The Hidden Dance

by Susan Wooldridge

  Looking straight at him, Matty said, ‘If you hadn’t been there last night, I’d have been called a thief and held in some cell or other. It’s only you and your wretched title that prevented it.’

  ‘Matty, don’t—’

  ‘No, I think it’s dishonest. Of them.’ She lay back down on the pillow, sullen, her case made.

  ‘But what do you want me to do?’ He was completely lost. ‘Deliver you up to the captain’s office for the rest of the trip on a point of principle? Don’t be so ridiculous, Matty.’ Despite himself he got to his feet and, fraught through lack of sleep, carried on too loudly. ‘No one believes that trivial accusation.’

  ‘Then prove I’m innocent!’ she cried.

  ‘I can’t!’

  ‘It’s a slur. Oh, leave me alone.’

  ‘Matty, please listen to me—’

  ‘Leave me!’ She burrowed back down into the blankets and turned again to the wall. ‘I’m sick of the whole bloody thing.’

  Completely at a loss, he hovered. ‘Um…all right… I’m going to see the captain…’

  With a last look at the huddled, silent figure, he went back through the adjoining door to his cabin. He dressed hurriedly and left.

  ‘Turn,’ commanded Mrs Webb.

  Lily turned and looked down at the black and white maid’s uniform, the heavy lisle stockings and the sturdy shoes. She felt like a Lyons Corner House ‘nippy’.

  ‘See, what’d I tell yer?’ Mrs Webb carried on. ‘Dressed like that, none up there in first class will give you second glance. You’ll be invisible, mark my words. ’Specially at crack of dawn, when none of the nobs are stirring. Here’s yer headband, love.’

  Pushing her towards the tiny spotted mirror over the cabin sink, Mrs Webb adjusted the lace and ribbon band, sweeping Lily’s waved hair to one side. She stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. ‘Well, though I say it meself, our Barney’s got a right good eye. That outfit fits a treat. I’d never of thought it of him.’ There was a cluck in her voice.

  Lily peered at herself. All she could see in the gloomy glass was a severe head atop the neat buttoned collar of a maid’s uniform. Oh, it would have to do, and anyway, she was far too nervous to fiddle about with it. ‘What time is it?’ she asked for the third time in two minutes. ‘And where’s Barney gone, anyway?’

  ‘Don’t you fret, love. He’ll be back.’

  ‘But what if we’re stopped—’

  ‘Don’t you worry. I told yer, Barney’s got his pass and he’ll drop you up to B deck on his way to work in’t print shop. You’ll be all ‘unky-dory and back in time for fancy dress.’

  There was a knock at the door. Both women jumped.

  ‘Who is it?’ Mrs Webb called out.

  ‘Barney, Ma.’

  She opened the door to her grinning son, who stood framed in the doorway holding a fully laid-up breakfast tray. ‘’Morning again, ladies.’

  ‘Where’d you get that?’ fussed his mum. ‘You didn’t nick it?’

  ‘Keep yer hair on. It’s for Mrs Valley. It’s her alibi, delivering breakfast, just the job. And I’ve double-checked. Nurse Grossman is in Suite 1002, next to her patient, Lord Clairmont, in 1003.’

  Mrs Webb beamed as wide as the world. ‘See, what’d I tell yer? Now get along, the pair o’ yer.’ She started to steer Lily from the cabin.

  ‘Do I look all right?’ Lily hesitated.

  ‘To the manner born, m’lady,’ said Mrs Webb and winked.

  All over the ship, there was a bright surge of morning energy. Barney led Lily along a long passageway. ‘This is Scotland Road,’ he informed her and said no more.

  Everywhere crew were intent on keeping the ship working at full tilt. Though Lily couldn’t look properly at anyone; her full concentration was on steadying the contents of the silver breakfast tray she was carrying.

  ‘Flippin’ ’eck.’ Barney suddenly stopped. Lily looked up.

  Ahead at the crossing of two corridors, a knot of men stood in conference. Barney, with a jerk of the head, nodded her into a doorway just as a tall man in full uniform separated from the group and started to make his way smartly towards them. Lily saw Barney stiffen, stand erect and look straight ahead. She attempted to do the same but found herself juggling the tray, which was jutting out into the path of the oncoming man.

  ‘Good morning to you both.’

  ‘’Morning, Captain,’ said Barney.

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Webb, printing shop, sir. This ’ere is…er…’ There was a tiny hiatus before the young man said with authority, ‘Aintree, Captain.’

  Lily curtsied, keeping her head down.

  She heard Barney clear his throat, and glanced up to discover the captain staring at her. She looked down again quickly, aware that he was about to speak. She braced herself. However, at that moment an officer marched swiftly towards them. ‘Machinery spaces ready for inspection, Captain.’

  ‘Very good, Mr Hodder.’ She looked up again; he was eyeing her rattling tray. ‘And you, Aintree, get that breakfast delivered. Don’t want complaints the food is cold.’ He strode away, Mr Hodder in his wake.

  Up ahead, the group of sailors had disbanded.

  The shock of the encounter caused Barney and Lily to shoot from their doorway and set off again at double-speed.

  ‘Thank goodness he didn’t try to taste any of that breakfast,’ puffed Barney. ‘It’s been stone-cold these last twenty minutes.’

  ‘What’s he doing down here, anyway?’ Lids were clinking and sugar lumps bouncing.

  ‘Daily round of inspection. Makes his way through ship.’

  They arrived at an electric service lift. ‘I thought we was a goner. You all right, missus?’ Barney grinned.

  Lily nodded. ‘But my arms are killing me, this tray weighs a ton.’

  ‘Nearly there.’

  As the lift wheezily arrived she asked, ‘What kind of a name is Aintree?’

  ‘Count yourself lucky. You could’ve been Kempton Park.’

  The first-class passage was silent, the oak panelling and Axminster carpet soaking up all unnecessary and inconvenient noise. And Mrs Webb was right, no sign of anyone; all passengers appeared to be slumbering in their cabins. The momentary quiet soothed Lily. She took a deep breath as they turned the corner into the corridor of luxury suites.

  ‘Dear God!’ The shock of what she saw nearly caused her to drop the tray.

  Beside her, Barney uttered in horror, ‘Jee-sus!’

  They both stared in disbelief.

  On the door of Nurse Grossman’s cabin, Suite 1002, gashed in white chalk, was the word JEW, a Star of David tricked out beside it.

  ‘Barney, report this to the purser. But insist Miss Grossman is not to be disturbed, I don’t want to be interrupted.’ All her fear gone, she put down the tray and started to rub hard at the markings. ‘Quick, Barney, get a move on, before anyone else sees this.’ But the young man seemed frozen to the spot.

  ‘Barney, for heaven’s sake!’

  He was off.

  Quickly checking she was alone, she lightly tapped on the door. No response. She tried the door; it was unlocked. She picked up the tray and stepped into the cabin.

  For a moment she thought it must be empty but then, on the bed, a muddle of blankets moved and a voice weakly said, ‘No breakfast, thank you.’

  ‘Please, I’m so sorry to disturb you but I must talk to you.’

  A tangled head emerged. ‘What?’

  ‘I have to talk to you, Miss Grossman. Oh, do you mind if I put this tray down? It’s rather heavy.’

  No doubt surprised by such brisk authority, the young woman started to crawl from the bed and push the clothes from a low table. She stopped and stared. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m a friend,’ said Lily. ‘In disguise.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  SS Etoile. Saturday early morning

  Enid Timms sat alone in her cabin amidst the muddle of her boots and shoes, holding the rumpled page
of her Sunday Chronicle. She stared down at the photograph of the children’s party and, in particular, at the little boy in the cowboy hat.

  Nicholas Sutton.

  Where was the child now? And why had his mother chosen to flee the country, deserting her young child? Abandoning him…

  Already Miss Timms could see the headlines.

  She felt a mounting excitement as a plan began to form. She made herself sit on the edge of her bunk and tried to marshal her thoughts clearly.

  She knew that Lady Slocombe loathed Lily Sutton and perhaps now, she, Enid Timms, could help her mistress get even with the woman. Although much to her irritation, even after all these years, she had never been able to discover the exact cause of the deep hatred between the two women. But, she reasoned, anything that put her into good odour with her mistress was a thing to be desired.

  She thought on. How best could she use this photograph to prove that Lady Sutton was on the run – and therefore not a fit mother?

  And then she had an idea. She would go to the newspaper office here on board. Surely it was just the sort of picture to lend ‘meat’ to the story. She might even be early enough to get it included in today’s edition.

  Unable to contain her excitement any longer, Enid Timms rushed from her cabin, a cry of triumph only just muzzled by the discipline of thirty years in service.

  Across the passageway in Billy and Freddie’s dusty broom cupboard, at the very nadir of despair in their sleuthing endeavours, about to abandon their post, circumstances took control. To their amazement, they saw the cabin door opposite fly open and their quarry shoot off down the corridor at tremendous speed, a streak of navy-blue serge.

  They stared disbelievingly. First at the disappearing figure and then at the open cabin door.

  With one move, the two boys were across the corridor and into the cabin, only to be brought up sharp by the muddle and mess. Bits of newspaper, old rags, a jumble of shoes and boots.

  ‘Stand guard outside,’ hissed Billy. He started to sweep aside newspaper and rags, peering all about with eagle-eyes until he recognised, amidst the mayhem, sitting neatly in the middle of the bunk-bed, the tin box with the word OXO written on it. He snapped open the lid.

  ‘By gum. What’ve we here?’

  Inside the tin, twinkling amongst various odds and ends, sat a delicate diamond bracelet. The stolen item – of that he was sure. He’d found the culprit; the nurse was innocent after all.

  Suddenly he heard Freddie screech from outside, ‘Billy! The old biddy’s coming back!’

  Billy was under the bunk in a blink. He lay frozen-still. But no one entered.

  Worse.

  The key turned in the lock and Billy was prisoner…

  The footsteps hurried away.

  Billy held his breath.

  Silence. And the clunking of the engines. Billy felt very sick. He started to burrow from under the bunk and heard, at the base of the door, a small scuffling sound. He scrambled across.

  ‘You all right, Bill?’ Freddie whispered through a low grill.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What you going to do?’ Freddie sounded very dismal and bleak.

  Billy screwed up his eyes and tried to think his way through the maze of possibilities, all of which seemed to lead to Big Trouble. But more important than me neck, he thought, there’s this here bracelet. The captain’s gotta be told.

  A decision made, he called out, ‘Fred, go and get your gran. I need her to get me out of here. I’ve gotta see the captain.’

  ‘But, Billy—’

  ‘It’s a matter of life and death, Fred. I’ve found the “swag”!’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Quick! Go!’

  • • •

  ‘This is our Anthea. Say “how do”.’

  In the tiny Valley cabin, Nellie was introducing her granddaughter to young Nicholas. Both children looked down at their shoes.

  ‘Let’s get you into this outfit, Nickie love.’ Nellie bustled as best she could in the constricted space, and at the sight of his very own clown suit, saw the boy’s shyness magically disappear.

  ‘You’ve got green pom-poms,’ Anthea said in a tiny voice. But no one answered for at that moment Mr Valley appeared in the doorway.

  ‘No sign?’ asked Nellie.

  The man shook his head.

  ‘Didn’t you find Mummy?’

  Nellie could see the boy was anxious; she pulled him round to face her. ‘Now then, lad, stand still. We’re nearly done.’ With great sufferance, he allowed his green pom-poms to be fastened.

  ‘Is Mummy still upstairs?’

  ‘Next, make-up.’ The boy’s distraction was complete as out of her handbag Nellie produced her ‘Outdoor Girl’ Lip and Cheek rouge and a small box of face powder.

  Mr Valley stood momentarily lost in the doorway. His face could hold a day’s rain, it’s that lined with worry, thought Nellie, looking up. Behind him, she could see Eastern potentates and policemen, wizards and witches, surging towards the third-class general room. Laughter and shouting, singing and dancing. But no sign of Mrs Valley.

  ‘Now then.’ Mr Valley firmly closed the door against the noise. ‘When we’re at the fancy-dress parade we’re all to stick together. We’re to keep hold of each other’s hands so none of us gets lost, as there are lots and lots of people. Do you understand, you two?’

  Both children nodded seriously, standing side by side, two little clowns with white faces and cherry noses and lips, only red and green pom-poms marking them apart.

  ‘And may I say how very splendid you two look,’ Mr Valley said with a smile.

  The suspense as to their appearance proving too much, Nickie and Anthea shyly turned and saw the reflected glory in the other. Two Pierrots, no looking-glass required. Surprised and delighted, the little clowns began to twirl and bob, becoming giddier and giddier with excitement, the noise in the small cabin growing, the two youngsters injecting each other with great gusts of joy.

  ‘Nickie!’ Mrs Valley came through the cabin door. ‘You and Anthea look splendid.’

  ‘Lily—’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Valley!’ Thank the Lord, thought Nellie.

  ‘Sorry to be so long. Thought it wise to disrobe in your cabin first, Mrs Webb. I’ve left the uniform there for Barney to collect.’ The woman’s face was gleaming.

  ‘We’re all to stick together at the fancy-dress party, Mummy,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘And we ’ave to ‘old each other’s ‘ands,’ added Anthea, in her tiny voice. Nellie smiled down at her and the little girl’s hand crept into hers.

  ‘Well, here we go. Everybody ready at last?’ asked Mr Valley. Relief made him sound cross, and Nellie saw Mrs Valley whisper, ‘Sorry.’ He nodded curtly.

  The five of them set off from the cabin, and it was only as they were jostling along the passageway that Mr Valley asked, ‘I presume everything went all right up there?’ There was a decided edge to his voice.

  ‘Splendid,’ beamed Mrs Valley. ‘Couldn’t have gone better.’

  She looks that bonny when she’s happy, thought Nellie, and saw at the same moment Mr Valley’s anger vanish. Good, peace was restored between her new friends. ‘You remembered to give Nurse Grossman the letter?’ she asked.

  All three grown-ups ducked into a huddle above the turbans, halos and helmets.

  ‘Yes, and I also made absolutely clear that I had to remain anonymous. Because of the letter’s contents.’

  ‘But the nurse’ll see it gets delivered proper, like?’

  Mrs Valley nodded.

  ‘And did she tell you what happened to her? How she got accused and that?’ Nellie wanted the detail, the full story.

  ‘Yes, poor lamb. Lavinia appears to have behaved even more poisonously than usual. Dear God, I had forgotten how dangerous she can be.’ Nellie saw the woman caught off-guard by the terrible fear and, reaching forward, quickly put a hand on her son’s bouncing shoulder. ‘She must never, ever know we’re down here.’
>
  ‘And we won’t ever let her know,’ stated Nellie forcefully.

  Around them swirled the jolly crowd, intent on moving forward.

  ‘Mummy, Mummy. Look!’ Nickie grabbed his mother’s hand and was pulling her onward. No more dawdling. They all surged through the big double doors into the third-class general room.

  Down at one end of the large room, rows of chairs faced a newly erected stage, framed and decorated with twirling strips of bunting and little paper flags. To one side, various passengers had got together to make up a small band, the sight of this motley crew adding to the festive air though any actual music was drowned out by the noise of the crowd.

  The big room was packed and most of the seats had already been taken. But, with an efficiency that highly impressed her, Nellie watched Mr Valley cut through the crowd and find a trestle–table, upon which he placed a couple of orange boxes. Onto these he installed the children whilst, with much laughter, the two ladies perched side by side on the wooden table.

  They all now found themselves sitting above most of the audience and having a splendidly clear view.

  In the luxurious hush of Suite 1018, Miss Timms, with ghost-like quiet, placed the breakfast tray before Lady Slocombe, smoothed the ivory satin covers, slotted a fifth pillow between her Ladyship and the bed-head, and then gently pulled back the thick curtains to reveal a distinctly grey day.

  Standing at the end of the bed as Lady Slocombe removed her eye-mask, Miss Timms’ face held no expression. She watched her mistress turn her attention to two lightly boiled eggs. And waited.

  ‘What in the name of—’ Her ladyship stopped short, her eye caught by the front page of the day’s Poseidon Post.

  ‘Oh my lady—’ Miss Timms began. For the first time in thirty years, the maid’s voice held a tremor of excitement.

  Lady Slocombe’s head came up; she held her maid in a gimlet stare. ‘Well?’

  ‘Early this morning, I took the liberty of furnishing the editor of the ship’s newspaper with a photograph in my possession. It was of the Sutton boy.’ The maid could restrain herself no longer. ‘They have placed it in today’s paper. I thought it might help to “flush” Lady Sutton out, so to speak.’