Moon Rising (41 page)

Away from the humidity of the Nile, we steamed into fresh sea breezes and settled into the kind of shipboard routine which benefited everyone, especially the ship's officers. Most of them seemed happier to be at sea, ready to exchange a quip in passing, or to talk about their families as we ploughed steadily on through the Mediterranean towards home.

Within the week, however, those fresh sea breezes had turned into brisk, northwesterly winds, and with the colder air came violent squalls and rougher seas, which soon confined Miss Fenton to her cabin. Poor Alice succumbed shortly afterwards, but I have to admit that for me it was an improvement all round. The weather suited my mood, and there was no more need to be polite. Even Dr Graeme seemed to understand. We passed each other grimly on our walks around the deck.

Next day the temperature dropped again, while driving rain bleached colour from sea and sky. The outlook was more like the environs of Whitby in winter than the blue Mediterranean I'd come to expect. Perhaps it struck a similar chord with Jonathan, since he managed to address me at breakfast that morning.

I was later than usual, having slept badly, and was eating alone. Timing the roll, he took his place at the head of the table and unfurled his napkin. That morning I'd seated myself midway, and was glad of the gap between us. After the steward had taken Jonathan's order for bacon and eggs, he addressed me gruffly.

‘In case you're interested, Mrs Lindsey, we'll be passing the island of Sicily to starboard during the course of today. Not that you'll be able to see much of it, I'm afraid.'

‘Indeed?' I responded, managing to sound coolly polite while my heart thudded like that of a startled schoolgirl. I wasn't sure whether I was angry or embarrassed or even pleased to be so addressed, whether I should take the opportunity to converse, or just finish my coffee and go. At that point the ship gave a more pronounced roll, and the cruet flew past me like a toboggan on a downhill slope. I grabbed at it before it could cannon over the rim of the table and on to the floor.

‘Well fielded,' my companion said with a small smile; but he carefully avoided touching me as I passed it back. ‘By the way, the weather's worsening, as I'm sure you're aware, so I'd prefer you to keep off the main deck. In this weather it's not safe.'

‘I'm aware of the dangers,' I retorted, perhaps a little more sharply than I intended.

His dark eyes met mine, and beneath arched brows I saw a depth of anger there that silenced me. ‘Even so,' he said quietly, ‘when you go outside, I don't want you venturing below the level of the boat deck.'

‘Very well,' I agreed, forcing the words, ‘I'll do as you say, Captain. Might I ask whether this rule applies to Dr Graeme as well?'

‘It applies to all the passengers.'

In the limited confines of a ship, with too little to occupy the mind, it can be surprising what irritates the sensibilities. Later that morning, as the Doctor and I leaned on the boat deck rail and tried to peer through the murk towards Sicily, we agreed that the wind was stronger and the pounding of the waves more pronounced. I was suffering from a dull headache, but my companion had begun to feel queasy. I joked that I would soon be looking after him too.

My prophecy came true. Before the evening meal he'd taken to his bed, while I volunteered as nurse to three bunk-bound patients.

Later, leaving Alice's cabin, I was startled by the sudden appearance of a tall figure at the end of the alleyway. ‘How are they?' Jonathan asked.

‘Feeling dreadful, looking worse – but none sick as yet.'

‘Well, that's something. And you, Mrs Lindsey – how are you?'

‘More comfortable outdoors,' I replied, ‘with fresh air and a view of the horizon.'

There was amusement in his voice as he said: ‘I know that shouldn't surprise me – but somehow it does.'

I paused outside the saloon and turned to look at him. ‘It shouldn't surprise you at all,' I said with bold reproof. ‘In case you've forgotten, Jonathan Markway, you and I come from the same place.'

‘I haven't forgotten.'

‘And neither have I.'

There was challenge as he met my gaze, but the anger seemed less. For the first time I felt he was beginning to see me as the woman I was now, rather than the girl he remembered, and that pleased me. As I went in to take my usual place at table, he said, ‘Well, then, if you'd care to come up to the bridge for a while, about ten or fifteen minutes after eight, I think we can at least offer you a change of scene.'

Trying to restrain a satisfied smile, I nodded my acceptance. The invitation was not exclusive, I knew that, since the Doctor had been up there two or three times to my knowledge, and so, I gathered, had Miss Fenton. But it was the first time that I had been asked, and my only regret was the time of day. Dinner was at six, and by eight o'clock it would be pitch black. But still, it was a beginning.

After dinner I made my round of the invalids again, reluctantly performing duties that reminded me of my time as a personal servant all those years ago – although for Alice I didn't mind.

Wearing long boots with a divided skirt for ease and practicality, I made my way up to the bridge, hanging on to every hand-hold along the way. Outside, the roar of the sea was almost deafening, and I was glad of the glass-enclosed safety of the chartroom. It took a moment before I recognized Jonathan in his oilskins – before I could see very much at all after the indoor lights below. Greeting me, he pointed out the helmsman on the open bridge, and the 3
^rd
Mate pacing the darkness.

‘Before midnight a junior takes the first watch, but I make a point of being on hand for safety's sake. And in bad weather, when we're so close to land,' Jonathan confessed softly, ‘I prefer to be up here most of the time...'

Somehow, that confession put another dent in his armour. I was touched by it and very much aware of him as he stood close by me. After a little while he resumed his routine, pacing back and forth between the windows, stepping outside, checking the course and heading with the helmsman, viewing the darkness in a broad arc from stem to stern, then coming in to pace back and forth again.

I looked too, but could see nothing but the rearing of huge white waves either side of the bow, and the phosphorescent glow of foam breaking over the decks. I felt the familiar prickles of alarm, and closed my eyes for a moment. Opening them, looking down, it was easy to see why we passengers had been banned from the main deck; and as the ship took another roll, that the weather was getting worse.

The checks on course and heading were just audible above the wind. I saw a faint, winking light to port, a light which turned out to be another steamer heading east. That was all, yet there was something compulsive about looking for other signs of life in the darkness, especially on a night like this. Like searching the heavens for shooting stars, or staring into the fire, late at night, when other, more sensible people were in bed.

When one of the lookouts went below to brew up, I was surprised to notice the time – it was after ten o'clock and I'd been absorbed for two hours. Sipping cautiously at a half-mug of hot, sweet cocoa I smiled suddenly, remembering another time, years ago. As Jonathan paused by my side, I found myself describing my first sea voyage with Henry aboard a Whitby collier to St Petersburg and Tallinn. I even mentioned the
Merlin.

‘I remember,' he said quietly, ‘how important that was to you.'

In the darkness, for a moment, his eyes lingered on mine. Then with a frown he moved away, and I thought it was probably time for me to check on my patients before retiring for the night. But as I turned to go, Jonathan insisted on coming down with me to see how the others were faring. After we'd checked each one, he said he hoped that I would be able to see to the ladies while the weather was bad; but if Dr Graeme started vomiting, he'd get one of the stewards to attend to him.

‘Really, if I'm looking after Alice and Miss Fenton, I don't mind...'

‘Perhaps not, but I'm sure he'll be less embarrassed by the presence of a steward.'

Grinning as an unexpected swing forced us both back against the wooden bulkhead, he urged me to take care while moving around. But it was an extraordinary feeling, like being on a fairground cake-walk in possession of a body that was alternately heavy as clay and light as air, a crazy, delirious sensation that I couldn't help enjoying even while it scared me half to death. We were standing in the narrow alleyway between the cabins, and as I turned to my door another violent lurch nearly threw me off my feet.

Jonathan grabbed my arm, steadying me against his side as I started to giggle helplessly. ‘Careful,' he cautioned, ‘things are getting dangerous.'

‘I know.' But I was laughing. I felt drunk, out of control, almost on the verge of collapse. We seemed to stand there for an age, clinging together while the ship was pitching and rolling and doing its best to throw us off our feet. His hands were firm, and while he was holding me I felt safe. I didn't want him to let go.

But on the next roll, Jonathan reached for my door, opened it and pulled me inside. In that narrow space he could lean one shoulder against the upper bunk while holding the door with the other hand. As he held me steady, there was a long, close moment in which we swayed together like dancers. I felt my breasts grow heavy against him, his muscles tensing as he took my weight; then a sudden lightness, a delicate brushing of his body against mine, the nearness of his face and a parting of lips in anticipation.

‘Damaris,' he whispered, and it was like a hungry sigh. But after so many years the name sounded strange to me. As I frowned and took a breath, he shifted his stance, and suddenly the tension was different, the intimacy gone.

‘I'm sorry,' he said abruptly, setting himself apart. ‘When you get to bed, Mrs Lindsey, wedge yourself in with something – a pillow or spare blanket. And be careful – especially between cabins. Doors can be lethal.' For a moment, in contrast to his speech, he looked vulnerable. ‘Forgive me – I must get back to the bridge.'

With that he was gone.

Like a punctured balloon I felt the air leave me. As I let go of the upper bunk, the ship knocked me down into the lower one. Since it promptly threatened to disgorge me, I did as Jonathan recommended and stuffed a blanket under the mattress before lying down fully dressed.

I didn't sleep, or even get much rest. The motion was too distressing, and anyway, I was torn between thwarted desire, guilt at what I desired, and a niggling doubt about whether Jonathan wanted me as much as I wanted him. My longings were so strongly physical I could feel my pulse racing. No matter how wrong that was, how unfair to Henry – how disloyal, betraying, and utterly
adulterous
that made me – I felt my conscience was unlikely to hold in any battle between the two.

That initial skirmish almost took my mind off the storm. It certainly made me forget to be afraid. From time to time I remembered to be concerned about the invalids – well, I was concerned about Alice, and felt a reluctant duty towards the other two.

I was up and down half the night, applying cold compresses to fevered brows, and emptying slop buckets before the ship could tip them over the deck. That was an art in itself, since the bathroom floor was wet, and flushing waste down the lavatory had to be timed, otherwise a gush of seawater could jump back out again. But it took my mind off Jonathan Markway. Even so, underlying frustration found vent in the kind of language I hadn't used for years.

Sometime before dawn, Alfred, the senior steward, appeared, and after that we managed the worst between us. I felt queasy myself at one stage, but it was no more than a combination of hunger and exhaustion. I had a bowl of kedgeree for breakfast, and after that was able to sleep for a while.

Despite the conditions, I needed fresh air, but even on the boat deck exercise was arduous. I confined myself to the area around the accommodation, holding on to the rail as I took a few steps up and down, marvelling at the wildness of the sea as I fought for breath against the wind and spray. The storm and that combination of fear and exhilaration reminded me of Bram and our first meeting; and then, as memory led me down some familiar paths, I caught myself wondering whether that day had been the breaking point where Jonathan and I were concerned.

Not for the first time I railed against fate, questioning why I'd had to meet such a man, and why I couldn't have been happy to settle down in Bay like the rest of my forebears, with a seafaring husband like Jonathan.

But I'd fought against that idea before I met either of them, and my feelings for Jonathan had been divided from the start by what he did for a living. I tried to cling to those thoughts, but they slithered away before the more powerful fact that I'd always found him physically attractive. That was what plagued me now, and I even caught myself wondering whether it was some kind of retribution for past shortcomings.

I might have gone up to the bridge, but there was no invitation; anyway, I was held back by the memory of those moments in my cabin. Instead, Jonathan and I met awkwardly in passing, between the cabins and the saloon, or briefly out on deck. I longed to feel his arms steadying me again, but we kept well apart, knuckles showing white as we gripped separate sections of rail. He would ask how I was, in tones that suggested genuine concern, but maybe that was standard for anxious women passengers.

I thought he looked worn. No doubt he thought the same of me.

At last, on the fourth or fifth day, the weather abated. The seas were still violent, but the wind had dropped, which meant everyone could relax sufficiently to get cleaned up and take some rest. That afternoon, having intended only to lie down for a while, I slept the sleep of the just. When I awoke, about three hours later, I felt strange and uncertain, and went out on deck for some air. To my amazement, in the westering light I could see mountains, bare, cinnamon-coloured peaks between the grey sea and the misty blue of a late afternoon sky. The vista was so beautiful, and so unexpected, that my eyes blurred with gratitude. Without acknowledging it, I realised I'd been afraid for days, hardly daring to believe that any of us would see land again.