Women and Children First: Bravery, love and fate: the untold story of the doomed Titanic. Gill Paul

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СКАЧАТЬ New York to London!’

      ‘I can’t see it happening in our lifetime. How would they run the telephone wire along the ocean floor?’

      ‘Do you have a telephone yet?’ Mrs Howson interrupted. ‘It’s very convenient but I never say anything private on the line because the operator always listens in. You can actually hear her breathing. It’s most off-putting.’

      Mrs Grayling said that her telephone always gave her a start when it rang. ‘It’s so loud and shrill. I’m not sure I like it. You use it more than I do, darling.’ She turned to Mr Grayling, trying to include him in the conversation. ‘What do you think?’

      ‘Technology has never been your strong suit, has it, my dear?’ He looked round the other guests at the table. ‘She doesn’t like to touch the light switches in case she electrocutes herself.’

      Juliette was astonished by his patronising tone. It seemed a nasty way to talk to your spouse.

      ‘But there was that case in the New York Times,’ Mrs Grayling protested. ‘It can happen.’

      ‘I read that story,’ another gent burst in gallantly. ‘It was rather alarming.’

      Juliette was interested to hear that so many Americans had telephones and electric lights in their homes. Back in Gloucestershire they had neither. She’d been trying to persuade her father to install a telephone but so far he hadn’t agreed.

      Over dessert, the Canadian couple’s argument erupted into a fierce skirmish and Mrs Howson rose and stamped away from the table without saying goodbye to anyone. The husband quaffed the remainder of his wine in one swallow and remarked to the gentlemen, ‘At least that frees me up for the evening. Shall we retire to the smoking room?’

      As the ladies rose to leave the dining saloon, Juliette caught eyes with a man at the next table. He was sandy-haired, with an intelligent face. She got the impression he must have been listening in to the Howsons’ quarrel and felt vaguely disconcerted that he might imagine they were friends of hers. He gave a slight smile and she smiled back and it was over in an instant. She followed her mother to the reading room and once they were seated, Lady Mason-Parker regarded her with a twinkle.

      ‘Mrs Grayling has invited us to dine with them the week after we arrive in New York. Isn’t that kind?’

      ‘Very kind,’ Juliette replied suspiciously. ‘Will it just be the four of us?’

      Lady Mason-Parker played with a button on the sleeve of her gown. ‘She said she might try to find some young people to join us. That would make it more fun for you, I expect.’

      ‘Please tell her not to worry on my behalf. I’m sure it will be a charming evening anyway.’

      It was an ambush, pure and simple. Juliette wondered which poor dupe was to be seated next to her. Would he be told that she was a titled English Lady looking for a husband? Probably. She dreaded the evening already.

      Her mother went on to talk about the gown worn by Lady Duff Gordon at dinner that evening, speculating on whether it came from the Maison Lucille fashion house she owned, and remarking that ladies’ silhouettes were certainly getting narrower this season, no matter what the old-fashioned houses like Paquin might say.

      Juliette listened for a while then, claiming a slight nausea, got up to return to their cabin. She stopped on the outdoor promenade to look out at the inky ocean and the star-speckled sky. She felt like a four-year-old confined to the nursery for bad behaviour at the tea table. She felt as though she were being punished for the brief affair with Charles Wood, something that really didn’t feel as though it were her fault. He had been the one who seduced her. As she had often done in the past, she wished she had been born a boy. Men had so much more freedom, and the increased responsibilities that went hand in hand with it would have suited Juliette just fine. The life she was being forced to lead was suffocating her. She put a hand to her throat, for a moment feeling almost literally as though she couldn’t breathe.

      Chapter Ten

      Most tables in the first-class dining saloon seated eight people. If a party was travelling together they were naturally seated together and you could put in a request to be placed near your friends, but otherwise the chief steward designed the seating arrangements. Reg had watched with secret amusement the shuffling around that had taken place after the first dinners on Wednesday and Thursday evenings. Some people asked to be moved if there were Jewish passengers at their table. Others asked the chief steward to seat them further away from the Astors, who were still being ostracised by New York society after the scandal of his remarriage. And yet more were simply bored to tears by the dining companions allocated to them.

      It was all done with outward shows of politeness: ‘Oh goodness, they seem to have moved us to another table. I can’t think why!’ But there was a playground ruthlessness about it. ‘You’re not good enough to sit with us,’ they were saying. ‘I’d rather be with the Wideners or the Cardezas, thank you very much.’ Reg found it fascinating that in a society that already had so many stratifications, yet more were designed by the top stratum to further segregate themselves.

      The Graylings’ table companions had been different for each of the four nights of the voyage so far. Reg doubted that she would have requested any change and he could only assume that other people wanted to get away from them because they felt uncomfortable around the obvious tensions in the marriage. He eavesdropped on a lot of the conversations as he made his way round, holding out silver platters from which diners could help themselves to appetisers, entrées and vegetables, and he thought Mrs Grayling was uncommonly polite and well-bred. She asked about other people rather than going on about herself, and she made everyone she spoke to feel good about themselves.

      On Saturday evening, Mrs Grayling spent much time whispering to another woman, a titled English lady, while her daughter talked to the Howsons about Canada. Reg was more interested when the discussion turned to the speed of the ship. He’d felt himself that they were pushing along at a rate of knots. They seemed to be testing her, and she was running beautifully, all those pistons and cylinders and propellers doing exactly what they were designed to do.

      As he moved round the table collecting plates, he heard them discussing the probability that one day telephone calls could be made from America to England. Reg had never made a telephone call. He’d only ever seen a telephone in the White Star Line offices and when it rang, it was so loud and insistent he’d almost jumped out of his skin.

      He took the plates back to the pantry, as the wine waiter circled the table topping up glasses. Why didn’t the Graylings get divorced, he wondered? It happened more often these days and although there might be a brouhaha for a year or so, at least you could move on. Perhaps they were religious. Or maybe money was the tie. He supposed Mr Grayling would have to give her a large settlement from his multi-million-dollar fortune if they divorced. Having said that, he’d heard that the first Mrs Astor only got a small stipend from the vast family fortune because of some legal agreement she had signed before they married.

      As he walked back out into the saloon to see to his other tables, Reg scanned the room for the boat deck girl, as he now thought of her, but yet again she wasn’t there. It was a spacious room with upwards of fifty tables, but he was convinced he would have spotted her. He’d always had a good memory for a face, especially one as remarkable as hers.

      The Howsons were arguing again, and it transpired that Mr Howson had lost some money gambling that afternoon. СКАЧАТЬ