by John Boyne
‘I hardly think so,’ she said. ‘He’s just a child. He can’t be more than fourteen or fifteen.’
‘Well, you’re only a couple of years older than that yourself,’ said Edmund. ‘Perhaps you could develop a shipboard romance.’
Victoria snorted. ‘Not with a little boy,’ she said. ‘What do you think I am, some sort of cradle-snatcher? I do have some standards, you know. I hardly need to start trawling the kindergartens for excitement.’
Edmund laughed. ‘I have no doubt of it,’ he said.
‘And what about you?’ she asked, ready to delve a little deeper into his psyche. ‘Have you found any young ladies on board who take your fancy?’
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and she was delighted to notice his discomfort. ‘No,’ he said gruffly before playing another card. ‘Why can’t I win?’ he asked the heavens.
‘Don’t change the subject, Edmund.’
‘I wasn’t aware we had a subject.’
‘We did. It was romance.’
‘And I thought we were just playing cards.’
She smiled at him coyly and within a few moves had the game won once again. Edmund sighed in frustration. ‘I seem to have no luck,’ he said, picking up the pack and shuffling it again. After a moment he stopped and began to count them. ‘There’s only forty-nine cards here,’ he said, looking across at his companion in surprise.
‘What’s that?’ she asked innocently.
‘I said, there’s only forty-nine cards in this pack. I thought there was something strange going on. There’s no . . .’ He counted again and searched through the cards before nodding forcefully. ‘I thought as much,’ he said. ‘There are only two Kings instead of four and we’re missing an Ace as well. No wonder I can’t win. I was counting on some of those cards.’
‘Oh,’ said Victoria, feigning surprise. ‘That must be an old pack. We’ve been playing with them for weeks. Maybe we left some of them behind in our rooms in Antwerp.’
‘Indeed,’ Edmund said suspiciously, pleased now that they had not been playing for money.
‘Well, I hope you’re not suggesting that I’ve been cheating,’ said Victoria, her hand rushing to her throat as if the very idea took her breath away.
‘Of course not,’ he replied, although he wasn’t so sure. ‘It’s just a game, after all. But I think we’ll need a fresh pack if we’re to continue.’
Victoria thought about it and she now wondered whether she actually had the nerve to go through with her plan. She had hidden the three cards earlier before bringing the remainder of the pack on deck with this eventuality in mind. Indeed, she had been a little surprised that it had taken Edmund so long to discover that some cards were missing and had begun to wonder whether they were destined to spend their entire afternoon playing gin rummy together outside, short of two Kings and an Ace. Finally she decided that if she did not act now, then he never would and, steeling herself for rejection, made her brazen suggestion. ‘I have another pack in my cabin,’ she said, not catching his eye. ‘A new pack. Let’s go and get it.’
Edmund narrowed his eyes. ‘I’ll wait here if you like,’ he said. ‘I’ll mind the chairs.’
‘There are plenty of chairs,’ she said, laughing as she looked around. ‘You don’t mind walking with me, do you? I don’t want that boy to follow me.’
Edmund nodded. ‘Well if you like . . .’ he said slowly. They stood up and she took his arm, her heart beating a little faster now that she had him where she wanted him. Walking quickly along the deck and passing Tom DuMarqué without so much as a glance, she led him towards the companionway and back to her cabin, thrilled by the prospect of what lay ahead.
Captain Kendall watched them from his vantage point in the wheelhouse and recognized them as first-class passengers. Something caught his eye about Edmund as he disappeared out of sight, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. There was something unusual, however. Something—
‘Captain,’ said Billy Carter, interrupting his reverie.
‘Oh, what is it man?’ he asked in an irritated tone, causing the younger man to raise an eyebrow in surprise. Kendall closed his eyes for a brief moment in order to regain his equilibrium. ‘What?’ he repeated in a calmer voice.
‘I was just going to say that I’m going off duty now, but I’ll be in my cabin if you need me,’ he said.
‘Very well.’
‘And on the desk over there I’ve left a list of the names of those passengers who’ll be dining at your table tonight.’
‘No bores, I hope, Mr Carter?’
‘Only myself, sir.’
‘You?’
‘Well, it’s tradition, isn’t it, sir? For the first officer to dine at the captain’s table on the second night of a voyage.’
Kendall thought about it. Was it a tradition? If it was, it was a new one to him. Mr Sorenson ate with him every night on board anyway, but that was just their habit. He was unaware that there were actual rules governing it. Still, not wishing to appear ignorant of the fact, he nodded gruffly. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Who else then?’
‘Well there’s Mr Zéla and his nephew, a Master DuMarqué.’
‘The Presidential Suite?’
‘Of course.’
Kendall nodded. ‘Zéla?’ he asked. ‘DuMarqué? What kind of names are those?’
‘They’re Frenchmen, sir.’
‘Frenchmen,’ the captain repeated, exasperated. ‘God help us all.’
‘And then there’s Mrs Drake and her daughter Victoria,’ continued Billy Carter. ‘Mrs Drake was very keen to join the party.’
‘Rich? Annoying? Obsequious?’
‘A very pleasant woman, I’m sure, sir. And then I’ve invited Mr Robinson and his son Edmund and also a Miss Hayes, as they seem to have struck up a friendship together. Should be a lively group, sir.’
‘I am moist with anticipation,’ said Kendall in a dry tone.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Carter after a moment, surprised by the comment. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else then, Captain, I’ll retire until dinnertime.’
‘There’s nothing else, Mr Carter. Off you go.’ He watched as the first officer climbed down the steps and disappeared into the crowd on the steerage deck. He checked his watch. Five thirty. Two and a half hours until the meal ordeal, and then an hour or two of forced conversation and bonhomie before he could retire himself. For the first time in his career he began to wonder whether he was really cut out for this job.
Although dinner was served at any time between seven thirty and ten, invitations for tonight’s captain’s table had been set for eight o’clock, as this was the time when Captain Kendall preferred to eat. While he was adjusting his tie in the mirror of his cabin, all of those fortunate enough to be joining him were in varying degrees of excitement about the meal ahead, and each was preparing for it in a slightly different way.
In Cabin A7, Mrs Antoinette Drake was leaning closer to her mirror and adjusting the light; she could see a faint wisp of a moustache returning above her lip and she sighed in exasperation. She had gone for a beauty treatment in Antwerp but the silly girl who had taken charge of her had forgotten to wax her upper lip. She reached for her powder puff and dabbed at it gently. Mrs Drake had chosen an extravagant dark green dress and a brassiere which practically pushed her breasts over the top of it. They rose upwards as she breathed in and one could almost hear them arguing with each other as to which would be released first. Staring at her reflection, she managed to convince herself that she still had the sexual allure of an eighteen-year-old debutante.
‘Victoria, do try to cheer up a little,’ she said, catching her daughter’s eye in the mirror. ‘You should be excited about tonight. How many girls of your age get to dine with a ship’s captain?’ Fully dressed in a splendid red evening gown, Victoria was sitting at the side of her bed staring into space, the humiliation of the afternoon still playing on her mind. ‘What’s wrong with you this evening anyway? You look as if your whole world has just c
ome to an end.’
‘Nothing’s wrong with me,’ she snapped. ‘I’m just hungry, that’s all. Aren’t you ready yet?’
‘I’m going as fast as I can. Don’t rush me.’
‘It’s almost eight o’clock.’
‘It’s a lady’s privilege to be late,’ explained her mother. ‘That’s a thing you have to learn, my dear. Keep the gentlemen waiting. If we were to be the first to arrive at the table, it would be an embarrassment to all.’
Victoria was already feeling more than embarrassed at what lay ahead, for she knew that one of her dining companions would be Edmund Robinson and she prayed that the table would be large enough for her to keep as far away from him as possible. Their afternoon had come to an abrupt end when she brought him back to her cabin to find the new pack of cards. Closing the door firmly behind them, she had invited him to take a seat while she looked for them, but instead he had gone over to the dressing table and looked at the few photographs which Mrs Drake had arranged there in their frames.
‘My father,’ said Victoria, stealing up behind him and looking over his shoulder at the image of a thin, ageing man, his dark eyes staring angrily at the camera, his shoulders hunched. ‘He doesn’t like having his picture taken. Gets quite furious about it in fact.’
‘I can tell,’ said Edmund, looking at him with a frown.
Before moving away, Victoria’s eyes swivelled slightly to the left and she was immediately transfixed by the pale, clear skin of Edmund’s neck, so entirely unblemished, so perfectly white, like a garden of snow which has not yet been walked upon. She breathed in his scent as she forced herself to step away and Edmund turned quickly, feeling a tickle on his ear.
‘It’s clever of you to bring extra cards,’ he said and she turned around and stared at him, momentarily forgetting the reason they were there.
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘The cards. Now where did I put them?’
‘Victoria, are you listening to me?’ She snapped herself out of her daydream and turned to look at her mother, who was standing at the door now, ready to leave. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘It’s five past eight. The others should have arrived by now. Time to go.’
She frowned and stood up, shaking the memory from her head. ‘Coming,’ she said.
Martha Hayes had chosen one of her favourite dresses for the evening as well, a white chiffon gown which Léon Brillt, the one true love of her life, had bought for her after their engagement. She had thrown away most of Léon’s gifts, but this dress was so beautiful—and so expensive—that she could not bear to part with it. And even though it reminded her of the evening he had presented it to her, one of their most memorable evenings together (the evening, in fact, when she had given herself to him for the first time), she forced herself to dismiss the memory and enjoy the way she now felt in the dress instead. Leaving her cabin, she met Billy Carter, who was in his formal white uniform and who was also making his way to the dining hall.
‘Why, Miss Hayes,’ he said, impressed by her transformation. ‘You look very fetching tonight.’
‘Thank you, Mr Carter,’ she said with a smile. ‘And thank you again for the kind invitation. I will feel quite privileged to be dining with the captain.’
‘You’re very welcome. We have a nice group together tonight, I think. And Captain Kendall is always keen on getting to know the passengers. He’s a very friendly man,’ he lied. He just hates me, he thought to himself.
‘You’ve sailed together often?’
‘This is our first time actually,’ he replied. ‘The regular first officer, Mr Sorenson, has been laid low by appendicitis.’
‘Not really?’ she exclaimed, surprised. ‘My fiancé almost died three months ago from a burst appendix.’ The words, although quite true, were out before she could stop them and she felt an immediate urge to take them back; before she could say anything more on the subject, however, they were entering the dining hall and Billy Carter was leading her over to meet the captain. The table itself was circular and five of the other guests were already seated, the captain, Matthieu Zéla and his nephew Tom, and John Robinson and Edmund.
‘I believe you know the Robinsons,’ said Billy Carter, pulling out Martha’s chair for her as she sat down. ‘But have you met Mr Zéla and his nephew?’
‘We met earlier today,’ said Martha, acknowledging the man with a nod of the head. ‘Lovely to see you again. And Tom,’ she said, looking at the boy, who was staring at her with the same degree of suspicion he had shown earlier. Within a moment, however, his eyes were elsewhere as Mrs Antoinette Drake strode into the hall with her daughter two feet behind her and marched over to the table as if she was about to announce that she was taking command of the ship and they should all fall to their knees and pay homage.
‘Apologies to all for our tardiness,’ she said, taking the empty seat next to the captain and to the left of Mr Robinson, who edged along the table a little. ‘I hope we didn’t keep you waiting. I was applying my face.’
‘I just arrived myself, Mrs Drake,’ said Martha Hayes. ‘A lady’s privilege, as they say.’
‘Oh! Miss Hayes,’ Mrs Drake replied, her smile fading a little as she noticed her sitting opposite. ‘Why, you’re simply everywhere, aren’t you?’
Martha smiled graciously, wondering what on earth she had ever done to incur the lady’s dislike.
There was only one empty seat left, between Billy Carter and Tom DuMarqué, and Victoria was forced to take it. Tom licked his lips like a lion about to pounce on its prey, but preferring to sniff at it a little first. Formal introductions were made and the captain gave the signal to the steward to serve the first course.
Edmund, sitting across the table from Victoria, tried to avoid her eye during the meal but he could not help but be drawn to look at her from time to time. He too was embarrassed about what had happened earlier, but they seemed to have made an unspoken pact not to mention it now. After Victoria had finally retrieved the fresh pack of cards, he had stepped towards the door of her cabin but she had blocked the way, smiling at him suggestively.
‘Something tells me you don’t want to be left alone with me,’ she said.
He shook his head, surprised. ‘Not at all, Victoria,’ he said. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘I don’t think you trust yourself with me.’
‘Victoria—’ he began, but before he could continue she stepped forward and immediately silenced him by placing a finger on his lips. The sensation was thrilling to her and she could have stood like that for hours, her fingertip pressed against his full, red lips. She knew immediately what she wanted to do and, removing her finger, closed her eyes and put a hand behind his head, pulling him forward to kiss her.
‘Victoria!’ said Edmund, breaking away from her embrace. ‘This isn’t a good idea. I think we should return to the deck.’
‘In a moment,’ she purred.
‘Victoria, no,’ he insisted, pulling away and shaking his head. ‘Please stop.’
‘What is wrong with you?’ she asked, furious, her eyes sparkling with anger. ‘Aren’t you attracted to me? Don’t you know that I was one of the most sought-after girls in Paris? Why are you treating me like this?’
‘I’m not treating you in any way,’ he said defensively, making for the door now. ‘I just think you might be feeling the effects of the sea a little.’
‘The what?’
‘Really, Victoria, I don’t think we should . . . Anyway, I promised my . . . my father that I would meet him in our cabin around now. I should be getting on my way.’
And with that he raced from the room, failing even to close the door behind him—which she did, loudly, before spending the next ten minutes pacing around, cursing Edmund under her breath, damning herself for being so forward, and yet falling for him even more. His innocence, his fear of intimacy, beguiled her. It must be his first time, she thought, dazzled by the idea.
‘This is such a charming way to spend an evening,’ said Mrs Drake, her vo
ice carrying over the conversation of all the others. ‘My husband, Mr Drake, and I have been on boats before but never have we dined at the captain’s table.’
‘A pleasure to have you, ma’am,’ muttered the captain.
‘Miss Hayes was telling me earlier that she’s engaged to be married,’ said Billy Carter, tucking into his steak with gusto. ‘Does your fiancé live in Canada then?’ he asked her.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, surprised and embarrassed that he would bring this up at the dinner table.
‘Engaged!’ said Mrs Drake, as if the very idea was preposterous. ‘Well, how lovely. And tell me, my dear,’ she added, staring at Martha’s naked fingers. ‘Where is your engagement ring then?’
‘Congratulations, Miss Hayes,’ said Matthieu Zéla simultaneously. ‘We should have a toast.’
‘No,’ said Martha, shaking her head. ‘I’m afraid that Mr Brillt turned out to . . . that is, Mr Brillt and I . . . well I’m sorry to say that we have been forced to end our engagement.’
‘I see,’ said Mrs Drake, her nostrils flaring at the whiff of a scandal.
‘Did he get another woman then?’ Tom asked, turning to wink at Victoria, who stared at him as if he was the source of a bad smell.
‘Tom,’ said Matthieu quietly.
‘It’s a private matter,’ said Martha, unable to look at any of them and instead staring down at her meal in embarrassment. ‘I’d rather not go into it, if you don’t mind.’
‘Perhaps we should change the subject,’ said Mr John Robinson, looking around hopefully and sorry for her discomfort.
‘Quite right too,’ said Matthieu. ‘Tell me, Edmund,’ he said quickly, turning to his left. ‘What business are you hoping to go into in Canada?’
‘I’m a doctor,’ said Mr Robinson, answering instead. ‘I hope to set up my own surgery. Edmund will continue with his studies.’
‘Is that right?’ said Matthieu, looking at him and nodding slowly. ‘And how old are you, Edmund?’
The boy blinked and thought about it. ‘Seventeen,’ he said.
‘And you, Captain Kendall,’ Mrs Drake said, ‘your wife must miss you terribly while you’re at sea.’