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  Everyone had assumed she and Alan were engaged. They met when she was eighteen and stepped out together for the best part of two years, going for long coastal walks or visiting tearooms on his days off. She assumed they’d be wed after he finished his apprenticeship as a butcher, but in fact the long-awaited proposal never came. When rumours reached Gerda that he’d been seen dancing with another woman – a very pretty woman, according to her informant – she was simply surprised. It seemed incongruous. Alan had never struck her as a ladies’ man, with his ruddy face, thinning hair and big-knuckled hands. He’d seemed like a safe bet.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said when she raised the subject. ‘I’m very fond of you, Gerda; you’re a nice girl, but I don’t love you the way you should love someone you’re planning to spend the rest of your life with.’

  ‘What on earth does that mean? You’re just looking for pastures new. You’re a charlatan.’ The anger erupted out of her and she kept berating him until he picked up his hat, apologised one last time and disappeared.

  ‘What will folk say?’ Thomasine worried. ‘You’re tainted goods; all the time you’ve spent together without a chaperone and now he’s gone and taken up with someone else. He’s ruined you.’

  Wherever Gerda went, she saw people gazing at her with undisguised sympathy, or whispering behind their hands. It will pass, she thought; but six months later when Alan married the ‘other woman’, the gossip started again and this time she’d had enough. To be thrown over by any man was bad enough, but to be thrown over by someone as unappealing as Alan Slaven had spoiled her chance of finding a decent husband in South Shields. She thought of going to America then but her father got ill and she couldn’t bear to leave and miss the time he had left. It was only after he died, when she was twenty-four, that she travelled to New York to lodge with her mother’s old friend Else Gabrielson. It was to be a fresh start in a country where no one knew her, a place where she could find a husband who didn’t know she was so-called ‘tainted goods’. Perhaps she had left it too late because, five years on, on the 1st of May 1915, here she was on the Lusitania, heading home again without a man. The neighbours would look at her ringless hand and sigh. Unless …

  How could she tell if Jack Welsh was sincere? He seemed to enjoy spending time with her and they conversed easily, but what if it was simply a shipboard dalliance for him, a way of making the voyage pass more quickly? How could she ever be sure? And then she remembered him saying they would sink or swim together and thought what a chivalrous thing that was to say. She hoped to goodness he had meant it.

  *

  Next morning, Jack was waiting when Gerda entered the dining room for breakfast and he came to sit by her, enquiring how she had slept and asking if her cabin was comfortable. She found herself telling him what her cabin-mate Ellen had said about folks calling them lovebirds, and was interested to find it did not bother him in the slightest.

  He chortled: ‘So we are to be the on-board entertainment, are we? We should put on a good show in that case.’ With a wink, he reached over to squeeze her gloved hand.

  Gerda giggled and turned her face away so he couldn’t see she was blushing.

  ‘I like that smile,’ he said. ‘Your secret smile.’

  After breakfast, there was a church service conducted by Captain Turner in the second-class lounge, which had mahogany tables, armchairs and settees on a plush rose carpet, and long windows looking out to sea. Jack sang the hymns enthusiastically, if a little off-key. Gerda mouthed the words from the sheet, unfamiliar with the Anglican service, and glanced round at the smart outfits of the first-and second-class women: she spotted the designer Carrie Kennedy wearing a fur-trimmed red velvet suit, and her sister Kathryn Hickson in an elegant grey suit with seven-eighths jacket. Afterwards, she and Jack wandered out on deck and stood at the rail, gazing across the vastness of the ocean.

  ‘Do you think there will be any icebergs?’ she asked, her mind on the sinking of the Titanic three years earlier. She’d pored over every single news report of the tragedy, and bought whole magazines devoted to the subject. Mrs Gabrielson accused her of being obsessed, but surely it had struck a nerve with anyone who ever crossed the Atlantic.

  ‘We’re a few weeks later than the Titanic sailed and we’re on a much more southerly route, so there’s nothing to worry about from icebergs,’ Jack told her.

  ‘Did you read much about the Titanic? I often wondered what I would have done if I was there. The people in third class had such a terrible time.’

  ‘Things have changed a lot since then: we’ve got enough lifeboats for all the passengers, to start with.’ He pointed to one swinging on davits above. ‘But what I learned from it is that in any emergency you have to act fast: find a life jacket, get yourself up to the boat deck and make your way into a lifeboat.’

  ‘But it was women and children first. It was much harder for men.’

  ‘That’s as it should be since we’re the stronger sex. But still, many more Titanic passengers could have been saved. The real tragedy is all those half-empty lifeboats that didn’t go back to pick up people in the water. I wonder how their occupants live with themselves?’

  Gerda was musing on what he’d said about being the stronger sex. It seemed men were stronger in their emotions as well as in their physique. She wished she could peer into Jack’s head and find out what he thought of her. For the last day they’d spent all their waking hours together so it must mean that he at least enjoyed her company. They never ran out of things to talk about. But had he taken a liking to her? Was he thinking of her as a possible future wife? She had no idea and itched to ask him.

  Suddenly they heard a scream and looked up. Two young children, a boy and a girl of maybe six or seven years old, had somehow climbed onto the outside of the railings surrounding the second-class promenade and were edging their way round, feet on a narrow ledge above a fifteen-foot drop. A woman had just spotted them and was rushing towards them shrieking.

  Jack sprinted across the deck so he was right below and shouted up: ‘Stay calm! Don’t startle them.’

  Ignoring him, the woman grabbed the boy’s arm and began to yank him over the rail. ‘What have I said to you about running off and leading your sister into trouble? I’ll box your ears, so I will.’

  At that moment, the girl’s grip loosened. She fell backwards without a sound, her skirts billowing. Jack caught her, staggered under the impact then fell onto the deck. The girl was uninjured, her fall cushioned, but she burst into tears of shock.

  Gerda hurried to help her to her feet. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked Jack and he nodded, brushing himself down and rising gingerly. She soothed the girl: ‘There, there; you’re fine. We’ll take you back to your mother.’

  ‘She’s not my mother,’ the girl cried. ‘She’s my governess and I hate her.’

  ‘That’s as may be, little lass, but she knows what’s best for you. You listen to her next time instead of following your naughty brother.’ Jack spoke kindly, with a twinkle that made the girl stop crying. ‘Here’ – he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a couple of toffees wrapped in paper – ‘one for you and one for your brother. Try to be a good girl now.’

  He lifted her across the barrier on the stairs between second and third class, into the arms of the governess who instantly began to scold her and didn’t so much as thank Jack for catching her.

  ‘How rude!’ Gerda exclaimed when they were out of hearing. ‘You saved that girl from a broken leg at least, possibly worse.’

  ‘We’re in third class,’ Jack said, ‘not worthy of her notice. I often find the staff are bigger snobs than the masters.’

  ‘You were good with the girl, though. Do you like children? Do you plan to have some of your own one day?’ The questions slipped out before she had time to censor herself. It was exactly the kind of query Charlotte had warned her against, and she could have kicked herself.

  ‘I’d love to,’ Jack said with conviction. ‘I love children.�
� Then he paused and asked ‘How about yourself?’

  ‘Yes, I’d like it very much,’ she answered, honestly, turning her face away so he couldn’t see her blushes. His bravery in saving the girl had made her heart swell and now she knew for sure she was falling for him. It was important not to do anything stupid; she must be careful not to scare him off.

  *

  They whiled away the days playing quoits or shuffleboard on deck, or gin rummy in the dining saloon, and soon became relaxed enough to tease each other.

  ‘You are so competitive!’ Gerda remarked after he won yet another hand of cards. ‘It’s only a game, not life or death.’

  ‘Now you tell me!’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I thought you were going to make me walk the plank.’

  Sometimes she teased him for using big words like ‘acoustics’ or ‘devaluation’ and even pretended to yawn when he got too technical in talking about his work.

  He called her Snow Maiden and teased her for the way she was always impeccably dressed – ‘We’re in a ship, not a royal palace, pet’ – but there was affection behind it. She knew he liked her looks because there had been lots of compliments: he liked the way she did her hair, he liked her smile, he thought she had particularly dainty ankles and feet …

  Mrs Hook nudged her one evening at dinner and whispered, ‘You’ve got a good ’un there.’

  ‘He’s not … we’re just friends,’ Gerda stammered.

  ‘My eye! Look at the way he goes all goggle-eyed and melty when you’re around; and you’re not fooling anyone with that Scandinavian coolness. It’s lovely to watch you both together. Makes me feel young again.’

  Her words made Gerda’s insides twist with nerves. Their courtship was so public that everyone would witness it when he threw her over, when he realised she wasn’t good enough for him, as he surely would. Just as Alan had, and all the others in between.

  The romance was intensified by them spending all their time together. Already, within five days, she’d spent more time with him than she might in five months with a beau on shore. To lose him now would be agony. What was he thinking? If only she could find out, have some forewarning of what would happen next.

  *

  On Thursday evening, as they got within a couple of hundred miles of the west coast of Ireland, the talk at dinner was all about the threat from U-boats. That morning, the lifeboats had been swung clear of the railings and were dangling by the ship’s sides. Notices had circulated, warning passengers that all portholes must be closed and outside lights extinguished after dark; men were even forbidden from smoking on deck. Everyone assumed that if there were to be a U-boat attack it would come that night and some ladies announced they were too nervous to stay in their cabins but would sleep in the public rooms.

  ‘Don’t be surprised if you wake in the night to feel the ship zig-zagging,’ Mr Hook warned. ‘That’s what captains are instructed to do if there’s any German activity in the area. It stops U-boats fixing their sights on you.’

  ‘Surely the Royal Navy will send us an armed escort? I was positively assured they would,’ Mrs Williams said.

  ‘I still refuse to believe they will target a civilian ship,’ Mrs Hook averred firmly. ‘Now stop it, dear. You’re upsetting Miss Nielsen.’

  Gerda smiled to show she didn’t mind; what was churning her up was the thought that they would dock in Liverpool the following night, to disembark on Saturday morning, and she had no idea if she would ever see Jack again. Might he simply say ‘Goodbye, nice to have met you’ and leave without so much as exchanging addresses?

  The same thing seemed to be on Jack’s mind too, because as they strolled on the blacked-out deck that evening, he asked, ‘Do you think you will stay long in South Shields?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s just … there’s something I have to tell you. I didn’t like to mention it earlier in the voyage lest it made you fret, but German Zeppelins dropped bombs on South Shields back in April. The town’s bound to be a target because of the shipyards and I couldn’t bear you to get hurt.’

  ‘In April?’ Gerda cried. ‘Might my sister have been hit?’

  ‘The news report said a woman and child in Wallsend were injured but no one was killed. They don’t live in Wallsend, do they?’

  ‘No, thank God.’

  ‘But I don’t like to think of you going there, because the Zeppelins are sure to return.’

  ‘Where else could I go? I have no other family.’ She turned to him and noticed a strange expression on his face. Even in the dim glow of the stars, she could see he was biting his lip, fidgeting with his fingers.

  ‘That’s just the thing … If you would permit it, I’d like to be your family. What I’m trying to say is that I have fallen for you, Gerda. I’d be honoured if you would consider accepting my hand in marriage.’

  Her mouth opened but she couldn’t speak, overcome with emotion.

  Taking her silence for hesitation, he continued: ‘Granted, we haven’t known each other for long, but we get on well, you know we do. If it’s money you’re worried about, I have several thousand dollars saved from my work in America, enough for a nice house and a bit put aside as savings. I’ve got a good job and after the war there’s bound to be work in telephones. I would make sure you had every comfort.’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I would like to marry you.’ Tears flooded her eyes, spilled down her cheeks, and he took her in his arms and pressed her against him as she cried. For so long, she had wanted a husband, someone to whom she could belong, and now it was offered all she could do was sob.

  ‘I’m sorry, Snow Maiden. I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he chuckled, hugging her tight.

  *

  Jack and Gerda told the Hooks and Annie Williams of their engagement next morning at breakfast, and no one seemed remotely surprised.

  ‘Look at you two, you’re made for each other,’ Mrs Hook beamed. ‘I’m only surprised it’s taken you six days to pop the question!’

  ‘It’s so romantic,’ Annie cried. ‘Oh, isn’t that lovely!’

  The delight at their announcement mingled with a general sense of euphoria that the Germans hadn’t attacked the night before. Now it was daylight, all they had to do was sail round the southern tip of Ireland and up the Irish Sea to Liverpool.

  ‘Where will you get married?’ Mrs Hook asked, and they caught eyes and smiled: they hadn’t got round to discussing such details yet.

  Suddenly a deep, mournful sound reverberated round the dining hall and everyone jumped, spilling cups of tea and dropping egg-laden forks to the floor.

  ‘It’s the ship’s foghorn,’ Jack assured Gerda. ‘It’s a foggy morning.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound; it’s eerie. If there are U-boats in the area won’t it alert them to our position?’

  ‘I’m sure the captain knows what he’s doing,’ Jack replied. But when they went up on deck later and peered out into the dense swirling mist, he frowned and seemed about to say something before stopping himself. They were travelling slowly, with visibility of just a few yards.

  The foghorn kept blasting until around midday when sun burned through the mist revealing a view of emerald coastline speckled with fishermen’s cottages. The sea was a smooth dark navy.

  ‘Oh, isn’t that a lovely sight!’ Gerda cried.

  Passengers flocked on deck and the relief was palpable. They were almost home. Everyone was smiling, and even those who’d kept themselves to themselves so far had a cheerful word with their neighbours.

  At one o’clock Gerda and Jack went down for the second sitting of lunch and they chatted about what they would do on disembarking: he wanted her to come and meet his mother, then they would travel across to South Shields to see Thomasine. They agreed to send her a telegram explaining that Gerda would be a week late. She couldn’t wait to share the news that she was coming home with a husband-to-be – and not just any old husband, but a clever, brave, kind one, who had money and who made her la
ugh. She must write to Charlotte and to Else Gabrielson in Brooklyn.

  ‘My ma’s going to adore you,’ Jack was saying, when suddenly there was a sound like a door being slammed hard and the ship gave a huge jolt. Plates and glasses flew off tables and shattered on the floor.

  ‘What the …’ Jack stood up, looking around. There was a deep rumbling sound now and the ship seemed to be shuddering. ‘Oh, Jesus Christ, Gerda!’ He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Come quickly!’

  ‘What is it?’ Her throat was tight. No one else seemed to be reacting as they sprinted out of the dining saloon and down the staircase towards their cabins.

  ‘We’ll get your life jacket first, then mine,’ Jack said.

  ‘Have we been hit?’

  ‘It looks that way. Either that or we’ve collided with something.’

  In her cabin, Jack pulled the bulky cork life jacket from the top of the wardrobe and showed Gerda how to slip it over her head and tie the cords around her. The floor felt odd beneath her feet and she realised it was tilting. She held onto the door frame to steady herself.

  In the corridor some women were hysterical. ‘What shall we do?’ one cried and Jack yelled at them to get their lifejackets and make their way up to the boat deck. The whole time, he didn’t let go of Gerda’s hand; he was holding it so tightly that she didn’t feel afraid, even though they could smell smoke drifting down the passageway.

  Once Jack had his life jacket they climbed the main stairs; they were at an odd angle so she had to cling to the banister. ‘We’re listing to starboard,’ Jack said, and Gerda felt reassured he knew this term. She saw a steward’s trolley rolling along a corridor then hitting a wall and overturning with a clatter.

  They were both out of breath when they emerged through the main entrance onto the boat deck. The air was thick with glowing cinders floating in the breeze. A column of black smoke was rising from a funnel right in the dead centre of the ship.