Page 44 of Valour

“I waited for you,” he said, smiling as she approached.

She returned his smile, her shoulders falling, and delved into the bucket, throwing a chunk of bloody meat to Marjorie, and then to Snowball. Marjorie nipped Snowball on the rump and stole the meat. “Oh Marjorie, that was very cruel. Stealing from your own daughter, no less.” She hand-fed another piece of meat to poor Snowball, who was spinning in circles looking for her food.

Arnold chuckled. “She’s a wily one. I’ve been meaning to ask. Why the name Marjorie? You don’t see many dogs called by that name.”

Charlotte sighed. “I named her after my grandmother. She was quite something, like a grandmother from a fairytale. Perfect in every way. She died a few years ago and yet I still think about her most days.”

Arnold squeezed her shoulder. “Some people stay with you, no matter how long ago they passed.”

Charlotte nodded, highly aware of the pressure of his hand on her shoulder. He removed it and delved into the bucket of meat. The moment passed, sliding away into the vast white beyond.

Charlotte cleared her throat. “You managed to shoot some seals today, then?”

“Indeed. The dogs look fit on it.” He threw a slab of meat to Romeo, who snatched it out of the air.

Charlotte chose another piece, and her fingers touched against Arnold’s. She paused, looking up to see his eyes locked on her. She smiled and withdrew her hand, then threw the meat to Samson. She often caught him looking at her. But perhaps that was because she looked at him so often, which was totally inappropriate, of course. She was newly widowed, and she was sure he didn’t look at her in that way. At least she was wearing a hat and he couldn’t see her ears burn.

Arnold cleared his throat. “They love the seal meat.”

“Does it bother you? Shooting them?” Sometimes she wanted to go with him, out onto the ice, but she didn’t think she’d have the nerve.

“Not really. It’s a choice between shooting them or the dogs starving.”

“I suppose.”

“I find shooting the penguins harder,” Arnold said, grimacing. He pulled his goggles up onto his head. “Hold it there, I’m going to photograph the dogs.”

He returned with the camera and tripod, setting it up. “Stand just there.” He pointed, looking through the camera.

“Oh, don’t get me in the shot. I’d only ruin it.”

He raised his eyes to hers. “Nonsense. You needn’t smile for the camera or anything. I prefer natural shots. Pretend I’m not here.”

Charlotte carried on feeding the dogs, trying not to look at Arnold and the camera.

“Do you fancy a game of chess and a cup of tea after this?” he asked.

She looked up and smiled. The camera clicked. “Oh, yes please.” She had come to enjoy beating him at chess. It was different to playing Ernie, who had always won. “I’ll go and boil the water. Though—are you sure you wish to lose again?”

Arnold chuckled and the camera clicked again. “You haven’t won every game.”

“No, I let you win sometimes,” she said, winking.

23rd January 1915, Weddell Sea

Vahsel Bay was so damned close.

Hester stood at the wheel next to Fliss. Ice stretched out as far as the eye could see. She burrowed her chin further into the neck of her fur coat, hiding from the bitter chill in the air.

“I’m calling it,” she said, reaching for the tube that ran down to the engine room. It was useless burning the coal now. It would be better to conserve the fuel they had left. “Put the fires out, Arnold.”

Fliss rocked from one foot to the other, her breath misting in front of her. “Stuck.” She tucked her gloved hands under her armpits. “Stuck fast. And with Vahsel Bay right there, too.”

“But we cannot risk the Antarctic crossing if the ship is stuck,” Hester said, absent-mindedly brushing ice from the wheel. “We’re at the mercy of the floes now. Let us hope she can take it.” She patted the wheel. It was a waiting game now. Waiting for the ice to thaw, for the ship to be free and drop them ashore. It was that, or they would be dragged into the current of the floe as it swept its way clockwise around the Weddell Sea, to be spat out the top. The goal now would be to keep morale up while they waited. Because she could not use her magic. Could not attract the orca’s attention.

“Your orders?” Fliss asked, giving the wheel a pat too.

“Gather the crew down below,” Hester said, heading for the companionway as the engine gave a final rumble and died.