So Long At the Fair (58 page)

Jane’s voice came, with a little laugh of relief, ‘Oh, Abbie, I don’t know why I said those things just now.’

As Abbie turned to face her again, Jane went on, ‘After all, it’s all in the past, isn’t it? I mean – you have Louis and – oh, but I so wanted to see you. So often I thought of writing to you, but I didn’t know how you felt about me and I was so afraid that you would reject my approaches. But now – well, fate has rather taken the matter out of our hands, bringing us together again like this.’ A little hesitation and she added, ‘Are we friends again, Abbie? I want it so. I want it more than anything.’

Abbie didn’t know what to say. From somewhere on her left she heard a man ask in a loud voice, ‘Where are we now?’ and then the voice of another in reply that they were approaching Galleon’s Reach. ‘In five or ten minutes you’ll see the Beckton Gas Works pier,’ the second one added. ‘And over on the northern side the Talbot powder magazine.’

Having registered the men’s words, Jane said, ‘It won’t be too long before we’re at Woolwich.’

Abbie dimly realized that the musicians had stopped playing, and glancing over to the bandstand she saw that their places had been taken by two clergymen who now began to sing a hymn, their baritone voices ringing out in the air of the fine night: ‘Onward Christian soldiers, marching as to war . . .’ The moon hung round and white in the clear sky. Against the noise of the boat and its passengers and the singing, Abbie seemed to hear again her mother’s voice, the words appearing to come in rhythm with the churning of the paddle wheels:
You’re more like me than you know
 . . .

The steamer’s lights had at some time been lit and, turning to Jane again, Abbie could see the warm glow of the red port lamp reflected in her cheek. Her mind was in turmoil. Carefully she said, choosing her words, ‘I want to tell you how thankful I am that we’ve met again. That day in the park in London – I was angry and hurt, and I said things I should not have said. Things that were . . . not true.’ Then, speaking from the heart, she went on, ‘I have no doubt at all that it’s you whom Arthur loves. It’s you – only you. And always has been. Perhaps at an earlier time he was fond of me, but it was not
love
. It was never love. And then you came along – and for you his feelings were real. They
are
real.’

At Abbie’s words there was a look of gratitude in Jane’s eyes and Abbie could not bear it, for she had granted no favours. What she had said was nothing but the simple truth. And Arthur too had been speaking the truth: even if he had at one time felt deep affection for Abbie, those feelings had been as nothing compared with the love that he had come to feel for Jane. Abbie might have chosen to believe otherwise, but she had based her reasoning on pretence and now, at long last, the time of pretending was over. She had to deal with what was real. ‘Jane – I caused you unhappiness,’ she said. ‘Can you forgive me?’

Jane reached out her hand and Abbie took it, clasped it.

They stood like that for some seconds, then came the sound of Arthur’s voice coming to them out of the general hubbub.

‘Well – I finally got it.’

Drawing apart, they turned and saw him standing nearby holding a tray with glasses of lemonade while he glanced uncertainly from one to the other.

‘Is everything all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ Jane smiled. ‘We’re fine.’

There was a look of relief on his face. As he handed Jane a glass, she turned to Abbie and said, ‘Will you have some lemonade, Abbie? Take Emma’s. We’ll get her some more when she comes back.’

‘No, really, thank you.’ Abbie said. She felt suddenly preoccupied; she needed time to think. ‘I must go and find Louis. Will you excuse me . . .?’

‘Yes, go and find him,’ Jane said. ‘Bring him back. We’d love to meet him.’

Abbie started away. Over on the bandstand the two clergymen still stood, leading the singing. She could see no sign of Alfred and Iris. Perhaps they had gone down to the saloon for refreshment. In any case they were not her immediate concern. Turning, she looked back to where Jane and Arthur stood side by side at the rail. Seeing them there together, so happy, she wondered again how, even for a moment, she could have contemplated destroying their happiness. What object would it have served? None at all. And it would also have destroyed any chance she might have had of future peace of mind, for she would never have been able to forgive herself or live with her guilt.

She remained there, watching the happy couple, her view of them intermittently cut off by the people who moved back and forth before her. Arthur had said that people should be careful of what they hankered after, for they might get what they wished for. ‘What would you do,’ he had asked, ‘if I came to you and said “I’m yours, Abbie – I love only you”? What would you do?’

Yes – what would she have done? If he had indeed come to her and said ‘I am yours’ – what would she have done? After all, it was what she had said she wanted. But she now knew that it was not. The knowledge came to her in a rush, like a blast of cold air – and as one fragment of understanding was formed so it led to the forming of another. She heard Arthur saying:
I don’t think you ever did – truly love me
. And she knew, without question, that it was so. Of
course
. That was why she had rejected his offer of marriage – using her mother’s return as an excuse to do so. But it had been a lie. The true reason was not her mother’s return; it had been due to the fact that she did not love him.

Her mind was whirling, almost unable to keep up with the thoughts that crowded in. Now so much was making sense. Now she could see why she had pursued Arthur so obsessively. She had known all along that he loved only Jane, had known that he would never leave Jane for her – and yet she had continued to pursue him, while all the time aware in her heart that it was a lost cause. But why should she have done such a thing? Then the added realization came: it was precisely
because
she had felt safe in her pursuit of Arthur – for in her heart she had known that he would never be hers.

But why should she only dare to offer affection where it could not be returned?

Was she afraid of love?

And then all at once Louis was in her mind again. Louis – it had to do with him. But what? No matter how she wrestled with the question, it was as if there were some barrier in her brain, some part of her subconscious that refused to allow any profound delving. Yet it was there. A thought suddenly came to her: her pursuance of Arthur – it had prevented her from committing herself to her marriage – stopped her from giving to Louis the love that he had so much wanted, so much needed. The love that had been rightfully his.

Louis . . . She had to find him.

She looked around, saw a companionway leading down to the lower deck and started towards it. As she did so she heard the sound of a man’s voice, yelling out in the evening air, above the noise of the throng:

‘
Hi! Hi! Where are you going to?
’ And then again ‘
Hi, there! Where are you going to?
’

She came to a halt, glanced towards the sound and saw that it had come from the captain as he stood on the bridge, his voice amplified by the loud hailer he was holding. Along with all the other passengers who had heard, she looked over to see the object of his warning and in the dusk saw, about two hundred yards away off the starboard side, the dark shape of a tall screw steamer coming towards them.

The sight caused no fear in her; nor did it appear to among the other passengers; they were in good hands; no harm could come to them. Was not the London Steamship Company’s safety record one of the finest? Did not the company’s steamers sail the Thames day in and day out without mishap? And, as Alfred had so proudly said, the
Princess Alice
was the pride of the fleet. Built of iron, measuring two hundred and nineteen feet in length, and weighing a hundred and sixty tons, she was far too sturdy to be at risk. Turning from the sight, Abbie continued on her way. Louis, she must find him.

Like Abbie, after an initial glance in the direction of the steamer, most of the passengers began to resume their business, carrying on their conversations and their round-the-deck strolls, while the children got back to their games. At the same time the two clergymen who had been leading the hymn singing began the interrupted verse over again. But then, above all the other sounds came the captain’s cry once again, and this time louder, and touched with a dark, contagious fear:

At the captain’s cry, Abbie again came to a stop. Then after a moment’s hesitation she changed direction and moved back across the deck to where Jane and Arthur stood at the rail. When she reached them, Jane held out a hand to her. Abbie took it and the three of them moved a little closer to the bridge. As they did so, Abbie was aware that other passengers were doing the same.

Standing close to the starboard paddle box Abbie, along with Jane and Arthur, watched as the steam-screw collier drew closer. And as they did so she became aware that the carefree chatter, the singing and the games had ceased. A muttering passed through the crowd, the sound interjected with brief spates of nervous laughter and would-be witty comments from some of the young men who would brave out the threatened danger – for surely, even now, there could be no real peril.

But still the boat came on. And now, from many of the passengers there began to rise up little gasps and cries of fear. Abbie heard Jane give a murmured cry, while from a man on her left came the fearful, muttered words: ‘God Almighty, it’s comin’ right into us.’ Eyes wide with growing horror, Abbie stood transfixed, watching the vessel’s inexorable approach.

Moving swiftly with the tide, the cargo boat came on. A hundred and fifty yards . . . a hundred and forty . . . Towering high above the low decks of the paddle steamer she came closer still – and now on her bows could be read her name:
Bywell Castle
.

The point of her prow was heading directly for the side of the slow-moving
Princess Alice
. Sixty yards . . . fifty . . . Cries of fear and shouts of warning to the oncoming collier rose up from the throats of the steamboat passengers – hundreds of voices raised, shouting out for the approaching boat to beware – while at the same time there came warning cries from the high decks of the collier herself.

Forty yards . . . thirty-five . . .

As the
Bywell Castle
drew nearer, those on the pleasure boat shrank back, trying to move away from the threatening danger. But there could be no escape. It was too late. Although by this time the engines of the
Bywell Castle
had been switched to full astern there was neither time nor space for the vessel to stop. Carried on by her momentum on the swift-flowing tide and her own vast weight, she ploughed on.

Seeing that a collision was now inevitable, the panic-stricken passengers of the
Princess Alice
began to run. Turning, crying out, they dashed away, heading for the forward and after sections, while at the same time some of those on the upper decks headed for the lower. In just seconds the companionways were choked with desperate, terrified people.

‘Emma!’ cried Jane. ‘Where is Emma!’ In the next moment Arthur was snatching at her hand and, along with other passengers, was making a scrambling dash towards the stern. As they ran, however, a man came from behind and burst between them, breaking the link of their clutching hands. Others followed immediately, swiftly driving wider the wedge of their separation. Seconds behind them, Abbie too reached the rail overlooking the after part of the lower deck. Jane, she found, was close by, though she saw that Arthur had become separated from them, and with the crowd between growing denser by the second, had no opportunity to rejoin them.

Turning back to look at the approaching danger, Abbie watched as the shrieking, yelling passengers continued to run in terror before the oncoming vessel, many of them falling over each other in their panic. And the coal steamer ploughed on.

Twenty yards . . . fifteen . . . ten . . . five . . .

The
Bywell Castle
struck the
Alice
amidships, her sharp cutwater smashing through the starboard paddle box and into the hull itself, the blow so violent that the pleasure steamer was pushed some distance before the
Castle
’s prow. Then the collier, still moving forward, struck her again.

Chapter Thirty-Six

The shock of the initial impact was so violent that many on board were thrown headlong to the deck. And even as they climbed to their feet, momentarily winded and stunned, there came the second shock as the
Alice
was struck once more.

At first there was hope in every heart that the pleasure steamer would withstand the impact and, although terribly maimed, would nevertheless stay afloat – at least long enough for the lifeboats to be manned and for help to come from other river craft. Such hopes were soon dashed, however. In spite of her iron hull, the
Alice
was as matchwood against the power and weight of the
Bywell Castle
and amid the deafening sounds of the smashing of glass, the tearing of iron and timber and the shrieking of her eight hundred passengers, the stricken vessel broke in two.

Standing at the rail, Abbie could see that the screw’s head had smashed right through the paddle box and between the funnels, and seeing the extent of the damage she knew there was no chance that the pleasure boat could remain afloat. Turning, she saw that several men had run aft to lower one of the two lifeboats. She watched as they got the boat down, but as they lowered it to the water a crowd of people surged forward and began to scramble into it. To her horror she saw the lifeboat turn over, throwing its passengers into the dark waters of the river.

Pressing as far back from the broken centre of the steamboat as they could possibly get, people watched as the shattered ends of the doomed craft sank deeper into the water. The after part was the first to succumb, and as its broken centre section sank beneath the dark, flowing water, so its stern was lifted up. Feeling the decks rising up beneath their feet the terrified people let out great cries of fear. Abbie screamed out to Jane, ‘Hold on!’ As the stern and the prow rose higher there was a general scramble to gain handholds. There was not enough space at the rails, however, and those who had nothing to hold on to began to slip on the sloping deck and slide down its incline. Some of them came up against the funnels, and tried to cling on there. Others slid down into the water and the certain death that awaited them in the tangle of iron and timber at the broken centre part of the vessel.