“Not so surprising,” Gloria said when Daisy commented, as they watched. “Dancing in a chorus line, you'd have to make every move real precise, so your muscles and reflexes would get trained. I guess she'd be good at deck tennis, too, but I doubt she'll play. It might mess up her hair-do.”
Daisy giggled, but said, “We really must try to be more charitable to the blooming bride. We have the rest of the
voyage to get through, and then you'll be entertaining her at the other end, won't you?”
“Yes, Poppa invited Mr. Gotobed to stay before he married, of course; but he can't very well take back the invitation, let alone exclude Wanda. You're right, Daisy, I'll try to like her. Come and have a game of tennis now. You'll get better with practice.”
“Not me! I've always been hopeless at sports, though I liked bicycling and climbing trees. Besides, what with playing this morning and dancing and everything, I'm going to be so stiff by tomorrow I shan't be able to move.”
“What you need's a bit of gentle exercise to loosen up those muscles,” said Gloria ruthlessly. “Come on, I'll coach you so when we play tomorrow you'll dazzle them all.”
“A hot bath, followed by poplar-bark salve,” came a murmur from behind.
“Miss Oliphant!”
“Sorry,” said the witch. “I do endeavour not to push my remedies, and I promised Dr. Amboyne ⦔
“You're not competing with him,” Daisy said, “since I wouldn't go to him anyway, not for stiffness. Your prescription sounds much pleasanter than Gloria's, though it doesn't seem likely that the shop sells poplar salve.”
“I can let you have some,” offered Miss Oliphant hesitantly.
“Spiffing! Gloria, if the salve works, you can coach me tomorrow, I promise; but it really is time I did a bit of work before I forget my first impressions of the voyage. Lead the way, Miss Oliphant. I'll stagger along after you.”
In a third-class cabin shared with three strangers, the witch showed Daisy her medicine chest, a plain but well-polished teak box with a brass lock. It was lined with green plush, with dozens of blue glass vials and jars, neatly labelled, resting each in its own niche. Some of the labels were bright
red, Daisy noted, perhaps those of dangerous herbs like foxglove which had both therapeutic and deadly qualities.
No wonder herbalists had been regarded as witches with mysterious powers for good and evil. She wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of someone with that sort of knowledge.
Luckily, Miss Oliphant was a good witch. She refused payment for the salve, saying, “You will not need a great deal. Rub a little into the stiff muscles and please return the rest.”
“Of course. Thank you so much; it's very kind of you.”
Daisy left the jar in her cabin and went to the writing room. One wall, or bulkhead as it was called by those in the know, was devoted to the ship's library. This was kept in glass-fronted cabinets, not because of its valueâit consisted of all the books passengers had brought to read on board and not considered worth keepingâbut to stop the volumes flying about in rough seas.
The several writing desks, like the swivel chairs in front of them, were securely fastened to the deck. Like school desks, they had holes to hold sunken inkwells, with the addition of hinged caps to stop ink sploshing about in a storm. At one of the desks, Alec was already intent on the stacks of information his superiors at the Met considered necessary to his job in Washington.
Daisy glanced around. All those reading and writing seemed to be minding their own business, so she kissed the back of Alec's neck, where the crisp, dark hair she loved turned into tiny, curly wisps. He jumped.
“Darling, I couldn't resist. How is it going?”
“Ghastly. Great Scott, they expect me to be a diplomat and a bureaucrat crossed with a don, not a policeman!”
“What a frightful miscegenation! But I know you can handle it, darling. You'll show Mr. Arbuckle's J. Edgar Whatsit what's what. I'll leave you in peaceâI've got to get deck tennis and life-boat drills and dancing lessons down on paper,
and the auction pool Mr. Gotobed explained to me. Not to mention fellow passengers!”
“I wonder if I ought to warn them?” Alec mused.
“Don't you dare! They won't be half so amusing if they know they might turn up in a magazine article. Names changed to protect the guilty, of course.”
“I hope so. The A.C. would have a fit if you were sued for libel.”
They both stayed there for a couple of hours. Daisy did not have to go in search of tea. A steward brought it around, complete with triangular, crustless cucumber and gentleman's relish sandwiches, assorted biscuits, and those decorative
petits fours
which look so much better than they taste, as Daisy told herself firmly.
In due time, she went down to bag the bathroom they shared with three other cabins. Whether it was the poplar-bark salve or simply the hot sea-water, she felt much less stiff after her bath. She returned to the cabin feeling able to face an evening of dancing.
Â
Under Lucy's critical eye, Daisy had bought two new evening frocks for the trip. Both were simple, so that their appearance could be altered with a coloured scarf or a length of the newly fashionable coloured glass beads.
The black she had worn last night. Tonight she put on the dark blue, silk charmeuse, the shade of the sky when the first stars come out. It consisted of a thigh-length tunic over a straight underskirt to just above the ankles, more flattering to her figure, according to Lucy, than anything with a belt around the hips.
Alec came in just as she put a long string of azure blue beads over her head.
“Just the colour of your eyes,” he said approvingly, kissing
the tip of her nose. “You look stunning, love. Every man there will want to dance with you.”
“Oh, gosh, I do hope not!”
“Don't sound so panic-stricken. We'll tell them we're still honeymooning.”
Daisy breathed a sigh of relief.
After dinner, they waltzed together to “Swanee River Moon,” watched a tango, then tackled a fox-trot while the tenor warbled some sort of twaddle with a chorus beginning, “Stealing, stealing with your eyes appealing ⦔ Daisy didn't think she utterly disgraced Alec, but in spite of his strong lead, she was so tense she was exhausted by the end.
Alec grinned at her as she sank into a chair. “They're playing Schubert and Dvorak tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “You'll enjoy that.”
“As long as I don't have to dance to it!”
“All you need is practice, darling.”
“I feel such an absolute ass.”
“We must practise in private. There's nowhere on board, but when we get ashore ⦠In the meantime, suppose we go âstealing' away to see what the moon's doing tonight?”
Up on the boat-deck, it was a little warmer than the night before. The almost balmy breeze came from the southwest, rather than the east, sending wispy clouds drifting across a haloed moon.
“âWrapped in a gauzy veil,'” said Daisy, who knew her English literature if she knew nothing else, “but it never looks to me âlike a dying lady, lean and pale.' More of a âGoddess excellently bright.'”
“Mmmm,” said Alec, putting a stop to Ben Jonson and Percy Bysshe Shelley alike in the most agreeable manner possible.
For some minutes Daisy was too busy to contemplate the
moon or attend to her surroundings. Low voices, the scrape of a match nearby, footsteps coming and going barely impinged upon her consciousness, but she was jerked back to awareness by a sudden, wordless yell, followed by a splash.
“Man overboard!” someone bawled, and others took up the cry.
Alec sprang into action. Grabbing the nearest life-belt, he hung over the rail, peering down at the water. “There!” He flung the belt. “Damn, he's gone down again!”
Heart in mouth, Daisy leant beside him as a second life-belt spun down. In the moonlight, the bow wake was a white frill, losing definition as it spread. The water just below them was a dark, heaving mass, glimmering as it swelled and receded, with the white circles of the life-belts floating swiftly backwards as the ship steamed on. Daisy and Alec ran aft, along with an agitated group, trying to keep up with the receding circles.
Between the rings, something broke the surface. Arms reached upward, flailing, begging for help.
“The belt!” shouted several voices. “Grab the belt!”
As the drowning man floundered towards the nearest life-belt, Daisy discovered she was holding her breath. Suddenly she realized that the throb of the engines, the constant, unheeded heartbeat of the
Talavera,
had ceased.
“Fast reflexes on the bridge,” Alec commented.
“I think he's got it,” someone said. “Yes, he's got it!”
“Hang on!”
“Hold hard, fella, we'll get you out of there.” That was surely Harvey, the second mateâand a dozen seamen had materialized on deck. “Here, men, this boat. Lower away, now! Ladies and gentlemen, out of the way, if you please.”
They moved back, crowded to the rail a little further along. Someone was sobbing. Daisy clung to Alec, weak with
shock and still tentative relief. Creaking, the davit swung the life-boat out over the side and began to lower it.
“Lights!” called Harvey impatiently.
“How the dickens did he come to fall?” a man wondered aloud.
“I saw it,” a hysterical voice responded. “He was pushed!”
E
lectric lights sprang to life, drowning the shifting moonlight. Their faces white in the glare, the group at the rail stared at each other.
The sobs emanated from Lady Brenda. “I saw, I tell you,” she insisted, covering her blotched face with her hands. “Don't look at me like that. I saw, I saw!”
On realizing who had made the startling announcement, most of the spectators turned back to the rail. Alec's arm, which had tensed beneath Daisy's hand, relaxed.
“Little fool,” he murmured, “just trying to be the centre of attention.”
“Maybe,” said Daisy, “but whether she saw something, or imagined it, or made it up, she's had a shock. If she feels like me, she's all quavery inside. Mr. Harvey's busy, that beastly man she was with isn't here, and she doesn't seem to be with anyone else.”
“Great Scott, Daisy,” Alec groaned, “must you invariably find some lame duck to take under your wing?”
“I'll just help her over the stile,” she promised, wrinkling her nose at him. “I hate to miss the rescue, but I'd better take her below. You watch and tell me all about it.”
With a sigh, Alec gave in. “All right, but don't go putting any more ideas into her head. And tell her not to broadcast her story any further. She might start a panic.”
Daisy went over to the girl and put her arm round her shaking shoulders. “Lady Brenda, you don't know me from Adamâor Eve, rather, but won't you let me help? My name's Daisy DalââDaisy Fletcher. It was a beastly shock when he fell in, wasn't it? I'm all shaky. We'll both feel the better for sitting down with a cup of tea.”
Lady Brenda raised red-rimmed eyes. “You don't believe me, do you?”
“I have an open mind on the subject. We'll talk about it, if you like; but if you're certain of what you saw, you should tell the Captain.”
“Oh no! RonâMr. Harveyâsays Captain Dane is a frightful Tartar.”
“Well, tell Mr. Harvey then,” Daisy said pragmatically, “but I wouldn't go shouting it to the world if I were you. Come on, let's go below now. It's turned freezing out here.”
She urged the girl towards the aft companion-way. As the ship lost way, the rocking motion became more pronounced. Descending the steep, ladder-like stair to the promenade deck, they hung on tight to the rail.
Through the glass, they could see passengers inside thronging to the port side, where the man had gone overboard. The news had spread quickly. Quite a few people came out onto the open stern deck. Most rushed to the port rail, but several made a dash for the starboard side, where they leaned over, heaving. The increased motion had discommoded quite a few previously contented stomachs.
“I can't go to our cabin,” wailed Lady Brenda. “Mumsie's been sea-sick since we left the Mersey.”
“We'll go to the ladies' lounge.” Daisy glared at a man
pushing through the door until he stepped aside and held it open for them. “I doubt many ⦔
“Say, Mrs. Fletcher!” Arbuckle hailed her. “Were you out there? Did you see what happened? They say some guy was pushed overboard.”
Daisy frowned at him, squeezed Lady Brenda's arm warningly, and said in her firmest tone, “Someone fell over the rail. I expect he'd had a few cocktails too many. Alec threw him a life-belt and he managed to catch hold of it. If you hurry, you'll see the poor chap hauled aboard.”
“Too much to drink, eh?” The look Arbuckle gave her suggested he didn't swallow her story but was willing to go along. “Must be a fellow-countryman. With our danged Prohibition, people don't learn to hold their liquor like they used to. You want to go rubberneck, Miss Oliphant?”
The witch was just behind him. “I believe not.” Thoughtfully, she regarded Lady Brenda's pale face. “But don't let me keep you, my dear sir. I dare say Mrs. Fletcher will not mind describing the scene above, which will be quite enough excitement for me.”
“Okay, ma'am. See you later then.”
“My dear Mrs. Fletcher,” said Miss Oliphant, “you have had a nasty shock, I'm afraid. Our good doctor would prescribe brandy, I suspect, but I cannot advise it. Be guided by me, and let me procure you some camomile and lemon balm tea. Both of you.”
“Oh yes, thank you, or anything hot.” Daisy supposed she must look as shaky as Lady Brenda, who was shivering convulsively though they were now out of the wind. “We'll go to the ladies' lounge.”
“Ask the stewardess for blankets and hot-water bottles, child, and tell her to boil water for a tisane.”
Miss Oliphant hurried off down the companion-way to the cabin-deck. Daisy, her arm around Lady Brenda's waist,
started for the lounge. As they approached the wide double doors to the Grand Salon, she heard a waltz beginning. A moment later, Phillip and Gloria came out.
“Daisy, I say, is it true ⦠? Here, I say, old sport, you look rotten!”
“Thanks a lot, Phil!” Daisy pulled herself together. After all, the unfortunate man overboard was being rescued. It wasn't nearly as bad as falling over dead bodiesâwell, finding them lying aboutâwhich she had an unfortunate habit of doing. “I'm all right, but Lady Brenda's feeling pretty ghastly. Give her a hand to the ladies' lounge, will you?”
“Oh, Daisy, did you see the guy fall in?” asked Gloria, as Phillip, ever the gentleman, took over the job of supporting the drooping girl. “Golly gee, that must have given you quite a fright.”
“Be an angel, Gloria, and don't let's talk about it just now. I'm worried about Lady Brenda.”
“Let me help. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, darling.” Daisy took over Lady Brenda again at the door to the lounge. “Ask the stewardess for blankets and hot-water bottles while I get her settled.”
The ladies' lounge was decorated in ivory and half a dozen shades of pink, all lace and flounces, so twee as to be sickening. However, it did have comfortable chairs and a couple of chaises longues; and as Daisy had suspected, it was nearly empty at that hour. Lady Brenda was draped on a chaise and the attendant bustled about swathing her in rugs and hot-water bottles.
Daisy sank into a nearby chair, and Gloria perched on the edge of another, all agog. Though exhausted, Daisy had got over the worst of the shock. Now she wanted to question Lady Brenda about just what she thought she had seen, but it couldn't be done with so many ears close by.
She was on the point of advising Gloria to find Phillip
and hurry to see the end of the rescue, when it dawned on her that there might be no happy ending. The man might have lost his grip on the belt before the rowers reached him. Much better if Gloria stayed where she was, even if the interrogation of Lady Brenda must be postponed.
In any case the girl was still in no state to answer questions. She lay slumped against the cushions. As far as one could tell through the smeared powder, rouge, and eye make-up, her face was white as a sheet.
“She looks pretty bad,” Gloria whispered. “Shouldn't we send for Dr. Amboyne?”
“He'll be busy with the chap who fell in. Miss Oliphantâah, here she is.”
The witch came in, with two of her blue glass jars in her hand. Daisy noted the red label on one. She was too worried about Lady Brenda's condition to quibble. She couldn't imagine any reason why Miss Oliphant might have it in for the girl, and so precise a person would surely not make a mistake about dosage.
Besides, if Lady Brenda became ill after drinking the tea, the culprit would be obvious. Miss Oliphant was not such a fool.
The stewardess, who had at hand all the necessary apparatus for making tea or coffee, had water boiling. In no time the herbs were steeping. The steam coming from the tea-pot's spout smelled more like new-mown hay than lemons, more appropriate for horses than invalids, Daisy thought. However, she accepted a cup, glad to see that Miss Oliphant was also going to drink some of the medicinal brew.
“A sedative,” the witch said, smiling, “but very mild, and I happen to like the flavour.”
Gloria sniffed the scented steam, her nose wrinkling. “Gee, you mustn't waste any on me,” she said tactfully. “I wasn't out there when it happened. Let me help Lady Brenda
with hers. Here, honey, let's just sit you up a bit. There, that's dandy. Take care now, it's hot.”
As Lady Brenda reached for the cup and saucer with a tremulous hand, adorned with a large, diamond engagement ring, the familiar throb of the ship's engines started up again.
“Oh,” she cried, “they must have got him aboard! Don't you think so, Mrs. Fletcher? Now
he
'll be able to tell them what happened.”
Daisy caught the slight stress on “he,” and wondered whether the brainless, “bright young thing” was sharper than she appeared. At least she had realized the sense in not parading her unverifiable story.
Miss Oliphant took a sip of the tisane, so Daisy tried hers. It tasted just as it smelled. Mentally holding her nose, she drank some more. At least it was hot and wet.
The
Talavera
's roll was easing as she got under way, cutting through the waves instead of wallowing. Daisy finished her tea and was about to excuse herself to go and find out what had happened when the door to the lavatories opened and from the inner room tottered Wanda Gotobed.
“Has this bloody ship stopped see-sawing?” she demanded.
“Yes, madam,” the stewardess assured her. “It's always a bit uncomfy when they cut the engines at sea.”
“Uncomfy! Why the hell did we stop? I've been sick as a dog, and all that stupid woman in there can say is fresh air helps some people and no one ever died of it.”
“Ginger or mint,” Miss Oliphant murmured to Daisy as the stewardess defended her colleague, “but I don't suppose Mrs. Gotobed would accept anything from me. In any case, it is best taken before symptoms arise.”
“Come and sit down, Wanda,” Daisy invited. “I'm sure you'll feel better shortly.”
“Oh, it's you, Daisy. Have you been sick, too? I can't see why they'd want to stop the engines in the middle of the sea,
unless they broke down. Don't tell me the bloody engines broke down?”
“No,” Gloria broke in, “a man fell overboard and they had to stop the ship to fish him out.”
Looking horrified, Wanda gasped, “Fish him ⦠? No, don't tell me, Gloria. I'm not feeling strong enough for ⦠Gawd, it wasn't ⦠it wasn't my hubby, was it? Break it to me gently!”
“We don't know who it was,” Daisy said, “but there's no reason to suppose it was Mr. Gotobed. Was he up on the boat-deck?”
“He went up to smoke his pipe. He says the Smoking Room stinks. I came in here to powder my nose; then I started spewing up my guts and ⦠Oh, Gawd, Daisy, what if it's him?”
“I'm sure it isn't,” Daisy said soothingly, but she did not recall seeing Gotobed among those who had gathered at the rail on the boat-deck. “I'll go and see what I can find out.”
“Me too,” said Gloria, jumping up.
Daisy glanced at the heavy-eyed girl on the chaise longue. “I don't think Lady Brenda should be left alone.” Especially alone with the appalling Wanda.
“I shall be happy to keep Lady Brenda company,” offered Miss Oliphant. “Another cup of tea cannot hurt her and might help.”
Daisy leant over Lady Brenda. “Just take it easy,” she said. “Don't try to talk.”
Nodding, the girl touched Daisy's arm. “I'm feeling much better. Thank you!”
“I'll be back. Wanda, you don't look at all well. Why don't you go to your suite and lie down? I'm sure you're worrying for nothing, but if ⦠if there's bad news, I'll come and tell you, I promise.”
“Blimey, no. I'm that wobbly, I'd never make it. 'Sides, I wouldn't want to be alone at a time like this.”
She certainly would not be alone in the lounge. A number of women had entered since the
Talavera
had resumed her voyage. Two or three, pallid-faced, staggered out of the inner room and sank into chairs. Others came in from the promenade, chattering about all the excitement.
“ ⦠unconscious or dead, they say,” Daisy overheard as she and Gloria made for the door.
“But who is he?”
“No one seems to know.”
Almost certainly not Gotobed then. Someone would have recognized the occupant of one of the only two suites aboard, possessor of a glamorous wife much younger than himself, and therefore indubitable target of gossip.
“Alec will know if anyone does,” said Gloria.
“Not necessarily. He's incognito, remember.”
“I bet he's found out by now.”
They went out to the promenade. At once four figures converged upon them: Alec, Phillip, Arbuckleâand Gotobed.