Page 53 of The Situation Ship
“Please don’t make me beg. It doesn’t matter what happened in the bar, because we both need each other if we want to get off this ship alive. I need you to keep me safe, and you need me to solve this.” She finished the whisky.
Isaiah nodded. “Your stuff is already in my room and bathroom, so there’s no point in moving it out now.” He stood up and led her into the bathroom, where he ran the shower, checking the temperature. About to leave, he paused in the doorway. “And you can fire me all you want. I promised to protect you, and I will. If you ever trust me enough to let me into that beautiful head of yours, I’m here. I’m sorry for how I approached things in the bar.”
His apology made her heart swell. She wanted to tell him everything, even if the truth meant he wouldn’t look at her the same way again.
“Can you stay up until I’m out of the shower?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to sleep,” he said, sitting down and reaching for the TV remote.
“Thank you,” she said quickly, unable to make out his response as she shut the bathroom door.
With her ruined dress in the bin, Poppy rested her forehead against the cool tiles and let the hot water cascade down her back. Her mind was a battleground, torn between trust and fear. Could Isaiah be trusted? He had listened to and believed her when the others wouldn’t. He had protected her even when she pushed him away, even when he suspected she was guilty of murder. But if she didn’t come clean about what she’d done before boarding theMidas, she would be risking his and Mina’s lives to save her own skin. Isaiah could only help so much knowing half the story. They would all be at risk if he was distracted by what he thought he knew about her and her past.
After scrubbing herself raw, Poppy finally felt clean, but the weight of her secrets remained heavy on her chest. She dried her hair roughly and twisted it in a claw clip to keep it out of her face. Staring at her bare face in the mirror, she prepared to expose her darkest secrets.
Isaiah lay on the couch as she emerged in his fluffy white robe. He stared at her, his silence echoing in the room.
Poppy noticed the envelope peeking out from his suit jacket and removed it. Sitting on the couch beside him, she tucked her legs beneath her and placed the envelope on the coffee table in front of them.
“What are you doing?” Isaiah asked as she pulled the photos from it and laid them out face up.
“We were interrupted at the bar earlier,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She couldn’t back out now. What she had done was clearly connected to the events unfolding on board. She couldn’t risk the killer coming after Mina and Isaiah, so coming clean was the only way to move forward and figure out who was behind it all.
“When you said I wouldn’t look at you the same way if I knew the truth…”
She pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him. If he spoke, she wasn’t sure if she could go on.
“I need you to promise that you’ll listen to everything I have to say without interrupting, and when I’m done, you’ll still help me find the killer on board. Once they’re caught and we reach the island, you can decide what to do with what I share with you,” she said, removing her finger.
Isaiah’s eyes narrowed, and Poppy held her breath as he hesitated.
“Please. I need your help, but I need you to work with me, not against me. If you meant what you said– that you don’t believe I’m a monster – then I need you to hold on to that.”
He finally nodded. “I’ll help you, regardless of what you tell me.”
Taking a deep breath, Poppy picked up the first photo.
“My first dance teacher, Augusta Devin,” she told Isaiah. “A prolific dancer in her youth. My aunt hired her to train me – only the best of the best would do for Martha Roe’s niece.
“Augusta trained me for years in every style, even though I was a terrible dancer. Like my dad, I had no rhythm and couldn’t follow a count to save my life. Augusta demanded perfection, even if that meant training until my feet blistered, my muscles tore, and I suffered stress fractures. I trained as hard as possible and became what she wanted me to be– not out of love for dancing, but because I was terrified of her cane and my aunt’s anger.”
Poppy lifted the edge of the robe and revealed a long, thin scar by her ankle. “Augusta shattered my ankle with her cane when I was thirteen because I fell during a performance for her dance company. I was meant to be her star, but my light didn’t shine bright enough for her. My aunt finally gave up on her dreams of making me a professional dancer and decided to switch me to singing lessons. I never had to see Augusta again.
“I had surgery, and they had to pin it. It still hurts when it’s cold out, and when I dance now, I have to ice it before and after to stop it from swelling and aching. I had to get injections during my last tour because it started to give me trouble. One of my backup dancers had to have the same injections, and I found out Augusta had done the same to her. Apparently we’re the lucky ones. Ms Devin had been ruining dancers’ careers long before and after me.”
She took another deep breath as Isaiah traced the scar with his fingers.
“I couldn’t get what the dancer had told me out of my head. I didn’t want her to hurt anyone else. I never dreamed of being a dancer, but I couldn’t stomach how many dreams she’d shattered. I went to her studio and offered to buy out her studio if she would retire. She refused. I tried to let it go, but I thought she would give in if I offered her more money. The next time I went back to see her, I witnessed her beating a young girl with her cane. She wasn’t going to stop. I thought she’d beaten me because I didn’t have any natural talent, and she hated that my aunt forced me on her. But when I saw that sick, twisted grin as the girl cried, I knew she did it because she liked breaking our spirits.
“I waited for the girl to be picked up. When the studio closed, I used the same cane she used to torture us to make Augusta dance as hard and as long as she had made us. She was in her seventies, but her muscle memory was impressive. She danced until her heart gave out, and I knew she could never ruin another person. I didn’t even need to use the cane, I think it was because she knew the pain it could inflict.”
Poppy put the photo face down on the counter and moved on to the next. Thankfully, Isaiah didn’t interrupt.
“Clarissa Keogh, head of housekeeping at the Claren Hotel. Also my former nanny and warden. When my aunt was out oftown, Ms Keogh made sure the food stayed locked up and I kept up my dance training and studies. When I was eight or nine, my aunt went away to shoot a film, and it was the longest she’d ever stayed away. I won’t bore you with the details, but when my aunt returned, she learnt that my tutor had called the police. I had been hospitalised for malnourishment because my dear, sweet nanny had ‘misunderstood’ my aunt’s instructions and taken my diet too far. If my tutor hadn’t called the police, I wouldn’t be sitting here now.
“To avoid being suspected of involvement, my aunt pressed charges against her. I don’t know what happened after that; I think my aunt made it go away because she didn’t want it to get out that she was the one who’d instructed Clarissa to lock up the food in the first place. When I was released from the hospital and the police gave up on their investigation, it took one month before the locks returned to the cupboards.
“Mina asked me at breakfast the other day how I could eat so much. It’s because I’m always afraid that I won’t eat again. It’s why I pack so many snacks – if I don’t, my anxiety gets out of control. Anyway, I barely recognised her when I saw her at the Claren. She told me how proud she was of how far I’d come; she believed she’d played some part in my success. I invited her into my suite and ordered room service so we could eat together and catch up. Sadly, Clarissa choked, and when her face turned purple, I didn’t do anything to help her.”
