Fortescue found an unoccupied table some way from the nearest party and almost before he had taken his seat a liveried waiter appeared at his elbow. The man was wearing a brilliant white uniform with highly polished brass buttons, the emblem of the cruise company over his left breast. Fortescue ordered a gin and tonic and sat back to admire the surroundings and noticed at a table a few yards away the attractive young couple he had seen when he had boarded the ship. The woman stole a glance his way.
From the pocket of his dinner jacket, he withdrew a slender volume, Milton’s Areopagitica. He lit a cigarette then, taking a sip of his drink, he began to read the book. A few moments later he lowered it and stretched out his arm to place his glass on a delicate drinks mat. The two strangers were standing in front of him. He quickly lifted himself out of his seat.
‘I do beg your pardon,’ the woman said with a friendly smile. She had a lace-gloved hand extended.
Fortescue looked from the woman to her companion and then took the lady’s hand, turned and shook the man’s hand.
‘My brother and I were discussing you,’ the woman went on.
‘Oh?’
She produced a small laugh. ‘That came out badly.’ She had a faint accent.
‘That’s a relief.’
‘What my sister means, sir, is that we spend an inordinate amount of time trying to ascertain who our fellow travellers might be and why they are aboard. You may tell we do not have enough to occupy us!’ He had a deep, musical voice with a similar accent to his sister but slightly more pronounced.
‘I apologize again,’ the woman said. ‘Allow me to introduce ourselves. My name is Frieda Schiel and this is my brother Marcus. We are from Switzerland.’
‘It’s a great pleasure,’ Fortescue replied. ‘My name is Wickins, John Wickins. Please do take a seat.’ He indicated two chairs the other side of the table and called over a waiter.
They each ordered drinks.
‘So, please,’ Marcus began as the waiter retreated, ‘if you do not mind, may we give you our judgement?’
Fortescue looked puzzled.
‘As to who we think you are and why you are aboard?’ Frieda added.
Ah, yes… please do.’
‘We concluded you are either a writer or a painter; definitely a man with artistic proclivities,’ Frieda said earnestly. ‘And we believe you are travelling to America because a close relative has died and you need to organize the estate.’
Fortescue nodded sagely. ‘Well,’ he replied. ‘I’m afraid you are wrong on both counts.’
‘Oh dear,’ Marcus responded and looked forlornly at his sister.
‘The truth is desperately prosaic,’ Fortescue added. ‘I’m simply visiting my father, a businessman in New York whom I have not seen for five years. I’m actually a barrister. Now it is your turn. What do you do and why are you aboard?’
Frieda took a sip of her wine. ‘I am an actress,’ she said.
Fortescue raised an eyebrow. ‘My goodness. You are the first actress I have ever met. I’m most impressed.’
‘My brother is a writer and film director. We are travelling to Hollywood.’
Fortescue was shaking his head. ‘I’m overwhelmed! I have read about the nickel theatres.’
‘Nickelodeons.’
‘Yes, that is right. I thought I might visit one when I reach New York. Now I definitely shall. And you plan to emigrate?’
Frieda glanced at her brother and they both nodded. ‘We have become famous and successful in Switzerland,’ Marcus said. ‘But it is not exactly the centre of the moving-picture world. If we are to grow artistically, we need to be where the action is, as our American cousins would say.’
Fortescue laughed. ‘How jolly exciting’
They finished their drinks and found a table in the Main Dining Saloon. This was said to be the largest room afloat, and it was indeed impressive, stretching the entire width of the ship across D-Deck. In fact, it was too big-its few dozen diners sat lost amidst the splendid array of white-linen-topped tables and green velvet upholstered chairs that together could accommodate five hundred. A team of waiters wafted around, decidedly under-employed.
The meal itself certainly lived up to the glowing reviews Fortescue had read in the newspapers. He ordered oysters followed by filet mignon Lili with chateau potatoes, while the young pair ordered lamb with mint sauce, creamed carrots, topped off with Waldorf pudding for dessert.
After the meal the men drank port and brandy and smoked cigars while Frieda sipped a black coffee; then Marcus suggested he turn in, leaving Egbert alone with the actress. They saw the young man off to the lifts that would take him to B-Deck where they had neighbouring rooms.
‘You two are very close,’ Fortescue said as he and Frieda returned to the reception area.
‘We always have been. We are only a year apart. I’m the elder one.’
And your parents?’
‘They died when I was eighteen — a boating accident.’
‘I am sorry.’
She waved a hand between them. ‘It was almost six years ago. It drew Marcus and me closer.’
And now you work together and have planned a career in the New World.’
‘Yes.’
Fortescue raised his brandy glass. ‘To your future.’
‘Thank you, Mr Wickins. And now, I really must retire too.’
They rose unsteadily just as the ship pitched a little more than normal. Frieda started to fall and Fortescue just managed to find her arm to steady her. She came up close to him and he caught her aroma: a heady, expensive perfume.
‘Goodness!’ Frieda exclaimed, turning to face Fortescue only inches from him. ‘I thought I had my sea legs. I blame it on the champers!’
Fortescue smiled and the woman stepped back. ‘Perhaps we should clear our heads with a stroll on deck,’ Egbert suggested. ‘What do you say?’
‘I would like that very much.’
They took the Grand Staircase up to the First Class promenade on A-Deck. An attendant at the exit placed a merino wool shawl about Frieda’s shoulders and she pulled it tight over her flimsy cocktail dress. Fortescue joked that after Manchester in winter, the Atlantic wind held no horrors for him and they stepped out together into the night, the wooden deck illuminated by the lights of the ship, man-made brightness set against the star-filled expanse overhead.