by Izzy Hunter
‘Nothing gets past you, Mr W,’ Sam said, standing next to Mona and getting himself a drink and a sandwich. He turned round again. The trio stood with their backs against the table, watching a young couple awkwardly dance to the music which had become less fast-paced than before.
The door to the saloon swung open. A group of men and women walked in. Mona had never met them before, but she knew who they were. Or what they were.
A short-haired woman in spectacles and trousers, who had been sitting at one of the tables near the trio, got to her feet, clutching a book in her arm. As she passed the trio, Mona recognised her. She was Pip Green, a distinguished academic and one of the first female professors in the United States. Pip had relatives in No Hope who she visited frequently.
‘Time for the whores,’ Pip commented.
‘Not staying for the entertainment?’ Mona asked, jovially.
Pip gave her a wry smile. ‘I’m going to retire to my room with Jules Verne,’ she said, tapping the hardback book with her free hand. ‘Have fun,’ she added, then turned and walked out of the saloon as the male and female ‘entertainers’ spread out across the room. Some headed for the bar and the food, others went straight for the passengers, sitting or standing beside them and giving them the old patter.
One of the male whores was heading towards Mona, Sam and Woods, a playful smile on his thin, stubbled face. He was handsome enough but Mona called out to him - ‘Keep walking, mister,’ - and he took the hint, making a beeline for a brunette stood admiring the newcomers. Mona didn’t recognise this lady, though, and going by the woman’s innocent delight at the male whore who was stroking her arm and saying god-knows-what to her, Mona judged that this was the woman’s first time on The Red Jenny. Sam was watching, too, but not the whore. He seemed more fixated on the woman’s curves.
‘I think you’ve lucked out there,’ Mona told him. ‘You can’t really beat a good, professional whore,’ she said.
‘A man just can’t get a break,’ Sam said with a sigh. He glanced across at Woods who was watching the display with an almost alarmed disposition. ‘You okay there, champ?’ he asked, bemused.
‘I.. I…I’m just a little… taken aback that things are so… um…’ said Woods, struggling to find the words.
‘Immoral?’ Mona asked.
‘Not quite,’ Woods went on. ‘I mean, obviously I know about the brothel back home, though I hasten to add I have never used it myself.’
‘Course you haven’t,’ smirked Sam.
‘But, well, there’s certain things that shouldn’t be done out in the open.’
Mona paused for a moment and then burst into peals of laughter. ‘Oh, Mr Woods!’ she said, patting him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, there’s not going to be any orgies. The professional men and women only come here when the passenger count is low. It’s to make up the numbers for dancing. See?’ She said, nodding in the direction of the middle of the floor where people were pairing up, ready to dance.
‘Ah, I see,’ Woods panted, taking out a handkerchief and mopping his brow.
Sam slapped him on the back, laughing. ‘My goodness, your face!’
Woods gave an embarrassed smile. ‘I think I need a drink. A fruit juice, or something,’ he added, noting Mona’s dubious look at him. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’ Bowing slightly, he wandered off in the direction of the bar. Sam shifted across so he was standing next to Mona.
‘I thought he was going to have a heart attack,’ he said, still chuckling.
A couple of fiddles had been found and two men stood next to the piano player, starting the beginnings of a new song. Everyone who was dancing had partnered up and lined across the middle of the floor. Those few who weren’t dancing, stood at the sides, watching and smiling.
Sam watched them and then spun round on his feet so he was facing Mona. He held out a hand. ‘May I have this dance?’ he asked, eyes sparkling.
Her brain said no but her body evidently had other ideas as she placed a hand in his, making his grin broader. They moved to the dance floor and lined up next to the curvy woman and the male whore who both nodded at them in greeting.
The music started up properly. It was a fast, jolly ditty. Mona placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder - feeling odd as she did so - while Sam slipped a hand around his waist. They clasped their other hands together and started dancing in a similar fashion to the other dancers there. There were whoops of delight from participants and audience members alike as the music played on. When Sam suddenly whooped right in Mona’s ear, she jumped and then laughed and joined in the hollering.
By the time the song had finished, Mona was out of breath and had a wide grin plastered to her face. Another tune started up, similar in tempo to the previous one, but she needed a drink to soothe her dry throat. Still clasping Sam’s hand, she led him over to the bar where they both ordered a jar of whiskey.
‘Hell, woman,’ gasped Sam, swigging a good amount of liquor. ‘I didn’t know if you were leading or I was.’
Mona smirked behind her jar.
‘Ready for another?’ he asked, slamming his jar down on the counter in his enthusiasm. Mona wasn’t sure if he was meaning a drink or a dance. Seconds later she realised it was the latter as Sam grabbed her arm and led her to the dance-floor again. She’d barely had time to leave her drink next to his, in his haste.
They must have danced to another half dozen songs before both conceded they couldn’t carry on. They collapsed into seats around a spare table, catching their breath and each other’s eye, and smiling.
The curvy brunette passed them on the way to the bar. She smiled at Mona. ‘You and your husband were wonderful,’ she commented, but departed before Mona could correct her.
Sam had heard the comment, though. His eyes were mischievous as he spoke. ‘No, you wouldn’t make a good wife.’
‘Oh?’
‘No, once a woman is married, she turns into a nagging, old coot. I could never see you conform to that,’ he explained, winking.
‘You do know that on behalf of the female population of the entire known world, I take offence at your words about married women,’ she said pointedly.
Sam started chuckling. ‘Oh, you are so easy to wind up, Mona!’ He wiped an imagined tear from his eye. ‘Look, I was raised in a house full of women, so I have more respect for them than the average man. Believe me.’
‘Hmm,’ was all Mona offered. Then she felt a yawn coming on and was not discreet about it as her mouth stretched wide and she sighed the yawn out.
‘Tired already?’ Sam asked.
‘Yes,’ Mona said, wondering why that was exactly. According to the wall clock in the room - one created by Sanders and Wesley - it was only late afternoon. Perhaps she was coming down with a bug. ‘I think I’m going to head to my room, now.’
‘Want some company?’ Sam asked, his eyes avoiding hers as he asked.
‘Behave,’ she said.
He smiled. ‘Can’t blame a fella for trying.’ He sat up straight in his seat and regarded her. ‘Let me at least walk you back to your room. I promise not to step over the threshold unless specifically asked.’
‘All right,’ Mona said, after a pause. They finished their drinks and rose from their seats. As the pair made their way to the exit, Mona caught sight of the look on Sam’s face. It was the look of a cat who’d got the cream.
On their way to the section of the ship where the passengers’ rooms were situated, Mona and Sam encountered no one. Not that they would have taken much notice of anyone else, since both were deep in light, flirtatious conversation with one another. Mona knew it was wrong somewhat. She was not a free woman. She still had Henry back in No Hope, waiting for her. But she could not ignore the butterflies in her belly when she and Sam parried with words, just as she had done with Henry back in London. That, she decided, was the only reason why she was tolerating Sam.
‘Do you think your friend, Mr Woods, will be all right back there?’ Sam asked, walking behind Mona as the
y continued along a narrow corridor.
Mona smiled. ‘I think so.’
‘He won’t have a panic attack if one of the whores speaks to him?’
‘No, he’s safe. Besides, Northam will keep an eye on him. See that he keeps out of trouble.’
They came to a junction with two further corridors leading off from the left and right. They rounded the corner and took the right, approaching the set of rooms. ‘Why do you call her that?’ Sam asked. ‘Northam, I mean. Why not Bertha?’
Mona shrugged and came to a stop as they arrived at the door to her room. She turned round to speak. Sam leant his shoulder against the wall in front of her.
‘When I first met her all the crew referred to her as Northam so I just got into the habit,’ she explained, then glanced at her door. ‘Well, we’re here.’
Sam stared that the pine door. ‘Looks like it,’ he said with a sigh.
Mona watched him for a moment, trying to kill any thoughts of how attractive she found him in the dim candlelights that hung along the walls. The subtle smell of liquor and his natural scent was intoxicating and she was just glad she wasn’t drunk or else she knew she would give into his charms. Hell, even without getting drunk, she felt an urge to invite him into her room, especially given the way he was looking at her. Had he just leant in closer?
Still gazing into her eyes, Sam raised her hand. His skin was surprisingly smooth and warm. She shivered at his touch. He bent his head and kissed her lightly on the back of her hand. The fingers on her other hand tingled with want. He smiled again and left go of her hand which stayed in mid-air for a moment before she realised what she was doing and dropped it to her side again.
‘Goodnight, Mona,’ he said, his voice husky.
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. If she was to speak now, it would be to tell him to come back. Instead, she watched his retreating back and then entered her lonely room, guilt consuming her whole being.
CHAPTER FIVE
Since the night of the dance, Mona had done her utmost to avoid Sam at all costs. Surprisingly, considering the enclosed space they inhabited within the airship, this was an easy feat to manage. She stayed in her room most of the time, opting to have her meals there. The times she did venture out of her room, was to get some fresh air and stretch her legs. So far she had only bumped into Sam twice and had quickly made her excuses and returned to her room, or sought out Northam in her quarters for a chat.
‘So, you’re hiding from our new friend, are you?’ Northam asked, bluntly. They were both in Northam’s room which was double the size of Mona’s, and with more luxury items including a tin bath tub which Mona was making use of as Northam poured them both a jar of wine from her personal bar. The water filling the bath had been taken from the sea and then heated up using some contraption in the corner of Northam’s room. Mona had already been in there for five minutes and didn’t want to get out, especially since the room was nice and cosy thanks to the fireplace in the centre of the inner wall of the room.
‘What friend is that?’ Mona asked, knowing full well who the captain was referring to.
‘Mr Samuel, of course,’ Northam said, affecting a voice uncannily like Sam’s own. ‘Want to talk about it?’ she asked, talking normally.
‘What’s there to talk about?’ Mona shrugged, then took the glass of wine Northam held out to her. ‘Thanks.’
Northam took a seat on the chair next to her writing desk by the fire. ‘Well, you seemed very pally with him when you first boarded the ship. And I saw you dance together the other night.’
‘It’s not a crime to dance, is it?’ Mona asked.
‘Not that I’m aware of.’
‘A woman can change her mind, can’t she?’
Northam rested her feet on her desk, nodding. ‘Of course.’ She took a sip of her drink, watching Mona over the rim of her glass. ‘But what is it that made you change your mind? Did he try it on with you?’
‘Northam, he’s been trying it on ever since he met me,’ Mona guffawed, cupping some of the still warm water and pouring it onto her bare arm.
‘It’s Henry, isn’t it?’ Northam asked in a soft voice.
Mona stared down at the water.
‘Don’t you want to be with him anymore?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Except you can’t. Not totally. That’s why you’re all conflicted over the charmer. With him, there’s the ability to be physically intimate. Something you can’t - or are afraid to do - with Henry. Of course, there’s the talking. Goodness, I used to love listening to you two trade words, whether it was a row you were having or full of innuendo. It was entertaining. Sam’s reminding you of those days, isn’t he? And that’s what’s got you spooked.’
‘I swear you can read minds,’ Mona said bitterly.
‘Ha, I wish I could. Then I could find out what my crew were up to when not in my presence,’ cackled Northam. ‘Plus, the fact that Henry, well, who knows how long he will go on for?’
Mona looked at her friend. ‘Been speaking to Sanders?’
The captain shook her head. ‘Wesley. We usually have a little chat when he’s waiting for the guys to unload the orders for the clockmaker.’
‘Why do I feel like everyone’s ganging up on me?’ Mona complained.
‘We’re not,’ Northam reassured her. ‘We’re just… concerned about you, that’s all. You can’t close yourself off, Mona -’ She was prevented from saying any more by Mona standing up suddenly in the bathtub, water flying everyone. Dripping wet and naked, Mona grabbed the towel Northam had provided her with, which lay on the bed, and started to dry herself. ‘I’ll shut up now,’ Northam said, sensing her friend’s unhappiness.
‘Wise decision,’ Mona remarked.
As soon as Mona had dried herself and changed into her everyday clothing, she made a bee-line for Sam’s room. She was going to tell him that she didn’t need his help in finding Matthew Reedus, after all, and that he would do well to keep his distance from her for the duration of the journey and beyond.
She rapped sharply on the door and waited. She could hear no movement beyond the wooden plank, other than the gentle swish of the overhead blades which kept the ship airborne.
Eventually, the door swung open to reveal Sam standing there, a surprised look on his face and quickly replaced by his usual grin. He was also topless, a thin layer of dark hair covering his chest in a cross shape. The near-nakedness caught Mona unawares and for a moment she couldn’t speak for staring.
‘Well, this is a pleasant surprise,’ Sam started, casually leaning his arms against the half-open door. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Can I come in?’ she asked. The corridor was cold and because she had just been in a bath, she didn’t want to catch a cold. She was hoping Sam’s room was a bit warmer.
‘Uh…’ he began to say and then paused, giving her a strange look. He opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it again. Then he grimaced. ‘Normally, I would love nothing more than to have you in my boudoir but it’s an absolute mess. I’d be ashamed for you to see it in its current state.’
Mona frowned. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘Well I do,’ said Sam. ‘I don’t want you to think any less of me for being so untidy.’
Despite his odd behaviour, she decided to let it go. ‘Look, I just came here to say thank you but no thank you. When we land, I will not be needing your help in finding the Reedus boy.’
‘Oh?’
‘Woods can help me so your assistance is not necessary.’
‘I thought Woods was going to get trained up to work with animals.’
Damn, she’d forgotten about that. ‘Yes, he is. But he’s helping me first. That was the deal.’
‘Well, I do hope that doesn’t mean I will not see you again,’ he said, sounding genuinely disappointed. Mona was about to reply when Sam nearly toppled over as the door was pulled open wider, and two heavily-made up women brushed past Mona, giggling.
&nbs
p; ‘Goodbye, ladies,’ Sam called, watching them depart down the corridor. He looked at Mona, open-mouthed. ‘I - I hope you don’t think that I -’ he began but Mona raised a hand to stop him.
‘Goodbye, Samuel,’ she said, before turning heel.
Sam lunged forward and grabbed her arm. ‘Look, please. Let me explain.’
Mona jerked her arm away. ‘Really. What you do with a couple of whores in private is none of my concern.’
‘It’s your fault!’ he blurted out, then instantly looked regretful at his outburst.
‘My fault?’ said Mona, not believing she was hearing this. ‘And how is this my fault?’
Sam cast an eye to the floor and sighed heavily. Then he mustered up enough energy to look her squarely in the eye. ‘Last night when we were dancing together and talking - I swear to God, woman, I don’t know what kind of spell you cast on me but, hell, every time I think of you I get -’ he paused, then shook his head. ‘You know. Excited.’
Go now, Mona. Just walk away. Stay any longer and you won’t be able to look Henry in the eyes ever again.
‘So, I was walking back to my room,’ Sam continued. ‘Well, I say walking but with the length of wood between my legs, it was more like hobbling.’