thousand military personnel over half a million nautical miles.”
She saw that Parsons was smiling again, until Ada said, “One of those three-quarters of a million was mine.”
“Yes, of course,” Sarah said. “I’m sorry.”
Robert reached forward and took Ada ’s hand.
Ada, never one to brood, soon changed the subject. She began to recite the guest list for the party. Sarah stayed silent, only half-attending as local dignitaries and old friends were named. While a woman of Ada ’s wealth and influence would never have trouble finding guests for her parties, it was her reputation for holding lively, out of the ordinary celebrations which made her invitations much sought after.
At last the Queen Mary came into sight. Sarah, seeing the long, sleek giant before her, its trio of mammoth red stacks cuffed in black towering above them, quickly realized that all the reading she had done about this historic vessel could never do it justice.
“A building?” she heard Robert Parsons ask.
“No,” Sarah said quietly. “A ship, a beautiful, beautiful ship.”
“Nothing like her in the world,” he agreed. “Wait until you’re aboard.”
“You’ve been on the Queen Mary before?” she asked, surprised.
“A few times,” he said, but Ada began directing her to the hotel entrance before Sarah could ask more.
As they were welcomed by the staff at the registration desk, Sarah’s eyes roved over the Art Deco lines of the ship’s interior, the etched glass and shining brass, the rich exotic woods that surrounded her-crafted into curving, sumptuous, smooth surfaces and marquetry unlike any she had ever seen.
She was recalled from her admiration by Ada ’s voice. “The small bag to Mr. Parson’s suite, please. The trunk and the rest of this group to mine, all except those two very serviceable but dowdy bags, which I’m sorry to say, belong to my granddaughter.”
Sarah followed mutely as they were shown to their rooms, noting that like Ada, Robert was staying in one of the royalty suites. Each suite, Sarah knew, featured a large sitting area separated from a spacious bedroom, a private bath and an additional small bedroom with a single twin bed in it-servant’s quarters. In the ship’s glory years, the luxurious suites had been occupied by the wealthiest of first class passengers, who paid the equivalent of an average Englishman’s annual wages for round-trip passage-a large sum, even with the servant’s fare and all meals included.
Robert’s suite was near Ada ’s, but not adjoining it. Having braced herself for the likelihood that Ada would make the most of such a romantic setting, Sarah was surprised by this arrangement. He had been given a room that certainly placed his status well above that of hired help, but an adjoining room would have made assignations much easier.
Ada had offered a suite to Sarah, but Sarah had opted for one of the staterooms. Not as grand as the suites, it was nevertheless spacious, and like the suites, had many original furnishings in it. Sarah opened the two thick portholes, which provided a view of the Long Beach shoreline and downtown skyline. Taking a deep breath of cool air, she soon put aside her questions about her grandmother and Parsons. She spent the next half hour exploring her own luxurious room.
Soon her toiletries had been neatly arranged, her clothes hung in one of the closets, and nearly every other item she had carried with her stowed in an orderly fashion. She was just deciding where she would place a pair of books she had brought-about the history of the ship-when the phone rang.
“Sarah? Be a dear and run along to the Observation Bar, will you?” Ada said. “I told Robert I would meet him there, but now I’ve learned that Captain Dolman will be here any moment.”
“Captain Dolman? Is he the ship’s captain?” Sarah asked.
“No, no, an old friend. An army captain, retired for years. Now be a dear and don’t make Robert wait there alone-some young wench might look at his handsome face decide to lead him astray. A man like that, drinking alone in the bar-the consequences are not to be thought of.”
“I don’t-”
“Think you can find it? Of course you can. It’s near the bow of the ship, on the Promenade Deck. Thank you, dear, it’s such a relief to know I can depend upon you.”
Sarah bore this with her usual good grace. She climbed the stairs to the Promenade Deck and moved quickly through the ship’s shopping gallery to the cocktail lounge. Stepping into the curving, multi-level room, she saw before her a row of tall windows with a view of the main deck and bow, and the harbor beyond; nearer, in the room itself, a nickel-colored railing made up of a mixture of creatures real and mythological. She turned; above the mirrors behind the bar, she saw a painting that, up until now, she had only seen in black-and-white photographs of this room. For several long moments, she forgot all about looking for Robert Parsons.
The painting stretched across the length of the bar, and depicted a street scene. More than two dozen figures were caught in motion. They were people from all walks of life, dancing hand-in-hand: sailors, bakers and men in top hats cavorted with stout matrons, elegantly clad ladies and women in everyday dress. All were laughing as they circled round and round in celebration. Pennants fluttered above them; one of the revelers had lost her footing, but this was forever that moment before the others would notice.
“Makes you want to join them, doesn’t it?” a voice said from just behind her right ear.
Startled, Sarah turned and found herself nearly nose-to-nose with Parsons. “No, Mr. Parsons-”
“Robert-”
“No, Mr. Parsons,” she said, taking a step away from him. “It doesn’t. They’re all about to stumble over the one who has fallen.”
He looked up at the mural and smiled. “They’ll help her to her feet and carry on with the dance.”
“At best, they’ll step over her and continue without her.”
He shook his head, but said nothing.
“The banners carry the insignia of St. George,” she said quickly, fixing her eyes on the painting.
“In honor of King George the Fifth’s twenty-fifth year as king,” Parsons said, “which is being celebrated by the dancers. The work was painted by A.R. Thomson-and is called ‘Royal Jubilee Week, 1935.’ ”
She turned scarlet.
“Oh, now you’re angry with me. I’ve spoiled your fun. Let me buy you a glass of wine.”
“I don’t-”
“You can toss it in my face if you like. I’ll present myself as a target.”
“No, no I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit of mine, spouting off facts and figures nobody cares to hear.”
“But you’re wrong-I’m very interested in what you have to say, Miss Milington.”
“Please, let’s go back to Sarah and Robert.”
He smiled. “All right.” He motioned to a doorway. “I’m sitting outside, but if you find it too chilly there for you-”
“No, I prefer it,” she said truthfully.
She was seated at his table, shielded from the afternoon breeze by a row of Plexiglas panels. Belatedly, she remembered to deliver her message.
“It was kind of you to walk all the way here to tell me,” he said, “but Ada is so seldom on time, I don’t think I would have worried.”
“I think she sent me as your chaperone,” she admitted.
He laughed. “No, no, I doubt that. Tell me, have you had a chance to see much of the ship yet?”
“No, I’ve only just unpacked.”
“Hmm. Then you must let me show you some of the more interesting sights-”
“I’m not sure-”
“You aren’t afraid of me, are you?” he asked. “I promise you won’t come to any harm.”
Not unaware that this was the longest conversation she had ever had with him, she said, “Oh, no, I’m not afraid. It’s just that Grandmother may not like me to dominate so much of your time.”
“Trust me, she’ll be delighted. Besides,” he added quietly, “she’ll have other demands to make of me later.”
Again Sarah felt herself blush.
“You misunderstand-” he began.
