Seven Days in May

by Kim Izzo

  “We’re also reminding all ships to steer a mid-channel course, pass harbours at high speed and zigzag to avoid giving the U-boats a clear target,” he said. “These captains know what they’re doing.”

  Sydney

  Dinner had been bland. Or perhaps it was flavourful but Sydney couldn’t tell. She was too consumed with what had happened with Edward. What she had allowed to happen. She stepped out onto the deck for some air. In another hour she would be making her way up to first class for the concert and Hannah’s debut. She found Walter alone, smoking at the railing. He smiled when he saw her.

  “You were quiet at dinner,” he said, and waited patiently.

  Sydney wasn’t about to confess the details of her afternoon but she needed to unburden some of it. “What you said about Edward,” she began. “You were right. Things have become complicated.”

  “You love him?”

  She nodded once and looked away, expecting hard recriminations but Walter took his time, blowing a ring of smoke from his lips and watching the blue edge drift into nothingness. “That’s quite the mess, isn’t it, then?” he said, and smiled. “What does Brooke say?”

  Sydney’s eyes widened. “She suspects, Walter. But I didn’t admit it, not really. Edward is ending the engagement when we reach Liverpool.” Walter nodded. Sydney exhaled, relieved to be speaking about the matter with a neutral party. “I shouldn’t have let it happen. But when I’m with him, it’s like a fog comes across my eyes and I can only see Edward and how much I want to be with him. All sense is gone.”

  “And loyalty too?” Walter asked.

  Sydney bowed her head. “It’s torture, Walter. I love my sister.”

  Walter patted her arm. “Love is a strange animal, Sydney. You never know where it will land you. But I will tell you this, as complicated as it may get, if you truly love Edward then hang on to him. We never know how long we are for this world and we don’t all get to love the right person. Embrace it. But make things right with Brooke as well. If you can.”

  Sydney hugged him. “Thank you, Walter. You’re so kind. And I intend on fixing things with my sister if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Edward

  The ship’s concert given on the second-to-last night of the voyage—the final night was left open for packing—was a command performance for passengers. In each class there was entertainment: beyond the ship’s band, talented crew and guests (and those who thought themselves talented) could sing, play an instrument or do whatever they felt would enthrall an audience. But for first class passengers this rose to a level of amusement beyond amateur showmanship. For it was the last occasion for ladies to be seen in their best fashion and most glittering jewels and the final time to survey their fellow travellers and decide if new friendships formed on the ship would transfer to land. For others, shipboard romances, dalliances and flirtations would be given a last-ditch effort at something more permanent.

  Edward found himself, with only Brooke for company as they made their way into the lounge after dinner. Sydney was not at the meal. They had agreed that she would appear for the concert, bringing young Hannah with her. He hoped she wasn’t having second thoughts about taking him as a lover. Reluctantly he had agreed not to spend time alone with her until they reached Liverpool and he could end the engagement. But suffering through another tense five-course meal with Brooke was nearly unbearable. He was racked with guilt. She was cool. She couldn’t possibly know about his tryst with Sydney. But there was something in her air, her tone of voice and the way she looked at him that made him squirm.

  Edward found seats and was saved from making painful conversations with Brooke by listening to the ramped-up fears of the passengers about the war zone and submarines. He listened to the bits of chatter that floated through the air.

  “Where is the naval escort?”

  “Why haven’t we reached top speed?”

  “The boats are swung out and the windows are blacked out. It’s a precaution but it’s making me more afraid.”

  “Oh I really wish these people would quit all the doom-and-gloom nonsense.” Brooke sighed. “It’s going to ruin the fun.”

  “That’s not what’s ruining the fun,” Edward muttered.

  “What?” she asked.

  He was rescued by the appearance of Alfred, Frohman and Rita. Edward imagined that Frohman was coming over to find Sydney.

  “My, what a dour crowd,” Rita exclaimed. “I’ve never seen so many serious faces at a concert.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Brooke agreed. “I was just telling Edward they’re going to wreck everything with their war talk. It will be real enough when we land in England.”

  “It’s normally quite the party,” Frohman said. “But entering the war zone has thrown a damper over things.”

  Brooke lit up. “Party. Say, that’s a wonderful idea. After the concert, why don’t a slew of us head to my suite and continue the champagne.”

  The idea seemed to please everyone within earshot except Edward who had hoped for an early evening.

  “That’s a great idea,” Frohman said.

  “Adore it,” Rita exclaimed.

  Brooke took no notice of her fiancé’s lack of enthusiasm. “Then it’s settled. I’ll get a steward to bring up the champagne and some canapés,” she said, then nudged Edward. “Won’t it be delightful, Edward?”

  He gave a tight smile but the entrance of Sydney in her amber gown prevented his response. Edward waited for her to look at him. She did not.

  “Sorry if I’m late,” Sydney said.

  Edward felt shaky. Why wouldn’t she look at him? Even a slight glance would suffice. “You’re not late. We just arrived,” he said. That did the trick. Her eyes lifted to his and she smiled. But it was a reserved smile, as though he really was nothing more than her future brother-in-law.

  “I certainly am intrigued to hear Hannah perform,” Frohman explained and fished in his pockets for a candy, which he unwrapped and popped in his mouth. “Though to be honest, Sydney, you might have warned me about the mother. She’s written me three times since I agreed to this.”

  “I didn’t want to scare you off.”

  “How old is the child?” Alfred asked.

  “Twelve, but she looks younger,” Sydney said. “She’s wonderful.”

  Frohman waved a finger at her playfully. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “How about right now?” Sydney asked and gestured ahead of her. “There they are.”

  Heads turned to where Hannah and Gladys stood accompanied by a steward. Sydney waved them over. Hannah followed her mother as she swanned across the room toward Frohman.

  “Mr. Frohman, we are dee-ligh-ted,” Gladys said. “Hannah is ready to play her heart out.”

  Hannah curtsied politely.

  “I’m not the king of England,” Frohman joked, and pulled another candy from his pocket. Only this time he held it out to Hannah. But the girl didn’t take it. Instead she looked at her mother for guidance. Gladys took the candy from Frohman and placed it inside her bag. “I will give this to Hannah after she plays,” she said. “We can’t have sticky fingers during your performance. Go on, Hannah, take your place.”

  Frohman grimaced at Gladys, then moved to the front of the audience. The men and women stopped their chatting and gave him their full attention.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am Charles Frohman—” he began.

  “Oh darling, everyone knows who you are,” gushed a female passenger wearing an elaborate peacock-feathered fascinator. A ripple of laughter went through the audience and Frohman bowed graciously.

  “I’ve invited this young lady into the lounge this evening to hear her perform. And if she is as good as I’ve been told she is then when I’m done launching her career everyone will know her too,” he said with a wave toward her. “Hannah MacGregor.”

  Gladys applauded madly but ceased once she realized she was the only one. Sydney felt embarrassed for her. But more unsettling was Hannah
. Her small hands smoothed the piano keys in anticipation but her face was stony, almost as though she was lost in another world. Her mother gave the cue and Hannah began to play. Only it wasn’t the popular songs of the stage that Sydney and Hannah had rehearsed for hours and what Sydney had promised Frohman he would hear, it was Beethoven. Her playing was competent and precise but wholly uninspired. The audience, who didn’t know they weren’t supposed to hear the classical composition, listened politely. No doubt the girl’s expertise was impressive enough for most, but when Sydney saw the look of boredom on Frohman’s face, she knew it wasn’t enough for him. Frohman leaned in to her and whispered, “I thought you said the girl could play contemporary numbers?”

  She bit her lip. “Let’s hear this first to make her mother happy. Then you’ll hear what she can really do,” Sydney said.

  When the sonata was complete Gladys gestured wildly to her daughter to stand and take a bow, which she did. When the audience had finished their polite applause Frohman stood up.

  “What else can you play?” Frohman asked.

  “She can play a nocturne,” Gladys said proudly.

  Hannah looked to Sydney for help. Sydney went and sat down at the piano. “I know what would be fun,” Sydney said to the room. “I can play ‘Alexander’s Ragtime Band’ and you can sing and dance, Hannah.”

  “Yes I can!” Hannah squealed. The audience laughed at her childish enthusiasm.

  “Oh but Mr. Frohman doesn’t want to hear a child sing like that,” Gladys said as though Sydney’s suggestion was utterly ridiculous.

  “Hannah, do you want to give it a try?” he asked the girl, ignoring her mother. Hannah nodded. Gladys grinned at him politely.

  “Would you gentlemen accompany us?” Sydney asked the band.

  “We’d be delighted,” said the bandleader.

  “One, two and three,” Sydney counted, then she and the band began to play the song. Hannah was beaming and swaying in time to the music, her face happy and alive. Then, just as they had rehearsed in the third class dining saloon, she began to sing, a little too softly at first.

  “Come on and hear, come on and hear

  Alexander’s Ragtime Band

  Come on and hear, come on and hear

  The best band in the land.”

  When she saw the smiling faces watching her, many of the people tapping their feet to the tune, her confidence grew and she began to sing more fully and the very adult voice that had captivated Sydney was freed. Rita joined in on the chorus and then hummed along when Hannah began her tap solo.

  “She sounds like a girl twice her age,” Edward whispered to Brooke, who sighed with boredom.

  Frohman overheard but was too enchanted to look away so he shouted for all to hear, “She has a hell of a voice!”

  The audience agreed and was equally captivated by Hannah. As the song played on Edward felt comfortable enough to let his eyes fall on Sydney. But his attentions didn’t go unnoticed. Brooke tracked her fiancé’s enthralled gaze to her sister and in response shifted slightly away from him in silent protest, and her foot wound up stepping onto Alfred who was standing at the edge of the sofa. The millionaire smiled politely and stepped aside.

  When the song finished the audience erupted in applause as Sydney and Rita took the girl by the hands and bowed.

  “Hannah!” Frohman bellowed. The girl tore off to where he stood with her mother. “That is exactly the sort of performance I wanted to see.” Frohman looked at Gladys. “Mrs. MacGregor, you have a talented daughter but from now on I decide what she plays and sings, understood?”

  Hannah looked ecstatic. Gladys seemed caught off guard but she recovered and smiled. “You’re the Broadway producer, not I.”

  “Exactly,” Frohman said. “Now where’s that candy for Hannah?”

  Edward crossed the floor to the piano where Sydney remained standing. He placed his hand on her arm.

  “Edward, no,” she said softly.

  He removed his hand. “My apologies.”

  Sydney was about to step away from him when Brooke appeared. “That was charming, Sydney,” she purred. “Edward, you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself.”

  “I did, Brooke. The child has an incomparable voice,” he said. Sydney looked around the room and found Hannah and Gladys still chatting with Rita and Frohman.

  “I’m going to congratulate Hannah. You have a lovely evening,” she said to them and had taken a few steps when . . .

  “Won’t you join us for the party in our suite?” Brooke asked sharply. “You must come. I insist.”

  Sydney stopped and rubbed her lips together. “Of course I’ll be there.”

  “I’m so glad,” Brooke said.

  “Ah, Captain Turner has arrived,” said Edward. The ladies turned around and watched the captain walk into the centre of the room. Turner’s face was drawn and tired, as though he hadn’t slept in days.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Turner announced. “I don’t mean to interfere with the concert. But I wanted to update you on our situation. As you know, early this morning we entered the war zone. We have received warnings of submarines being active in the waters ahead of us. I can assure you we will take every precaution and move full speed through the Irish Channel. There is nothing whatsoever to be concerned about and we will be in the care of the Royal Navy. Enjoy the remainder of your evening.”

  He was gone as swiftly as he’d arrived despite the rush of concern that erupted from the crowd. The momentary distractions of music and Hannah’s performance were forgotten and once again the war and submarines dominated. Edward wanted to take Sydney in his arms and reassure her.

  “All the more reason to retreat to the Regal Suite after the concert,” Brooke insisted. “Get our minds off everything.”

  Edward wasn’t sure if he caught a note of suspicion in her voice for she was looking at him when she spoke. It was Sydney who responded, warmly and enthused.

  “You’re right. I can’t wait. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must speak to Hannah.”

  Edward watched after her longingly. “Let’s get a seat, Edward,” Brooke said, her hand on his arm. Her touch jolted him back to earth. “The concert is about to resume.”

  Sydney

  The party was in full swing when she arrived. The Regal Suite had been transformed. Just that morning it had looked like it had been through a hurricane. Now it was spotless. Sydney assessed the crowd; she recognized many of them from the dinner at the captain’s table including the Kesers and the Papadapouloses. Of course there were Frohman and Alfred, and even Captain Turner, Staff Captain Anderson and a couple of other officers in attendance. There was never a question of Brooke’s influence in society or of her uncanny ability to create an invitation list at the last minute. Sydney found her sister holding court on the divan with a glass of champagne in her hand. Perhaps a title was necessary to fulfill her potential. Then from out of another part of the suite Edward emerged. He too held a glass of champagne in his hand as he made his way toward Brooke. Sydney continued to stand near the door, letting the revellers conceal her as she watched.

  Edward took a bottle out of an ice bucket and poured Brooke more champagne. Her sister didn’t acknowledge him; she was too busy flirting with one of the young officers as several female passengers looked on admiringly.

  “Hiding from anyone in particular?” It was Alfred. He had crept up beside her, two glasses of champagne in his hand. She took one and smiled.

  “Whatever do you mean, Alfred?” Sydney asked, knowing very well what he meant.

  “Nothing really,” he said. “I have noticed that you and Edward seem close friends.”

  Sydney felt the redness come into her cheeks. “Is that so,” she said.

  “Your sister has noticed too,” he said. Sydney stiffened. Alfred smiled warmly. “Don’t fret, Sydney. I doubt your dalliance with Edward has caused any real damage. She’ll still marry him. And he’ll marry her.”

  “Dalliance?” Sydney asked. Her voi
ce rose with each syllable as she tried to conceal her unease.

  “There are always several flirtations on every voyage,” he said. Alfred took another sip of champagne. “The Lusitania’s popularity depends on it.”

  She understood what he was implying, that what was between her and Edward was a flirtation and nothing more. He was wrong.

  “Sydney!” Brooke had spotted her. A wave of her hand commanded Sydney to her side.

  “Excuse me, Alfred.” As she crossed the room she felt Edward’s eyes on her. The distance from the door to the divan seemed to stretch for miles under his stare. Alfred’s choice of words—flirtation, dalliance—had hit their mark. When she reached Brooke and Edward she could not bring herself to look at him.

  “Here’s to the voyage nearly being over,” Brooke said. She clinked her glass against Sydney’s. “Have you enjoyed it?”

  This was so typical of Brooke. Despite the tension between them she would put on a pleasant public face. “Very much,” Sydney said. There was no point in acting any other way. She still hadn’t moved her things into the suite but Brooke hadn’t mentioned it either. Maybe the reason she hadn’t was because she sensed what had happened between her and Edward. If Alfred was aware of their dalliance, then surely her own flesh and blood could tell something was different about her.

  “Now where did my fiancé get to? He was just here,” Brooke said. Sydney searched the room. Edward had been there a moment before. “Be a dear and find him for me, I want you both here for this,” Brooke ordered. Sydney gaped at her. Was this a ploy of some kind? Don’t be ridiculous. She can’t know.

  “Shouldn’t you find him?” she suggested.

  “Do as I ask,” Brooke persisted. “I’m the hostess. I can’t go in search of a man. Even one I’m engaged to.”

  Sydney moved through the parlour and into the dining room, both of which were packed with people enjoying the party and the free champagne. There was no sign of him. She entered Brooke’s bedroom. He wasn’t there either. She walked to the second bedroom, what would have been her bedroom. The door was closed. She placed her hand on the door handle and opened it.