Page 28 of Road Trip
He considered. “No matter to me. But if that kid starts whining and raising a ruckus and them other women complain, she’ll have to move.”
“She won’t,” Maggy assured him. “She’ll be quiet as a mouse, won’t you, Dolly?”
The little girl nodded solemnly.
“Go on, then,” the man told them, with a brusque wave of his hand. “Your berths only have two bunks, so you’ll have to share yours with the kid. Tell Miss Cawthon, she’s the matron, that Farrell, that’s me, said it’s all right.”
Miss Cawthon wasa physically imposing woman with jet-black hair gathered into a tight bun. She wore a shapeless navy-blue dress with a cap perched low on her forehead. She pursed her lips as she considered Kathleen, Maggy, and Dolly.
“Last berth on the left,” she said finally, pointing down the long, low-ceilinged hallway. “We sail in an hour. Loo is on the right. Tidy up after yourself, because I’m not a maid. All meals in the dining hall. Dinner is at six. Sharp.”
Maggy gathered her little girl into her arms and hurried down the hallway, followed by Kathleen.
Their room, or berth, was tiny and cramped. A porcelain sink separated the two wall-mounted bunks. Each was made up with a small, flat pillow and a coarse woolen blanket. There were hooks on the wall for their clothing, and a single narrow shelf mounted near the ceiling.
The women stowed their belongings beneath the bunks. “I’ll just take Dolly down to the loo now,” Maggy said.
The moment the door closed behind her new roommate, Kathleen pulled out her valise and checked the contents. Lady Delia had packed it tightly with Kathleen’s cotton nightdress, woolen stockings, underclothes, and a plain shirtwaist and dark skirt. There was a day dress, as well, and a hairbrush, bar of soap, and her toothbrush. She took out the nightdress and hung it on a hook, then placed the toiletries on her side of the sink. She found the jewelry and pound notes tucked beneath the case’s leather bottom. All seemed as it should be.
She sighed and stretched out on the thin mattress, closing her eyes. Just for a moment, she thought. Not long after, she felt the ship’s engines shudder to life. They were moving. Heading across the ocean, leaving all that was known, all that was familiar. Her stomach cramped, hard. She turned and faced the wall, her legs pulled up to her chest, and dozed off.
Someone was shaking her, pulling at her arms. “Miss, miss. Wake up. It’s supper, and we won’t get no food if we’re late.”
She tried to sit up, but the boat rocked violently and her stomach lurched. Kathleen turned and vomited into the sink, once, and then once again.
“Seasick,” Maggy said. “Poor dear.” She wetted the small linen towel folded near the washbasin and gently dabbed at her new friend’s face.
“I’ve never…” Kathleen turned and hurled again. She groaned and leaned her head against the cabin wall. “Been seasick before. But then, I’ve never been on anything larger than a rowboat on a pond before.”
“Well, I have,” Maggy said. “My brother was a fisherman and sometimes I’d go with him on the boat to help out. I’d get awful sick. But my mum would fix me ginger tea.”
Maggy sat on her own bunk and rummaged through her suitcase, finally bringing out a small glass vial. “Lucky you. Mum made me bring some of her ginger syrup. There’s a kettle on in the dining hall. If you’ll look after Dolly, I’ll pop over and brew you a cup.”
“No. Don’t worry about me,” Kathleen urged. “You heard whatthe matron said about supper time. You two go and eat. I’ll be all right.”
“Mum? I’m hungry,” Dolly whispered.
“And I’m not.” Kathleen managed a weak smile. “Go. And after you eat, if you bring me a cup of tea, I wouldn’t say no.”
CHAPTER 13
“You’re sure your passport is up to date, right?” Maeve asked Therese.
They were in the security line at the Atlanta airport, having driven up from Savannah with Aunt Fran, who had a doctor’s appointment later that morning.
“For Christ’s sake, this is the third time you’ve asked me that today!” Therese said, so loudly that the businessman in line in front of them turned around to stare. “What about your passport? Can I see it, just to make sure it’s not expired?”
“It’s not expired, because I just got it a couple months ago,” Maeve said, fiddling with the handle of her carry-on bag, which she’d bought at a Savannah thrift store two days earlier.
“You mean you got it renewed?”
Maeve shook her head. “No. This is the first time I’ve ever needed one.”
“Seriously? Maeve Dunagin, you’re what? Nearly forty, and you’ve never left the US?”
“Yes, Terri. Not all of us have had the luxury of being world travelers. Some of us have had to hang around in the States, working a nine-to-five job and seeing after their elderly mom.”
“Here we go,” Therese said, throwing her hands in the air. “Another guilt trip.”
