The Titan Drowns: Time Travel Romance by Nhys Glover (you can read anyone .txt) 📖

‘I wonder how many friends caught their flowers when they threw them. It would make a nice keepsake.’

Marco clapped the lad on the shoulder with a grunt of amusement. ‘You have the heart of a dreamer, garzone. I think America will be the perfect place for you.’

‘Oh, I won’t get to see America. We are in dock only a few days. But I have my sketch pad, so I will capture something of the place for my memories.’

‘You draw?’

‘Poorly, but I have never been long without a pencil in my hand.’

‘But for now you have a fork in your hand, what artistry can you make of our tables with that, garzone?’

‘A picture perfect, signor.’

‘Excellent. Let me see your work then.’

By the time the first of their patrons began to drift in for luncheon, their tables were perfect. With swift professionalism, Marco seated those shown to his tables and began to meet their needs. He felt the rush of expectancy that always came at the beginning of a shift. Who knew what patrons would be seated at his tables? Who knew what they would talk about while he stood by attentively waiting on their every spoken and unspoken need? And who knew how much financial gratitude would be shown him for his exceptional service?

What would Petra be eating down on F Deck right now? Nothing like what they would be serving. Even so, he could see her sitting there quietly, grateful for anything she was given, smiling her shy, sweet smile at anyone who gave her the time of day. What if one of those single men down in steerage took a fancy to her? He felt jealousy rear its head and the shock of it had him frozen to the spot for an instant. Jealous? He was never jealous.

But, if Petra should share one of her rare, sweet smiles with one of those uncouth louts below decks, he would beat the recipient bloody. Those smiles were his, even though she didn’t know it yet.

Max

As Max walked slowly back to his stateroom on B Deck, his mind was on Eilish. She had looked so different standing down there on the Poop Deck with the other third class Passengers, her clothes drab and conventional, her wild, black hair uncovered. Even so, her smile had been the same as she waved at him from across the expanse of the Well Deck, and he knew her blue eyes would be dancing with delight. How was he going to make it through the next few days without her? Certainly, meeting Carter Dundee and Hugo Vance had taken his mind off his loss for a few minutes.

When the tall red-haired Scot had approached him in the reception area on B Deck shortly after his arrival, he had not known what to expect. Eilish had mentioned that there were others of her kind on board shepherding their Targets, but he hadn’t expected to meet any of them; however, Carter had approached him and shook his hand firmly.

‘I am a friend of Eilish and Luke,’ he had said, and the expression in his eyes told him that he was more colleague than friend and that this meeting was not social.

Carter had introduced Hugo Vance, a structural engineer who was responsible for many of the railway bridges that were springing up across the country. He wondered how Vance felt about leaving his life behind. However, as the man was in his late sixties, he imagined it would be less of a loss than a gain to leave this life behind and start a new one in that future world.

Max had taken his leave of them shortly after the ship had sailed and agreed to meet them for dinner in the À la Carte restaurant that night. They’d been surprised to hear that he would be taking all his meals in that restaurant rather than the first class Dining Saloon. But, as he had told Eilish when he had booked his ticket, he had no desire to sit through countless numbers of courses, listening to boring snobs wax lyrical about the indulgences granted to their class on board the Titanic. Especially when he knew many of those people would be dead in a few days.

No, he would take his comparatively frugal meals in the restaurant on his own, as often as possible, and then retire to his stateroom to read. A daily walk around the deck and possibly a game of squash might be necessary to overcome his restlessness, but the less he mingled with the other doomed passengers, the better he would feel.

Spending time in his stateroom was not going to be a hardship. It was luxurious, as was to be expected for the price, and the sea view from the window was spectacular. He boasted a large bed sitting room in the Empire style, all white and gilt panelling and furnishings in light, flowing lines, with striking crimson, silk damask wallpaper and matching crimson Axminster carpet. There were two beds, one a lavishly draped four-poster and the other a single beneath the window. The room also contained a large wardrobe, two sinks with an ornate mirror above, a chaise-longue and a small table and two chairs.

Because he had hopes of Eilish joining him, he had also paid for the use of the attached bathroom and water closet. It would be a luxury not to have to book his bath time with a steward down the corridor, but if he had been travelling alone, he would have done just that. However, his imagination had already conjured an image of Eilish reclining in bubbles in that large claw-tooth bathtub attached to his room, her damp curls rioting around her pink face. That image alone was worth the money he’d spent.

And after all, he could not take his money with him. Even so, it was hard to be indulgent after a lifetime of frugal living. He knew that New Atlantis had no use for money and that he would find it luxurious in comparison with what he had known, yet he knew it was still comparatively economical. The world had wasted its resources for hundreds of years, so Eilish had informed him, and so they had been forced to find more sustainable and environmental ways to survive in the post-apocalyptic world after the Second Dark Age. He thought their focus would suit him well.

As he opened his stateroom door, he noticed that his steward, a slim, upright gent with a neat moustache called Hughes, was placing a large vase of flowers on the table in the centre of the room. They were such a splendid bouquet, he could not help stopping at them and leaning down to breathe in the scent of the blooms. Eilish would love this, he thought with a pang.

‘They are lovely, aren’t they, sir? Our florist at Southampton is one of the very best. They supplied all the passengers with a flower each to throw to those on the dock as we left the quay.’ His accent was polished and reminded him of butlers he’d come across in his time. Even so, the man was not stiff and overly formal and his smile was genuine.

‘Yes, quite lovely. My lady would love them.’

‘Your wife could not join you on this trip?’

Max had almost forgotten he had a wife. His only lady now, in his own mind, was Eilish.

‘Umm, that brings up a ticklish point, Hughes. How much can I rely on your discretion on this journey?’ He sat down on one of the cushion-backed chairs and crossed his legs.

‘Completely, sir, of course. In what manner do you require this discretion?’ Hughes straightened the other chair and picked up the stray leaves that had fallen from the vase.

‘My lady, who is not my wife, is travelling third class with her family. I will need to get messages to her on occasion and there may be times when she will come to me here. She may even join me at dinner in the restaurant. I know there are strict rules pertaining to the class divisions on board, but I do not believe anyone will be the wiser if she were to join me here on occasion.’

If Hughes was shocked by his suggestion, he showed no sign of it. For a moment, he remained thoughtful. ‘Getting a message to her would not be difficult. I can deliver that myself. However, getting her into first class might be trickier, especially if her appearance…’

‘Her appearance will be perfectly respectable, although once she has access to her clothes here, she will be resplendent.’

‘Yes, sir. Do you know what deck she is on?’

‘E Deck. K 101.’

‘That should make things easier. There are first class staterooms on E Deck, and if I get the young lady through from Scotland Road to the first class lift, it will only be a matter of steps to get her from there to your door. A carefully placed gratuity for the lift operator should ensure his discretion.’

‘Perfect, Hughes. And you can be assured your gratuity will be substantial with this added service you do me.’

‘That is not necessary, sir. This is part of my job.’

Max studied the man’s serious face. He really meant it. He would do what he could to assist without requiring extra payment for it. What a rare find! Fleetingly, he wondered if he would be one of those few stewards who survived the coming days. He would ask Eilish when he saw her.

More content now that he had a way to Eilish, he pulled out a book from his carry-on luggage and started to read.

‘You are not dining, sir? The first trumpet has sounded.’

‘As I am not in the army, I do not plan to heed the call of the horn. I will dine when I feel the need at the restaurant or cafe on this deck.’

‘Very good, sir. Does that mean you will not be dressing for dinner? I did notice when I unpacked your trunk that there was evening attire there.’

‘When my lady joins me, then I will dress formally. Otherwise, I will relax and avoid the strictures of my class.’

‘Very good, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you now?’

‘No thank you, Hughes. You have taken a great weight off my shoulders already. I will call you if I need you.’

‘Yes, sir.’

With that, his steward left the room and Max could relax fully for the first time since Eilish left him that morning. He wondered idly how her accommodation compared to his own. He would expect to fit at least two cabins into the space he had before him, and she certainly wouldn’t have the view he now enjoyed. However, he would give up all his luxuries if he could join her in her cramped and uncomfortable quarters. He even suggested that early on. But she had been emphatic that they could not deviate from history. Records showed that Maxwell Ingham had been located in Stateroom B 64 on this fateful journey, so that was where he must stay.

Restless at the way his mind was turning, he threw his book down and went to the window to peer out at the grey sea. They would be reaching the French Coast by evening and would be making the return journey to Ireland later tonight. After that, by tomorrow afternoon, they would be leaving the British Isles behind them forever. He couldn’t stop the involuntary shiver that ran down his spine.

Chapter Thirteen

Karl

Karl’s hands were shaking as he clung to the smooth wooden railing on Boat Deck staring down at the passing jetties and docks that lined Southampton Channel. He noticed a giant liner, the New York, was behaving strangely as they passed her, rocking like a plastic boat in a bathtub and pulling away from its moorings. For a few minutes, he was sure the two