A Million Tears (23 page)

‘Just thank you is fine, if you must say something,’ said Meg with a smile, ‘and please forget it. I didn’t really do that much. In fact if it hadn’t been for your crew . . .’

‘Oh, I know. The first mate told me. It still doesn’t detract one iota from what you did. You saw me fall, I understand? And came directly out for me? Which means as close as we can tell you were out there over ten minutes holding on to me. That was quite something.’ He emptied his pot in one long draught. ‘Ahh, that’s better. That was for my thirst, the next is for me to enjoy. Drink up, there’s plenty more where that came from.’

‘How do you know how long it was?’ asked Meg. ‘It didn’t seem that long to me.’

‘Well, we know what time I left the bridge and went forward. I was there only a few minutes. The lookout in the bows used the voice pipe to tell the aft lookout that I was on the prowl. The officer of the watch had something to tell me and when I didn’t return to my cabin he tried to find out where I was. He quickly established I had been forward but not aft and started a search. Luckily for us it was the second mate on watch who knew what to do. Someone junior might have been too nervous.’

Much to John Buchanan’s surprise he enjoyed himself. When he had first learned where they were from he had expected a painful half hour trying to say thank you. Meg he found to be intelligent and well educated, Evan as intelligent and down to earth, and Uncle James very witty.

For their part they too were pleasantly surprised. Captain John Buchanan was an expert raconteur with a fund of personal experiences to relate and the one or two indelicate stories Meg chose not to understand, which fooled nobody.

Since he was enjoying the occasion, Buchanan had food sent in and when the planned emergency – to let him escape his guests if they proved as dull as he had feared – requiring his presence on the bridge came he told the mate to take care of it.

Meg asked if the children could be shown the bridge and Buchanan arranged for a midshipman to show them the whole ship, including the engine room and the steering compartment.

Sensing that the adults too would like to see around he said: ‘Could you come up to the bridge at ten hundred tomorrow and if I’m not able to show you the ship then one of my other officers will?’ They accepted with delight.

Just before they left Buchanan said unexpectedly, ‘Can I ask a favour?’

They nodded.

‘Please, I beg you not to take offence.’ He hoped he was not about to hurt their feelings. ‘In the first class dining room where I have to make an appearance, though by God if there’s any excuse possible I try to stay away, we have to wear a black tie for dinner. Now, I know you proud Welshmen . . . but . . . well . . . I’d be honoured if you’d have dinner with me tonight.’ They looked at him in surprise. ‘The trouble is, even though I’m the captain, I can’t change that rule. Of course, we could eat early, like those who don’t wish to change for dinner do, but that would defeat the object of my invitation. Now, please bear with me – I know I’m making a mess of this and for God’s sake don’t storm out. . . But if I borrow suitable clothes for you to wear will you consider it?’ He waited, unsure what their reaction would be. There was silence for a few moments. ‘I’m sorry, I guess that was impertinent of me. I’d hoped I could’ve done something practical by way of saying thank you. I listened to your plans with interest and there’s a man on board I would have liked you to meet. An American. I thought he could have done you some good.’

The three of them had seen the finery worn by the passengers in the first class dining room and it overawed them.

‘I’m not offended,’ Evan said, ‘and furthermore I’d be delighted. So would the others, wouldn’t you?’ His smile froze when he saw Meg’s face. ‘What’s wrong Meg?’

She shook her head. ‘You two go,’ then she shrugged her shoulders. ‘Captain Buchanan, I’m not ashamed to say I’ve nothing suitable to wear. And if you borrowed a dress for me from one of the lady passengers I guarantee the whole saloon will know before I’ve eaten the first course.’

John Buchanan laughed. ‘I couldn’t agree with you more. If I promise you on all that I hold sacred, like my wallet and my ship that it won’t happen, will you agree to come?’

Meg hesitated, about to say no, but then she changed her mind. ‘If you can guarantee nobody will talk about me, then I’ll come.’

‘My dear Meg the whole blasted ship’s talking about you. And by the end of the evening it’ll be talking more. Evan, could you refill the glasses, please? I won’t be a moment.’ Buchanan went into his sleeping quarters.

‘What do you think?’ asked Evan. ‘This could be the sort of opportunity . . .’ he trailed off. ‘On the other hand it may all be for nothing.’

‘Let’s do it,’ said Meg. ‘Just think of it. Eating with the captain. And writing home to tell everyone . . . Why, they’ll never believe it.’

‘That’s not like you, Meg,’ said Uncle James.

‘I know, but then I’ve never eaten with posh people before either. It’ll be something to tell our grandchildren.’

The captain returned, carrying a large box. ‘Evan, with your permission I’d like to give this wee gift to Meg in . . . eh . . . appreciation for saving my life. Furthermore, provided Evan agrees, there’s no returning it. It isn’t a loan. All right, Evan?’

Evan nodded, as intrigued as the other two. With a slight bow Buchanan placed the box on Meg’s knees.

She undid the large bow and lifted the lid, pushed the tissue paper aside and gasped. She saw the dress, held it by the top of the bodice and stood up, the box falling to the deck and the dress extending to its full length.

The dress was pale green, low cut, tight at the waist and trimmed at the neck with a deep green velvet ribbon which matched the sash at the waist. It was full from the waist down, sweeping to the ground.

‘I . . . I don’t know what to say,’ she stammered, looking at Evan, worried how he would react. His face showed no emotion. Meg was sure he disliked the thought of a virtual stranger giving her such a gift.

‘You’ll look beautiful, my dear,’ said Uncle James. ‘Won’t she, Evan?’

Evan suddenly smiled. ‘The prettiest there.’

‘Something else Meg, but this is only a loan,’ said Buchanan. ‘It belonged to my Grandmother. She left it to me to give to the woman I would someday marry.’ He held up a pearl droplet on the end of a fine gold chain.

‘Tch, tch of course you can. There’s no point in going half dressed, and you will be without some suitable jewellery. By the way, don’t think I always have a dress available to give to the first woman who saves my life. It was a gift for a woman in New York but it doesn’t matter. She can wait until the next voyage.’

‘Are you really going to eat with the captain?’ Sion asked, watching Uncle James pull on a pair of black trousers. The boys had spent all afternoon being shown around the ship and had returned in time to go for supper, alone. After the meal when they returned to the cabin they had found Uncle James putting on a funny black suit, one they had not seen before.

There was a knock on the door.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ said the steward, ‘Captain’s compliments but I’ve come to help you dress.’ He took the bow tie Uncle James was fumbling with and deftly knotted it.

‘Thank you,’ said Uncle James with dignity, ‘and thank the captain for me as well . . . Sion, where do you think you’re going?’

‘I was just going to see Mam and Da, that’s all,’ the little boy frowned.

‘I’ve told you to wait here. They’ll be along in a minute, look you.’ He turned to the steward. ‘I’ll manage now. Could you go and help Mr Griffiths, please?’

‘He didn’t need me sir. Mrs Griffiths looked after him. If that will be all, sir?’ he left with a wink at the boys.

Uncle James was admiring himself in the mirror when the door opened and Meg and Evan stepped in.

The boys looked at them with their mouths open. Meg was beautiful, the dress complementing her black hair and full figure as though it had been made for her. Evan was very dashing in his dinner jacket, borrowed from the first mate.

‘Gosh, Mam,’ said Sion, jumping up from the bunk and hugging her. ‘You look . . . you look . . . gosh . . . Mam . . .’

They laughed. ‘I know exactly what you mean son,’ said Evan, ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself. Although perhaps beautiful would have been a suitable word.’

‘You won’t,’ replied Meg with an assurance she did not feel. It wasn’t that she thought Uncle James would disgrace them any more than she or Evan; no, certainly not.

They met the captain in his cabin and after he had complimented them on their appearance, he poured whiskies for the men, a sherry for Meg.

John Buchanan was a master at putting people at their ease. In his lavish quarters he soon had them laughing and joking, banishing their nervousness for the moment. He drained his glass: ‘Shall we go? It’s time to eat.’ Nervously the three of them nodded.

The captain led the way into the saloon. It was brilliantly lit with a low slung chandelier, more appropriate in a ball room than on a ship. Inside the talk was muted, the chink of cutlery and glasses a pleasant sound against the background throb of the ship. The sea was calm and the ship’s movement barely perceptible. The saloon was richly carpeted and the scattered round tables were covered by starched white cloths. Everyone wore evening dress and every diner cast more than one glance in their direction. The passengers realised who they were but none had expected to see such an attractive couple as Meg and Evan.

‘Meg,’ said John Buchanan as they arrived at his table, ‘this is Senator George Hughes, a Welshman from way back.’

The Senator shook Meg’s hand. ‘Pleased to meet you ma’am. I’ve been visiting the old country for a couple of weeks. My grandpa was born near Cardiff there somewheres, though I never did rightly place where exactly.’

Meg tried not to recoil at the touch of his soft, sweaty hand, and instead smiled sweetly at the short, fat man. He was in his sixties and nearly bald; he had developed a habit of rubbing his hand across his head, as though to assure himself his hair was really gone or maybe, by some miracle, had returned.

There were smiles and handshakes all round. The Senator’s wife, Mabel, was as fat as her husband, tall, with half her bosom showing. She wore a ring on the four fingers of each hand and a diamond pendant nestled between her breasts like a winking eye in a sea of flesh. For all her gaudiness she was a warm-hearted, friendly person who, throughout the dinner, did her best to put Meg at her ease.

Among the other passengers was Miss Gloria Johnson, twenty, pretty in a brittle sort of way with sharp features and a mouth showing only scorn or distaste. Her elegant clothes made her appear more attractive than she really was. Her father was Eric Johnson, a hard faced, distinguished looking and shrewd man. He was a successful banker whose wife had committed suicide when Gloria was twelve.

Another guest, sitting between Gloria and the Senator was Mrs Annette Brandon. She was thirty eight but let it slip she was thirty two, divorced from a multi-millionaire twenty years older, who had settled a generous alimony on her.

Captain Buchanan smiled inwardly as he eyed his guests, knowing what to expect. He wondered how Meg and Evan would make out. Uncle James did not count under the circumstances. No, if they did well then there was a possibility Eric Johnson might be of some help to Evan. Evan might have only been a miner, thought Buchanan, but if I’m any judge of character he’s clever and with Meg beside him, he’ll go far. And a nudge from me won’t hurt, he told himself. I like them and I’ll enjoy trying to help; Goddam it, they are the sort of people I’d like to call friends. He kept his face bland, not showing his feelings. He signalled for the steward to commence serving the soup and sighed.

‘That’s a very pretty dress,’ said Gloria to Meg. ‘I’m sorry my dear, I forget your name.’ Her tone was condescending.

‘It’s Meg . . . so sorry but what’s yours again?’

‘Gloria,’ she smiled sweetly. ‘Surely it isn’t possible to buy a creation like that in Cardiff, never mind the backwater you come from – is it? I always get mine from Paris,’ she added haughtily, ignoring her father who was glaring across the table at her.

Meg was flustered for a moment, but then understood what the evening was going to be about. Suddenly she was enjoying herself. She no longer felt she was an outsider from a lower level, but an outsider to give as good as she got and damn the consequences. She hoped she would never see these people again, so she prepared herself for a battle of words. Meg smiled dazzlingly. ‘Actually, it’s the creation of a London couturier, Lord’s to be precise.’ The label had told her that much.

John Buchanan bent his head to hide a smile while Evan was trying hard to keep a straight face.

‘I wouldn’t have thought it possible, would you, Annette?’ Gloria turned to her left. ‘Only Paris surely could have made such a divine dress.’

Before Annette Brandon could answer Mabel Hughes broke in, angered that this chit of a girl could be so rude as almost to call Meg a liar. ‘Oh, but it’s more than possible. England still produces some of the finest clothes in the world. Obviously your dress isn’t from Paris my dear. No self respecting fashion house would have produced it.’ She turned to Annette Brandon. ‘What were you doing in Wales?’

‘Oh, one doesn’t do anything in such a country,’ Annette replied sweetly, ‘one just passes through. In my case I’d heard so much about this divine ship I travelled down from London to catch it.’

While the women bickered the men tried to ignore them and talk together. Senator Johnson, sitting on Evan’s left, turned to Evan and said: ‘Are you emigrating to America, Mr Griffiths or visiting?’