Without you I am

Torn into pieces

Of cosmic dust

The stars are black

The night is endless

The Pleiades weep

The light is now gone

My life is now gone

I am

In bed alone

My world is ended. If you are reading this diary entry, I expect it to be the final one, and the story of Atlas Tanit will be complete. I have managed to survive all these years propelled by the fundamental energy that keeps humans striving forwards against all the odds – hope. But now, even that is extinguished, and I do not have the energy to continue. Later tonight, when the deck is quiet, I will willingly throw myself into the ocean, and let the freezing water consume me. I hope the waves are merciful, and it is a quick death.

I only feel moved to write this last entry out of a sense of duty to you, the reader. It is not the ending I dreamt of as a young boy when I first put pen to paper. Perhaps you have discovered this diary and turned straight to the end, to find out what happened to the man who threw himself off a steamship. Or, maybe, you have completed my entire life story, which I hope has been interesting if nothing else. If that is the case, I am sure that you have already surmised the fate that has befallen me.

Elle is gone.

My worst nightmare has become my reality, and I cannot face existing in it for too much longer.

After leaving Elle’s room in the early hours of this morning, I returned to my own quarters. I wrote in this diary, reordered my suitcase and then climbed into bed, with dreams of my wife-to-be lulling me into sacred slumber. I awoke at eight, got up and paid the hotel bill, along with our tickets for the passage. Then I made my way on board the RMS Orient and found our cabin. I even excitedly told the young steward who helped me with my bag about my plan to marry on the voyage, and he assured me that the captain would be more than happy to oblige. Then I took coffee and strolled out onto the deck, to watch for Elle.

There was an enormous throng of people by the water’s edge, clearly reluctant to let go of their loved ones who were departing for Australia. The pain of human separation was visceral, and I thanked my stars that I was boarding this ship with the only family I would ever need.

As the clock approached nine thirty, I made my way down to the gangplank where we had arranged to meet. As the minutes ticked on, and my watch read nine forty, I began to panic that Elle had overslept. I explained the situation to the steward, who assured me that there was enough time for me to run back to the Voyager Hotel and return to the ship before departure.

I sprinted down the gangplank, nearly sending a family flying into the water as I did so. I burst into the hotel lobby and up to Elle’s floor, banging loudly on the door, which garnered no response.

I tried calling out. ‘Elle!’ I cried. ‘Elle, the ship is about to leave! Elle!’

Realising my efforts were clearly fruitless, I ran back down to the lobby, where the bespectacled receptionist from the day before was now on shift.

‘Ah, good morning, sir! A big day ahead. Actually, shouldn’t you be on board? The gangplank is due to be raised in fifteen minutes.’

‘Yes, I know, but my fiancée is still in bed. She was supposed to meet me on the steamer, but she hasn’t shown up. Could you please unlock her bedroom door so I can rouse her?’

The receptionist looked puzzled. ‘Actually, sir, I saw her leave about half an hour ago. She walked through the lobby with her suitcase.’

I frowned. ‘That can’t be possible. She hasn’t boarded the ship. You must be mistaken. Please, I want you to unlock her bedroom.’

‘Really, sir, you have to believe me, I—’

‘NOW!’ I shrieked, as the eyes of the lobby fell upon me.

‘As you wish, sir. Let me just ask my colleague to escort you.’

‘Give me the key. I’ll go myself.’ I yanked it out of the receptionist’s hand and ran back up the stairs. I shoved the key into the lock and opened the door. The room was empty. The bed had been made and the floor was clear of possessions. What’s more, there was a cup with the remnants of coffee within it, the rim smudged with Elle’s pink lipstick. She had been here this morning, and had clearly left, just as the receptionist had confirmed.

Briefly, I was overjoyed at the discovery. It meant that Elle had, in all probability, boarded the ship. I had simply missed her. With my watch now reading ten minutes to the hour, I rushed back downstairs and threw the key at the desk. I returned to the gangplank, scanning for Elle.

‘Have you seen a lady with blonde hair and a dark blue coat? She would have been carrying one suitcase. She should be on board.’

The gangplank attendant searched his mind, but shook his head. ‘Sorry, sir, I don’t think I’ve boarded anyone who matches that description. But it’s a large ship, I could be mistaken. If she’s on board, she’ll probably have been directed to her cabin. You can always check with the floor steward.’

I hurriedly made my way to our second-class cabin, which was empty save for my suitcase. I accosted the steward in the hallway, and begged him to confirm that Elle was on board.

‘Leopine is her surname. Or, perhaps she used Tanit. But she has blonde hair. A blue coat. She’s my fiancée . . .’ I was aware that I was beginning to babble as my panic increased. My watch now showed only five minutes to the hour. I raced back up to the gangplank, and found myself describing Elle to anyone I could find, with no luck. My heart was pumping ten to the dozen and my vision began to blur in my overwhelming panic.

I heard the ship’s engines roar into life.

‘No, no, please, no!’ I grabbed the nearest uniformed employee. ‘You have to stop the ship! I don’t know if my fiancée is on board!’

‘Sorry, sir, the gangplank is raised at ten o’clock sharp. There really can be no exceptions.’ I clung to the rail of the deck and desperately scanned the shore for any sign of my love. Still seeing nothing, I ran back to the gangplank and pleaded with the attendant, who saw my pain, but was unable to help, bound by those higher up the chain.

‘Sir, I understand the situation.’ He tried to calm me. ‘I really would very much like to help. But in all honesty, I suggest you disembark.’

‘But she might be on board!’ I cried.

‘In which case, sir, there’s another ship which leaves in a few weeks. You could follow her then.’ I spun around, and came face to face with an elderly lady. She had high cheekbones, pale skin and piercing blue eyes – not dissimilar to Elle’s. Although her curly hair was decidedly grey, there were a few distinct flourishes of auburn within her mane.

‘Gangplank up!’ came the cry from the steward. He was joined by two other uniformed individuals, who placed their hands on the rope and began to pull. The ship’s horn hooted a final warning.

‘Where is she? She was meant to meet me here on the ship!’ I wheeled around once more to the old lady, who was staring up at me. ‘Excuse me, madam, have you by any chance seen a blonde-haired woman boarding the ship in the last few minutes?’

‘I couldn’t say.’ Her accent was Scottish. ‘There were so many people coming and going, but I’m sure she’s on board somewhere.’

The horn sounded again, and the ship very slowly began to edge away from the dock. I considered jumping over the side. Perhaps the steward was right. If I remained on land, then in the worst-case scenario, Elle might be safely on her way to Australia and out of harm’s way. I could avoid Kreeg for another few weeks. But if Elle had not boarded the ship, then I needed to stay in England to protect her. My mind raced. ‘Oh God, where are you . . .?’ I screamed to the wind, my voice drowned out by the engines and the screeching of seagulls. I staggered back along the deck, clinging to the handrail and gasping for breath. ‘Elle! Elle! Elle!’ I cried helplessly, feeling as though I was falling through an endless void. As I once more peered over the edge of the ship, trying to suck in as much air as I could, I spied something familiar on the dock. I couldn’t quite believe it, but just behind a crowd of people waving handkerchiefs and blowing kisses was a light blue paper bag, from the dressmaker Elle and I had been to the day before.

It couldn’t be Elle’s, could it?

I had very little to lose.

‘Excuse me! Excuse me!’ I cried out to the crowd below. ‘My bag! I’ve left my bag!’ I continued to shout and flail my arms wildly until I attracted the attention of a young boy. ‘The blue bag! Just behind you! Please throw it aboard!’ The young man turned around and saw what I was pointing to. He pushed his way through the adults around him and grabbed it. ‘Yes! Please, throw it!’ The ship was perhaps three metres away from the dock’s edge, with the distance increasing by the second. The boy made his way to the water’s edge, looking up at me. I realised that I was too high up, and the bag didn’t have a chance of making it. I pushed my way back through passengers to the steward at the gangplank. ‘Please, my bag, that boy has it!’ He had clearly been willing to help a moment before, so nodded, and, quick as a flash, hopped over the ship’s edge. For a moment, I thought he’d jumped, but in actuality, he was climbing down some ladder-like rails attached to the hull. The boy saw the steward spring into action. When he was level with the shoreline, the steward held out a single arm so that the boy could throw him the bag. The boy hesitated.

‘Now or never!’ the steward cried. The boy looked up to me, and I gave him the nod. He threw the blue bag with some force, and my heart remained in my mouth as the steward fumbled it over the ocean. Nonetheless, he somehow managed to maintain a grip, and began to make his way back up to the deck. The young boy cheered, and I gave him a small round of applause, before reaching over to grab the bag.

‘Thank you, thank you!’ I cried.

‘Your fiancée’s, is it?’ he asked.

‘That’s right,’ I replied.

‘Well, seeing as it was right by the dock, hopefully that means she’s on board, sir.’

‘Yes. Thank you again.’ I forced my way back through the humming deck, a cacophony of human emotion as passengers bade farewell to their homeland – some for many months, others forever.

Eventually, I reached the ship’s aft, where there was enough space to open the bag. From within, I pulled out a white satin dress. At the bottom of the bag, I noticed two small pieces of paper. My stomach turned as I laid eyes upon the charcoal drawing I had done the day before. Accompanying it was a note.

Knowing you was the privilege of my life.

Rest easy without the burden of having to keep me safe.

Ever yours,

Elle xx

(Go and live your life, as I must live mine.)

I felt numb. Nothing seemed real. The note implied that Elle had chosen not to get on the boat. She had chosen to leave me. ‘No,’ I whispered. ‘It can’t be . . .’ My mind raced through the events of the last twenty-four hours. It had all seemed so perfect . . .

Without warning, my legs failed me and I collapsed to the floor. I expected tears, but none came. My body did not possess the power to produce them. At that moment, my inner light was extinguished.

‘’Scuse me, mista. You doin’ all right down there?’ I looked up to see a bright-eyed, painfully thin young girl with sallow skin and lank brown hair. She could have been no more than fifteen years old. ‘’Ello, mista? Oh, bloody hell, he looks a bit peaky. Eddie, go and get someone in a bleedin’ uniform, would yer?’ A young boy beside her, aged perhaps five or so, ran off. ‘’Scuse me, could someone help, please? This bloke’s taken a bit of a tumble. ’Ello? Can you ’ear me?’ The girl knelt down beside me.

‘You shouldn’t be on deck, you filthy toerag,’ came a deep, plummy voice from above. ‘You should be down below in ratbag class.’

‘Yeah, sorry, mista, we was only coming up to ’ave a look at England for the last time. But this man’s a bit poorly. Can you help?’ the cockney girl replied.

The plummy-voiced man looked irritated. ‘Get a steward. It’s what they’re paid for,’ he sneered, before strolling nonchalantly away.

The girl threw her hands up. ‘Right, thanks for nothin’. ’Ello, mista,’ she said to me, producing an enormous grin and revealing a yellowing set of teeth. ‘Don’t worry, Eddie’s gone to fetch someone.’

‘I don’t, I can’t . . .’ I vaguely remember mumbling.

The young girl took my hand, and began to shake it vigorously, I think in an attempt to revive me. ‘It’s all right, mista. What’s your name? I’m Sarah.’

‘Sarah . . .’ I stumbled.

She nodded at me. ‘That’s right, mista. Feel a bit overwhelmed, do yer? Me too. But it’ll be good in Australia. It’ll be nice and ’ot and they say we can go swimming in the sea every day.’

I looked into Sarah’s brown eyes. ‘Elle,’ I managed. ‘Elle . . .’

She looked perplexed. ‘Elle?’ Sarah frowned. ‘Who’s that then?’

I groaned. ‘She’s gone, she’s gone.’

Sarah looked around. ‘Gone? Gone where, mista?’

‘Gone away . . .’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh blimey, he’s gone loopy. You’ll be all right, mista. Look, ’ere’s a bloke who knows what to do.’ A uniformed steward approached from across the deck. As he got closer, I noticed the annoyed look on his face.

‘What are you doing up here?’ he hissed at Sarah.

She laughed indignantly. ‘We wanted to say ta-ra to England. Never mind about that, though, this poor bloke needs some ’elp!’

The steward knelt down beside me. ‘I’ll deal with it. Now take the boy here and get back downstairs. You know you’re not supposed to be up here. We’ll have complaints.’

Sarah sighed. ‘Yeah, all right. Come on, Eddie.’ The little boy gave me a small wave, and I did my best to reciprocate. ‘’Ope you feel better, mista,’ said Sarah. ‘See you in Australia.’ She took Eddie by the hand and led him away. Before she disappeared from view, I saw her run to the edge of the deck and lift the little boy up so he could see over the side. Then she waved her spare arm. ‘GOODBYE, ENGLAND!’ she cried. ‘Give ’er a wave, Eddie!’

‘Downstairs!’ the steward barked. The children obeyed. ‘I’m terribly sorry about that, sir, it won’t happen again.’

I was beginning to recover my senses. ‘No, I must thank her . . . Who is she?’

The steward rolled his eyes. ‘They’re orphans. There’s about a hundred of them down in third class. They’re being shipped out from England to find new families in Australia.’

‘Orphans?’

‘Yes, and I’m sorry, sir, I will ensure they don’t bother you again.’

I was becoming frustrated by this man’s attitude. ‘No, I—’

‘You’ve taken a fall, sir. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re all right.’

I tried to stand up. ‘I . . . need . . . to get off.’

The steward held me down. ‘Easy, sir. There’s no getting off now. The next stop’s Egypt.’

I tried to resist the steward, but the exertion proved too much. ‘No, I . . .’ was all I managed, before my world descended into darkness.

I awoke in my cabin, a man in a tweed jacket looking over me.

‘Hello, Mr Tanit. Feeling better, are we?’

I blinked hard. ‘Yes. What’s going on?’

The man in the jacket smiled. ‘I’m Dr Lyons, the ship’s medical officer. I have to say, I didn’t expect to be called into action so early in the trip, but there we are. You had a bit of a fall on deck, Mr Tanit, do you remember that?’

‘Yes.’

The doctor took out a small torch from his pocket and shone it in my eyes. ‘It’s quite understandable, I think. You seem to have had a bit of a day of it.’ He raised an eyebrow at me. ‘The steward on your floor says that you’d asked about the captain performing a wedding?’ I nodded, still in a daze. ‘I read the note that was in your hand. Hard luck, old man. That’s very difficult to accept, I’m sure.’

A surge of dread ran through me as I recalled the events that had led up to my collapse. ‘Oh no. Oh no!’ I sat bolt upright in bed.

The doctor put a comforting hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Mr Tanit. Here, take this.’ Dr Lyons offered me a pill and a glass of water. ‘It’s a mild sedative which will put you to sleep for a few hours.’

I didn’t want to sleep. ‘I need to get off this ship!’

Dr Lyons gave me a sympathetic shrug. ‘That’s not going to be possible, Mr Tanit, which is why I suggest you take the sedative. I promise you, it will make the time pass quicker.’ He practically forced the pill into my mouth, and I gulped it down. ‘There’s a good chap. That should knock you out for a while. I’ll be in to check on you later.’

Dr Lyons stood up, and before he was out of the door, my eyes had closed.

When I awoke, I turned here, to my diary, to record my final thoughts.

For the sake of my own sanity, I have to believe that my life has not been a lie, and that Elle did truly love me. As for why she didn’t board the ship . . . I can only surmise that she felt unable to continue her life plagued by the constant threat of Kreeg Eszu and his mission to do me harm. In this regard, who am I to blame her? Our lives have been spent living under a cloud, with the heavens threatening to open at any moment. She deserves so much more. I know that I truly love her, because in this regard I am glad.

But I know that without her, there is nothing left for me here.

And so concludes the story of Atlas Tanit, or Bo D’Aplièse, or some amalgamation of the two – however you have come to know me, reader. I will put my pen down, and walk up to the deck. I hope my Seven Sisters shine for me one final time.

I do not fear death, but I hope the process itself is relatively quick, and that the cold of the Atlantic envelops me to save me many painful hours floating in the nothingness.

What will I do with the diamond? Should I . . . bequeath it to someone? Is there a way of getting it to Mr Kohler in Switzerland, perhaps for young Georg and Claudia, I wonder? But if Kreeg ever discovered its location . . .

I will pen a will before I jump, leaving my estate to the Hoffmans, with the proviso that the two young children are cared for. Perhaps it is best that the blasted diamond accompanies me to a watery grave. That way, it cannot cause more harm than it already has.

Before I finish these pages, something has begun to nag at me, reader. This diary begins in Paris in 1928. It is amusing to me, now, how cautious I was when penning those initial pages. I would not even record my name. Of course, such protections became moot when I was discovered by Eszu in Leipzig. If you have stuck with me this far, I believe I owe it to you to present you with the full picture of my life, and the precise events that led to the chaos which has tainted my existence.

Kreeg, if this diary ever finds you, I will, once again, address below the exact circumstances of your mother’s death. Please, I beg of you, accept that the following account is given by a man at the end of his life, with nothing to hide, and nothing to gain from lying.

Tyumen, Siberia, April 1918

On reflection, my birth was an auspicious day, not that I was aware of it at the time. The end of the Romanov dynasty caused great unre

Apologies, reader. During the writing of that sentence I was interrupted by a knock on my door – Dr Lyons, who had come to check on me. He told me that a young orphan girl named Sarah from third class had enquired about my well-being during his visit to assess the health of the children below.

‘She was very kind to me,’ I said truthfully. Suddenly, I had a thought. I felt the diamond, still secure against my chest. ‘I would like to thank her. Would you happen to know how I get to third class?’

‘Yes, if you’re sure you want to brave it. All our orphans are in fine fettle, but I’m rather afraid that personal hygiene is not a priority for them, Mr Tanit.’

I managed a slight laugh. ‘It’s really not a problem, Dr Lyons. Which way, please?’

I made my way down into the belly of the RMS Orient through a labyrinthine arrangement of corridors and quarters. Eventually, several decks below my own, I entered third class. The most striking thing was the lack of any natural light. The whitewashed walls glared with the reflection of clinical artificial illumination, which had a bewildering effect on one’s sense of time.

The communal area in third class consisted of a room full of battered tables and chairs of various sizes, and was heavy with cigarette smoke when I entered. Around the largest of the tables sat a rag-tag collection of children. Among them, I spotted Eddie, the little chap who had been on deck earlier, but there was no sign of Sarah.

I approached the group. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering if Sarah was about?’

‘She’s snuck off again,’ said one of the boys, before looking horrified at his admission. ‘But don’t be too hard on her, mista, she just likes to look at the ocean.’

I gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Oh, that’s all right. I like to do the same.’

‘You won’t beat her then?’ he asked.

‘Beat her?! Heavens no. Quite the opposite actually. I was hoping to thank her for something.’ I gave Eddie a thumbs up, which he returned. ‘I don’t actually work for the ship. I’m just a passenger.’

‘A posh one? You sounds posh!’ said another boy, to sniggers from around the table.

‘Oh, not as posh as some of the people on board. Would I find Sarah up on the viewing deck then?’

‘Prob’ly, yeah,’ replied the boy.

The viewing deck was silent, with only the infinite blackness of the water and the fierce chill of the January air for company. Sighing, I held on to the railing and looked up to the sky. Celaeno was especially bright tonight. The sound of the steamer cutting through the water was soothing, and the cold, crisp air felt invigorating on my skin.

‘It’s you, innit, mista?’ came a familiar voice from the shadows. I looked round, and Sarah emerged from behind a life-ring housing. ‘The bloke who pulled a whitey earlier?’

‘Hello, Sarah. I wanted to thank you for your kindness this morning.’

‘Shh, keep yer voice down. I’m not s’posed to be up here!’ She raised a finger to her lips.

I sighed. ‘What a ridiculous ruling. Listen, come and stand by me, and no one will be any the wiser.’

She came forth and joined me at the railing. We stood for a moment, taking in the salt-scented night air. ‘You feeling better then?’ she asked.

I nodded. ‘Much improved, thank you. You were the only person to come and help me. That was very good of you.’

‘That’s all right, mista. It’s just ’uman decency, innit? But all these poshos up top are more worried about getting their knees dirty than lendin’ a helpin’ hand.’ She tutted comically.

The sound of the Orient surging through the water was relaxing, and I felt my blood pressure starting to lower. I really did enjoy being out on the ocean. ‘Might I ask how many orphans are travelling to Australia?’ I asked Sarah.

She took a moment to calculate. ‘Probably a hundred. I’m fifteen, see, so I’m all right. But there are little ’uns down there not much older than three. Them’s the ones I feel sorry for.’ She stared out into the darkness. I was touched by her caring nature. After all, she was only a child herself.

‘May I ask what happened to your parents?’ I enquired gently.

Sarah looked around at the empty deck, as if to check no one was listening in. I suspected that the memory was painful, and as a consequence was not discussed often. ‘In the war there were a lot of bombs that fell on the East End. The last one did for ten of us in our street, including me mam. We was in the cellar, see, ’cos the sirens had gone off, then she realised she left ’er knitting upstairs and went to fetch it just as the thing fell on our roof. I were dug outta the rubble without a scratch. I were only six years old at the time. Chap that heard me caterwauling said it was a blimmin’ miracle.’

I went to put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, but feared it would be inappropriate. ‘How awful. I’m so sorry for your loss. Where did you go after that?’

She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly before continuing. ‘Me auntie took me in to ’er house down the road. Was only s’posed to be till me dad came back from soldiering in France. Except ’e never did come back, and me auntie couldn’t afford to keep me, so I was put in an orphanage. It were all right there, ’cos we stuck together. Then one day they told us we was going to Australia to get new lives. And ’ere we are.’

The Orient encountered a rogue wave, and Sarah and I were hit in the face by some fine sea spray. Sarah gave a throaty cackle, which in turn elicited a small laugh from me. Her positivity was inspiring, and a little infectious, too.

‘Did you lose anyone in the war, mista?’ Sarah asked.

Karine, Pip and Archie Vaughan all passed through my mind. ‘I did, yes.’

Sarah nodded wisely. ‘I thought so. You ’ave that sad look in your eye.’

‘Do I?’ I asked. Sarah gave me a sympathetic grin. I turned away to face the ocean. ‘I actually lost someone very recently, not because of the war.’

‘Who was that then?’

‘Her name is Elle.’ I shut my eyes. ‘She was the love of my life.’

Sarah put her hands on her hips. ‘’Er name is Elle? You mean, she’s not popped her clogs?’

I couldn’t help but smile at Sarah’s brazen manner of speech. ‘No, not at all. She’s just . . . not on this ship.’

Sarah threw her arms out. ‘Well, what are you so down about then? Just turn round and go get her back!’

‘I wish it was as simple as that, Sarah. She doesn’t want to be with me.’ I felt for the diamond hung around my neck. ‘Anyway, I want to thank you once again, Sarah. I have something here for you, actually.’ I began to lift the string from around my neck.

Sarah put a hand out to stop me. ‘Oh no, I won’t take yer money, mista. Not for doing a kind thing. That’s not right. I mean, if you need yer socks darning, or yer trousers stitchin’ up, I’d be glad to take payment. But not for earlier.’

I was a little taken aback. ‘I don’t think you understand, Sarah, this is a life-changing amount of mon—’

‘Mista, I’m on a boat to the other side of the world. Trust me, that’s enough of a change for the time being. As I said, I’m useful with me ’ands, I’m ’oping I’ll get a job and make some money of me own. And find a fella!’

I tucked the string of the pouch back beneath my shirt. ‘In which case, I will leave you to enjoy your evening. Thank you again, Sarah.’

I started to make the journey to the other side of the deck. ‘Do you believe in God, mista?’ Sarah called to me.

The question caught me off guard. I turned back to face her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about all that recently, and you seem like a clever bloke. I just wondered what you thought?’

I strolled slowly back towards Sarah, pondering the question. ‘I think it depends what you mean by “God”. I believe in the power of the universe. Maybe that’s the same thing?’

Sarah sniffed. ‘So you don’t think it’s an old geezer with a big white beard?’

I chuckled. ‘That sounds like you’re describing Father Christmas to me. And I most definitely believe in him.’

‘Ha. Well, ’e didn’t make many visits to the orphanage, I can tell yer that.’

‘No.’ I cast my eyes heavenwards and took in the stars. ‘Elle was an orphan, you know. I suppose I am too. Sort of.’

Sarah screwed up her face. ‘’Ow can you be sort of an orphan?’

I smiled. ‘That’s a very good question. It’s difficult to explain.’

‘Well, one thing we ain’t short of is time. I’m gonna do me best to escape up ’ere every night to get out of the smog from all that fag smoke downstairs. You can meet me up ’ere, and you can tell me your story.’

‘My story, eh? I’ve never told it to anyone in full, apart from Elle. It’s very long. And quite sad.’

‘Sad so far, mista. It ain’t over yet, is it?’ I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Sarah’s face dropped. ‘’Ang on a minute. I know that look. You’re not thinking about chucking yerself over the edge, are yer?’

‘I . . .’

Sarah was furious. ‘Don’t be so bleedin’ selfish. You know who’d love to be ’ere right now? Me mam. But she can’t be, because a bomb dropped on ’er head. Same goes for all the parents of them little ’uns down there. The kids would give anything to ’ave ’em back when they were so cruelly taken. And ’ere you are, thinkin’ about snuffin’ yerself out.’

I took a step back. ‘Sarah, I didn’t mean to upset you . . .’

‘Upset me? Nah. I’ll be all right. But you know who won’t be? People who know yer. What about when this Elle finds out you killed yerself because of ’er? ’Ow d’you think she’ll cope with that on her conscience?’ She stared at me, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. In truth, I hadn’t even considered Elle discovering the circumstances of my death. Sarah continued. ‘What’s more, if she did love yer, and it sounds like she did, the last thing she’d want is for you to top yerself.’

I was scrambling for a response. ‘Well . . . no,’ I conceded. ‘Again, I’m very sorry to have caused distress. Particularly because I lost my parents myself at a young age.’

Rather than placate Sarah, it seemed to incense her further. ‘Well, there yer bleedin’ go then! Yer think they’d be ’appy tonight watchin’ their son hit the ocean?’ She pointed to the sky. ‘I don’t bloody think so.’

The young woman’s straight-talking manner had a sobering effect on me. ‘You’re quite right, Sarah.’ I was suddenly feeling very ashamed of my intentions.

Sarah took a step towards me and softened her tone. ‘You’ve got to remember that life is a gift, mista. Whatever the circumstances.’

Tears filled my eyes. I nodded. ‘Elle told me that once.’

Sarah shrugged. ‘She was right.’ She gave me a light push on the chest. ‘And anyway, when we get to Australia, you can find a nice new girlfriend who doesn’t abandon yer on ships. All right?’

I gave a chuckle through my tears. ‘All right Sarah. Point taken.’

‘Anyway, mista, I really do want to hear your story, starting tomorrow night. You won’t let me down, will yer?’

I shook my head. ‘I won’t, Sarah.’

I bade her goodnight and returned to my cabin, and to my diary. I will keep my promise to Sarah. She somehow has managed to rouse me from the depths of my dark thoughts. Despite her difficult life, she strives to see the brighter side, and what’s more, finds the capacity to care for others too.

She reminds me a little of Elle.