The White Empress (16 page)

‘Anne, have you got any aspirins, my head is thumping?’

Anne grinned. ‘We’ll go and see Mavis in the shop and get you a supply, you’ll need them – at first!’

There had been no carnival send-off. No bands. No crowds. No coloured paper streamers. In fact she hadn’t realised they were
even moving until the ship was in the Channel where the rough sea buffeted her and the deck sloped under Cat’s feet and she
slid with a bump against the wall of the companionway. The tray in her hands crashed to the deck. She picked up the broken
crockery and mopped up the mess with a tea towel, gritted her teeth and headed back to the galley. All the romantic dreams
she had thrived on turned to dust on that first trip.

As Miss Sabell had predicted she was seasick, unable to keep even water down, wishing only to be left alone to die. Anne had
bodily dragged her to her feet and forced her to get dressed.

‘There’s no one to cover for you, luv, no matter how bad you feel, you’ve got to carry on!’

‘Oh, just leave me alone! Let me die!’

‘Get that out of your head now! No one ever died
from sea-sickness! Now get out and get on with it!’

She never knew how she got through those three days. It was a living nightmare. There was no let up in the weather and the
ship rolled and pitched, the motion made worse by the ceaseless noise of the great turbines that drove the screws in the engine
room below. All her passengers were seasick and despite her own nausea she had to look after them as best she could. Cleaning
up vomit as she forced down the bile in her own throat. Changing linen as her stomach heaved. Bringing them food and drinks
which were often late arriving as she had to stop so often. All this while still parading for inspection and carrying out
her normal duties. When she fell into her bunk at night she wished that she had never, ever set eyes on the White Empress.

On the day she began to recover, at Anne’s suggestion, she put on her bridge coat and went up on deck.

‘You should have gone up top days ago, it helps! It’s something to do with the balance!’

So she stood huddled on the promenade deck while the wind threatened to tear away her beret. She stared at the sea, cold,
grey and merciless. It seemed to take a delight in tossing the ship up and down, as if in the palm of its hand. As if saying
‘No matter how big or how grand you think you are, I am bigger, stronger, mightier!’

‘It has many moods, Miss Cleary. You’ll learn that. You’ll also learn that it is dangerous, cruel and forever hungry. You
will learn to respect it and those who say they don’t fear it are either fools or liars – or both.’

Miss Sabell was standing beside her.

‘How are you feeling now?’

‘A lot better. Oh, how I’ve wished I were dead!’

Miss Sabell laughed. ‘Everyone does! David told me you were a girl of spirit?’

Cat wondered what else David had said about her.

‘You’ve come through your baptism of fire well, Miss Cleary, I think you’ll suit!’ She glanced at her watch. ‘You’d better
go below now, we don’t want you catching cold.’

She had reached her own section and she paused beside a cabin door. Over the noise of the turbines she thought she could make
out a scream. She knocked loudly but there was no sound; then as she turned to leave she heard the agonising scream again.
She opened the door. On one of the four bunks in the tiny cabin a girl was lying on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest,
moaning softly.

Cat shook her. ‘What’s the matter?’

The girl’s large, dark eyes were filled with pain and fear. Sweat stood out on her forehead and her dark hair was lank. ‘Oh,
Miss! Miss! Help me, I think it’s the baby!’

‘What baby? I wasn’t informed that anyone in here was pregnant!’

‘I didn’t tell anyone! It was my Mam and Dad, see!’ Her features contorted and she writhed again in agony.

From her accent Cat judged her to be Welsh. ‘I’ll go for the doctor!’

‘No, Miss! Don’t go! Don’t leave me!’

‘You’ve got to have a doctor if . . . if the baby is coming!’ Her gaze fell on the bell push and she pressed it hard. ‘Why
didn’t you tell anyone, you should have done you know!’

‘Where I come from, Miss, the disgrace would have killed my Mam and Dad.’

Anne appeared.

‘Get the doctor, quick, I think she’s having a miscarriage!’

‘Oh, my God!’

The girl screamed again and Cat grabbed her and held her close as Anne disappeared. Trying to distract her, Cat questioned
her. ‘Where do you come from and what’s your name?’

‘Megan. Megan Roberts. I come from a small village outside Denbigh.’ She began to writhe and scream and Cat prayed that Anne
would hurry.

‘But surely you could have told someone?’

‘You don’t know what it’s like! Mam wouldn’t have minded too much, but they’re Chapel and very strict and I couldn’t stand
hurting them, see. The shame . . . so I told them I was going to find work, I’ve got a sister in Canada.’

‘Is she meeting you? Do you know where she lives?’

She nodded, biting her lip to stop the screams. Then her whole body convulsed and her screams bounced off the walls of the
tiny cabin, making the room reverberate. Cat clung to her.

The doctor, a nurse and Miss Sabell all arrived at the same time.

‘How long has she been like this?’ The ship’s doctor asked.

‘I don’t honestly know, sir. I’ve been with her for about ten minutes, but she’s pretty bad.’ She tried to disentangle herself
but the girl clung like a limpet.

‘Oh, don’t leave me, miss!’ she pleaded.

‘The doctor has to examine you, he’s here to help you, Megan! Try to relax,’ she soothed.

‘It’s too late to move her, just yet. Nurse, bring my bag over! Miss Sabell, would you help to hold her?’

Cat gazed into the face of her superior and found courage there as they both held and comforted young Megan Roberts and while
she cried in agony and the doctor drew away from her the pathetic little embryo that had already lost its fight to live.

When it was all over and the patient had been sedated and removed to the hospital, Cat started to strip off the soiled bedding.
Miss Sabell rolled up her sleeves and helped her.

‘You coped very well, Miss Cleary. You were calm and reassuring. Many a girl would have panicked or become hysterical faced
with such an emergency. Take the linen to the laundry and go and change your uniform. I will clear up here.’

Passing a hand across her forehead Cat straightened up. Her legs felt weak and she was exhausted, but she nodded and the hint
of a smile played around her lips.

‘May I go and see her later? She’s alone.’

‘Of course, but make sure it’s alright with the doctor first.’

Megan was lying exhausted and still drowsy in the hospital bunk as Cat crept in. She was very pale.

‘How are you feeling now?’

The girl opened her eyes. ‘Not too bad, they’ve given me something.’

‘Are you sorry?’

‘That I’ve lost it? Yes, in a way, I’d got used to the idea.’

‘Will you go back now?’

‘No. There’s no reason to. He wouldn’t marry me anyway.’

‘Did you love him, Megan?’

‘I thought I did. It doesn’t matter now.’

‘No, it doesn’t. You’ve got a new future ahead of you. You didn’t get round to telling me if your sister is going to meet
you?’

‘She is. She and her husband. I’d been worried about what I was going to tell her and what she’d say, but now . . .’

Cat took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Now you’ve no need to worry.’

‘You’ve been good to me, you have. But . . .?’

‘What? Don’t be afraid to ask, Megan.’

‘Well, if ever you go to Denbigh, would you call and see my Mam and tell her . . . tell her you met me. She didn’t want me
to go, see.’

‘I will.’

‘Promise?’

‘Of course. Where does she live?’

‘Bryn-y-Garn Farm, Henllan, about five miles outside Denbigh.’

Cat wrote it down, then tucking the address into her belt, she rose and squeezed Megan’s hand. ‘You get well, now! Your sister
wants to see a young girl full of good health, fresh from the farm!’

They had docked in Quebec where some of the passengers disembarked, but where the crew did not go ashore. Cat stood on deck
with a freezing wind blowing in from the Gulf of St. Lawrence, cutting through her, watching the activity on the dock below.
High above the city rose the turreted, Chateau Fontaine, the luxury hotel belonging to the Canadian Pacific Railways but looking
just like a French chateau. Everything about the city appeared fascinating and she felt excitement stirring in her. Canada.
Never in her life had she dreamt about going this far from home. The voices on the dockside were different, too – half English,
half French – and she longed to follow the passengers down the gangway. But there was work to be done for they would sail
again for Montreal in a few hours’ time. She spotted Megan Roberts waiting at the top of the gangway and called out to her.

‘Oh, Miss Cleary, I wanted to see you before I went! My sister’s down there, I can see her! Look, she’s waving.’

‘Good. I hope you’ll be happy, Megan. Put the past behind you! Good luck!’

‘I will! I can’t thank you enough, Miss Cleary, and you will remember your promise, won’t you? They’ll be so glad to see you.
Make you feel right at home, they will!’

Cat smiled and gave the girl’s hand a tight squeeze. ‘Go on, they’re waiting for you!’

She watched her go, wondering when she would ever find time to carry out her promise.

W
ITH A BABY IN HER ARMS
and two toddlers clinging to her skirt, Cat first saw the city of Montreal. The sky was cobalt blue and the sun shone brilliantly
although the temperature was only a little above freezing. There had been the first heavy fall of snow in this city of northern
Canada and beyond the docks the scene reminded her of a Christmas card. It appeared to be a city of churches and cathedrals,
their spires and domes glistening like frosted icing.

The hours before they docked had been hectic and full of turmoil as passengers collected their belongings and the respective
members of their families. All the stewardesses were busy helping mothers with their younger children and babies, collecting
items that had been mislaid or unwittingly abandoned.

Cat began to shiver as she helped a young woman, who was travelling alone, to get herself and her children down the gangway
to where her husband eagerly awaited them.

Anne took over from her halfway down. ‘Where’s your coat? You’ll catch your death of cold! Get below before the dragon sees
you and puts you on report for being improperly dressed – to say nothing of frostbite, and I’m not joking!’

Her teeth had stopped chattering and warmth was seeping back as she reached her cabin, but she was exhausted. The Nolan family
had been the last of her charges. Was there time for a quick cup of tea before starting the stripping down and cleaning of
the cabins on her section? There was a knock on the door and she sighed. No tea. Probably Miss Sabell to read the Riot Act.

David Barratt stood outside. Her surprise must have been acutely obvious. She hadn’t seen him since their meeting in Liverpool.

‘Sorry to barge in, but I’ve not much time. Most of them are ashore now so I have to stand watch.’

He was smiling down at her with those blue eyes that had such a magnetic effect on her. She smiled back, a little shyly. He
had placed her in a dilemma. The rule of ‘No men’ was very rigidly adhered to, yet not to ask him to step inside she felt
was churlish.

‘I’ve no time to come in and chat – even if it was allowed – I just came to ask you if you would like to see the sights of
Montreal tomorrow? I’ve felt rather guilty about not inquiring how you were getting on, but . . . you know how it is.’

‘I know how it is – now!’

He smiled again. ‘I did warn you.’

‘I know and I’ve no regrets.’

‘Was it that bad?’

‘It was, and your aunt was right, I was seasick.’ She laughed. ‘I thought I was going to die.’

He laughed with her and she noticed how different he looked when he laughed.

‘So you got the pep talk?’

She nodded.

He leaned closer. ‘I’ll tell you a secret. On my first trip I wished I was dead! I wished I was anywhere but on this ship,
I even longed for a desk job like my father’s! Later I changed my mind. How are you getting on with the other girls?’

‘Oh, fine! Everyone’s been so helpful, especially Anne. I don’t know how I would ever have survived without her.’ She leaned
her cheek against the edge of the door, wishing she could ask him in. His manner was so different from their first meeting.
Then he had been polite and friendly, in a stiff sort of way. Now he seemed more at ease and as though he were really interested
in her.

‘Shall I pick you up at, say, two o’clock? I am allowed down here for that.’

‘Thanks, I’ll be ready.’

‘Two o’clock then.’

She shut the door. All she had wanted to do was to lie down on her bunk and sleep for three days, but the prospect of going
ashore in this, her first foreign country, quickly dispelled her exhaustion. And the prospect of going ashore with him added
an extra touch of excitement. He was so charming and he had said he felt quite guilty about not seeing her before this, and
that must mean he had more than a passing interest in her.
Stop day-dreaming, Cat Cleary
! she scolded herself. There were so many things to be done now.

She decided on a cup of tea before starting her work. Then there was her own laundry to be done. Her hair needed washing.
Her dress needed pressing. She had no suitable footwear for snow. Mentally she ticked off things which a little while ago
she would have thought were very trivial.

Anne had said ‘Lucky you!’ when she had told her, and Cat wondered if she were envious. If she was she didn’t show it, generously
offering to lend Cat her second best boots. An offer she gratefully accepted.

At two o’clock sharp came the knock on the door. She had been ready for a quarter of an hour. Twice she had readjusted the
small fur hat – lent by another stewardess – over her neatly brushed curls. She wore her best wool dress under the tweed coat
with the large red buttons. Fortunately Anne’s leather boots were black and so toned in with her gloves and bag. David’s black,
uniform great coat covered the rest of his uniform and she began to feel strangely nervous. In a few minutes she would set
foot in Canada, and with him.

‘You look very smart,’ he complimented her, smiling.

‘So do you.’

‘I find it helps, the uniform I mean, in getting reservations and service. We’ll take a cab. It’s too cold to walk far, it’s
sunny but it’s below freezing.’

‘Have you planned the whole day?’

‘Not rigidly. If there is anything particular you want to see, any place you really want to go to, then it’s up to
you. I thought we’d have lunch at a little restaurant near the hospital, then go and have a look downtown. See Windsor Street
Station, which is worth a visit, then we’ll do some shopping along St Catherine’s Street. Shopping is always obligatory, I’ve
found, and then have dinner at the Indian Rooms at the Bellevue Casino?’

They had reached the top of the gangway and Cat paused.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing really. This is a new experience for me. My first time abroad.’ She dismissed her arrival in Liverpool from Dublin.
That didn’t count.

‘You’re not going to kneel and kiss the ground when we reach the bottom, are you?’ he joked.

She laughed, thinking of her arrival in Liverpool. ‘No, I don’t suppose this is the Promised Land either.’

‘Here, give me your hand, we don’t want you slipping, do we?’

His grip was firm and she did feel more secure as she descended. His manners were impeccable, she thought, as he went first
down the steep gangway, leading her as though she were a fragile doll.

It proved to be something of an anti-climax as they were whisked away in a cab along St Lawrence Main, away from the docks
which appeared to be not dissimilar to those in Liverpool and Southampton. He must have seen the fleeting look of disappointment,
for he leaned closer.

‘They all look the same, don’t they? It’s the same the world over. Warehouses, handling sheds, cranes and dock workers! But
cheer up, in a while you’ll see the real
Canada – or at least a small part of it. It’s such a vast country, it’s bigger than America.’

‘Is it really?’ She was surprised, and surprised at his knowledge, but then he had obviously had the benefits of an education
far superior to her own.

When they reached St Catherine’s Street she began to realise that he was right and how different the city was. The shops were
bigger, glossier and already full of Christmas gifts. The main streets were wider and there were far more cars and lorries
and fewer horse-drawn vehicles. The buildings were cleaner and taller, some of them over twenty storeys high. There was a
mixture of architectural styles. Old French-Canadian beside modern, oblique Canadian.

The meal in Le Jardin L’eau was her first experience of French cuisine. She let David order for her, trying to hide her embarrassment
at being unable to read the menu, by searching her bag for her compact. She felt as though every pair of eyes in the room
were watching her. She had no intention of using the compact – that would be the height of bad taste – but the subterfuge
worked. Despite the fact that she watched David surreptitiously, but closely, in the matter of the cutlery, she enjoyed the
meal.

‘Now I feel much better and ready for our foray to sample the delights of shopping!’ He pulled a wry face and then smiled.
‘I have a wicked sense of humour but you’ll get used to it, I hope!’

She laughed as he held out her coat, glad that he couldn’t see the faint blush that had crept into her cheeks.

They spent two hours browsing through the shops and department stores along St Catherine’s Street and she purchased a fur
hat and a small, leather-bound missal for her mother; a leather wallet for Joe and a maple leaf brooch in red and white enamel
for Maisey. At a craft shop she bought a real tomahawk, complete with beads and feathers, for Eamon and promptly wondered
if it was such a wise choice after all, thinking of the havoc he could cause with it. At Simpson’s department store she bought
a sealskin muff for Marie and a walrus, carved from soapstone by the Inuits, for Mrs Gorry.

‘You’ve got nothing for yourself!’ David protested.

‘What do I need?’ she laughed, still thrifty and mindful of the small amount of money she had left while trying to work out
the rate of exchange.

He picked out a very chic red and black silk scarf and handed it to the assistant with the appropriate dollar bills. After
it had been wrapped he placed the slim package in her hand.

‘Oh, David! I couldn’t! Really, I couldn’t accept it!’

‘You must have something to commemorate your first trip abroad. You can look at it in years to come and think “This reminds
me of the very first time I went to Canada.”’

With some embarrassment she accepted it. It was the most expensive accessory she had ever owned and it matched her coat and
suit. Obviously he had very good taste. The thought disturbed her. It reminded her of her own inadequacies.

The Indian Rooms at the Bellevue Casino were a
revelation. She had expected something eastern and exotic. They were exotic, but not in the way she had anticipated. The walls
were covered in hessian which formed a natural background for the spears, tomahawks, bows and arrows, brightly woven blankets
and rugs and paintings of the indigenous tribes of North American Indians. In the centre of the dining room was a full-size
totem pole, flanked by two smaller ones. On the polished wood floor were rugs made from the skins of bear, moose and bison,
and the pelts of wolf and beaver. At the far end of the room one whole wall was filled with the trophy heads of these animals,
fascinating and frightening. But the whole effect was tasteful and dignified, the culture of a noble civilisation captured
for posterity.

‘I’m not really very keen on it, but I thought you would be interested to see it.’

Her gaze moved slowly round the room. It was primitive, even barbaric to her modern eyes, yet she was sensitive to its raw
expressions. The figures in the paintings drew her attention: there was a wild beauty about them.

‘It’s so . . . so extraordinary . . . so captivating!’

‘The Legend of the Noble Savage, Hiawatha, and all that. Shall we order? At least the food doesn’t comprise buffalo steaks
or beaver stew!’

She laughed at the face he pulled, yet she wondered just what such dishes would really have tasted like? She wanted to discover
and assimilate every new sight, sound and taste.

With their meal he ordered a bottle of champagne.

‘Oh, David, that’s much too extravagant!’

‘No, it’s not! This is going to be a day you will always remember, if I have my way, that is! Today, it’s nothing but the
best!’

This statement had the effect of putting her instantly on her guard. She touched the silk scarf at her neck. He had been charming
and pleasant and witty, but she wondered if all this were not a means to an end?

‘The first time we met we didn’t have much chance to get to know each other, Cat, so tell me about your life, your family?’

Her smile belied the inner panic that swamped her. The thought of telling him about her Pa, Shelagh and the O’Dwyers caused
a knot to twist in her stomach. She knew she shouldn’t be afraid to tell him of her family background, but she was afraid
that if she did, he would scorn her, pity her or become angry that she had presented herself, by inference, as a girl from
a much better class of home than number eight Eldon Street. Besides, she had already embarked on a course of deception when
she had first met him. She smiled and then told him about number eighteen Yew Tree Road. When she had finished, she asked
him about himself.

He was an only child. His father was a bank manager. Miss Sabell was his mother’s sister and the family home was in Great
Crosby. He’d been educated at the Liverpool Institute and there his friendship with Stephen Hartley had developed. He’d had
to battle with both his parents in his choice of career, his father being disappointed he was not following him into banking
and his over-protective mother had been horrified at the
thought of all the dangers, both real and imaginary, that he would face. At this juncture his aunt had proved to be a staunch
ally and he was now working hard for his ticket and would one day be master of his own ship, he finished confidently.