The Chainmakers

Three pairs of eyes swivelled in unison to watch the departure. As the slim elegant figure reached the doorway to the starboard deck a uniformed officer leapt to hold open the door, and Mrs. Neville sniffed.

'I've never known anyone get such attention, grovelling I call it!'

'Steady on old girl,' her husband remonstrated mildly, trying in vain to get his cigarette lighter to work. 'She probably tips well.'

'I should think so too!' Betty Neville was not about to be kind. If she can afford a stateroom to herself she can afford decent tips, what do you think Colonel?'

She pushed herself back in her chair, surveying Colonel Haines with what she hoped was a languishing look. The Colonel looked slightly astonished, and Aubrey Neville, having at last managed to light his wife's cigarette, smiled broadly.

'Yes, come on Colonel, what do you really think of our dinner companion?'

The Colonel hummed and hawed a little, and mumbled something about 'not discussing a lady you know...'

Betty Neville gave her 'silvery and tinkling' laugh, a cultivated attempt at a Mary Pickford sound, that is if you could ascribe a sound to a silent film star. She puffed at her long gold cigarette lighter and gave the Colonel another of her looks.

'Oh no Colonel, you aren't getting away as easily as all that! I'm not saying anything
bad
about Mrs. Sullivan, only that it's a little... well... ill-mannered I suppose, to leave the dinner table even before dessert is served! Two nights in a row she's done it! Anyone would think she didn't like our company!'

'I'm sure not, my dear Mrs Neville...' Privately, the Colonel reflected it was a bit rich to call someone else ill-mannered, as you lit up between courses.

'Betty.' Her tone was soothing. 'Betty please, ... dear Colonel Haines...'

The Colonel was not about to give away his own first name.

'Quite so... Betty... quite so. Well, since you insist, I find Mrs Sullivan quite charming, quiet I agree, but quite charming...'

'Good looking, certainly,' Aubrey Neville chimed in eagerly.

His wife ignored him. 'Handsome is as handsome does I always say. How can you call her charming when she hardly speaks?'

'Being seated with us at dinner doesn't mean she has to tell us her life story,' Aubrey remonstrated. 'You're only annoyed because you can't find out the gossip about her.'

Betty Neville was about to make a sharp retort but changed her mind. 'What do you mean?' she asked quickly, 'What gossip?'

Aubrey laughed. 'None that I know of, I don't even know who she is.'

As Betty began to fume, the Colonel decided to pour oil on troubled waters.

'Well I do know Mrs Sullivan is wealthy...' he ventured.

'But why is she travelling alone? Is she a widow?' Betty interrupted.

'Oh no, her husband is probably staying in New York to look after the business... Sullivans you know, the restaurant chain...'

Betty's mouth dropped open in horror. 'She's not that Mrs Sullivan? The one in all the papers? Are you sure?' Her horror gave way to annoyance. 'And they put her at our table! I shall complain to the Captain...'

'Don't get so excited dear, what could you complain about? That she doesn't want to talk to us...?'

'Aubrey how can you?' Betty exploded. 'Why the woman is ... is... almost a gangster!'

'Nonsense old girl,' Aubrey soothed. 'Just because her son happened to get mixed up in something... and if I remember correctly, he was the victim anyway.'

'Victim? You need talk about victims!' Betty was outraged. 'It is we who are the victims, having her at our table...'

'Well, dear lady, I think that may be my fault,' the Colonel interposed gently. 'You see, we single travellers are a bit of a nuisance... they have to make up four at table, and so she was probably put here to balance me out.' He stopped, and gave Betty Neville his most winning smile. 'If you complain I might be moved as well, and I am enjoying your company so much. Please be at ease dear lady... er Betty. I'm sure no-one else on board realises who she is, and as you so rightly say, she is hardly a problem, she speaks to no-one.'

Betty was slightly mollified. 'Well of course I wouldn't want to lose your company Colonel,' she sniffed. 'But I'm cross with you just the same. Did you know all along she was that Mrs Sullivan?'

'I recognised her,' the Colonel admitted. 'I was dining in one of the Sullivan restaurants in New York a year or so ago, and she was pointed out to me.'

'Once seen never forgotten, eh?' Aubrey joked.

'She certainly takes the eye,' Colonel Haines agreed. 'And from what I hear she has brains too.'

'But surely her husband runs the business?' Aubrey put in a little petulantly.

'Yes of course, although I believe it was Mrs Sullivan who started it all.' Colonel Haines looked around cheerfully, anxious to change the subject before Betty Neville got angry again. 'Where on earth is our waiter?' he grumbled happily. 'I want my pudding...'

~

As she wandered along the deck Anna Sullivan smiled to herself. She knew she had put the cat among the pigeons by leaving the dinner table so abruptly, but she was unable to stand any more of Betty Neville's idle chatter. Her husband was almost as bad, and Anna felt no pangs of guilt about them, but she had not intended to be rude to poor Colonel Haines. Anna recalled how the startled old gentleman had struggled to his feet as she left the table, and resolved to apologise when she next saw him. Reaching the sun deck, she looked around for a deck chair, and immediately the deck steward appeared.

'In just a moment Mrs Sullivan', he said cheerfully. He fetched a chair and opened it up, 'Will this do? Would you like a rug?'

'Thank you. Yes, a rug is a good idea.' Anna smiled and settled herself in the deck chair. The service was good aboard the "Ocean Star", and she was beginning to enjoy the trip. It had been difficult for the first couple of days, her mind had been in such turmoil... but now the ship was well away from New York and she had woken on two consecutive mornings to face nothing but the vast Atlantic ocean, her problems seemed cut down to size, and she was beginning to relax.

'There we are madam,' the cheerful steward tucked the rug around her. 'Can I get you anything else?'

'No, nothing thank you.'

Anna smiled at the man and settled back comfortably. It was almost eight o'clock and yet she could still feel the warmth of the sun on her face. It had been a wonderful day and she had made the most of it. It was not usual to have such good weather crossing the Atlantic, even in mid-summer. Last time...

She could not really remember what the weather had been last time, it was so long ago, and her memory was hazy. Almost twenty years, she calculated, since she had travelled third class from Liverpool to New York, and there had not been a moment when she was not cold, uncomfortable and sick. What a young fool she had been then, and how unhappy. How strange that a chance meeting when she was ten years old was to have such a marked effect on her life...