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Chapter Nine

RMS TITANIC

I open my eyes, startled by the unfamiliar room and then by my unfamiliar body.

I look down at my hands, which are those of a woman in her late thirties, and am reminded that I’m not Pixie Tate, but Constance Fleet.

I’m propped up against the pillows and the diary is open on the quilt.

I must have fallen asleep while reading it.

I panic. I was going to read the recent entries so that I could bluff my way through today.

But now I have no time. Once again, I’m going to have to wing it!

I feel a gentle vibration rising up from beneath me, causing the bed to tremble slightly, and remember suddenly that I’m on a ship.

But not just any ship. I’m on the Titanic .

I take a deep breath as the horror of it comes back to me and remind myself that I’ve slid and that I have a mission to carry out and must not lose courage.

I sweep my eyes over the room. Sunshine is slipping through the gaps in the curtains, gently illuminating the wood-panelled walls and furniture, and the Ouija board placed on the chair.

I know now that the board belonged to Constance and that is why I have possessed her .

At least I’m familiar with Ouija boards.

If asked to use it, I’ll know what to do.

I remember then that Cavill is on the ship.

Cavill.

I sit up in alarm as details of the evening before come flooding back.

How is it even possible? But it is. He is here.

I feel a deep ache in the core of my chest. I never thought I would see him again and now it will be impossible to avoid him.

I’ll have to be on my guard and not let my feelings show, because I’m not Hermione Swift.

I’m Constance Fleet and she is in love with the American she calls Orlando.

I am in love with Cavill Pengower. We have completely different objectives.

However, at least when it comes to love, I know exactly how she is feeling.

But I’m not here for me . I’m here to find out what happens to Lester Ravenglass. I must put my own feelings aside and commit to my mission. But, oh, what I would give to be Hermione again and for Cavill to wrap his arms around me!

There’s a knock at the door.

‘Come in,’ I reply, and Ruby enters. Her cheeks are rosy, her energy vibrant. She’s happy to be on the Titanic .

‘It’s a beautiful day, ma’am,’ she says, opening the curtains and shaking me from my reverie.

‘It’s glorious.’ I push Cavill from my mind and climb out of bed.

I hand Ruby the diary. She puts it in a drawer.

I go to the washstand and brush my teeth using tooth powder that’s in a glass bottle.

My reflection in the mirror startles me.

I’m still groggy with sleep and blink a few times to focus.

Nothing is familiar. It’s taking me a while to get into character.

I stare at the strange hazel eyes gazing back at me and search, once again, for me , Pixie Tate, hiding somewhere behind them.

But there is no trace of her. It’s a shock to see my face.

It no longer has the bloom of youth, but the lined, loose skin of a woman in middle age.

I run my fingers over my cheek and then pull it towards my ear to smooth out the slack jowl.

‘Is everything all right, ma’am?’ Ruby asks. She’s frowning at me.

‘I’m getting old, Ruby,’ I tell her, drawing away from the mirror with a sigh. I’m relieved I won’t be Constance Fleet for ever.

Ruby smiles as she takes a skirt and blouse out of the wardrobe. ‘We all grow old in the end, don’t we?’ she says blithely. She won’t grow old for years. Maybe she won’t grow old at all? I shudder at that thought. Will she make it off this boat? ‘How about the green? It matches your eyes.’

‘The green will do nicely.’ She helps me dress and I turn so that she can tie the corset at the back.

I feel as if I’m putting on a costume for a play.

I suppose, in a way, I am. As Ruby pulls the laces, I reflect on the diary and Constance’s involvement with the suffragettes, and imagine how she must hate to wear such restricting clothing.

‘How is everything below stairs?’ I ask Ruby.

I’m in the dark, grappling for light. I don’t even know what I’m looking for.

But whatever it is, it’s here , or I would not have slid to this time and place.

She pulls a face. ‘Mr Glover is throwing his weight around again,’ she says. ‘You know what he’s like.’

I know from the diary that Glover is Lester’s valet, and that Constance suspects him of theft. ‘What’s he doing now?’ I ask, injecting a little impatience into my voice to give the impression that I’m well aware of Mr Glover’s antics.

‘There’s a fair bit of jostling for position down there, and Mr Glover, of course being the valet of a viscount , thinks he’s better than everyone else. He wants to mix only with those serving aristocracy and wants me to do the same.’ She shakes her head in exasperation.

‘But you don’t listen to him, surely?’

‘No, you know what he’s like. He has ideas above his station, that one.’ She fastens the little covered buttons on the back of my blouse. Then her hands stop working and she lowers her voice. ‘You know you asked me to keep an eye on him?’ she says softly.

‘I do,’ I answer.

Our eyes meet over my shoulder in the mirror. ‘Well, last night, he was gambling again.’

I’m not sure how to respond. So, I encourage her to say more. ‘Go on.’

‘With Lord Ravenglass,’ she adds.

I frown. ‘Lord Ravenglass was with the servants?’ I know enough about the Titanic to know that it would be unusual for Lester Ravenglass, a first-class passenger, to fraternise with the valets.

‘He was, ma’am. In the saloon of all the places.’

She resumes the buttoning-up of my blouse. I try to think of something to say that won’t betray me. ‘He must have gone down after I’d retired to bed. Do you know how long they were playing for?’

‘No, ma’am. I went down to look for Miss Bird, Mrs Straus’s maid.

That’s when I saw them. But Miss Bird had retired, so I left them at the table and went to bed myself.

It was later when I heard singing. I don’t know what time it was, but it was late.

I poked my head out of the door and saw Lord Ravenglass and Mr Glover coming down the corridor. They were merry.’

‘Merry?’ By that, I assume she means drunk.

‘Yes, ma’am. They were very merry indeed.’

I know from Constance’s diary that she suspects Glover of having some kind of hold over Lester.

Might Lester have a gambling addiction, and Glover is enabling it?

Is Glover pawning Lester’s valuables to pay his debts?

Lester has already sold a Constable – how much money is he losing at the card tables?

I wish I had had time to read more of the diary.

I decide to jump ahead when I go back to it and see if I can find out more of what’s going on.

I sense Glover plays an important part in this drama.

Ruby pins up my hair and then places a flamboyant feathered hat on my head.

I look like I’m going to a garden party rather than breakfast on a ship.

She opens the door for me. I turn to thank her, and she grins and points at the door opposite.

‘I imagine his lordship is sleeping it off,’ she says with a giggle.

Well, at least I now know where Lester’s cabin is.

As I walk down the corridor towards the dining room, I reflect on Ruby. She and Constance must have an intimate relationship, judging from the way the maid talks to her mistress. She’s relaxed and gossipy, and clearly a confidante if Constance has asked her to keep an eye on her nephew’s valet.

Just as I’m crossing the foyer, Cavill comes up the stairs.

I catch my breath. My heart lurches and my whole body stiffens.

I feel like a deer caught in headlights A moment passes before he sees me.

I remind myself of the role I’m playing and the importance of not letting Constance down.

I must remember that I am her. Who knew that timesliding required Oscar-worthy performances?

Cavill’s face registers recognition and he arches his eyebrows. ‘Good morning, Miss Fleet,’ he says.

‘Good morning,’ I reply, and smile.

‘I trust you feel better?’ he asks. How strange it is to look into his eyes and see not a glimmer of affection, compared to when I was Hermione Swift and he gazed at me with love.

‘Much better. It takes a bit of getting used to, this ship.’

He frowns. ‘I barely feel it moving, it’s so large.’

He reaches me and we stand face to face. Constance is shorter than Hermione was, so Cavill appears taller now. ‘I have never been on a ship of this size,’ I say, which is stupid as there hasn’t ever been a ship of this size before.

He looks at me steadily and I don’t shift my gaze but look right back at him.

My stare must be either inappropriate or surprising, because his expression changes and he appears confused.

There follows a giant pause. It’s as if we are suddenly both lost for words.

He clears his throat. I blink, search frantically for something clever to say, but find nothing.

At last, he fills the silence. ‘Allow me to escort you into breakfast,’ he says.

‘Thank you,’ I manage, relieved. ‘I must say, I’m ravenous. Must be the sea air. I could eat a whale.’

He looks at me in amusement, and laughs. My spirits rise at the sight of his face breaking into a smile, and I laugh with him.

‘I dare say they serve whale, Miss Fleet,’ he replies. ‘They seem to provide every kind of dish on this ship.’

‘And fish,’ I add because it rhymes, and slip my hand around his arm, dizzy from the solid feel of him beneath his jacket, this man whom I thought I would never see again. With a jaunty step, I walk beside him into the dining room.