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By Root 732 0

in accordance with company rules, required testing in mid-voyage. Sextants in hand, the ship’s officers crowded along the wing of the navigating deck, shooting the sun and calculating our position in the ocean. They wore their greatcoats for it was noticeable how far the temperature had dropped since yesterday. The sea was as black as coal, the white avenue in our wake pointing its arrow-head at the pale horizon. I was about to return indoors to fetch my own coat when Thomas Andrews, hatless and wearing a beautifully cut suit of dark blue serge, caught up with me and asked if he could have a quiet word. Oblivious of the cold and the continuing boom of the whistles he said he and his team had been monitoring the use of the writing room and were convinced that though it was extremely popular with the ladies it was over-large. It would be no more than commercial common-sense to reduce its size and convert the extra space into first class accommodation. Bearing in mind my satisfactory work as a draughtsman and knowing that my uncle wanted me to have more settled employment, he wondered if I would be interested in drawing up plans for such a project. It would afford both of us the opportunity to find out what I was capable of, though, of course, he couldn’t promise that any finished design would be used. He didn’t want me to answer yes or no at this moment. Would I come to his suite at two o’clock precisely?

I really did think God had taken a hand in my affairs. Overjoyed, I hastened to collect measuring tape, pencil and paper and raced to the writing room. I had forgotten all about Wallis, or rather the ticklish situation existing between us, so much so that when I saw her sitting there, alone, I waved my hand quite naturally and smiled. She smiled back. She looked pale and I noticed the uneven texture of her complexion. It would be going too far to call her skin blotchy, yet nevertheless it was not as smooth as I remembered. When she spoke I was struck by the thinness of her lips and the peg-like appearance of her teeth. It was as though always before I had glimpsed her through a mist, which had now cleared, revealing imperfections.

‘You look happy,’ she said.

‘I am,’ I replied, and busied myself taking measurements. Shortly after, she gathered up her things and left.

The writing room was certainly spacious enough to be reduced in size, but I was worried by the extent of the alterations necessary, bearing in mind plumbing and electrical considerations. One half of the room had an almost perfect reproduction of a Georgian ceiling with the most exquisite carving and moulding which would either have to be sliced in two and modified or else taken down altogether. Mrs Brown of Denver was at an alcove table, playing Patience. Observing me stalking about the room she asked if I was thinking of buying the place. We both laughed.

It was wonderful to feel in such high spirits, to know in what direction my life was going. I would never drink again, or at least not to excess, nor waste my time with the likes of Hopper or George Dodge. Even dear old Charlie, being far too indolent, would have to be left behind. I was going to become a naval architect or an interior designer, possibly both. After all, Andrews had managed this double feat. One day I would stride round some great Atlantic liner, a team of draughtsmen trotting at my heels, carefully jotting down my every suggestion.

I was brought back to earth by Ginsberg, who poked his head round the door and announced that the noon to noon speed had just been posted up in the smoke-room and it was the best day’s run yet, 546 miles. ‘Are you prepared to place a bet?’ he asked, to which I loftily replied that I was not a gambling man. ‘You surprise me,’ he retorted. ‘You definitely were last night. You’d have lost your shirt if Melchett hadn’t stepped in.’

At two o’clock on the dot I knocked at the door of Andrews’ suite. His sitting room resembled an office with plans of various sections of the ship pinned to the oak panelling of the walls. The table and chairs had been pushed back