A Greater World (6 page)

As the voyage progressed down the west coast of Africa the sea calmed and the sun warmed the decks. The public rooms were lively and crowded again. When the ship eventually docked at Cape Town, Elizabeth stood on the upper deck, looking at Table Mountain. She felt the warmth of the sun on her cheeks. The pallor of Northport had given way to a healthy glow in her complexion from all the sea air.

The deck was crowded with people enjoying the view as they waited to disembark. She noticed the man she and Mrs Briars had met over tea. He was standing alone looking ashore. Since that afternoon, she had not seen him again. She thought it strange, because as huge as the Historic was, it was hard not to keep seeing the same people on board. Perhaps he had been avoiding her? On impulse she decided to speak to him now.

'The view is more impressive than the Pier Head isn't it?'

He started in surprise. 'Aye, it is that.'

'The mountain certainly lives up to its name.'

He looked at her with a mixture of interest, mistrust and shyness. 'Why? What's it called?'

'Table Mountain. And it does look like a big flat table, sitting there between the sea and the sky.'

'Aye it does that.' He looked away, as though ending the casual exchange but then, when she remained standing beside him, he nodded towards the crowd of people waiting on the lower deck. 'Not joining your friend then?'

'She's not my friend.'

He turned to look at her. 'Not your cup of tea, eh?'

She smiled. 'Is it that obvious? Three weeks of sharing a cabin with that insufferable woman would have tried the patience of a saint, let alone me.'

'Just have to hope her replacement will be an improvement.'

'There'll be no replacement. The purser's just told me I'll have the cabin to myself for the rest of the voyage.'

'Lap of luxury eh, Miss? I'm sorry I can't remember what yer name is? I were that keen on getting away from your cabin mate.'

Elizabeth stretched out her hand to him. 'Elizabeth Morton, Mr Winterbourne.'

He looked embarrassed. 'I feel really bad now, Miss Morton. You must think me quite rude not to have remembered yer name when you've done me the honour of remembering mine.'

'Not at all. I've a memory for names and in your place I'd have run a mile to escape from Mrs Briars – especially when she kept getting your name wrong. Unfortunately I was stuck with her! I was sorely tempted to sleep on deck under the stars to escape her! It took her at least week to stop calling me Miss Milton! And she was very rude to you. I'm sorry.'

'No need to apologise for 'er.'

'Are you travelling with Mrs Winterbourne?'

'There isn't one. No, I'm sharing a cabin with three brothers from Manchester. They're all right and leave me alone, which suits me. I'm not one for conversation.'

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean...'

'No, Miss Morton. I don't mean you.'

'So are you going ashore for a while?'

'Mebbe later, once the crowds 'ave gone. I were thinking to enjoy the peace and quiet on board for a bit. To be honest I'm a bit bothered that when I stand on dry land again I might fall over after being so long on board.' He adopted the gait of a sailor and started to rock slightly from foot to foot.

Elizabeth laughed and realised it was the first time she had felt light hearted since leaving Trevelyan House. She said, 'I was keen to disembark and have a look around, until I realised that if I did, Mrs Briars intended to wrap me in the bosom of her family and I might never have escaped!'

'I can see why that wouldn't appeal much.'

She was about to speak again, but was overcome with shyness. It took her by surprise. It wasn't that she didn't know what to say, just that she was terribly self-conscious saying it. Her words seemed too big for her mouth and she was acutely aware of the sound of her own voice. She didn't want to look at him, turning towards the crowds pouring down the gangplank. What was wrong with her? She was like a tongue-tied schoolgirl.

Michael interpreted her turning away as a wish to be left alone. He raised his cap, mumbled a quick good morning and walked off down the deck.

She looked at his retreating back view. His rough tweed jacket was patched at the elbows and his cloth cap was threadbare and grubby at the front where his hand had grabbed at it over the years. He was wearing heavy boots that looked as though they had seen neither polish nor the attention of a cobbler in a long time. He was from another world and yet she liked him and wanted to get to know him better. She willed him to turn around and walk back to re-join her, but he disappeared into the queue waiting to disembark.

Chapter Four - After Cape Town

The day after they left Cape Town she saw him again. To avoid the other passengers, she had developed the habit of slipping up to the boat deck. It was out of bounds to everyone but the crew, but she discovered a spot behind one of the huge ventilator fans, where she would be out of sight. It was shaded from the sun by the adjacent lifeboats and she could lean back against the fan housing and watch the sea slipping by below.

The sound of the passengers was distant and muted as they played deck quoits, swam in the pool or promenaded round the deck below her. She was engrossed in a book when a shadow fell across the page. She looked up.

'Good morning, Miss Morton.'

'Mr Winterbourne. You've found me out! Trespassing in the crew-only zone.'

'Well if you're trespassing then so am I.'

'The crew can see you if they look this way from the Bridge. You need to sit down here out of the sight lines.'

'You've got it all worked out, Miss Morton.'

'I suppose that makes me a hardened criminal?'

'Aye, you could say that. But it makes me an accessory to yer crime.'

She smiled up at him, blinking in the sunlight and gestured to the deck beside her. Hesitating a moment, he sat down beside her.

There was an awkward silence until Elizabeth spoke. 'I love it up here. Away from the crowds and noise.'

Michael looked around them but said nothing. She wished she hadn't asked him to join her. 'Tell me something about yourself, Mr Winterbourne. Why are you going to Australia?'

'There's not much to tell. There wasn't much of a future for me back home and I heard Australia's a good place to start a new life, so I thought I'd try me luck. The government pays most of the fare as they need labour out there.'

'You said you have no family?' She hesitated, 'No wife?'

'No wife.'

'And parents?'

'Not any more.' His voice was harsh and the tone of his voice made it clear that he did not want to explain further. She decided not to push him. They lapsed into silence again, then he gestured towards the book that lay open on her lap.

'What're you reading?'

'Wuthering Heights
.'

'What do you think to Emily Bronte?'

She looked at him in surprise.

'Aye. I've read it.' His voice was cold and Elizabeth realised he must be think her no better than Mrs Briars: a snob who assumed a miner must be uneducated and ill mannered. The words stumbled out of her mouth as she hurried to speak and to cover any unintended offence.

'I first read it years ago when I was at school. I've just finished re-reading
Jane Eyre
. But I thought she was a bit of a prig.'

'Catherine Earnshaw more to yer taste?'

'No. Stupid girl. I can't imagine what possessed her to marry Edgar Linton when she was so in love with Heathcliff.'

'You like Heathcliff then?'

'Gosh no. He's positively evil. Yet when I was a girl I thought him the most romantic character.'

'A bit too rough and ready for you, eh, Miss Morton?'

'Not at all. He's a cruel man. Not my idea of a romantic hero at all.'

'I dare say you're right. But then I doubt I've read as many books as you.'

He looked away, appearing distracted, bored even. Elizabeth was keen not to end the conversation so abruptly this time.

'You like books?'

'Aye. Though I expect yer friend from Cape Town thought I couldn't even read.'

'Mrs Briars may think she has a superior education, but she's an ignorant old... Sorry. I shouldn't speak that way.' She smiled. 'She caught me reading
Sons and Lovers
and told me reading it would corrupt me.'

'And have ye been corrupted?' he smiled.

She laughed. 'Actually I was moved. I've never read anything like it before. Brutally honest. Painful. What do you like to read?'

'Anything as comes my way. I suppose it were being deprived of books for so long. They taught us well enough at the local school. The mining company saw to that. Believed in good works and education. God knows why, when it were no use to most of us as went underground. We had no books at home apart from the Bible. I got into reading in the War. My commanding officer had been studying Classics at Oxford University when the war started. Read all the time. Shells going off all around and he kept his head buried in his book.'

'When he was supposed to be fighting?'

He smiled and rolled a cigarette. 'We didn't do much fighting. Not where we were. None at all really. We sat around until it were time to go and dig a big hole in the ground, then we'd sit around again waiting to be told where and when to dig another big hole. We talked and smoked, wrote letters back to Blighty and read the ones we were lucky enough to get.'

He looked thoughtful and she could see he was mentally back there. He carried on speaking, drawing on his cigarette. 'He were called Rockhill - Greville Rockhill. He weren't like the rest of us. All he ever wanted to do was study. Some of his books was in Latin and Greek, but he loved novels too. Dickens, Trollope, Henry James. Used to get a few books sent every week. I don't know how he pulled it off – must have 'ad a mate or a relative in the War Office. When he were done, he'd pass the books on to the rest of us and I always got first crack.' He drew on his cigarette again, watching the smoke curl in the air. 'He didn't make it.'

'He died?'

'Aye. Day after he were killed another parcel of books came. They kept us going till the War were over – it were only five or six weeks more, though we didn't know that then. I took some of his books back to Blighty. Read 'em again and again. Trouble with books is they put ideas in yer head and make it hard to put up with what you've got.'

'What do you mean?'

'When I got back to the dale, I wanted more. I wanted to see something of the world.'

'So what do you want, Mr Winterbourne? What are you looking for?' She leaned forward as she spoke and he moved away slightly and looked out to sea, frowning.

'I'm not sure as I know any more, Miss. The world doesn't seem quite so enticing once you're out in it.'

'Feeling homesick? Do you want to go back?' She raised an eyebrow.

'I'll never go back. What's done is done.'

'You make it sound as though you've done something terrible! Are you running away, Mr Winterbourne?'

He frowned and his eyes darkened. 'Mebbe I am.'

She folded her hands in her lap and looked up at him earnestly. 'Maybe we all are. The whole ship! I can't imagine what else would possess so many people to give up everything, pack their bags and sail across the oceans into the unknown. Not if they didn't have to.'

'They? Or you?'

'Me too, I suppose. I certainly never planned to do this. I didn't lie awake dreaming of seeing the world or going to Australia. I'd have been happy to see my days out in Northport.'

'So why are you here?'

There was a tremor in her voice when she spoke. 'My father needs me. My mother's dead and he misses her. There's nothing for me at home. Not any more.'

'What'll you do in Australia?'

'Try and make the best of things I suppose. I play the violin and hope to make a living teaching it and I'll keep house for my father of course. Who knows? Maybe one day we'll have saved enough to return to England?'

'To go back?'

'Yes. Why not?'

'It's never right to go backwards. You have to keep moving forward in this life. To keep going. To move on.'

She smiled at him. 'Quite the philosopher, Mr Winterbourne?'

'I'm just a survivor is all.'

They fell into an awkward silence and then Elizabeth picked up the threads of their conversation again. 'So, what book are you reading now?'

'The War of the Worlds
. You'd think I'd have had enough of wars wouldn't you? But it were on the shelf in the general room so I thought I'd give it a go.'

'Any good?'

'Aye. It's keeping me gripped enough. And defeating a bunch of alien beings is a change from taking on the Kaiser.'

'I don't know how I'd exist without books.'

'Me neither.'

'Was the War very hard for you?'

He looked thoughtful. 'I had an easy war compared to most. Never went over the top. Had plenty of mates that did. Being a miner, they reckoned to keep me digging underground and that kept me out of the worst of it.'

'I'm sure it was still terrible for you. I can't imagine what it must have been like over there. Did you lose many friends, apart from the officer you told me about?'

'We lost nine men from our little village. That left a big hole. One of 'em was me cousin, Joe. He were me best pal.' Before she could reply he added, 'What about you? Any of your family?'

'My father was involved in planning troop movements. All done from a desk in Liverpool. I have no brothers. But I did lose someone close to me.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'We were engaged to be married but he never came home.'

'Where did he die?'

'In the Ypres Salient. On the Menin Road. His name was Stephen. And do you know I can't even remember what he looked like any more. Isn't that terrible?'

'Mebbe it's how we get over things. How we're able to carry on when summat like that hits us.' As he spoke the words he wished them to be true in his own case but feared they were not.

She carried on. 'I feel guilty. You know. That I don't think about him all the time. Some days I don't even think of him at all. The time we spent together seems unreal, as if I dreamt it rather than lived it. It was another world we lived in before the war, wasn't it? It's all different now and I find it hard to be the person I was before or even to understand the person I was before. Stephen is now just a name carved on a war memorial.' She hesitated, then stretched her hands out in front of her as though appraising them. 'I stopped wearing his ring. It didn't feel right. I gave it back to his mother. It had belonged to his grandmother and I thought his mother should have it back. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. It's like I'm betraying him and yet... I don't really know who he was any more. Am I making any sense?'

He sighed. 'You are and I know exactly what you mean. The chaps I grew up with who died over there are like ghosts, like shadows. Hard to believe they existed. Even me cousin Joe. We were in the same company - signed up together. He caught it early on. Shrapnel. I didn't know it were him at first when I carried him on a stretcher, he were that cut up. But he knew it were me. He must have recognised me voice because he grabbed me hand and said me name as we was lifting him into the ambulance. Died before we got him to the hospital tent. At least I were there with him I suppose. Even though I couldn't do a bloody thing about it.' He banged his fist on his knee. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to swear in front of you.'

'When I think about Stephen dying, I like to think that if it wasn't instant then someone like you or some kind nurse held his hand as he died. I don't suppose that's what happened, but it makes me feel better to imagine it.'

'I know what you mean about the war changing everything.' He was gazing out at the water in front of them. 'I were engaged to be married too. We were that close afore the war. Did everything together. We'd known each other since we were bairns. But when I came back after Armistice it were different. We still got on and all. But different things were important to us. She wanted it all to be the same and I knew it couldn't be. She wanted to stay put and I wanted to see the world.' He laughed drily. 'Sounds stupid I know. Now that I'm on me way to t'other side of the world I'm not so sure I want to be.'

'What happened to her?'

He paused for a moment, weighing his words then said, 'She decided she didn't want to be married to me after all.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. We'd grown apart. She probably saw that afore I did. You women are much quicker at seeing that sort of thing. And anyway I wanted to get out of the mine and the dale and she'd never have gone along with that.'

'And Australia?'

'Not sure it's about Australia so much as about just getting away. I'd as easily 'ave gone to America. There's so much more in the world than I'd ever get to see in our little village. I don't know what I'm looking for. Just reckon there has to be more. How about you?'

'The last thing I wanted was to leave Northport. My life was calm - every day the same and I liked that. But now everything's changed. I feel a bit lost. I don't know. Perhaps I'm like your fiancée – wanting to keep things the way they've always been.'

'Aye but they're not the way they've always been. They can never be like that again. Not since the war.'

'I know. But that doesn't mean I'm happy about it.'

They were silent for a few moments as he lit another cigarette.

'How did your friend Greville die? If you weren't in the fighting?'

'He took a stray bullet. From a sniper. It were quiet. No gunfire. He just fell down in front of me. One minute walking along and the next lying there dead. Got it straight through the heart. It were a bit of a fluke.'