Page 7 of The Girl Out of Time
Emmeline pouted as she followed her family. Brendon could joke, but ifshehad said that, Mother would already be preaching about her unladylike, brazen behavior.
She reached the end of the gangway and forced her frown into a smile for the steward, who helped her on deck and tilted his cap. “Welcome aboard theTitanic, miss.”
As she stepped inside, the pale smile turned into a real one. The ship must indeed be new; she still held that strangely delectable smell of fresh paint. An ornate oak-wood grand staircase with a sweeping landing invited passengers to the upper deck. Its gold-embellished railing formed a perfect harmony with the warm, cozy wood-paneled walls and the black-and-white tiled floor of the reception area, gleaming in the light of the electric lamps.
“Our cabins are one deck up.” Father led the charge, but Tristan whizzed past him, running up the stairs between two older ladies, who jumped aside with a surprised yelp.
“Boys,” Mother called, wrapping her arm around Tristan’s shoulders as he ran back to her. Brendon followed, hands clasped behind his back, observing their surroundings with the polite interest of a real estate agent evaluating the property.
Emmeline admitted the ship’s interior was just as impressive as the exterior, but as they reached the next deck, she was truly driven speechless.
Here, the grand staircase boasted a large statue of a cherub in glossy bronze, and above them, the space opened to a massive dome—at least twenty feet across—its frosted glass bathing the room in bright daylight. Like a delicate web, fine black-and-gold scrollwork reached across the dome towards its center, crowned by a glittering electric chandelier.
Emmeline didn’t know how long she stood there, marveling at the dome and wondering if she was indeed on a ship and not in a fine mansion, but eventually, she came to her senses. She’d fallen behind. Her family had already moved toward their rooms. It wasn’t hard to spot them down the narrow, whitewashed hallway. Tristan and Brendon ran from one cabin to the other as if powered by steam engines themselves, and a second later, Mother exited a door further down and put her hands on her hips.
“Emmeline! You would not believe what they did.”
“The boys?”
“No, these people!” Mother poked at her ticket. “Your cabin is all the way down the hallway from ours, and you’ve been given a double berth! This will not do.”
Father came out of a cabin and leaned on the door frame. “I’m sure two beds are better than none, dear.”
“What if they stick a stranger with her?”
A stranger.Emmeline mused to herself. A young woman her age; she’d like books and theater and know all the latest gossip, and they’d become the best of friends during the voyage. Or they’d make a scandalous mistake and put her with a man. A young man; a handsome stranger with golden locks and a devastating smile who’d kiss her hand and beg her not to givehim up, for you see, he’s running from his mysterious, fascinatingly dark past—
“Emmeline!” Her mother frowned at her as if she knew exactly what she was daydreaming about. “I’ll go to the inquiry office. This must be sorted out.”
Emmeline sighed. “I’ll go.”
“Alone? But—”
“It’s a ship, Mother. I’m hardly going to take the wrong turn and end up in the Bronx, am I?”
A string of giggles emanated from the boys’ cabin, followed by Tristan’s, “Look, it folds! The sink folds inside the cabinet!”
Mother looked towards the cabin, then back at Emmeline, as if judging which side would wreak more havoc if left alone. “Very well. But while you’re at it, please also check for our assigned dining seats, the deck chairs, and book the Turkish baths for us—”
“Ew!” Tristan popped his head out. “I’m not going. I don’t want to see naked ladies!”
“You wouldn’t see them. They’ll be in separate rooms,” Brendon said with an eye roll.
“You boys don’t need to go. Just Emmeline and me,” Mother said.
Of course. The boys have a choice. I don’t.
Wordlessly, Emmeline turned and headed down the hallway.
“And be back quickly!” Mother called after her.
“Yes, Mother,” she muttered.
Despite three people handling passengers’ requests—two by the long counter and another at a smaller window—the inquiry office was packed. A line had formed, snaking left and right to make use of every inch of theroom, and Emmeline took her place at its presumed end. A lady at the counter waved her hands, complaining to the purser about her cold, damp room. Emmeline sighed and opened her book. It looked like a long wait, and she’d left off just as Tinkerbell drank the poison meant for Peter—
Someone bumped into her from behind, sending her book flying. She flapped her arms, surely looking very silly as she tried to catch it, and sillier still as the book unceremoniously landed on the floor, cover up. For once, Emmeline was grateful her wide-brimmed hat obscured her reddening face. “Sorry, sorry,” she said to the couple in front of her, who’d retreated a step away from the disturbance. She bent to pick up the book.
Another hand landed on the cover simultaneously with hers.
