Mrs Stanford emerged a couple of minutes later. 'He's thinking about it,' she said.
Claire folded her arms. 'Mother — we heard.'
'Well — if there's a chance of him losing money, your father's first instinct is always to say no. If you heard, then you'll know I've done my best. And if you still choose to tell him about Uncle Winston, well that's your choice, but quite frankly, Claire, if you told him right now that I'd had an affair with every single member of the Vienna Male Voice Choir, I don't think he'd bat an eyelid. He's just got too much on his mind. So if you don't mind I'm going right back to my sunbathing.' She nodded once at Jimmy and sashayed away towards a set of sliding doors. As she passed through them, First Officer Jeffers stepped out. He did not look happy.
Jimmy turned to Claire. 'What'll we do now?'
'Run!'
16
The Stowaway
Claire reported in shortly before lunch. 'There's a massive row going on down there. The cops are telling my dad he can't sail without handing you over and my dad's saying they've already delayed sailing by an hour and he'll have a mutiny on his hands if he doesn't get underway. They're telling him they have a court order and he's telling them he will sue the Port Authority for twenty million dollars if they don't release the ship. Jonas Jones came down and threatened to punch one of them because we're burning up fuel and going nowhere. The only thing everyone agrees on is that they hate you.'
'Even you?'
'Especially me.'
'Why would you hate me?'
'Because you're upsetting my dad.' Jimmy looked at her. Then they both burst into laughter. 'Do you get on with yours?'
Jimmy shrugged. 'I suppose. He's just kind of there. I suppose he—'
His words were suddenly drowned out by an ear- splitting blast of noise from the funnel behind them. A moment later the whole ship began to vibrate.
Claire punched him on the arm. 'We're moving!'
Jimmy punched her back.
***
So they were off. He was a stowaway again, but this time it was deliberate. It also felt quite different. Even though a third of the passengers and crew hadn't turned up, there were still people everywhere. The cabins that weren't occupied already were kept firmly locked. Crew members patrolled constantly. It no longer felt like it was his ship. The Titanic had been a big, empty shell with a barely adequate skeleton crew. Now passengers filled the hallways and corridors, children screamed happily as they dived into the pool and old folks piled their plates high in the self-service restaurants. It was a living, breathing entity, ploughing through the waters of the Caribbean like a mighty behemoth.
He pointed this out to Claire. 'It's like a mighty behemoth.'
'A mighty what?'
'Behemoth. It's a—'
'You're mental,' said Claire. 'Now try these on.'
It was no longer safe for Jimmy to traverse the ship in his stolen overalls. He needed to blend in more. So she'd raided one of the family cabins and stolen a suitcase full of clothes. From this she'd selected half a dozen T-shirts and three pairs of shorts. She looked away while he struggled out of his overalls.
'Was there nothing . . . better?'
'Beggars can't be choosers.'
'OK, you can look now.'
She gave a sarcastic wolf whistle.
'Ha-ha,' he said.
***
They messed around the upper decks for a couple of hours. They ate in the buffet restaurant, stuffing themselves until they could hardly move. Jimmy had a New York Yankees baseball cap which he kept on at all times. No one paid any attention to them. The passengers were too busy enjoying themselves, and the crew were too busy looking after the passengers. There were a hundred and one things for Jimmy and Claire to do on the Titanic but somehow, after a while, they found themselves to be extremely bored.
They returned to the sundeck on the top level. Claire scored some Cokes at the bar, then they sat looking down one level to the swimming pool and the kids screaming down the slide and the grannies standing up to their waist exchanging gossip.
'They're way too happy,' Jimmy said.
'I know,' said Claire. 'Why aren't they worried about the plague? It's probably on board already.'
'Maybe the hospital's full. Maybe there's bodies everywhere.'
Claire nodded. 'And what about Pedroza's mysterious stowaways? I didn't see them get off. Where could he be hiding them now?'
Jimmy sighed and changed the subject. 'I enjoyed the paper.'
'I know. It was fun.'
'Hard.'
'But fun.'
They'd been run ragged. It had been exciting and thrilling and scary.
'I wonder what the new guy's like?' said Claire. 'I'll bet he's making a real mess of our paper.'
'I'll bet Scoop showed him nothing, he was so keen to get off. He'll be floundering around, clueless.'
This time Claire sighed. 'I wish we could go and see what he's doing . . .'
'Well we can't.'
'Or — you can't. You'd get caught, for sure; but there's nothing to stop me going down. Maybe I can volunteer to help, then you can help me in secret.'
Jimmy shook his head. 'It won't work. I'd get caught. And I'm not working as your damn helper anyway.'
'It wouldn't be like that, Jimmy.'
Jimmy shrugged. He stared down at the pool again. He was a little annoyed at the notion of Claire being able to work on the paper again. As he looked down he became aware of a tall, thin black boy staring up at him from the shallow end. Jimmy stared right back. After a few moments the boy slipped under the water and began to swim towards the far end. Jimmy watched him for a few more seconds, then turned back to Claire. He knew he was being stupid about the paper. 'All right,' he said, 'you go down and check it out.'
'Are you sure? He'll probably chase me away.'
'Go on.'
Claire smiled hesitantly at him and turned away.
She hadn't gone more than a few metres, however, before Jimmy called after her. 'Big arse!'
'Brain dead!'
The only difference was that this time, they were both grinning.
***
Jimmy sat in the movie theatre on Deck Four. It was some Disney effort that had been around for years, but the auditorium was cool and dark and a good place to hide. He'd had enough after about half an hour however. When he got up to leave he noticed that the boy who'd been watching him from the pool was seated three rows behind him.
As Jimmy pushed through the doors, the boy got up to follow. As Jimmy reached the elevator just down the corridor and stepped into it, the boy hurried forwards to join him. As the doors began to close the boy broke into a run. Jimmy could have held them, but he didn't.
He got out one floor short of his ultimate destination and hid himself behind an extravagant floral display which nevertheless gave him a good view of the elevator doors.
If he is following me, he'll have waited below to see what floor my elevator stopped at.
Sure enough, just a few moments later, the next elevator arrived, the doors opened, and the boy stepped out and peered cautiously about him. Failing to spot Jimmy immediately, he then hurried past the floral display towards a customer services lounge where passengers were already busy booking their next cruises.
Jimmy used the stairs to return to the top deck. He wondered if he should chance going for a swim. The water looked so inviting and cool — but it would be very difficult to escape from it if he was spotted. As he leaned on the rail, thinking about it, he noticed that his skin was getting sunburned. He was going to have to liberate some sunscreen from . . .
He was poked in the back.
The black kid.
Up close he was a full head taller than him. He poked Jimmy in the chest.
'You.'
'You what?
'You.'
With the third poke, Jimmy poked him right back.
The boy grabbed a handful of Jimmy's T-shirt. 'I've been following you.'
'You're wearing my T-shirt.'
'Yeah, sure,' said Jimmy then gave him a hard shove in the chest. Caught off guard, the boy stumbled backwards. Jimmy took off. The boy came right after him.
Jimmy had never done a day's training in his life, but he was naturally pretty quick.
This other kid was faster.
Jimmy just managed to keep ahead of him by leaping over sunbeds and ducking under umbrellas and pulling ice buckets and ashtray stands over in his wake. He charged inside and took the carpeted stairs six at a time, using the polished rails for support.
They moved down through four decks like that, Jimmy never more than a dozen steps ahead of his pursuer. They pushed through elderly couples. Toddlers were pulled hastily out of their way. Then the boy made his move, diving from the top of a flight of stairs and just catching Jimmy around the neck. They landed in a heap, with the other boy on top, his weight forcing the wind out of Jimmy. The boy straddled him and grabbed him by the throat.
'My T-shirt!'
'Get off me, you big fruit!'
'That's my T-shirt, now get it off!'
'Kiss my arse!'
The boy punched him. It hurt. He tasted blood and saw distant stars.
'Get it off!' He raised his fist again, quite ready to inflict more damage.
Jimmy, to give himself time to come up with an alternative escape plan, pretended to cave in. 'OK . . . all right! Relax, would you?'
'Get it off. . . !'
'There's obviously been some kind of misunderstanding . . .'
'Get it off!'
'All right . . . Just, there's thousands of T-shirts like this one . . . Honestly, you think they make just one T-shirt like this?' It was red, with the letters APNJ across the top with the picture of an eagle below. 'I swear to God! I got this in Belfast, where'd you get yours?'
The boy barely hesitated. As he spat out the words, he poked each of the letters on Jimmy's chest. 'Asbury . . . Park . . . New . . . Jersey.'
'See? They sell them all over the world!'
'This is my school T-shirt! I go to school in Asbury Park, New Jersey! The eagle represents my school team! My name is sewn into the inside of the collar!' He grabbed the neck of the shirt and twisted it round. 'See? Ty Warner! That's my name! Ty Warner! You stole it from my room! Now take it off or I will kill you.'
Jimmy blinked up at him, then suddenly wailed: 'I can't!'
Ty Warner looked surprised. 'Why not?'
Tears formed up in the corner of Jimmy's eyes. 'Because it's the only T-shirt I have! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to steal it. Just to borrow it. Please! I'm a stowaway. I don't have any other clothes.' Tears rolled down his cheeks. 'Please don't hit me again.'
Jimmy was an expert at crying to order. When violence and trickery didn't work, tears were often used as a last resort. He wasn't particularly proud of it, but he was particularly good at it.
Ty's voice softened. 'What do you mean, you're a stowaway?'
'I snuck on board. I'd nowhere else to go. My parents died of the Red Death.'
This more than anything caused Ty to scurry backwards off Jimmy.
'It's OK, I'm probably not infected.' The boy kept his distance. Jimmy sat up, then faked a sneeze. He wiped his nose on the arm of the T-shirt. 'You can have it back if you really . . .'
The boy held his hands up. 'No . . . you keep it. . .'
Jimmy wiped at his eyes. 'Are you sure?'
'Sure I'm sure. Just . . . keep your distance. And . . . uh . . . sorry about hitting you . . .'
Jimmy got to his feet. 'Thanks, mate,' he said, then tramped slowly back up the flight of stairs. He stopped when he reached the landing and looked back down at the boy, who was still watching him with a look of genuine horror. 'Oh . . . Ty, is it?' The boy nodded. 'Ty . . . I just wanted to say — SUCKER!'
Jimmy laughed, and fled. This time there was no catching him.
17
The Editor of the Titanic Times
Jimmy sought refuge in a lifeboat on the top deck where he and Claire had hidden out earlier. Through a small gap in the covers he was able to keep an eye on Ty Warner, who was patrolling relentlessly. It had clearly gone beyond a stolen T-shirt now. Next time they met there'd be no tears or lies or calling anyone a sucker. There would be extreme violence.
He was just beginning to nod off when he was roused by an announcement over the PA system:
'Could James Armstrong please report to the newspaper office.'
Oh sure. Like I'm going to fall for that one.
Ten minutes later it was made again: but this time it was Claire's voice. And she added, 'Really; it's fine.'
Oh yeah. Right. You're being forced to call me in. Blackmailed by your own dad. He wondered what she'd sold him out for. A shopping trip in Miami? Another new pony?
'Would James Armstrong report to the newspaper office immediately . . .'
Not more than three seconds later the covers of the lifeboat were ripped back, and there was First Officer Jeffers glaring down at him.
She had given him up!
The little—
Jeffers grabbed him and hauled him out. He plonked him down on the deck. 'All right, Jimmy, let's go . . .'
Jimmy shuffled forward reluctantly. 'You never would have got me if she hadn't—'
'Just keep moving.'
As they walked towards the elevators Ty Warner stepped out of a doorway and followed along behind. 'He stole my T-shirt . . .' he started.
'He's done a lot of things,' said Jeffers.
'Want my T-shirt back.'
'Leave your name with Customer Services; I'll make sure you get it.'
'Want it now.'
'Well you can't have it now.'
Ty stood sullenly behind them while they waited for the elevator. When it arrived he waited until the doors started to close before stepping in after them. 'It's my favourite T-shirt.'
'What are you, six years old?' said Jimmy.
'Quiet, Jimmy!' said Jeffers.
'Is it like your blanky?'
'I said, quiet.'
'What're you going to do, arrest me?'
Jeffers sighed.
'I want my shirt,' saidTy.
'I've told you. Report it to Customer Services, you'll get it—'
'I think you are gay,' said Jimmy.
'I said quiet, and I won't say it again!'
Jimmy shrugged.
'I want my—' Ty began.
'You too!' bellowed Jeffers.
Ty looked genuinely shocked. 'You can't talk to me like that!'
The elevator doors opened and Jeffers pushed Jimmy out in front of him. They were on the same floor as the newspaper office. 'Where are we going?' Jimmy asked.
'Just keep moving.'
'What about my T-shirt?' Ty asked.
Jeffers ignored him. As they progressed on down the corridor, Ty gradually fell behind. 'I'm going to tell my mom on you!' he shouted after them.
'You're a big girl's blouse!' Jimmy shouted back, and got a shove in the back for his trouble.
Jeffers stopped him outside the newspaper office. 'In here,' he said, and pushed the door open.
There she was — the betrayer. Claire sat on the edge of one of the desks; she looked sheepishly at him. There was no sign of the editor.
'Thanks a lot,' spat Jimmy. 'I hope your ponies die in a horrific traffic accident.'
'Jimmy . . .'
'I'm not talking to you.' He turned to Jeffers. 'So?'
'The new editor of the Titanic Times wanted a look at you. He's in the bathroom. Go in and see him.'
'Yeah, right.'
Jimmy stood where he was.
'Jimmy, please . . .' said Claire.
'I told you, I'm not talking to you.'
Jimmy looked towards the bathroom. 'What's he doing, a poo?'
Ty was back, standing in the open doorway. 'I want my T-shirt.'
Jeffers rolled his eyes. 'Go away,' he said, and pushed
the door shut. He turned back to Jimmy and nodded at the bathroom.
Jimmy tutted. 'Better than looking at you two.' He strode into the bathroom.
It was empty.
'Turn to your left,' Claire called.
'What?' There was only a mirror.
'You're looking at the new editor of the Titanic Times!
Jimmy looked at his own reflection for a moment, then swiftly turned back out into the office. 'What the hell are you talking about?'
Jeffers was smiling. So was Claire. She clapped her hands together. 'Jimmy! We're serious! The new guy didn't get on in Miami! No one else knows how to put the paper together! The Captain says you have to do it until the end of the cruise or the end of the world, whichever comes first!'
Jimmy looked from one to the other. 'You've got to be joking!'
There was a knock on the door. 'I want my T-shirt!'
18
Ty
They weren't joking.
Jeffers pulled out a chair for Jimmy to sit down. 'Guy called Travers was supposed to be doing this. He did actually get on board, but then he got right off again, said his parents were sick and couldn't leave them. So we're stuck. Fact is, Jimmy, the passengers go nuts if they don't get their fix of news in the morning, especially with what's going on at home. So we want you to do it. With Claire's help.'
Jimmy nodded at Claire. 'Was this your idea?'
Claire smiled again. 'I came down here and he . . .' she nodded at Jeffers,' . . . was trying to put a paper together, but he hadn't a clue.'
'It's harder than it looks,' agreed Jeffers.
'So I told him you were the only one who really knew how to do it.'
'It makes sense, Jimmy,' said Jeffers. 'I checked it with the Captain and he checked it with Mr Stanford, and they both agreed. It's yours if you want it, until the end of the cruise.'
Jimmy examined his fingernails. This was indeed a surprising turnaround in his fortunes. And, as his granda had often told him, it was important to make hay while the sun shone. 'So,' he said, 'how much do I get paid?'
Jeffers burst out laughing. 'What? You're lucky we don't toss you in the brig and throw the key away!'
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