Survivor (11 page)

When Stella came back late that same
afternoon on the ship’s tender, her face was scarlet with sunburn. While she
changed for dinner, she talked constantly and animatedly about the day. She had
spent it in the company of three couples who Mariette thought were the dullest
people on board. From what Stella said, they had been affronted by the squalor in
the port, the number of drunken sailors and the young native girls who appeared to
be selling themselves.

‘I’ve never seen anything
like it,’ Stella kept repeating. ‘Men kept pressing us to buy things,
they said such cheeky things to me, and I’d have been really scared if
I’d been there alone.’

Mariette felt a pang of jealousy that
she hadn’t seen it. The ship had been moored so far out of the port that
she’d been unable to see any detail, only getting a tantalizing sense that it
was a colourful and boisterous place. But then, if she’d been able to go, she
would never have met Morgan.

Stella didn’t shut up for about an
hour, and it was only when she ran out of steam that she remembered to ask how her
friend was.

‘Oh, my goodness,’ she
squealed. ‘Whatever must you think of me going on about the port, when you
were so ill.’

‘I’m better now,’
Mariette snapped. She thought Stella could be such a drip sometimes. ‘The
doctor says I probably had a reaction to something I ate.’

‘Mrs Jago said that
yesterday,’ Stella agreed. ‘Her sister gets ill if she eats anything
with almonds in it.’

Mariette bit back
a sharp retort. Stella couldn’t help but be influenced by people like Mrs
Jago, who thought they knew everything. But Stella would be hurt if she said as
much.

‘I expect it was that spicy dish I
had for lunch,’ Mariette said. ‘Heaven only knows what was in it! It
tasted a bit strange and, within an hour, I was feeling bad.’

‘I bought you something
today,’ Stella said, pulling a colourful scarf out of her bag. ‘I
expected you to still be in the sickbay, and I thought it might cheer you
up.’

The scarf was all different shades of
blue, and very lovely. As annoying as Stella could be, she was a generous soul.
Mariette gave the older girl a hug and said it would always remind her of this
voyage, of how she missed seeing Curaçao, and of her dear friend.

‘I didn’t think we’d
get on at the start,’ Stella said, glowing not only from her sunburn but also
from the compliment. ‘I thought you were a bit hard, but you aren’t
really. You’re just as soft as me.’

Later that evening, after dinner,
Mariette went out on to the deck and made her way round to where she’d sat
with Morgan earlier in the day, hoping to see him again. The ship was due to leave
the port early the next morning. One of the stewards in the saloon had told her many
of the crew were still ashore, but she didn’t think Morgan had gone.

It was a beautiful, very warm night, and
an almost full moon was casting a silvery path on the dark sea. She could hear
someone playing ‘Puttin’ on the Ritz’ on the piano in the saloon,
but from the port wafted the sound of less genteel music, brass instruments playing
something wild that made her want to dance.

She knew that in a few days they’d
be sailing into much colder, stormy weather. But here, where the warmth was like
a gentle caress on her bare arms, it was
hard to imagine that she’d soon need to open up her trunk to find woollens,
the coat Mog had made for her and thick stockings.

‘Looking for me?’
Morgan’s voice made her turn from the ship’s rail she’d been
leaning against.

‘I ought to say no, that I was
just passing by,’ she laughed. ‘But you’d know that wasn’t
true.’

‘To tell the truth, I’ve
been up and down these steps a dozen times this evening, hoping you’d
show,’ he said with a wide smile. ‘In a few days’ time, it will be
far too cold to linger out here. It will be hard to see you then.’

They chatted for a little while. Morgan
said the sickbay was still empty, but he and the two nurses who worked there had
been preparing for what they knew would be a busy time in a day or two. Mariette
told him about Stella coming back with a sunburned face, and how she’d been
shocked by the dirty, noisy port.

‘She wouldn’t like Cairo
then,’ he chuckled. ‘I was on a ship that called there a couple of years
ago. That would make Curaçao look and smell like paradise. Not a place for the
squeamish, but I loved it.’

‘What kind of music are they
playing in the port?’ Mariette asked. ‘I like it, it’s very wild
and makes you want to dance.’

‘Jazz. Haven’t you heard it
before?’

‘No. In Russell we get a piano and
a fiddle player at a dance, and occasionally someone visiting has a guitar or an
accordion. People do have gramophones, of course, but mostly the records they have
are classical or opera. On the wireless we hear popular music, but I’ve never
heard anything like that.’

‘Jazz is basically Negro
music,’ he explained. ‘I love it, and I’m told there are great
nightclubs in Harlem, in New York, where the best musicians play. There are some
places in
London too where you can hear
it, but swing music is much more popular – big bands with lots of brass, and singers
too. It’s got its roots in jazz, and it’s easier to dance to. But you
must have heard that.’

Mariette nodded. ‘Yes, I think I
have, on the wireless. But this is very different.’

‘The musicians improvise, they
kind of make it up as they go along. It’s different here from what you’d
hear in America or England because it’s got South American and West Indian
influences.’

‘It sounds as if you really like
music. Can you play anything?’

‘The piano,’ he said.
‘But I’m not very good. When we were living in the East End of London,
the lady downstairs to us had a piano and she taught me. Maybe one day, when
I’ve settled down somewhere permanent, I’ll get a piano and take it up
again.’

‘Where would you settle
down?’ she asked.

He laughed. ‘How can I answer
that, Mariette? Anything can happen. I go in and out of ports all the time; some I
love, others I can’t leave quickly enough. Where you come from sounds perfect,
but I probably couldn’t make a living there. Anyway, if we do go to war,
I’ll have to join up. And who knows where that might take me? I might not even
survive it.’

‘Don’t say that!’ she
said reproachfully. ‘Do you think there really will be a war?’

‘I don’t think there’s
any doubt about it. The officers are all convinced of it; some of them served in the
last war, and they can read all the signs.’

‘But my Uncle Noah was a war
correspondent in the last war, and he said it will all blow over.’

Morgan looked at her with a grave
expression. ‘Then I
think he must
be burying his head in the sand. Because those that know say it isn’t a case
of if war might come, but when.’

‘Oh dear,’ Mariette
exclaimed. ‘No one back home really thought it was going to come to
that.’

‘Don’t look so glum,’
he said, and lifted her chin up with one finger so he could look right into her
eyes. ‘Do what I do. Think of the adventure. War can create opportunities and,
like I said, anything can happen.’

She felt that familiar dizzy, bubbly
feeling as she looked into his dark eyes.

‘You are pretty enough to make any
man lose his head, Mariette,’ he said with a smile. ‘Do you think one
kiss would seal my fate for ever?’

She licked her lips nervously, not
knowing whether to move closer, or if he was just teasing her. ‘I don’t
know,’ she whispered.

‘Let’s find out then,’
he said. Moving his finger from her chin, he cupped her face in both his hands and
his lips came down on hers.

His words, ‘Anything can
happen,’ ran through her head as his tongue flicked into her mouth, and she
felt shivers run down her spine. She put her arms around him and lost herself in the
sensual delight of his kiss.

It went on and on, as their breathing
became heavy and Morgan’s hands slid down on to her bottom, drawing her even
closer to him. She could feel his erection through his clothes. Although a small
voice at the back of her head reminded her that she knew where this could lead, she
couldn’t draw back.

‘I’d like to take you down
to the sickbay, but someone might catch us,’ he murmured in her ear between
passionate kisses.

‘I daren’t go that far. I
might have a baby,’ she whispered back.

He drew back
from her slightly, looking affronted. ‘I wouldn’t let that happen,
I’ve got some johnnies,’ he said, with a touch of indignation.

Mariette had to assume a johnny was the
same as a sheath, something her mother had mentioned just before she left for
Auckland. ‘It’s too soon,’ she said, trying to sound like she
really meant it. ‘I mean, I hardly know you.’

Morgan sat down on a seat and pulled her
on to his lap. ‘Then we’ll have to find moments on the way back to
England to get to know each other better,’ he said, kissing her neck and
making all the hairs on her body leap up. ‘I really like you, Mariette. I
could be tempted to jump ship in England to be near you.’

‘You can’t do that,’
she said. ‘Besides, I doubt my uncle will let me out of his sight. I
wouldn’t mind betting my parents told him to keep a close eye on
me.’

‘There are always ways and
means.’ Morgan smiled at her. ‘You toe the line for a while to win his
trust, and then later …’ He broke off, leaving her to imagine how she
could escape. ‘But I can’t really jump ship at the end of this trip. In
any case, you need to find out if you like me enough to take the risk with
me.’

Mariette was already convinced
she’d risk anything to be with him, but she was glad he wasn’t holding a
gun to her head just so he could have his way with her.

They had just begun kissing again, when
a voice yelled for him from down in the sickbay.

‘I have to go,’ he said,
looking very disappointed. ‘Try to meet me here at midday tomorrow.’

Mariette went back to the cabin floating
on air. Stella was already in her bunk, with thick white cream smeared all over her
face.

‘Mrs Jago gave it to me,’
she said. ‘She reckons it’s so good
the sunburn will have gone by the morning. Where have
you been? I looked everywhere for you.’

‘Just up on deck looking at the
sea.’ Mariette wanted to confide in her friend about Morgan, but she was
afraid Stella would tell someone else and it would get around the ship. ‘I was
thinking we ought to sort out our warmer clothes tomorrow, after we leave
Curaçao,’ she said, intending to put her off the scent. ‘We
shouldn’t wait until it’s really cold because, by then, you may be
seasick again.’

Within two days, the sea became choppy
and the clouds gathered. At first all that was needed was a cardigan when on deck,
but soon people began wearing coats, and deck games were forgotten.

Mariette wanted to be excited about
reaching England. But all she could think of was that when the voyage ended, she
wouldn’t see Morgan any more. They had just two hours sitting in the sunshine
by the stairs leading to the sickbay, the day after they left Curaçao, but he warned
her it would probably be the last time he’d get more than a few minutes to see
her.

As he had predicted, the minute the
weather turned bad the sickbay suddenly became very busy. Not just seasickness but
falls on wet decks, on companionways, and even passengers falling out of bunks.
While it meant they could meet up on deck without much fear of being spotted by
anyone, it was too cold and wet to stay up there for long.

The moments they did share, though, were
very sweet. Morgan was everything Sam had never been; he would slide his hands
inside her coat and hug and kiss her, but he was never crude and always thought of
her comfort and reputation rather than trying to get her into some dark corner for
his own ends. He liked to talk and laugh with her too, and he often said he wished
they could go into the saloon to have a
drink and just be comfortable together. But though the
ship’s officers were allowed, and even encouraged, to mix with the passengers,
the crew were not.

Each time they met up, passion flared
between them. Mariette found it hard to eat or sleep for thinking about him. At
night, she lay in her bunk imagining how it would be if he did jump ship in England.
But she knew it was only a fantasy as he said he had to do at least one more return
trip to New Zealand, and that would mean over three months before she had any chance
of seeing him again.

Besides, he wasn’t saying the kind
of things she wanted to hear – that he’d write, that he wouldn’t be able
to wait to see her again. With Sam still looming in her mind, she was afraid she was
merely a diversion for him on a long voyage, and he’d find another girl on the
next trip.

As Mariette had expected, Stella became
seasick again as the weather worsened. But this time it was far more serious: her
face was as green as pea soup, and she vomited constantly. It fell to Mariette to
take care of her as the stewards were all rushed off their feet. The dining room at
mealtimes was almost empty because so many passengers were sick.

‘You must have salt water in your
veins,’ Morgan joked because she wasn’t affected at all, however rough
the sea was. ‘Even some of the crew are sick now.’

‘I think it’s because
I’ve been out in boats since I could barely walk,’ she said. ‘But
I’m getting so tired looking after Stella, I’m up and down most of the
night, changing her bed, sponging her down. And the smell in the cabin is
horrible.’

‘The sickbay stinks too,’
Morgan said. ‘If you weren’t ill when you went in there, you soon would
be.’

The following day, Stella was barely
conscious and Mariette became so frightened for her that she asked the steward to
get Dr Haslem. When he came into the
cabin, he was alarmed at how dehydrated Stella had become and decided she must be
moved to the sickbay immediately so that she could be put on a drip.