The White Empress (20 page)

The maître d’ approached, his handsome features impassive and a little arrogant. His black, frock-coat and high-winged collar
adding dignity to his bearing. He placed a silver salver in front of her. On it lay an exquisite orchid.

‘With the compliments of the hotel ma’m’selle. The orchid is Haiti’s pride, they grow wild in the forests.’

‘Put it on!’ David instructed as she just gazed in astonishment at the tall, dignified man.

She picked it up, still staring at the man. ‘Thank you! It’s beautiful!’

He bowed stiffly and walked away.

It was David who pinned it to the lace shawl, then led her out on to the dance floor which, in turn, led on to a terrace.
He held her closely as they moved in time to the rhythm of the orchestra. She closed her eyes. This had to be a dream but
she was afraid to pinch herself. She didn’t want to face reality. He guided her towards the terrace where the indigo sky pressed
heavily against the dim shapes of the mountains beyond the city. The perfumes of oleander, jasmine and night-flowering blossoms,
all enveloping. She sighed deeply.

‘Oh, David, this must be paradise on earth!’

His lips sought hers and she responded with warmth, surrendering to the heady mysticism of the island and the feelings it
evoked in her. ‘There is a much more beautiful place than this, Cat.’

‘Oh, David, what can be more beautiful?’

‘Petionville, that is paradise! Let me take you there, darling?’ Each word was accompanied by a kiss.

She drew away from him, not trusting her emotions. ‘How do we get there . . . and back?’

He smiled. ‘The same way we got here and don’t worry, Cat, I’ll take care of you. We’ll be back on board in good time.’

T
HEY STOOD ON THE
verandah of the Ibo Lele Hotel surrounded by delicate wrought-iron fretwork, over which tumbled a profusion of flowers. They
held their cocktails in their hands, their bodies close, as they looked down on Port-au-Prince, sparkling like a burnished
sheet of glass. The mountain-banded bay focusing the sky’s deep velvet blue, like a giant reflector. Gonave Island lay beyond,
cloud-capped, misty, mysterious. To the north-east stretched the Culde-Sac plain, its carpet of intensest green, gridded with
sugar cane. A vast expanse of darkness beyond which lay the great salt lake of Saumatre, that in daylight shimmered with ghostly
unreality. A mirage on the distant border of San Dominica.

He took the empty glass from her hand and placed it on a nearby table. Gently he took her in his arms and stared down at her.
‘Cat, Oh, Cat!’ His lips brushed hers and then she was clinging to him, returning his kisses. He drew his mouth away and then
his lips burned the
skin of her throat and shoulders. She was trembling but a warning bell sounded in her mind and she forced herself to pull
away from him.

‘David, I’m sorry . . .’

He lifted her chin. ‘Cat, I love you! I’ve loved you from the day I took you ashore in Montreal!’

She closed her eyes, the waves of joy his words evoked made her cling to him. ‘Oh, David, I love you, too! I think I’ve loved
you from the day we first met, even though I didn’t realise it!’

‘I know you’ve been hurt and I promise I won’t hurt you, I love you too much to do that. Do you believe me, Cat?’

‘Yes. Oh, yes!’

His lips sought hers again and her arms slid around his neck. He pressed her close to him, so close that she could feel his
heartbeat, or was it her own? So close that she could also feel the stirrings of desire in him. Again the warning bell sounded
and again she pulled away from him, but this time it cost her more of an effort.

‘No, David! It would be sinful!’

‘Is it a sin to love someone so much?’

‘No, but . . . but I want you to respect me, David, and you wouldn’t, not if . . .’ Her Catholic upbringing rose to the fore
and with it the memory of Shelagh and her mother. No, no one would point the finger at her. She caught his hands and held
them tightly. ‘David, I do love you! But please don’t ask me . . .’

‘Haven’t I just promised that I will never hurt you! Do you think I’m such a cad as to go back on my word?’

She smiled at him. She should have known. He was a
gentleman in the true sense of the word. ‘I don’t want anything to spoil tonight. I’ve never been so happy.’ She nestled against
his shoulder as he slipped his arm around her.

‘And nothing will spoil it. One more drink and then we’ll go back.’

She smiled up at him, relaxed and trusting and happy. She would always remember Petionville and tonight.

There were no other nights like that one but they spent as much time together as their working schedules would allow. From
Haiti they sailed to Santa Domingo, the capital of the Spanish colony of San Domenica, the other half of the island. In St
Thomas, the Virgin Islands, she bought souvenirs in the shops of Charlotte Amalie and sailed with David in a glass-bottomed
boat and marvelled over the gardens of coral beneath the cerulean waters. In Spanish San Juan, Puerto Rico, she explored the
quaint old town and El Morro, the fortress overlooking the sea.

She, with Anne and a party of girls and stewards, made the trip from St John’s in Antigua to English Harbour and Nelson’s
Dockyard. They spent the rest of the day lazing on the white sands, beneath the waving palms and swimming in the clear, warm
water. It was a never-ending fairytale for Cat, each island more beautiful than the last: Bridgetown, Barbados, so very English;
Fort-de-France, Martinique, so very French; Grenada, with its wide beaches, lush mountains and pervading essence of spices;
Port of Spain, Trinidad; Curaçao, a miniature of old Holland. She explored the
old wooden houses and narrow streets of Williamsburg and David insisted she try the liqueur named after the island.

The hours she spent with him were the most precious of all and she knew that these islands would be linked forever with the
love she had found.

On the night they left Curaçao to return to New York, they stood on deck at the foreward end, his arm around her shoulders,
watching the sunset. Watching the mighty draperies of scarlet and vermilion deepen to magenta, then black and finally darkness
had fallen. The moon rose, a huge silver penny, and the warm wind filled the sails of the few small clouds and sped their
shadows over the silvered surface of the sea. In a few hours they would be leaving all this behind, she thought. In a few
hours night would be chased by day beyond the sea’s end, and they would be heading back to the cold, grey days of winter.

‘It’s nearly over, David,’ she whispered sadly.

‘Only for a few weeks, then we’ll be back. Back to our paradise.’

‘I’ll never forget this trip.’

‘I’ll never let you forget it.’

Their bodies were entwined in a tender embrace until the sound of the bell, recalling them both back to duty, invaded their
cocoon.

Those four months had passed almost as quickly as a week, she thought, as they steamed back across the Atlantic to Southampton.
It had been a long, beautiful dream. She studied herself in the small mirror above the
washbasin in her cabin. Anne had said she was ‘starry-eyed’ and that meant she was in love. Anne didn’t know how right she
was! She looked older but felt younger than she had felt for years. Happiness danced in her eyes. She sang to herself as she
worked and nothing was too much trouble. In fact she had received some very generous tips from her passengers, one of whom
said she had never experienced such delightful, cheerful service. She was in love. Even the thought of going back to Liverpool
while the Empress was laid up for a month, couldn’t dispel her happiness, for David was going home, too, and they would see
much more of each other.

They made the journey from Southampton to Liverpool together, with most of the crew accompanying them, so there was little
time for privacy, and at Lime Street Station Marie and Joe were waiting for her. Joe in his uniform.

She hugged them both, chattering ten to the dozen.

‘Oh, it’s been so long, it’s seemed like years and years! Let me look at you!’ Marie held her at arm’s length. ‘You look wonderful!
Look at that tan – and the sun has lightened your hair!’

The two men stood quietly eyeing each other until Cat took David’s arm. ‘David, this is Joe. Joe Calligan. I told you about
him, he’s a very old friend.’

Joe shook the hand that was extended. He wondered if this was another one like Stephen Hartley. He also noticed the shining
light in her eyes when she looked at him, the way she clung to his arm. She’d grown up. She was a woman and a beautiful one
at that. The old longing arose and with it jealousy.

‘I’ll get a cab, I can drop you off,’ David offered.

‘No one coming to meet you?’ Joe enquired.

‘My father was supposed to be here, but I can’t see him. I expect he’s been detained.’ He walked away towards the taxi rank.

Joe took Cat’s arm. ‘Cat, I’m due to sail tomorrow, I have to talk to you and it can’t be said in front of him!’

‘Why?’ She was disappointed that he would be leaving so soon, she had so many things to tell him.

‘It’s about Eamon,’ Marie stated flatly, raising her eyebrows.

‘Oh, now what? Every time I come home there is something!’

David returned and the conversation ceased.

‘I’ve got you a cab but I’ve just spotted Dad, he’ll have the car so I’ll have to leave you, I’m afraid. But come over and
meet him. I want you to meet him and I know he’ll be delighted to meet you.’

She caught Joe’s warning glance and was torn between the desire to meet David’s father and the ominous matter of Eamon. She
felt irritated, deflated, but she smiled up at him. ‘No, you go, your Dad’s a busy man, there will be another time.’ She looked
meaningfully up at him and smiled.

He looked a little crestfallen and he sensed the animosity of the young engineer.

He bent and kissed her. ‘I’ll phone you, tomorrow.’

Joe turned away, taking Marie’s arm.

‘So that’s how things stand between those two,’ Marie commented.

Joe didn’t answer.

Once the luggage was in the boot and Joe had given the driver their destination, Cat turned to them both.

‘What’s the matter with our Eamon? Each time I come home all the happiness just evaporates!’

‘He’s been running wild ever since . . . ever since your Ma died. Maisey’s done her best, but your Pa hasn’t been much help.’

‘That’s nothing new. What’s he done?’

‘Been running around with a gang of back-crack boys and generally making a nuisance of himself, until last week.’ Joe twisted
his uniform cap between his hands.

‘So?’

‘Last week he got caught pinching sweets and some other things from Woolies, caught red-handed. He went before the Juvenile
Board and he’s at Rose Hill Police Station. Apparently he’s been warned before, this time he’s for the birch!’

She gasped. ‘Birch! I’ll birch the little sod myself!’ She rapped on the glass partition and the driver slid it down. ‘Never
mind the first instructions, Rose Hill Police Station!’

‘I’m sorry, Cat, really I am, to spoil your home-coming again. I only found it all out myself this morning. Maisey came to
see me.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Joe. It can’t be blue skies all the time, can it, not with a family like mine! Have you seen anything
of our Shelagh?’

He looked acutely embarrassed.

‘I know about the baby, she came to see me before I left.’

‘She’s got a place, up round Upper Parliament Street.’

‘So she’s alright?’

‘For now. I hear she’s “resting” until after the baby and then . . . then the girls she’s with, who’ve taken her in, will
expect her to . . . to, well, pay them back.’

‘So she’s going to make it her profession instead of giving it away free, is she! I’m glad Ma’s not . . .’

Marie flushed.

‘Is that how you’ve learned to speak, mixing with the toffs, Cat?’ Joe rebuked her.

‘I didn’t mean it to sound like that, but you know what I mean, Joe, she was always wild . . .’

‘You could have helped her, you could still help her, she is your sister, Cat.’

‘I would have helped her! I’d have given her my last shilling but for one thing! When Ma died and she was so upset I thought
her grief was genuine, but it wasn’t! She knew she was pregnant then and she was crying for herself – not Ma! I’ll never forgive
her that! Never!’

All three of them lapsed into silence until they reached the police station.

Once inside she went straight to the desk sergeant at the counter.

‘Can I help you, luv?’ he asked, genially.

‘I’m Eamon Cleary’s sister. Is he still here, has he had his punishment?’

The geniality vanished. ‘He is and he’s had five strokes. You’re the one who goes away to sea, are you?’

She nodded curtly.

‘It would have been better for him had you been home. Looked better when he went before the Beak, if you know what I mean.
He’s not a bad lad really, just got
into bad company. He’s sorry and I don’t think we’ll see him in here again.’

‘I’ll make damned sure you won’t see him in here again! Just wait until I get my hands on him!’ she fumed.

‘Harry, bring the Cleary lad up! His sister’s come for him!’ he yelled along the passageway. He turned back to Cat. ‘At least
he’s got one responsible person who cares about him.’

‘If his Pa had any guts or go about him, he’d have seen to it that this would never have happened.’ Her eyes smouldered as
she paced the tiled floor. Oh, what a family! Her sister a budding whore, her father an idle drunkard and now a brother in
trouble with the police! There was nothing she could or would do about Shelagh or Pa, but Eamon wasn’t going to grow up a
common felon!

The lad appeared with the constable. He’d grown but his hair was still unkempt, his clothes too short and dirty. His pale
face streaked with grime and tears. The relief in his eyes disappeared as she made a lunge at him.

‘I’ll box your ears so hard your head will ring for a week, my lad!’ she stormed.

Joe held her back. ‘Cat, he’s had enough! Can’t you see he’s scared stiff! Leave him!’

‘Leave him! I’ll leave him for dead!’

Eamon shrank closer to the constable at his side. Even this ‘scuffer’ who terrified the daylights out of him was better than
the raging virago who faced him.

‘He took his punishment well, Miss. Let him be, now.’ The desk sergeant intervened.

She fumed silently while the sergeant checked with
the constable that the boy had been examined by the police surgeon and declared fit to leave.

‘Take him home, miss, and we don’t want to see you in here ever again, me laddo!’

Eamon nodded, still keeping a safe distance from his sister.

It was Marie who took his grubby hand in hers. ‘Come on, let’s go. She’s upset that’s all. Just coming home today and finding
this out.’