Page 104 of The Ship of Brides
‘No,’ said Frances, dully. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s not that.’
She could see from the expressions on the faces around her that the other women were pretty sure too. Not Wanted Don’t Come, the whisper started. Only this time the brides evinced no anxiety.
‘Don’t be long,’ said a voice, as she left the canteen. ‘You wouldn’t want people to start talking.’
Avice lay on the bed. From somewhere nearby there was a strange sound, a low, guttural moan, and it was with distant surprise that she realised it was emanating from her own throat.
She stared at the hand holding the letter, then at the wedding ring on her slim finger. The room receded around her. Suddenly, she threw herself off her bunk, fell on to her knees, and vomited violently into the bowl that had never been removed after her early days of sickness. She retched until her ribs hurt and her throat burned, arms wrapped round her torso as if they were the only thing stopping her whole self turning inside-out. Through coughing, she could hear her own voice, spluttering, ‘No! No! No!’ as if she were refusing to accept that this monstrosity could be real.
Finally, spent, she pushed herself back against the bunk, her hair plastered in sweaty tendrils round her face, limbs awkward and ungainly on the hard floor, her dress, her makeup unheeded. She wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. Perhaps the letter didn’t exist. The sea could get you like that – she had heard plenty of sailors say so. But there it was on her pillow. In Ian’s handwriting. His beautiful handwriting. His beautiful, horrific, diabolic handwriting.
Outside, she could hear the clicking heels of a group of women who were chattering as they passed. Maude Gonne, positioned just behind the door, raised her head, as if waiting to hear a familiar voice among them, and then, disappointed, laid it between her paws.
Avice followed the sound, head swaying like a drunk’s. She felt detached from everything. There was nothing she wanted more than to lie down. Her head felt as if a great weight were pressing down on her. She could do nothing except stare at the ribbed metal floor.
She shoved the bowl back under her bed. Despite the smell, the unforgiving metal beneath her, her wet hair, she lay down, eyes on the other letter open beside her. Her mother had written:
I’ve told everyone that the celebration will be at the Savoy. Daddy got a very advantageous rate because of one of his contacts in the hotel business. And, Avice darling – you’ll never guess – the Darley-Hendersons are going to make it part of their round-the-world trip, and if that wasn’t exciting enough the Governor and his wife have said they’re coming too. People seem so much happier to travel now the war is over. And they will ensure we get your picture intoTatler. Darling, I might have had my doubts about this wedding, but I have to tell you I’m pleased as punch about this trip. We’ll put on a do that will have not just Melbourne but half of England talking for months!
Your loving Mother
PS Pay no attention to your sister. She’s a little bit sour at the moment. Case of the green-eyed monster, I suspect.
PPS We’ve not heard yet from Ian’s parents, which is a pity. Could you ask him to send us their address so we can contact them ourselves? I want to know if there is anyone special they’d like to invite.
It had been a long, rather wearing afternoon, and it was something of an effort to stand when the girl entered the room, so Captain Highfield stayed behind his desk to allow himself the chance to lean on it. The governor’s arrival, and its attendant difficulties, had taken it out of him, and it was for that reason – and perhaps to save the girl’s blushes – that he had chosen to hold this meeting without the aid of either the chaplain or WSO.
She stood in the doorway when the rating announced her and stayed there after he had left, clutching a small bag. He had seen her at close quarters twice now and she was physically striking. Only her demeanour stopped her being a compelling figure. She had seemingly developed the trick of receding into the background; now that he had briefed himself through her notes, he understood why.
Captain Highfield gestured to her to sit down. He stared at the floor for some minutes, trying to work out how to address the issue, wishing that, just this once, he could have handed over the captaincy to someone else. Disciplinary matters with his men were straightforward: one followed procedure, gave them a bawling-out if necessary. But women were different, he thought, exasperated, conscious of the woman opposite, of the women who had been in before her. They brought all their problems on board along with their tons of baggage, created new ones for good measure – and then made you feel guilty, wrong, for simply following the rules.
Outside the stand-easy was being sounded over the Tannoy, signalling the men’s canteen break. He waited until there was silence. ‘Do you know why I have summoned you to see me?’ he asked.
She did not reply. She blinked slowly at him, as if the onus was on him to explain himself.
Come on, man, he told himself. Get it over and done with. Then you can pour yourself a stiff drink.
‘It has come to my attention that several days ago you were involved in something of an incident downstairs. In the course of looking into the matter, I’ve heard things that... have left me a little concerned.’
It was Rennick who had told him, the previous evening. One of the stokers had approached him, muttered that there was all sorts of trouble being stirred up, and then what was being said about the girl. Rennick had not hesitated to tell Highfield: no one would have mentioned something like that to the Captain’s steward without believing it would go straight to the head man.
‘It’s about your – your life before you came aboard. I’m afraid I have to bring this up, uncomfortable as it may be for you. For the welfare of my men and for the good conduct of everyone on board, I have to know whether these – these rumours are true.’
She said nothing.
‘Can I assume from your silence that they are not... untrue?’
When she failed to answer him a third time, he felt ill-at-ease. This, allied with his physical discomfort, caused him to become impatient. He stood, perhaps better to impress her with his authority, and moved round the desk.
‘I’m not trying to deliberately persecute you, Miss—’
‘Mrs,’ she said. ‘Mrs Mackenzie.’
‘But rules are rules, and as it stands I cannot allow women of – your sort to travel on a ship full of men.’
‘My sort.’
‘You know what I’m saying. It’s difficult enough carrying so many women at close quarters. I’ve looked into your – your circumstances, and I can’t allow your presence to destabilise my ship.’ God only knew what the governor of Gibraltar would say if he knew of the presence of this particular passenger. Let alone his wife. They had only just stopped shuddering at the thought of those gambolling German prisoners.
