A Shop Girl at Sea Read online

  So, he’d returned once again to Southampton.

  He’d sailed.

  He’d pulled rope and harness.

  He’d travelled back and forth from his home in Bath to long stretches lodging near the Southampton docks.

  Reaching his favourite local tavern, Samuel sat on a bench outside.

  Staring blindly ahead, he imagined the scene that would greet him tomorrow when he arrived in Southampton. Boats gently bobbing from side to side, the dank smell of the water, the shouting and laughter filtering through the Platform Tavern’s door as he and his fellow seamen toasted their upcoming voyage.

  Samuel’s heart swelled with anticipation and excitement. The Titanic was due to sail into Southampton from Ireland on the 3rd of April, just three short days away. His captain would arrive not long afterwards, and the crew would begin to learn more about the ship the press lauded as the most luxurious ever built. A floating hotel. Such a feat of engineering she was virtually unsinkable.

  It was rumoured that over fourteen thousand men had helped build her, and soon Samuel would have his first glimpse and tour before they set sail on the 10th of April.

  He smiled.

  The Titanic represented days, possibly weeks, of freedom. His chance to say goodbye to his responsibilities, to culpability, to expectation from his family and finally live his own life. For a while, at least. He would send money home and live the days he was away as though they were his last. Lord only knew when such an opportunity would present itself again.

  ‘Hey, Murphy. What are you doing sitting out here on your own?’

  Samuel turned and greeted his friend and fellow seaman, Archie More. ‘Just thinking about what the next few weeks hold for us.’

  Archie grinned and lifted his half-filled glass in a toast. ‘America, my friend.’

  Samuel laughed. ‘The ship will be like nothing we’ve ever seen before. They say the first-class decks are furnished better than a five-star hotel. God knows the types we’re going to come in contact with.’

  Archie snorted. ‘You really think any of us will be allowed near that lot? It will only be the stewards and such-like speaking to them.’

  ‘Then I’ll make myself known to the second-class passengers. How about that?’

  Archie shrugged. ‘Don’t see the need myself. It’s the experience and the chance to see the other side of the world that appeals to me. Not the people onboard.’

  Samuel turned away and breathed deep, anticipation bubbling inside him. ‘People are everything. It’s who we meet, who we come to know and who we love that makes the world go around. I intend to get to know as many people as I can on this voyage. I want to know how the other half lives. I want to know what this world has to offer because, the one thing I’m sure of, there is more out there than Bath and Southampton.

  Three

  In the back room of Pennington’s men’s department, Amelia stood at a table and met the eyes of her colleagues. George Weir, Mrs Woolden, the head of the ladies’ department, and design department assistant, Ruby Taylor – each watched her with varying degrees of attention.

  Tightly clenching her new window design, Amelia steadfastly ignored the derision in Mr Weir’s eyes. It mattered so much to her that this design went ahead as she’d planned. Elizabeth had never before given her a free hand on the main window and this design was special – to celebrate the launch of the Titanic. It would almost certainly draw an infinite amount of attention. Especially considering how the store had been advertising its unveiling for the last month.

  She cleared her throat. ‘So, with just two weeks until the Titanic departs, it’s time to start erecting the new window display. All the plans are in place and the merchandise selected, so I think it’s safe to say we can have everything ready in two days’ time.’

  Mr Weir crossed his arms. ‘I understand Miss Pennington would like an equal amount of space given to menswear, Miss Wakefield. I hope you have taken that into account… this time.’

  ‘I have.’ She fought to keep her smile in place, lest her nerves showed. ‘I think you’ll all be pleased with the design.’

  Mrs Woolden smiled. ‘I’m sure we will. Why don’t we take a look, dear?’

  Amelia glanced at Ruby who nodded, the younger girl’s blue eyes unreadable. Although Ruby was a skilled seamstress, her often aloof manner meant she had few friends at Pennington’s – something Amelia had tried, and failed, to help her rectify. There only seemed to be one person who had broken through Ruby’s detachment and that was Victoria Lark who worked in Accessories.

  Refusing to be party to the shop floor gossip circulating about the true nature of the two women’s relationship, Amelia had neither uncovered its credence, nor cared to further speculate. To her mind, whatever went on between Ruby and Victoria was no one else’s business.

  Unrolling the design, Amelia smoothed it out on the table, taking some paperweights to secure the corners. ‘I thought we could have an image of the ship on the backboard and then a selection of mannequins showing clothes suitable for first-class passengers, right through to third. From Accessories, we could make use of hats, shoes, parasols. From Jewellery, we could have the women wearing—’

  ‘If I might interrupt…’ Mr Weir peered over his half-rimmed spectacles at the design, his expression reminiscent of a bulldog chewing a wasp. ‘For all Miss Pennington’s insistence we are a store for everyone, I really can’t believe she would want third-class passengers represented in our main window. Isn’t such a notion profoundly insensitive? The Titanic is a ship of prestige, Miss Wakefield. Something of wonder and excitement. How would anyone travelling third class be able to afford the clothes you intend displaying?’

  ‘That is exactly my point. We’ll display clothes affordable to all.’

  He arched an eyebrow, his brown eyes shadowed with annoyance. ‘Isn’t it myself and Mrs Woolden that Miss Pennington consults about the latest fashions? Who she relies on to know what will sell and to whom? Do you think she and Mr Carter wish to appeal to people likely to spend more, or less, money in the store?’

  Amelia squared her shoulders, prepared for a fight even as Mrs Woolden and Ruby remained tight-lipped. ‘I believe Miss Pennington and Mr Carter want Pennington’s to be a place people feel encouraged, not defeated. By showing clothes and accessories affordable to every pocket, we are filling people’s hearts and minds with possibility. That is what Pennington’s stands for, is it not?’

  ‘When Mr Pennington was here—’

  ‘But he’s not here, is he?’ Amelia’s heart raced at her own impertinence, but she refused to yield. ‘Mr Pennington left the store to Miss Pennington and Mr Carter. They have run Pennington’s for almost two years. The store is theirs now, and they have proven their innovative thinking many times over. I am willing to put my job on the line that Miss Pennington will agree with what I have in mind rather than go backwards, as you seem to want to do.’

  ‘Hear, hear.’ Mrs Woolden clapped her hands. ‘I completely agree. Do open your mind a little, Mr Weir. Isn’t the quest of your trip to New Year to gather information so that we might compete with America? To show that the British are equally as all-encompassing? Amelia’s window is just the ticket to start things off in the right direction.’

  Grateful for Mrs Woolden’s support, Amelia’s confidence grew and she looked at Ruby. ‘Ruby? What do you think?’

  Pushing a stray black curl from her cheek, Ruby leaned over the design sheet, her pretty brow furrowed. ‘I agree with both Mr Weir and Mrs Woolden. Maybe it would be advisable to ensure first-class attire is given centre stage and the lesser classes positioned to the sides. We want people to know all can be included, but surely Pennington’s would prefer the potential of higher ticketed sales?’

  Surprised and pleased by Ruby’s forthright response when she was usually so quiet, Amelia nodded, happy that Ruby seemed to be blooming under Pennington’s employment as much as she had. ‘I understand your thinking, but how about a compromise
that will satisfy our clientele and Pennington’s message of equal opportunity? We’ll place first-class passengers in the centre but have second and third mingling together around them as though talking and enjoying one another’s company. Why the need for obvious segregation?’ Amelia held the gazes around the table before lifting her chin. ‘I stand by my decision and would like to proceed accordingly. If any of you wish to consult Miss Pennington or Mr Carter before we start dressing the window, now is the time to do so.’

  Amelia had no idea if her enforced bravado was convincing, but if she was to travel on the Titanic with Mr Weir, and then spend a further week with him in New York, it was imperative she exert her authority now. Lord only knew how the man would behave towards her when they were onboard. In his mid-thirties, he was tall and lean, and at least twelve or thirteen years her senior. His light brown hair was always immaculately combed, his Pennington’s uniform spotless. Just looking at him made Amelia feel inept and unkempt, but Elizabeth’s confidence in her had boosted Amelia’s nerve.

  She could not falter – not if this trip was to be the gateway to the liberty from the past she had craved her entire adult life.

  ‘You have my vote to proceed with your design as it is, Miss Wakefield.’ Mrs Woolden stood and gave a firm nod. ‘I am confident I have selected garments suitable to all classes. Excuse me.’

  Mrs Woolden strode from the room and Amelia looked to Mr Weir, her eyebrows raised.

  He exhaled through flared nostrils and slowly stood. ‘So be it. I will have someone in my department bring my selections to you this afternoon.’

  Amelia crossed her arms. ‘You won’t voice your reservations to Mr Carter?’

  ‘No. At least, not for the moment.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘However, if I feel your display in any way demeans Pennington’s, I will not be backwards in coming forwards when I next see him.’

  Mr Weir marched from the room.

  As soon as the partition curtain fell behind him, Amelia sighed. ‘Well, I suppose winning the first battle is a step forward.’

  Ruby stared at the design, a quiet sadness in her eyes, her shoulders slumped. Amelia frowned; a tangible melancholy seemed to surround her colleague that hadn’t been there before.

  Stepping closer, she moved to touch Ruby’s shoulder before remembering the rebuff she’d received the last time she’d tried to offer the younger woman comfort.

  The recent gossip came into Amelia’s mind again. Although it was not entirely impossible that Ruby was in love with Victoria Lark, the idea of people spreading malicious nonsense that could be founded on nothing was bound to be upsetting for those involved. Maybe Ruby had even heard the talk herself…

  Amelia softened her voice. ‘Is everything all right, Ruby?’

  Ruby started and snapped her gaze to Amelia’s. ‘Of course.’ She scowled. ‘Why do people keep asking me such questions?’

  ‘I just want you to know that if anything is bothering you, I am happy to listen. Mrs Lark isn’t the only friend you need to have—’

  ‘Mrs Lark?’ Ruby’s cheeks reddened. ‘What does she have to do with anything?’

  ‘Well, nothing, I’m sure. But if you—’

  ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you.’

  Ruby stormed from the room and Amelia sighed.

  As much as she would like Ruby to confide in her as Amelia had eventually ventured to do with Elizabeth, she wasn’t strong enough to become entangled in the life of someone battling with obvious personal issues. She had more than enough pain in her own life to hide or mend.

  Four

  Ruby sat in Pennington’s staff dining room and morosely pushed at the remainder of her potatoes, blindly staring as they crumbled in a pool of gravy. Why did she have to be so horrible to everyone? Were her problems anyone else’s? No, they were hers and hers alone. Every time she looked into Amelia Wakefield’s eyes, Ruby saw her kindness, thought maybe she recognised Ruby’s pain and could empathise.

  Although, she couldn’t imagine what could be happening, or had happened, in Amelia’s life that was so bad. She excelled at everything she touched at Pennington’s.

  Ruby glanced at the wall clock and her heart sank. Just four more hours and it would be time to go home. A time when most people revelled in the idea of returning to their families, meeting friends or the prospect of an evening out.

  For Ruby, going home meant only one thing.

  Grief, violence and the demon drink.

  Her fingers tightened around her fork until her knuckles ached, resentment and anger sweeping over her in a toxic wave. How was she ever to find an escape for her and her brother when they had nowhere to go? Nowhere to run. They were trapped in their mother’s house like mongrels in a kennel.

  ‘Do you mind if I join you, Ruby?’

  Ruby raised her eyes and her heart swelled with love, her body with desire, just as it did every time Victoria Lark walked into a room. Ruby’s fork clattered against her plate as she moved to stand. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Victoria smiled, her blue eyes dazzlingly bright, her gaze gentle. ‘You looked so alone just now. I hoped I might cheer you up.’

  Ruby swallowed and waved her hand dismissively. ‘Oh, no. I’m absolutely fine.’

  ‘Are you sure? Only—’

  ‘I’m quite sure. In fact, I’m sorry, but I should be getting back. I—’

  ‘Ruby, please. Will you spare me a moment?’

  Victoria put her hand on Ruby’s, and she felt such a surge of hopelessness that tears pricked hot behind her eyes.

  ‘Ruby, I know you don’t particularly enjoy your time at Pennington’s, but I want to change that. Pennington’s is such a wonderful place to work and if you spoke to others as you do me, I’m sure you would make friends in no time. There’s no need for anyone to feel left out here.’

  I could never speak to anyone as I speak to you. ‘I don’t feel left out.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ Victoria slid her hand from Ruby’s and smiled. ‘Because that makes it all the easier to invite you out with us tonight.’

  ‘Out?’ Ruby’s heart thundered. ‘Out, where?’

  ‘Where else? The Cavendish.’

  ‘The nightclub? I couldn’t possibly.’

  ‘Why not?’ Victoria’s gaze turned mischievous. ‘I’ve been there lots of times and it’s so much fun. So freeing. Everyone is dancing and drinking champagne, having a marvellous time. You’ll love it.’

  ‘But aren’t you concerned about what people might say or think about you going to a place like that?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Well…’ Ruby dropped her gaze, convinced people were talking about her singular tendency to talk to Victoria over anyone else. ‘You are widowed, without a husband.’ She looked up. ‘Don’t you consider what people might say about a woman being out alone after dark?’

  ‘No, I do not.’ Victoria’s gaze darkened with angry determination. ‘When Nicholas was killed, everything inside me changed. He was crushed to death by a tram. Can you imagine how it felt to be told my husband had been taken in such a way? How it felt to know he lay dying in the street while I was here working and in absolute ignorance?’ Her jaw tightened, tears glistening in her eyes. ‘I learned that day that life is short, and you should understand the same. Life is for living, Ruby. Not for worrying what others might think.’

  ‘If only that were true.’ The shame of her desires, the love she held for the woman in front of her brought a bitter taste to Ruby’s mouth. ‘People judge others all the time. Every day.’

  ‘And what of it? It’s up to you whether you listen or let what they say affect you.’ Victoria’s eyes lit with happiness once more, her smile wide. ‘I insist you come tonight. What time do you finish?’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘Perfect. That will give you ample time to go home to change. Why don’t we meet outside the store at eight and walk to the Cavendish together? There are a group of girls going from my d
epartment and they’d love to meet you properly.’

  Ruby stilled as her mind filled with Pennington’s most prevalent gossip monger, Hazel Price. The woman constantly watched Ruby, even more so whenever she was with Victoria. ‘Which girls?’

  ‘Oh, um, Clara, Nancy… is that a problem? Only—’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’

  Victoria’s smile dissolved. ‘Am I wrong to pursue a friendship with you, Ruby? Would you prefer not to go out with me?’

  I want to be with you more than you’ll ever know. ‘It’s not that.’ Ruby glanced around them, relieved that nobody seemed to be watching. ‘I have nothing to wear to such a place. My clothes aren’t as fancy as I’d like them to be.’

  ‘Then you must borrow something of mine.’ Victoria stood, her eyes shining. ‘Come.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To my locker. I always keep a couple of frocks here in case the girls want to go somewhere straight from work.’

  Victoria’s gaze swept over Ruby from head to toe, so intensely, there was a slow pull deep inside Ruby’s abdomen. She briefly closed her eyes, shame burning hot in her cheeks.

  ‘Your figure isn’t so different from mine. If we were to lay down together, I bet we’d fit like two pieces of a puzzle.’ Victoria laughed and slipped her hand into Ruby’s. ‘Come. Let me show you my dresses. I’m sure you’ll like one of them.’

  Ruby allowed herself to be led from the dining room, the feel of Victoria’s hand in hers absolutely torturous. Her skin was warm and as smooth as silk. She imagined what other parts of Victoria’s body would feel like and forcibly pushed the thoughts far away where they couldn’t cause her further pain.

  They entered the staff room and Victoria walked to her locker and extracted two dresses.

  She held them against Ruby. ‘Hmm. With your beautiful dark hair and eyes, I think the lemon. It will bring out your colouring perfectly. What do you think? Or do you prefer the green?’

  Ruby struggled not to tremble under their proximity. She could have leaned forward five or six inches and her mouth would be on Victoria’s. She swallowed. ‘The lemon is lovely.’