliced through it, but could only come up with swish.

  Turning back to the phone, he continued typing the message he’d begun before the lifeboat drill. just set sail. will contact you again when i reach new york. i won't be answering my phone for the duration of the trip. it will be on silent.

  He sent the message, and then put the phone away. As tempting as it still was to toss it overboard, he didn’t. If he had the thing in his pocket, then he could take a photo of Connie when he found her. If he found her. He turned to go in and froze.

  The woman on the next balcony stood watching the view. The breeze blew her short grey hair. The smart blue dress caressed her ample figure. She rubbed her shoulder, a sling supporting her right arm. A small hiss of pain indicated the injury must be recent.

  Oliver cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

  The woman turned. Her blue eyes bright with tears, mouth open to reply. Her mouth dropped and eyes widened in recognition.

  At the same moment he knew without a doubt who she was. The woman he was hoping to see, the one he’d spent the past 48 years writing to and slowly fallen in love with.

  His heart pounded in his chest and leapt for joy.

  Connie!

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Oliver? Oliver is that you?” Connie stared, the searing pain in her shoulder forgotten at the sight of the man on the neighbouring balcony. On refection, that was a stupid thing to say because, of course, it was him. She’d know him anywhere—even without the photo Dorcas had sent her.

  But how? What were the chances that she’d be moved to the suite next to his? Why was he here? Oh, there were so many questions she wanted to ask, but her voice dried up and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as a stupid fit of schoolgirl nerves assailed her.

  Oliver beamed her a delighted smile. “Yes, Connie. It’s me.” He studied the balcony as if assessing the small gap between them. “I would leap it, but I don’t think falling and getting hurt would be a good idea.”

  She shook her head pointing to her shoulder. “I’ve already done that.”

  “May I come over?”

  She nodded. “I’ll let you in.” Her cheeks grew warm. “Oh, on second thoughts, maybe we’d better find somewhere else. The top deck perhaps.” It didn’t seem right to invite him into her room on what would amount to their first meeting. Even if the bedrooms were upstairs. He had a reputation to uphold.

  Oliver nodded. “Probably better for propriety’s sake. I’ll be right over.”

  Her heart beat so fast and so loud it overwhelmed her as she headed inside and to the door of her stateroom. She opened the door.

  Oliver stood there, in the flesh, hand raised ready to knock.

  Her vision swam for a moment and she blinked hard. “How are you here? I’d arranged to meet you in New York.”

  He grinned and held out his arms. “Surprise! Like I said, I had all this vacation saved and it’s my birthday too. Plus I had a speaking engagement in Dorset, so it seemed like the perfect time to take a cruise back to the States. So here I am.”

  She cradled her arm. Did she look as pale and unsteady as she felt?

  Oliver frowned. “You don’t look so good. What happened?”

  “That’s a long story.”

  “Let me in and you can tell me. I don’t think you should be going out just yet.”

  “I guess this does have two levels.” She opened the door wider and let him inside. Connie shut the door behind them, turning to find herself enveloped in two very masculine arms.

  She leaned into his gentle hug, giving him a one-handed hug in return. Her heart filled to overflowing.

  “It’s so good to see you. Let’s get you sat and you can tell me what happened.” Oliver slid his arm around her and led her over to the sofa.

  Connie sank gratefully into it.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Oliver asked. “Some tea or water or something?”

  She shook her head. Then wished she hadn’t as it swam, making her feel like she wanted to throw up. What had the doctor given her? “When I was boarding, some kids bumped into me. I wasn’t concentrating and fell. It’s not broken, just bruised.”

  “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

  “Just a little dizzy, that’s all.” She leaned back against the sofa. “It’s so good to see you. After the fire, the only photos I had left were of us as kids and one of you with the long hair that Patricia sent me without you knowing. She said it’d make me laugh, which it did.”

  Oliver’s cheeks pinked. “Oh man! Where did she find that one?”

  “She never said. You’d have been in your twenties or thereabouts.”

  “Do you have them with you?”

  Connie nodded. “In my bag. It was the only thing that survived the blaze, other than me.” She started to rise, but the ship seemed to go over a massive wave at that point and her sense of bala
nce failed her. Or maybe it was due to her moving. She gasped as her vision darkened.

  Voices echoed from somewhere and Connie opened her eyes. She was in her bedroom. She sat up, slowly, grateful she wasn’t as dizzy as she had been.

  Two men stood by the window, talking quietly, their backs to her. One of them was Oliver. The other looked like Dr Rogers.

  “—going to be okay?” Oliver asked.

  “Her blood pressure is fine,” Dr Rogers said. Definitely him, Connie decided, as it sounded like him. “I’m assuming it’s a reaction to the pain killers I gave her, but I can arrange a medevac if you’d rather.”

  “There’s no need for that,” Connie said. “I’m fine now.”

  Oliver rushed to the bed and sat next to her. He took her hand in his. “You passed out on me. Literally collapsed in my arms.”

  “Shucks,” she deadpanned. “I don’t remember it. Might have to do it again.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Don’t you dare.”

  Now wasn’t the time to tell him not to dare her to do anything. Instead, Connie looked at the doctor. “What pain meds did you give me?”

  “Codeine.”

  “There you go. That always sends me funny. I was as high as a kite when I had the twins. Snakes crawling up the wallpaper and everything.” She offered a weak smile faintly. “And they didn’t even have wallpaper in the hospital.”

  “I did ask if you were allergic to anything,” Dr Rogers chided gently. He reached into his bag, then drew up a vial of something. “This will counter the medication.”

  “I didn’t think that classed as an allergy,” she said as he gave her the shot. “I was thinking nuts or something like that.”

  “Just avoid it in future. I’ll add a note to the letter I’m writing to your doctor at home.”