Destiny's Path (6 page)

His cabin had been described by the agent as ‘spacious’ but it seemed very cramped to him once his huge cabin trunk, which opened out like a set of drawers, was in place. His previous journeys had meant a brief Channel crossing then travelling on by train usually for all the longer stretches. For the first time it sank in that he’d be spending more than two months in this restricted space. He’d have to spend a lot of time out on deck, hated the feel of this dark place with its tiny porthole window.

There would be some respite from the cramped conditions in Egypt, where they had to leave this ship and travel overland from Alexandria to Suez to board another vessel. He felt a moment’s temptation to run off the ship and give up this foolish idea, then smiled at himself. Was he such a weakling that he couldn’t stand a journey which many thousands had taken before him?

It’d have been nice to have company, though, someone like Conn in the cabin next door. Travelling would be a lonely business unless the other passengers were very congenial. Bram didn’t count because apparently cabin and steerage passengers lived fairly separate lives.

Within the hour Ronan was feeling a faint nausea and when the steward came to tell him that dinner would shortly be served in the day cabin, he shuddered and waved one hand in dismissal. ‘I don’t feel like eating.’

The steward gave him an assessing look. ‘Feeling sick, are you, sir? It’ll soon pass, but I’ll fetch you a bucket and fasten it beside the bed. Just in case. Ring if you need anything else, but I can’t promise to attend to you immediately, I’m afraid, because it’s always very busy just before we set sail and you’re not the only passenger who isn’t feeling well.’

The weather continued stormy and Ronan grew rapidly worse. He missed the moment of sailing and felt vaguely sorry not to be able to say farewell to England, but couldn’t face the thought of staggering up to the deck and perhaps disgracing himself in front of other people.

He spent the next two days lying in his bunk suffering from debilitating seasickness, and if he could have turned round now, he would have done. The steward kept assuring him that for most people this was just a temporary phase which lasted until they ‘got their sea legs’. It didn’t feel temporary. He seemed to have been ill for a black eternity.

He ate nothing, but kept forcing cups of tea and boiled water down. He didn’t need the steward to urge him to do that, because it stood to reason you needed liquid to keep your body functioning. You could go without food for a long time if you had to, but not without water.

On the second day at sea, the steward showed Bram into the cabin and left them together.

‘They told me you were ill, Mr Ronan.’

‘Damned seasickness. Are you all right?’

‘Right as rain. I’ve got some very clean, pleasant neighbours below decks, which makes a big difference, and I’m nicely settled in. Now, shall I tidy the cabin a bit and perhaps you’d like me to read to you? There’s talk of starting a ship’s newspaper, did you hear that?’

‘How can I hear anything lying here?’

Bram grinned at him. ‘It’d make me grumpy, too, to be seasick – sir.’

Ronan was surprised into a smile. ‘Yes. Sorry. You can tidy up, but don’t bother to read to me. I can’t concentrate. My head’s muzzy and my mouth tastes like a dungheap.’

‘Could I borrow a book, do you think, sir? I’ll be careful with it.’

‘Yes, of course.’ He’d forgotten how well Bram had done at the village school, how the teacher there had urged the family to let the boy continue his education. But James Largan had been furious, saying education wasn’t for the lower classes and only gave them ideas above their station. He’d insisted on the boy going to work as a stable lad and since the family all worked on the estate and knew he’d turn them all off if they upset him, Bram’s parents hadn’t dared refuse this job for their son.

Ronan and Conn had lent Bram books from time to time as they all grew up, doing this with great secrecy, however, for his sake. And Bram had bought others when he could, tattered volumes of anything at all from passing pedlars, just to feed his brain.

While he set the cabin to rights Bram chatted quietly, describing the steerage quarters with their rows of narrow bunks in small compartments of four, with long central tables between the compartments. The steward had kept things clean here, bringing water, emptying slop buckets, but hadn’t had time to tidy up properly because several of the other cabin passengers were also suffering from seasickness.

Bram must have been born tidy, Ronan thought as he watched. His friend had been the same when working in the stables. Even the smallest piece of harness was always where it should be. Kathleen had lost a valuable employee for the Largans when she dismissed him. Her brother-in-law wouldn’t be pleased about that.

The groom’s gentle voice was so soothing that Ronan found himself drifting towards sleep, welcoming the brief respite from sickness.

When he woke, it was morning and he was surprised to have slept so long. He felt much better, only slightly queasy now. He smiled, able now to believe the steward was right and his sickness was a temporary thing. He went across to stare out of the porthole and saw that the sun had come out and the sea was much calmer.

He thought he could face a cup of tea and a piece of dry toast. He’d not try anything else till that had stayed down.

But he was feeling hopeful again, and looking forward to seeing some exciting new places.

Fenella led the way on to the ship, shivering in a downpour of rain and feeling that twinge in her belly again, just a niggling pain that sometimes happened, so annoying. It always went away again, but it made her uncomfortable for a while.

Behind her Kathleen was grimly silent, her heavy features not flattered by long strands of hair that had blown out of the tight bun. The two of them were followed by Kathleen’s maid Orla, whom they’d agreed to share while they were travelling.

The two ladies were also going to share a cabin, though how that would work out, Fenella had no idea. She was wondering if she’d been right to come, though she wasn’t going to back out now, not after the way her son Hubert had carried on about this venture. Why shouldn’t she travel a little? She wasn’t that old! He wanted her to sit quietly in her parlour till she died, probably of boredom, and she wasn’t going to do that.

It was strange that she’d had three sons so different in personality. Hubert was a quiet, reclusive man, who cared more about his acres and horses than he did about any human being, while Patrick, now living in England, was hunting mad and moved with a fast set, thanks to his wife’s money. But Ronan, ah, her middle son was the darling of her heart, such fun to be with, and sometimes she couldn’t help being glad he’d never married and kept coming back to live with her – though this couldn’t go on, if she was to have grandchildren from him. Such splendid children they’d be if they were anything like him.

She felt a little apprehensive about what he’d say when he found out she was travelling to Australia on the same ship as him – and worse, travelling there with Kathleen, whom he couldn’t stand. Ah, the two of them would settle down after they’d been on the ship for a while, and that’d end their quarrelling, surely it would? It wasn’t good for neighbours to be on bad terms.

Kathleen was foolish to refuse to speak to him just because he’d helped poor Conn get his money through to Australia. And Ronan shouldn’t blame her for abandoning Conn. Surely he of all people should realise Mr Largan had been telling her what to do. Fenella suspected Conn’s cousin Michael was involved. He was a cunning devil, that one. She’d never liked him. Though what he’d hoped to gain from it, she couldn’t work out.

It had occurred to her more than once that Kathleen might have had more chance of happiness if Conn had died, as convicts sometimes did, but no, he’d survived, gone to Australia and been released there. And she was glad, really. She didn’t wish him ill, whatever he’d done. He’d been a nice enough lad, always polite, though he’d grown very solemn after his marriage, looking years older.

It had shocked everyone when his mother had run off and followed him to Australia, but why Ronan had to go chasing after him, too, Fenella didn’t understand. She intended to make very sure her son came back to Ireland once the visit was over. She wasn’t having him buying property and settling there, however cheap land was.

That was the main reason she’d come, though she hadn’t told Kathleen that.

The ship was heaving up and down, even here by the dockside, and she staggered as she made her way across the deck. Oh dear! She hoped it wasn’t going to be rough or that she’d be seasick. No, of course she wouldn’t. She’d never been a sickly sort of person, not even when she was carrying her children.

She laughed and shook the rain off her cloak as she and Kathleen were shown into their cabin. ‘What a wild day!’

‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you ladies to stay either in your cabin or the day cabin until the storm has passed,’ the steward said. ‘It’s not safe for you to go up on deck.’

Kathleen didn’t answer him, just glared round the cabin and said, ‘Can they do no better than this for their passengers? I’ve never slept in such cramped quarters in my life.’

‘Sure, we’ll be all right here.’ Fenella gave the steward a coin and winked at him as he left.

‘We should ask them for a better cabin,’ Kathleen said as the door closed on him.

‘All the other cabins are booked by now. You know the shipping agent said this was the last one, which is why we’re sharing. This was the only way for us to get to Australia, otherwise we’d have to wait weeks longer.’

Kathleen let out a sigh and plumped down on the bed. ‘It’s all Conn’s fault.’

Fenella had learned not to argue with this statement. Kathleen blamed everything that went wrong on her husband and you couldn’t persuade her otherwise. James Largan, on the other hand, was quoted as the fount of all wisdom, which Fenella thought rather strange, though she had to admit that he’d been kinder to Kathleen than to anyone else.

It was very obvious from the way she talked about her parents that the poor girl hadn’t been loved as a child. Not surprising, therefore, that she would cling to anyone who was kind to her.

‘I’m going to take my cloak off, then start arranging our things,’ Fenella said briskly. ‘Come on. Let’s make ourselves at home.’

‘Orla should do that. That’s what she’s paid for. Papa Largan always said one should never do servants’ jobs for them. Besides, I can never make things neat.’

‘Well, I’ll help you. Orla has to stay in the steerage quarters till after we sail, because of the stormy weather. And anyway, I’d rather do it myself so that I know where everything is.’

But to her surprise Kathleen seemed completely at a loss as to how to arrange her things. ‘I don’t know what each drawer is for,’ she said several times as Fenella chivvied her to set her garments and other possessions to rights for the journey.

In the end Kathleen flung herself down on the bed. ‘How do I ring for Orla? I can’t do this.’

‘I told you. She can’t come here till the storm has died down.’

‘But she’s my maid. She
has to
do this work.’

Fenella gave up and put everything away herself. Was Kathleen really as helpless as she seemed?

It wasn’t until four days after the ship had left England that Ronan ventured on deck, turning his face up to the watery sunshine and hoping those clouds didn’t mean more rain or – heaven forbid! – further stormy weather.

He walked along the part of the deck reserved for cabin passengers, saw Bram on the lower deck and waved. Unless he much mistook it, his friend was staring at something beyond him on the upper deck with a shocked expression.

Ronan turned round to see what was wrong and froze where he was, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Kathleen Largan!

After a moment’s hesitation he marched up to her. ‘What the hell are you doing on board this ship?’

She turned away as if he’d not spoken and he grabbed her arm.

‘Take your hands off me!’ She spat the words at him, well laced with her usual venom.

‘I will when you answer my question.’

‘It’s no concern of yours where I go or what I do. And I haven’t changed my mind about talking to someone who supports traitors.’

Just then someone came across to join them and he had a second, even greater shock.
‘Mother!’

‘Hello, darling. I thought I’d join you on your visit to Australia.’

He was bereft of speech, could only gape at her like a landed fish. She gave him one of her sunny smiles, but her eyes were wary, and well they should be!

‘I’m glad you two have started talking to one another, Ronan darlin’. It’s so foolish for neighbours to keep quarrelling.’

‘I’ve no intention of talking to your son, Mrs Maguire. What
he
says or does means nothing to me.’ Kathleen turned and walked away.

‘How could you bring her to Australia, Mother?’

‘She’s bringing me. This was all her idea.’

‘Then you should have refused to come.’

She shrugged. ‘That’d not have stopped her coming. She’s got it into her head that she has to see Mrs Largan and tell her that poor James is dead, and you know what Kathleen’s like. Once she’s decided on something, she won’t change her mind.