Page 42 of The Ship of Brides
‘I’m torn between wanting to make sure she’s okay, and feeling like I can’t stand one more minute in that bloody cabin. It’s driving me nuts. Especially with those two moaning.’
Frances nodded almost imperceptibly. It was the furthest she would come, Margaret suspected, to outright agreement. But she leant forward, so that her voice could just be heard over the noise in the canteen. ‘We could take a walk round the decks later, if you want. Give her a bit of air. Maybe you could put her in that wicker basket and we could hide her with a cardigan.’
‘Hello, ladies.’
It was the engineer. Margaret jumped, then glanced behind him at the skittish girls he had just left, some of whom were peering over their shoulders at him. ‘G’day,’ she said neutrally.
‘I’ve just been speaking to my friends over there, and I thought I’d let you ladies know that there’s a little “welcome aboard” party in the stokers’ mess tonight.’ He had an accent, and an ease born of long-rewarded confidence.
‘Nice thought,’ said Margaret, sipping her tea. ‘But we’ve got a bloke posted outside our door.’
‘Not tonight you haven’t, ladies,’ he said. ‘Big shortage of morality monitors because of the weather. We’ll have a night or two of freedom.’ He winked at Frances. He had probably been born winking. ‘It’ll just be a bit of a laugh. We’ve got some grog, we’ll play cards and maybe introduce you to a few English customs.’
Margaret raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Not for us, thanks.’
‘Cards, missus, cards.’ His expression was of shock and offence. ‘I don’t know what you had in mind. Blimey, you a married woman and all...’
Despite herself Margaret laughed. ‘I don’t mind a game of cards,’ she said. ‘What do you play?’
‘Gin rummy. Newmarket. Perhaps the odd game of poker.’
‘Only card game there is,’ she said, ‘but I only play for stakes.’
‘My kind of girl,’ he said.
‘I’ll probably thrash you,’ she said. ‘I’ve learnt from the best.’
‘I’ll take my chances,’ he said. ‘I’m not fussy who I take money off.’
‘Ah. But will there be room for me?’ she said, pushing herself back in her chair, so that the full expanse of her belly was revealed. She was waiting to see his reaction.
His hesitation lasted a fraction of a second. ‘We’ll make room for you,’ he said. ‘Any decent poker player’s welcome in the stokers’ mess.’
It was as if they had recognised something in each other.
‘Dennis Tims.’ He thrust out a hand.
She took it. ‘Margaret – Maggie – O’Brien.’
He nodded at Frances, who had failed to proffer her own hand. ‘We’re four decks below, almost directly under you. Make your way down the stairs by the officers’ bathrooms, then follow the sound of a good time.’ He saluted, made as if to walk away, then added, in a stage whisper, ‘If you get wedged in the stairs, Mags, give us a shout and I’ll get a few of the lads to come and give you a shove.’
The prospect of a few hours in male company made Margaret feel distinctly chipper. It was not the flirtation she craved – unlike many of the other women – just the uncomplicated maleness of home. She let out a huge sigh: Dennis’s arrival had shown her what a strain she had found her new all-female existence. ‘He seemed all right,’ she said cheerfully, heaving herself out from behind the table.
‘Yes,’ said Frances. Already she was taking her tray towards the washing-up trolley.
‘You coming with me? Frances?’
Margaret had to jog to keep up as the tall, slim girl strode down the passageway, barely shifting her weight despite the violent rocking of the floor. Frances had kept her face turned away from Dennis for almost the entire time he was talking, she thought. It was several minutes more before she realised that during the entire two hours they had spent together Frances had told her not a thing about herself.
Dear George,
I hope this letter finds you well, and that your leg is much recovered. I was not sure that you received my last letter as I have not had a reply for so long. I have taken the liberty of numbering this one so that you might tell which order mine were sent in. We are all well here in Tiverton. The garden is looking simply lovely, and my new borders are filling out nicely. Patrick is working hard, as always, and has taken on a new chap to help him with some of the bigger accounts. That will bring his total staffing to five, which is quite a tally for these thin years.
I am rather anxious to hear from you, George, as I have asked you several times now whether you want to take up the rental of the cottage on the edge of the Hamworth estate. I have spoken to Lord Hamworth personally (we have met occasionally at his wife’s social gatherings) and he has said he is happy to consider you, with your glowing service record, but he does need to know soon, dear, as other people have indicated an interest. There is a retired teacher next door, Mrs Barnes, a nice sort, from Cheltenham. And we have already lined up a lady to do for you, so you need not worry about your hot dinners!
And as I have mentioned before, Patrick is quite happy to introduce you to the better side of Tiverton society – he is a not inconsiderable force in the local Rotary Club and could make sure you have an ‘in’ with the right sort around here. Now that you will have some more time at your disposal, perhaps you might like to join the local car club? Or even do a bit of yachting? I’m sure you will want to carry on ‘messing about in boats’, even in your twilight years.
Another retired serviceman and his wife have just moved in locally, although I think he might be RAF, so you would have someone to exchange your ‘war stories’ with. He is a quiet sort – said hardly a word to me in the lane! – and seems to have something wrong with his eye. I assume it is a war injury, but Marjorie Latham swears he is winking at her.
