Page 61 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

Charles blanched and cast a quick glance in her direction.

‘Would you please excuse us?’ Uncle Harry addressed them all. Philip looked up at him in surprise. Millie’s hand crept over and covered Kate’s. She entwined her fingers with Millie’s. Charles had turned very pale and she detected a slight tremble in his hands as he laid his napkin down beside his plate. Kate honestly thought she was going to throw up. Hector shifted his weight and sneezed before standing up and leaning against her, protecting Kate — or Cat — in his own way from whatever news Dawson had brought. Kate had an ominous feeling that news was for Cat, otherwise why was she here to experience it?

‘Certainly,’ said Aunt Violet. Millie simply nodded dumbly and they all watched her uncle and Charles head out into the hallway, Uncle Harry clutching the newspaper. Charles shut the door carefully behind him.

‘It’s not like Charles to abandon a meal,’ Philip said with an attempt at humour.

They all stared at him.

‘Stupid boy,’ said Millie, bitterly.

‘No, it’s all right,’ Kate said. ‘He’s only trying to make light of it, whatever it is.’

Philip smiled at her. ‘Thank you, Cat.’ Nobody else made any comments and they just watched the door, waiting for it to open.

Uncle Harry and Charles were gone for what seemed like an age. Kate had one eye on the clock in the corner of the room, wondering if it would chime and throw her out of this evening so she could remain in blessed ignorance. But of course it didn’t. She was here for a reason and she wouldn’t be able to leave until she’d found out what it was.

Eventually, the door swung open and Charles walked back into the room, clutching the newspaper. He walked straight over to her and leaned down. Millie squeezed her hand even more tightly. Charles looked at her, his eyes full of something she recognised as sympathy.

‘Cat, there’s something I need to tell you. Can you be strong?’

She had to be strong? What on earth for?

Kate felt the bile rise into her throat. ‘What is it?’ She disengaged her hand from Millie’s and grasped her brother’s in both of hers instead.

‘Cat, my dearest, beloved Cat. It’s Will.’

‘My Will?’ Kate said sharply; then corrected herself. ‘I mean, Will the blacksmith?’

‘Oh, Cat,’ said Charles. ‘You’ve made it quite clear. None of us are blind or stupid. Our Uncle doesn’t approve at all, as you know very well — but in the spirit of a gentleman’s honour, he asked me to tell you this, in the hope it would put an end to it once and for all.’ Kate felt herself blush to the roots of her hair and cast a quick glance at Millie.

She dropped her head. ‘I never said anything, Cat, I promise,’ she said miserably.

‘I know you didn’t.’ Funnily enough, Kate did know. ‘Please, Charles. Tell me what’s going on.’

‘It’s the steamer Will had passage on. It collided out at sea with another ship. He talked about his plans with me and he must have mentioned it to Dawson as well. He recognised the name of the vessel. The SS Victoria.’

Kate felt faint. ‘What of it?’ she asked, hardly daring to breathe; although she thought she knew what was coming and began to shake.

‘It sank, Cat. Will went down with it. There are only a handful of survivors.’

Kate stared at Charles, trying to process the information.

She shook her head. ‘No. No I don’t believe you. He’s not dead. That’s not the way it’s supposed to happen. He must be amongst the survivors. He’s coming back to me. He promised.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Charles quietly. ‘The survivors were mainly women and children. One or two crew members. Some elderly people. Nobody who matches Will’s description. I’m sorry, darling . . .’

Kate pulled her hands away from Charles. Without saying a word, she scraped her chair back, rose and ran out of the room, unheeding of her achy leg. Hector kept to her heel like a little shadow, whining as if he understood every word. The clock had begun to strike before she was in the hallway. As Cat’s horrific evening faded into a memory, Kate was thrown back into the present day, still clutching the flower arrangements that she had been asked to put in the dining room. For a moment, the little hazy shape of a boxy-headed mongrel glimmered next to her, then it too vanished.

* * *

There was noise and screaming all around him — chunks of the steamer were scraping and grinding together, splintering apart like a ship-in-a-bottle that had been shaken inside a tornado.

Will ducked as another explosion reverberated around him — the third one. Someone, one of the crew, perhaps, had shouted that there were four boilers — he could only guess that three had blown up. Steam, boiler parts and the remains of bodies surrounded him and floated on the water. What was left of the ship had drifted and was sinking — even now, there were only smokestacks and a part of the deck showing. Before long, that too would have disappeared beneath the churning waves.

He reached out, trying to grab onto something, anything. Trying to gasp for breath, and scrabble for purchase on whatever he could find nearby. His fingertips clutched onto a piece of wood and slipped off. He grabbed again and lost it. He floundered, panicking, as the wreckage floated away from him.

He made one final attempt, and the last thing he saw was Cat, sitting on her horse and laughing down at him with the sunlight sparking off her hair while the final boiler exploded against the sky and the cold waves swallowed him.