The Titan Drowns

by Nhys Glover

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Marco

  ‘Marco, what the hell are you doing? That’s the wrong plate!’ The Sous-Chef yelled at him in rapid and guttural Italian.

  Marco looked down at the plate in his hand. It was supposed to be a quail’s egg entrée for Table 31, but instead he held a chocolate fondant. He frowned in confusion, put the plate back where he found it and looked around for his own order.

  ‘Your head is somewhere else. Get it back here before you find yourself out on your arse!’ This was the chef who had heard the reprimand over the general din in the kitchen. All the meals were laid out on the long, wide side-boards with their numbers next to them. Each was in a specific area allocated to a different waiter and his tables. It was an easy matter to come in, check your area and scoop up the food that was ready to go. However, for some reason, Marco had picked up a plate in another waiter’s area.

  He looked up at the chef with vague eyes and nodded. It almost felt like he was drunk. Nothing was making any sense to him today. He had gone through the morning and now the luncheon rush in a blur. People spoke to him but he didn’t understand them. The only thing that made sense to him was the smile of a lovely, young woman who thought she was from the future.

  In his mind, he had gone over and over their strange conversation that morning. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. After not seeing her for a whole day and believing he had lost her forever, she had come to him, offering herself to him like a dream. Her story about the ship sinking and being from the future was just nonsense. Even so, he would go along with her until he could prove her wrong. Then he would care for her as she unravelled the confusion in her head.

  However, he was the one confused in the head, or that was what the Chef would have him believe. And if he was making mistakes like this one, then he was probably right. A woman wasn’t worth ruining his life over. And he needed the tips he would get from this journey to start his new life. Start his new life with Pia, his inner voice added.

  He scooped up the right plate and hurried out into the dining room. It was busy. More than the usual numbers of patrons were eating with them today. Gardi had said that this was common at this stage in every journey. The passengers were becoming bored with the Dining Saloon and their choices there. They wanted a change of scene and different (“superior” was Gardi’s word) food to eat.

  Whatever the reason, the result was the same. They were being run off their feet and the tips were handsome. The cashiers, two young girls who were distantly related to Gardi, had told them the total so far today. It was higher than for any day to date. He couldn’t afford to throw all of that away by being distracted.

  Giving his patron, a bluff old army major with a walrus moustache, his quail eggs and a winning smile, he saw Paulo clearing Table 32. He had proven to be an excellent assistant: fast, careful and efficient. Marco rarely had to correct him. The boy had become a friend, too, his easy manner and friendly loyalty a balm for the wounds the grudging looks and snubs from the other staff unerringly left behind.

  The staff from the second Ritz restaurant in London hadn’t known him, but it just took a few negative comments about him from those who did for his reputation to spread. That Paulo ignored the other men’s attitude and accepted their slights because of the side he’d taken only increased his affection for his assistant. They had become the ‘us’ to the many ‘them.’ It felt good to have someone on his side for a change.

  ‘Busy,’ Paulo commented as he passed.

  He put on his best smile and was slightly mollified to realise that it was Mr Ingham and two of his friends who were being directed to the table. The man regularly chose to sit in his area. He liked to think it was because he provided superior service. It couldn’t be the location itself, because they were the closest area to the kitchen, which made it busier and noisier than elsewhere in the elegant, gilded room.

  ‘Marco, you will be joining us so I have been informed,’ Ingham said with genuine warmth.

  Marco had liked the man right from the first meal. He was not one to put on airs and graces but treated everyone the same, calling him by his name, asking his opinion about the selections for the day. And he was not a big eater. At some meals, he would only have one course. Other times, when he dined with friends he would have more, but he was never one of those who gorged himself on one course after another.

  ‘Joining you, sir?’ He had no idea what Ingham meant.

  ‘Pia has told you about what is to come?’ The gentlemen at the table exchanged guarded looks.

  ‘Pia? Oh… oh, yes. She has told me. I… do not really know…’

  ‘It is all very overwhelming at first, I do understand, and totally unbelievable. However, I have seen evidence with my own eyes that what they tell us is true.’

  Marco stared at the man in shocked surprise. He knew that Mary… no Eilish… had been with this man the other night and it had partly got through to him then that Ingham was somehow involved, but this overt discussion of this fanciful tale was more than he expected. He believed the delusion went no further than Pia. That she would soon realise her mistake and then let him help her back to sanity had been his only goal. But now he saw that there were others involved in this insane hoax – respected, intelligent men. Could it be real?

  ‘Yes, sir.’ He settled on a waiter’s neutral comeback.

  ‘You have a little time to come around to it. Has she told you when it happens?’

  ‘Not… exactly, sir. Soon, is all she said.’

  ‘Yes, too soon. I will just have the chicken chasseur and some fruit and cheese for dessert. You, Carter?’

  ‘Eating with you is such a relief, Ingham. Those endless courses down stairs drive me to distraction.’ The man called Carter grinned at Ingham and then Marco. ‘Pia is a sweetheart. You are a lucky man; I hope you know that.’

  ‘You… you know Pia?’ he stammered in surprise.

  ‘We have worked as part of the Retrieval team for many years, although I am part of the adult team and Pia works with the children.’

  ‘You… you are from the f…’

  ‘A little circumspection, please. Yes, Finn and I both are. He was the man with the dark skin who was with us the other night.’

  ‘I see…’ But he didn’t. How could the men all think that they were from the future? It was like some secret club they all belonged to. And within that club, they shared wild ideas and performed outlandish rituals.

  ‘I will have the same as Max. What about you, Hugo?’

  ‘I’ll go along with the crowd; may as well save room for dinner tonight. It’s said to be the crowning glory of the voyage and there will be dancing afterward. Quite a special to-do. Almost a step back to Almacks of yesteryear.’

  ‘There will be none of that where you are going, you are aware of that?’ Carter said seriously.

  ‘Oh, I know, dear boy; you have properly educated me about your… home. But there’s no reason why I shouldn’t enjoy my last days of indulgence, is there? My swan song, as it were.’

  Marco bowed his way out and returned to the kitchen to place the orders. With only two courses, he might just be free by three.

  The conversation was troubling. He had convinced himself that Pia was foolishly misled or deluded, but if these men believed it, could it possibly be true? And if it was, that meant that Paulo would not survive the sinking of the ship. What had she said? The staff would be kept below decks by the stewards? It was only to be expected from those snooty upstarts who saw any foreigner as inferior. How could he possibly go with Pia to safety and leave the boy to die?

  When he brought the main courses back to the table, he paused indecisively.

  ‘If I may ask something of you?’ he addressed Carter, whose bright-red head was already bending over his plate sniffing it appreciatively.

  ‘Carter, he means you,’ Ingham poked the other man in the side to get his attention. Carter looked up with an interested smile.

  ‘My assist
ant is only seventeen; barely more than a child. Could he be included?’

  Carter frowned and began to tap on the white tablecloth with his elegant fingers. ‘It is a hard path we follow, Marco. There are many who deserve to come but we cannot disrupt the events to a significant and obvious degree. If we say yes to one, it opens the door to another and another. Then where does it end?’

  ‘But you have made an exception in my case…’

  ‘For Pia. Love is a rarity in our wor… home. For Pia to have found love is exceptional. And if we were to reject you, it is tantamount to condemning her to a solitary existence for the rest of her life. We cannot do that. She is too precious to us.’

  ‘She is precious to me, too, though I have known her for such a short time. It just seems unfair. Look at him, sirs; he is full of life, anxious to please. I have rarely met a person I respect as much, for all he is barely more than a child.’

  The three men turned to look at the boy who was just finishing up with the napkins on the freshly set up table nearby. When he saw them all looking at him, Paulo smiled.

  ‘I do understand. However, there are rules that we must follow. Protocol. We do not go against Protocol,’ Carter said with regret.

  Marco nodded curtly and walked away, his back ramrod stiff. It was easy for them to dismiss the boy. Their Protocol was just an excuse to play God. If they wouldn’t take Paulo, then he wouldn't go either. That is, of course, if this whole story were true. It still seemed fantastical to him.