One thing I learned pretty quick on board ship: steerage class was for poor people. First class was for rich folks. Each had their own bit of deck to roam about on. Steerage’s was right next to the engines, which was where I found myself now. It was separated from first class by gates; tall, locked gates. So I was on one side. And Mr Wellbeloved and Gabriel were on the other. It wasn’t exactly a help.
One gate stood near the coal heap. The other, on the opposite side of the ship, was next to the mast. Stewards passed through them quite often. They made a show of all the locking and unlocking, which I supposed was meant to impress the rich passengers. And that afternoon there were plenty up on deck, pointing and crying things like ‘It’s Mount Snowdon!’ or ‘I swear that town’s Fishguard!’, though to me it just looked like land. Truth was, I was too twitchy for sightseeing. I was worried for my own skin, and for Gabriel’s too. The sooner I found him the better.
Every hour, I’d give each gate a shake. I double-checked the bolts and chains too. But the gates were locked. Always locked. And twelve feet high with spikes on top, the bars slippery from the sea air. I’d never get over one, or even through one.
By nine o’clock it was dark, and most people had retired. I found a quiet spot by the coal heap, but it wasn’t in the slightest bit comfy. There was no Pip curled up next to me either. It made me long for home so much it hurt.
Touching Mam’s red heart, I breathed out long and slow. It calmed my thoughts. Then I noticed cooking smells wafting up through the hatches, and grew properly starving. I’d eaten the last of my bread and cheese hours ago. All I could think of now was pies and gravy, or a nice leg of chicken with the skin all crisp.
A voice in the dark made me start.
‘You still up here?’
A lamp shone over me. I scrambled to my feet. ‘I’m feeling sick,’ I lied, hoping the person couldn’t hear my stomach growl.
The lamp didn’t move. Blinking, I saw the outline of a steward. He grabbed my arm. ‘All steerage must be in the hold at night. Ship’s orders.’
I tried to twist free but he held on firm.
‘Find yourself a bucket to be sick in. There’s plenty down there.’
He dragged me towards a hatch. With his free hand he flung it open. Heat, noise, the smell of dinners and damp clothing all rose up into my face.
‘In you go,’ said the steward, pushing me. ‘And stay there.’
Above my head, the hatch slammed shut. A bolt slid across it. My spirits sank. This was my lot until morning.
Uneasily, I climbed down into the hold. The air was close and sour. And snakes alive, the noise! Up on deck, the engines were loud. Down here in the belly of the ship, the clunking, droning din seemed to drill inside my skull. I wondered how I’d stand it all night.
Yet people were getting ready to sleep. There were bunks along the sides and down the middle of the hold. I’d never seen so many beds all in one place. An old woman patted a place next to her.
‘You look lost, dear,’ she said.
‘I ain’t ever been on a ship before,’ I said.
‘Well, take a good long look. This is home for the next ten days.’
I shuddered.
‘There’s nothing a night’s sleep won’t cure,’ she said. ‘Come on, up you get.’
Grateful, I joined her on the hard wooden bunk. She even covered me with part of her blanket, which smelled of lavender and made me sad again for Jasper, Pip and the wagon we all shared. The rolling of the ship sent many folks off to sleep. Plenty more were poor sailors. Despite what the steward had said, there weren’t many buckets. And once they’d filled up, folks had to use the floor. The smell was ripe.
All through the night the puking never stopped. Nor did the drone of the engines. When my eyes grew heavy at last, I dreamed of thunder. Each time I woke up gasping for air. My hand went straight to my shift and the red scrap underneath. Soon as I felt it, I knew the storm wasn’t real. The ship sailed smoothly onwards.
*
At first light, the hatches were opened again. The air came in sharp and cold. Quick as you like, I was back up that ladder. We were now sailing in open sea. Behind us, the ship left a white trail across the water, and high above us, gulls still screeched. The wind had picked up a little. It helped clear my head, though the engine noise still rang in my ears.
More people emerged from steerage to empty their pails over the side. And then came the breakfasts of cake and hard biscuits. It was agony to watch people eating, knowing I’d no food myself. The old lady with the blanket might’ve shared what she had, but it didn’t seem right to ask. I headed to the nearest gate. Locked, of course. So was the one on the other side of the ship.
Locked, locked, locked.
My frustration grew. There had to be a way through these gates. I went to kick the blasted thing. Then stopped.
A lone first-class passenger was up on deck. He was staring out to sea. He didn’t have a hat on, and even though I wasn’t sure it was him, I pressed my face against the bars of the gate.
‘Mr Wellbeloved, sir?’ I called. ‘Mr Wellbeloved?’
The wind was strong. He didn’t hear me. I tried again.
‘Sir? Over here! Mr Wellbeloved!’
He didn’t look up. Yet the more I studied him, the surer I was. This man was tall and slender, with jet-black hair. His side whiskers were pointed in the same unusual way.
I started waving frantically. ‘Over here! Please! Sir!’
He glanced my way. Just once. Then he turned and went back inside.
I couldn’t believe it. So close and yet so far! I shook the gate. Kicked it. Cussed at it.
The noise brought a steward running.
‘Oi! What are you playing at?’
I froze.
‘Get away from that gate, d’you hear me?’
I turned round. His shiny-buttoned chest blocked my path. It was the same gruff steward from last night.
‘Ticket,’ he said, holding out his hand.
I stared at it blankly.
‘Ticket,’ he said again. ‘I’ve had enough of your mucking about.’
My heart plummeted. I was stuck. Well and truly. Behind me was the gate. In front was all silver buttons and dark wool coat.
‘My nanna’s got it,’ I lied, ‘and she’s still asleep in the hold.’
He squared his shoulders. I could tell he wasn’t buying it.
‘We’d best go and find her then, hadn’t we?’ he said, and his big hand came down heavily on my shoulder.
Think, Louie, think. But my brain was whirling too fast. And he was dragging me back towards the hatch.
‘I say! Stop at once!’ cried a voice behind us.
The steward halted. Ever so slowly he turned, dragging me with him. Standing behind the gate was a gentleman wearing a very tall top hat.
‘Mr Wellbeloved! Oh sir! It is you!’ I cried.
The steward let me go. I rushed at the gate. Never was I so glad to see anyone.
‘Oh sir! I must talk to you! It’s urgent! Please, sir, you see . . .’
Mr Wellbeloved put a gloved finger to his lips. ‘Not now,’ he said. He turned his attention to the steward. ‘This child is with me.’
‘Then how come she’s over here and you’re over there?’
‘My good fellow,’ Mr Wellbeloved said, in a way that meant the opposite, ‘let’s not make a fuss. I will pay her passage and take custody of her. Now kindly open the gate.’
He gave the steward something; I didn’t see what. But it was enough to put a smile on his face.
*
Within minutes I was sat in the dining saloon. The other passengers stopped eating. You’d have thought they’d never seen a girl before. Let them stare, I thought, for I never did mind being looked at. I even flashed a smile, though no one smiled back.
All the while, Mr Wellbeloved sat opposite me, chin resting on his hands. He smiled with his eyes, like something amused him. Perhaps it was my stomach, growling for all to hear. It was hard to concentrate on anything with dish after dish of food being carried past our table. So I was glad when he told me to order from the menu.
Then Mr Wellbeloved sat back in his chair. ‘So, tell me,’ he said, crossing his legs. ‘What’s this urgent matter you have to discuss with me, Louisa?’
I tensed up. No one called me Louisa. Ever.
His eyes were pale grey with dark rings around the coloured part. They made me think of wolves. I remembered what Mr Chipchase had said, about him not being all he seemed.
‘Where’s Gabriel?’ I said suddenly. ‘Is he all right?’
Visions of him locked in a cabin or tied to a chair sprang into my head.
Mr Wellbeloved smiled, this time with his mouth. ‘He’s very well, don’t you fret. You’ll see him soon enough.’
Relieved as I was, I felt myself go red. He’d seen my concern for Gabriel and it amused him.
Before I could say more, a silver domed plate was placed before me. Underneath it were eggs, kidneys, bacon. I ate fast. Mr Wellbeloved watched with raised eyebrows. And once I was finished, and had my cup refilled with hot chocolate for the second time, I put my elbows on the table. I was ready.
‘I want to perform on the high wire,’ I said. ‘I have to perform. It’s in my bones.’
I almost told him about Blondin and my scrapbook. But it felt a bit too private under that wolfish gaze. And I reckoned I could do this on my own merits.
‘I have a very real talent, sir.’
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes never left my face.
‘I came after you because . . .’ I faltered. ‘I want this chance more than anything. America would be an absolute dream for me. You saw me that night at Chipchase’s . . . I am good, sir, aren’t I?’
He tilted his chin. Was it a ‘yes’? I couldn’t tell.
‘So, you see, I think you chose the wrong person for your show. I’m here to ask you to reconsider.’
He stayed silent for a long moment. Then he said, ‘I expected you to climb that locked gate, Louisa.’
‘Pardon?’
I wished he’d call me Louie.
‘Nothing will stand in your way. You’ve got guts. I admire that in a person.’
‘Oh . . . right . . . well, ta very much.’
For someone I barely knew, he seemed to know me rather well. It made me think of Miss Lilly’s cards, which had also seen inside me. It all felt a bit odd.
‘Why didn’t you choose me, then?’ I said.
His eyes twinkled. ‘Who says I haven’t?’
I stared at him. Had he changed his mind? ‘What are you saying, sir?’
‘Nothing yet.’
He was toying with me. It was too much. My patience snapped. ‘Please give me the chance, sir! Let me be your star turn! You won’t regret it, I promise!’
His hand went up to silence me. ‘Sometimes, Louisa, you have to wait patiently for gates to open.’
‘But Gabriel doesn’t want . . .’ I stopped.
Stood in the doorway was Gabriel Swift. He wore a fresh suit of clothes and his hair flopped over his cheek. He looked surprisingly well.
‘Gabriel!’ I cried, jumping to my feet.
His face fell in horror. ‘Louie . . . why are you here?’