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  She saw that Sean was waiting for further information. ‘My brother and I weren’t close. He was so sure he was better than two mere girls. That made me feel angry. I miss my younger sister very much, though.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Madeleine, but I called her Leinie.’ Only when their father wasn’t within hearing, because he didn’t approve of shortening people’s given names.

  ‘That’s a pretty name. I’ve never met anyone called Madeleine. How old is she?’

  ‘Eighteen.’ What was Leinie doing now? Her mother had kept the two of them apart after it happened, but Cara knew Leinie still loved her and was very upset about everything because she’d shouted that out through the window when her father was dragging her out to the gate, ignoring her pleas and tears.

  ‘Thank you.’

  She realised Sean had spoken to her. ‘Sorry. I didn’t catch what you said.’

  ‘I said thank you.’ He spoke stiffly as if it was hard to say the words.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Emptying that horrible mess. I tried not to be sick in here, but it happened quickly and I didn’t dare try to run to the heads.’

  ‘You couldn’t help it. People can’t choose whether they get seasick or not. I was happy to help.’

  Fergus spoke gently from above his son. ‘Mal and Ma are still not feeling well. Perhaps you two boys are more like your mother’s side than mine.’

  ‘I’m not feeling sick,’ Pa said. ‘They don’t take after me.’

  Cara had forgotten he was there. He often did that, sat quietly on the edge of a group, seeming to enjoy listening to them more than speaking himself.

  Sean held the baby out to her, so she took Niamh back into her arms without commenting on how long he’d been holding his little sister. Even if they always resented their stepmother, Cara wanted the children to be close to one another.

  The passengers were locked down all day, and the evening meal was only sandwiches and apples, but the stewardess didn’t forget to bring the Deagans some hot water to make up Niamh’s bottle of baby food, thank goodness.

  Cara asked Sean to hold Niamh again for a minute or two while she made up the food, and to her relief he did, showing an interest in what the food was like, so she gave him a taste on the end of her finger.

  When she wasn’t looking, he ran one fingertip down the infant’s soft cheek.

  Afterwards, Pa volunteered to hold Niamh while Cara went to the heads. She stood in the doorway, looking round the cabin, when she returned. Mal was still lying limply on his bunk, with his father perched on the end, but in the lower bunk, Sean was fidgeting and sighing, well enough now to be bored.

  She took the baby back from Pa. ‘Let’s play some guessing games to pass the time.’

  Fergus swung down from Mal’s bunk and came to sit next to her. ‘Such as?’

  ‘I spy. Do you know it?’

  He shook his head. ‘I was always too busy to play games. Even as a child, I was working from the minute I understood enough to scare birds off the plants in the kitchen garden at the big house.’

  ‘I don’t know the game either,’ Pa said.

  Cara explained that you chose something in the room and said the first letter, then people had to guess what the object was. ‘I’ll go first. I spy with my little eye something beginning with B.’ She sounded out the letter rather than calling it ‘bee’, because some of them couldn’t read.

  She watched Sean mouthing the sound, relieved that he was joining in.

  ‘Baby?’ Fergus looked at his daughter.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Bucket?’ Pa offered.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Blanket?’ Sean looked astonished when she nodded.

  ‘Clever boy! Your turn now. Choose something and give us the sound of the first letter.’

  The game lasted about twenty minutes, by which time it was getting dark quickly. Mal and Ma had fallen asleep, and Sean was finding it hard to think of new words. Indeed, he didn’t seem very good with words and spelling, which had surprised her because he wasn’t a stupid boy.

  ‘We’d better stop playing now,’ she said.

  But within a few minutes, Sean was complaining. ‘It isn’t much fun, being shut up in the cabin.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Cara agreed. ‘Next time we’ll ask for a lamp and I’ll read to you, or you can read to us, if you like. Mrs Julia helped me choose some children’s books to entertain you on the journey, remember?’

  That brought a scowl to the boy’s face again. ‘I don’t like reading.’

  ‘That’s because you haven’t learned properly,’ Fergus said. ‘I thought we agreed that your mother would practise reading with you. Didn’t she do that?’

  ‘Yes, she did, but she didn’t know all the words, either. It’s no fun when you don’t understand half the words. The story doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Fergus looked angry.

  Cara smiled across at Sean. ‘If you don’t want me to help you, I’m sure your father will do it. It’s only a matter of practice.’

  ‘It’s a bit like catching a ball,’ Fergus put in. ‘Remember how you couldn’t catch anything at first, and gradually got better? Mal still isn’t very good at catching balls, but if we play with him, he’ll improve.’

  ‘All right.’ Sean snuggled down on the bottom bunk with an artificially loud sigh. His eyes flickered then closed, opened and closed again, as he lost the battle against sleep.

  Fergus continued to sit next to Cara and the baby, not chatting but staying near her, as if for companionship.

  It felt good.

  After a while, he touched her cheek gently with his fingertips and said in a voice so quiet only she could hear it, ‘It’s working well, isn’t it, our marriage? I hope you’re as pleased about that as I am.’

  She nodded, not daring to speak in case she sobbed. Even that slight compliment had overwhelmed her, it was so unusual for anyone to praise her. For so many months she’d felt humiliated and utterly alone.

  She’d worried in case she’d done something to cause that man to attack her, as her father said her attacker had claimed. Only she couldn’t think what she had done, or why he had gone on and on hurting her, when she sobbed and fought and begged him to stop.

  She hadn’t dared scream and draw attention to her undressed state, because he’d threatened that if she did, he’d claim she’d thrown herself at him. She’d wished afterwards that she had screamed. She hadn’t even known what the consequences might be.

  At least Fergus believed her. Was she being a fool about him? Was she hoping for too much from this marriage? She hoped not. Oh, she did hope not!

  By the time the storm was over, it was too late to manage enough rehearsals to get a decent concert together on the day originally planned, the two organisers decided. Fergus suggested Rémi ask Matron and the chief steward to postpone it. ‘They’ll take it better from you.’

  So Rémi explained the problem to the chief steward and Matron.

  ‘That would be fine, as long as you can put on the concert before we reach Port Said and enter the canal,’ she said, turning to the steward. ‘We never do concerts there, with other ships around. ’

  ‘You’ve coped well with the stormy weather, Mr Newland.’

  Rémi nodded. He had felt faintly queasy at times, but that was all. He’d felt sorry for some of the other passengers, though.

  When he went back to his cabin, he found that Barrett had been vilely ill, and hadn’t even got out of bed to use the bucket.

  He felt like shaking the fool and shouting at him, but it’d do no good. Instead, he said coldly, ‘Kindly use the bucket next time.’

  ‘The steward will clean it up.’

  ‘Even so, the cabin will smell bad for days.’

  ‘I can’t help being sick.’

  ‘You’d be better if you didn’t drink as heavily.’

  Barrett opened his mouth to reply, then started heavin
g again.

  Rémi thrust the bucket at him and made sure he didn’t make a worse mess of the cabin.

  When the steward arrived, looking harassed, Rémi waited for Barrett to apologise for the mess, but he didn’t. So Rémi said, ‘I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I’ll try to make sure he reaches the bucket in future.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll bring an extra bucket and fasten it near his bed.’ He gave the culprit a dirty look.

  Barrett lay groaning, then lifted his head. ‘I did try to reach the bucket.’

  Rémi supposed it was as near an apology as he’d get. ‘Ask for help if you need it. I’m fortunate in not getting seasick.’

  After they’d re-coaled at Malta, they sailed straight for Port Said. The weather had started improving as soon as they entered the Mediterranean and soon, everyone stopped being seasick. People began to sit on deck again and chat, or engage in the various activities.

  As everyone in the concert worked on the songs and recitations, Rémi was surprised at how good a music master Fergus was proving. He seemed to know instinctively the best way to improve on the delivery of a song or piano piece.

  ‘How do you do it?’ he asked one afternoon.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Find ways to improve things.’

  Fergus shrugged. ‘It seems obvious.’

  ‘You must have done this sort of thing before, though.’

  ‘Not really. I did sing with a small group when I could, but I didn’t have time to run proper concerts. I was too busy earning a living … and looking after Eileen. Have you ever been married?’

  It was Rémi’s turn to shrug. ‘No. I’ve never had the money.’ He heard his voice grow sharper as he explained a little more about his background.

  ‘Oh, excuse me. I need to have a word with that man about his singing,’ Fergus said.

  Rémi watched him go and talk to a man from steerage, then went back to staring at the water, an activity they all indulged in frequently. He was getting rather worried about Barrett, who still hadn’t emerged from their cabin.

  But when he turned, he saw Barrett standing at the edge of the deck, looking white and ill. He didn’t even try to go over to greet him, would far rather spend his time helping Fergus.

  Barret was a poor sort, and spiteful with it, from the way he talked about other people. He wished they weren’t sharing a cabin.

  13

  Cara went on deck with the others, carrying Niamh, who was waving her arms around and making cooing noises.

  She felt healthy now, and they were well on their way to Australia. She hoped she’d never have to go back to England again. Never, ever.

  As Fergus came across to join her, she looked across at the forward deck and gasped. She froze for a moment, then clutched Fergus’s arm tightly as a younger gentleman began to stroll about.

  As the man reached the dividing area, he paused and studied the groups of people travelling in steerage. His whole body said ‘arrogant’. Well, he was arrogant, horribly so. She knew that only too well. Hardly daring to breathe, she began to move backwards, but she wasn’t quick enough and he saw her.

  The whole world seemed to stand still as their eyes met. He stiffened and mouthed her maiden name, Cara Payton. She could guess what he was thinking, too.

  Fergus’s voice seemed to come from a great distance and to echo in her ears. ‘What’s wrong? Are you feeling ill? Cara?’

  She couldn’t speak. Jeffrey Barrett had stopped moving and was glaring at her. She felt sickness rise in her throat.

  Fergus grabbed the baby. ‘Ma, can you take Niamh for a moment? I think Cara’s feeling unwell.’

  Ma took her tiny granddaughter into her arms, looking at Cara in concern. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Cara couldn’t answer, couldn’t say anything. She was having difficulty even staying upright, she felt so faint with terror. She wanted to run to the cabin to hide, but Fergus’s touch somehow helped her stay where she was. And you couldn’t hide for the whole journey, could you?

  ‘Tell me what’s wrong, Cara,’ Fergus insisted. ‘Are you feeling ill?’

  But she still couldn’t tell him, just … couldn’t say a word, could only gaze in horror at him.

  Fergus looked in the same direction. ‘Who is that man? Tell me. I can’t help you unless you tell me.’

  She found the strength to mutter, ‘There’s nothing you can do to help. Nothing anyone can do now.’

  ‘We won’t know that unless you tell me what the problem is.’

  Somehow she found the strength to force the words out, because Fergus had been kind to her and had married her, so he deserved and needed to know. ‘That’s the nephew of the man who attacked me. His name is Jeffrey Barrett and he’s recognised me, of course he has.’

  She paused to gulp in more air. ‘He used to visit his uncle and aunt occasionally, and they all came to our house a few times. He … he tried to kiss me a few times, but I couldn’t bear him to touch me. I didn’t dare complain to my parents, though, because our two families have been friends for a long time. Especially my father and his uncle and …’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I don’t understand what he’s doing on this ship! He can’t be following me, surely? There’s no reason for him to do that. He wasn’t involved in the trouble. But from the way he’s looking at me, he knows about it.’

  ‘Whatever he’s doing here, whatever he thinks he knows, you must always remember that you have done nothing wrong and hold your head high.’ As Fergus spoke, he pulled his arm away from hers.

  For a dreadful moment she thought he was upset, didn’t want to touch her, but he put the arm round her shoulders instead, where it felt warm and strong.

  She looked sideways. ‘Oh, Fergus, he’ll tell people, I know he will. And they’ll believe him. No one believes me, except you and your family, and perhaps my aunt.’ She was close to tears, struggling to hold them back. ‘Will it never end?’

  ‘Yes, it will end, Cara. I’ll make sure it does. Remember, whatever happens, you’re not alone now, and we’ll never abandon you.’

  Those words helped her to stay there on the deck, but they didn’t lessen the sick fear roiling inside her.

  After a few moments, Jeffrey turned away, but she knew he’d come and confront her some time. He had always been cruel as a boy, enjoying tormenting those weaker than himself.

  He’d enjoy ruining her life, just as his uncle had.

  She turned to look at Fergus. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re my wife. And I think by now I know you well enough to believe in your innocence.’

  Jeffrey stopped dead at the top of the gangway. It couldn’t be, but it was! Her. Here on this ship. What the hell was she doing here?

  Not content with upsetting his uncle, who had apparently turned into a near recluse since his encounter with the bitch, she was now standing with a strange man’s arm round her, travelling on the same ship as decent people.

  He felt sick to the soul to be travelling with a whore. His uncle had said she was experienced in the ways of men, had tempted him beyond endurance. His aunt had wept for days.

  Cara’s own father had disowned her, so he mustn’t have believed her protests of innocence. Only Madeleine had stood up for her, but then a sister would. The two of them had always ganged up against Jeffrey when they were children.

  He was glad he hadn’t offered for Cara in marriage, as his father had suggested at one stage. Well, he hadn’t liked the impudent way she spoke to him, even daring to contradict him. He wasn’t going to spend his life with a nagging wife.

  He turned and bumped into a young officer. ‘Sorry.’ He gestured with his right hand. ‘Am I right in assuming those are the steerage class passengers?’

  ‘Yes, sir. They aren’t allowed to come on to this deck.’

  ‘I thought I recognised someone. The woman next to the red-haired lad.’

  The officer turned to look. ‘Mrs Deagan, do you mean?’

  Jeffrey
nearly spoke his thoughts aloud, but he had learned at university not to blurt things out when shocked, because sometimes you made a fool of yourself. ‘Mrs Deagan, did you say? No, the woman I know wasn’t called that, wasn’t even married. I must be mistaken. There is a resemblance, though.’

  But he knew he wasn’t mistaken. It was definitely her.

  He carried on with his stroll, already making plans to humiliate her. That’d teach her to mock him. But he’d find out more before he did anything.

  He smiled. He’d enjoy keeping her in suspense. She had turned his uncle into a wreck, told lies and caused serious trouble between his uncle and aunt. His mother had wept about how broken her poor brother seemed by the incident.

  All thanks to that woman. And there she was standing on some poor misguided fellow’s arm, brazen as you like, travelling on the same ship as decent folk.

  Oh, yes. He would do something. She was not going to get away scot free after what she’d done.

  Was she even married to the fellow she was with? Or was she just pretending to be married? And what the hell was she doing on this ship?

  She couldn’t be going to India like him, could she? No, fate couldn’t be that unkind to him. Where was she going, then? He’d find out. He’d find out everything before he pounced.

  Let her worry. She was already afraid. He’d seen the fear on her face when she recognised him.

  He turned and walked back, getting into conversation with another gentleman. But after a while he returned to his cabin. He felt ridiculously weak today, still hadn’t recovered from the seasickness.

  The steward came to answer the bell and brought him a pot of tea and a plain biscuit, which was the only thing he seemed able to keep down at the moment.

  ‘There seem to be a lot of passengers. Is the ship full?’

  ‘Yes, sir. It’s because of the sinking of the SS Rangoon off Point de Galle last year.’

  Jeffrey stared at him in puzzlement, not seeing the connection.

  ‘It took a while after the sinking for the news to get to England and then they had to rearrange sailings to keep up the schedule. The mails must go through on time, you see, or the company will lose the contract.’