***
It was now almost four o'clock in the morning. He was thirsty and hungry. There were restaurants aplenty on board, but they wouldn't open until the passengers arrived. If he wanted food he would have to venture into the kitchens far below — and he could see over the side of the ship that supplies were still being loaded from the dock. It was just too dangerous. He was having the time of his life, no point in risking it all for the sake of a rumbling turn.
Then he had a brainwave — the mini bars in the cabins. Jimmy chose the biggest and best of the Presidential suites and helped himself to Diet Coke and Toblerone. He lay back on a huge bed and stuffed his face.
This was the life!
He was no longer just the Captain — he was the owner. All of this belonged to him. He was the Jimmy Armstrong who went to America on the Titanic — but this time he survived. He became wealthy and famous and now here he was, not leaving but returning home to the city of his birth. He should celebrate! A toast to his success! Jimmy opened the mini bar again. Champagne!
Why not?
Jimmy opened a bottle. The golden liquid foamed out over the plush carpet. He didn't even consider cleaning it up. One of his servants could do it in the morning. The champagne was slightly bitter, but he found that the more he drank the nicer it tasted and the happier he felt. He hated Gary Higgins with a passion, but part of him wished he was here now, to enjoy this with him. Or his mum and dad. Or Granda.
Granda, it's all mine! The Titanic!
Except he wouldn't call it that.
Jimmy raised the bottle.
'I name this ship — the Jimmy! May God bless all who sail in her!'
He giggled, then collapsed back down on to the bed. He took another swig. He was so relaxed. Jimmy's eyes flickered. It had been a long day, and his adventures on the Titanic had been as exhausting as they had been exciting. But he knew it had to end. He had to go home. Face the music. First, though, if he just closed his eyes for five minutes he could recharge his batteries. Then he could sneak off before first light.
Jimmy closed his eyes.
Five minutes.
Maybe ten.
2
Surprise
He was dreaming.
Or, no, he wasn't.
The voices had started out in a bizarre adventure featuring talking hamsters, but they no longer seemed to exist inside his head, but outside it. They had been squeezed out and replaced by an unbearable pain sweeping through his entire body. For the first time in his life Jimmy realized why his dad was so miserable in the mornings, and, quite often, in the afternoons. Too much alcohol. Now Jimmy was suffering from his first hangover. To make matters worse, there was a blinding light coming from the balcony window. And those annoying hamster voices were getting louder, and louder and . . .
Jimmy bolted upright.
Daylight!
I've slept straight through!
Voices, outside in the corridor.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no . . .
My head!
I'm going to throw up!
I'm going to vomit on the bed — and get caught doing it!
Get up!
Jimmy rolled off the bed and staggered to his feet. The cabin seemed to be revolving around him. The voices were so close. He looked about him in panic. It was too late to escape from the room itself. Hide! Somewhere! Anywhere! He stumbled towards the cupboards, then the balcony and the bathroom, but finally threw himself under the bed. He curled himself in a ball and sucked in his breath to try and stop himself from heaving up.
Pass by! Pass by!
But of course they didn't. If they had to choose one cabin on the entire ship to stop at, it just had to be his.
Because he was, of course, Lucky Jimmy Armstrong. So although the ship was supposed to be empty of passengers until she reached Miami, of course the only non-crewmembers on this trip wanted his cabin.
'This is us,' said a man.
'Oh darling, it's wonderful,' said a woman. There was the sound of a kiss, and then the woman's voice grew more serious. She called out to someone else: 'Darling, will you hurry up please?'
'What's the rush?' It was a girl, further away, sounding annoyed.
Jimmy saw two pairs of shoes enter the cabin. One pair sturdy and black, the other slim, red and high- heeled. A few moments later a third pair joined them: trainers, with pink laces.
'Isn't it beautiful, darling?' the woman asked.
'S'all right,' said the girl.
'Your room's just through there,' said the man.
The trainers moved to the right. There was a slight pause, then the girl said: 'Is that it? It's tiny.'
'It's not tiny, darling,' said the mother.
'It's actually extremely large for a cruise ship,' said the father.
'Still small,' said the daughter.
Jimmy squirmed. He just wanted out of there.
'Oh for goodness' sake,' said the father. Jimmy saw the man's shoes move rapidly across and stop at the foot of the bed. 'Look at this.'
'Champagne?' said the mother. Then Jimmy saw her knees as she bent down along the side of the bed. He sucked his breath in. 'Chocolate wrappers. George? And look — someone's been sleeping in my bed!'
The girl laughed.
The mother snapped, 'It isn't funny, Claire.'
But Claire evidently thought it was. 'Someone's been sleeping in my bed!' she mimicked. 'Do you think it was Goldilocks?'
The father tutted. 'Your mother's right, Claire — this just isn't good enough. Someone's head will roll for this. We're moving to a different suite.'
Claire snorted. 'Just straighten the bed and put the wrappers in the bin, Dad.'
'That's not the point,' said the mother. 'This is your daddy's ship, Claire, it has the best of everything. What kind of message does it send when the chief designer and owner comes on board and he's presented with a room full of rubbish?'
'Exactly,' said the father. He marched out of the cabin.
The mother said, 'Claire, you could show a little more interest. This is a big moment for your father.' There was no response. Jimmy suspected there was a shrug. She sounded like a spoiled brat. Jimmy's own shrugs were entirely different, of course. Claire's mother tried again. 'Darling — when you're older you'll look back on this and really appreciate the fact that you were one of the first passengers on the new Titanic. It's an historic moment.'