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.As usual, they were arm in arm.The way they leaned together it seemed that if either one let go the other would lose balance.I couldn’t be sure whether I found this touching or disturbing.Such dependence was surely dangerous.If one of them got detached, what then?Ginsberg arrived shortly after with Hopper.They’d been messing about in the gymnasium.They had intended to jog round the deck but the cold was enough to freeze them in their tracks.There wasn’t a breath of wind, the sea like glass, and the stars – ‘I’ve never seen such a starry sky,’ Hopper enthused, ‘not even in the desert.’Ginsberg congratulated me on becoming a protégé of Thomas Andrews.He sounded genuinely delighted, which threw me.I noticed Hopper kept quiet.Ginsberg had heard the news from Rosenfelder, though in the telling I’d turned into the designer of a new ship of the White Star line, one possibly larger than the Titanic.‘It’s just a few drawings,’ I corrected.‘And there’s not the remotest chance of their being used.I guess it’s a sort of examination.’ Hopper looked relieved.Ginsberg insisted on drinks all round, by way of celebration.Thinking it churlish to refuse, I was careful to take small sips.By the time the bugle blew for dinner Hopper and he were on their second bottle.Wallis came late to our table.She’d been helping Adele get dressed; Ida was still engaged in the titivating.Wallis sat next to me.I didn’t turn a hair, nor did I need to call up the giant’s foot, not even when she took out her handkerchief and I caught the scent of lavender.What had happened was no more than a photograph snapped long ago, in another country, its chemical impression now fading.I even had the composure to apologise for my behaviour in the foyer, though it was somewhat tongue in cheek.‘You must have been very frightened,’ I said.‘It was the action of a brute.’‘I’ve forgotten it,’ she answered graciously.‘As must you.By the way, your dressing-gown is being laundered.You shall have it tomorrow.’The soup was being served when Rosenfelder’s moment came.Several times I’d glimpsed his tubby countenance at the glass, anxiously peering to see if the dining room was full.He’d obviously squared it with the orchestra and arranged some kind of signal, for suddenly the waltz song from The Merry Widow petered out and the pianist thumped a cadenza.Conversation straggled to a halt.Lady Duff Gordon rose to her feet and pointed with her fan towards the doors, at which the violinist raised his bow and the haunting opening notes of ‘One Fine Day’ stole through the hushed saloon.Adele entered on the arm of Rosenfelder.It doesn’t matter that I’m not qualified to judge what she wore or that I couldn’t even describe it adequately – none of us men could, beyond it was shaped like an hour-glass and made of some kind of silk that picked up points of dancing light – for Adele and the dress were one, and as she advanced, the splendid column of her neck circled with borrowed diamonds, those pearl-pale eyes with their strange expression of exaltation fixed straight ahead, we held our breath in the presence of a goddess.For a fleeting instant I saw her as Joan of Arc prepared for battle, the bodice of her generous bosom sheathed in silver.A little flood of material swished behind her as she marched; flipping it expertly to one side she rounded the Duff Gordons’ table and stood waiting to be seated.It was Mr Harris, not Rosenfelder, who pulled out her chair.I was pleased for the tailor; he was not just a flash in the pan.Nor was Adele.The two would rise together.There were some, Hopper for one, who thought the whole caboodle smacked of vulgarity.Nor could he think what we saw in Adele.She was pretty enough, but far too tall for a woman.And where the devil did she go to after her spectacular appearances?‘No, she wouldn’t do for you,’ drawled Wallis.‘But then, you’re on the small side, aren’t you?’The dinner dragged on.If anything, not drinking was having an hallucinatory effect on me.I had the curious impression I was part of a group seen from without.I had to go on eating because if I looked up I might see faces pressed to the window, hands clawing the glass.The noise too was outside, a dull intermingle of shrieking voices and clattering china.And there was another sound, a high-pitched whistle such as the sand at Singing Beach gave off when stepped upon.I turned, opened my mouth to tell Molly Dodge I thought of the North Shore near her home, but she wasn’t there.Ginsberg was slicing a peach in two, preparing to gouge out the stone with his knife.He glanced up and the reflection of the candles leapt in his eyes.The table tilted.The next thing I remember I was in the outer room, crouched on a wicker chair, Hopper pushing my head down between my knees, a lump of ice melting on the back of my neck.Ida said it was the heat.All the windows were tightly closed because of the intense cold outside.She tugged my head up and prised out the stud of my collar.I jerked like a rabbit in a trap as the sliver of ice slid further down my spine.Hopper was worried about the clout he’d dealt me with his racquet.In Melchett’s opinion it was a delayed reaction to my excessive drinking of the night before; judging by the disdainful glance bestowed on me by Mrs Carter, just then leaving the restaurant with Mrs Brown, it could be reckoned I was in the middle of a repeat performance.That good old sport Mrs Brown winked as she passed by.I recovered quickly enough, physically, that is, feeling no longer sick and being quite steady on my feet.Mentally, something was wrong.As I walked to the smoke-room, Hopper and Melchett at either elbow and Ida faffing along behind in case I took another turn, I distinctly heard voices uttering sentences that didn’t finish.An hour and a half.Possibly.Hadn’t we better cancel that.As we have lived, so will we.If you’ll get the hell out of the.I shook my head to get rid of them and they trailed off like mist pushed by the wind.Once in the smoke-room, Hopper urged me to down a small measure of medicinal brandy, which made me shudder.As soon as I could I got away from him, insisting I needed to go out on deck, alone.I promised I’d be back in a jiff, and if I wasn’t he should come in search of me.He was right about the cold; the air stung my lungs.I was about to dodge back inside when I saw Riley sauntering towards the companionway up to the officers’ house.I called out his name, clapping my hands together to keep them warm.When he’d come close enough, I said, ‘Look here, I want to explain myself.’‘Is that so?’ he replied.‘And why would that be?’ He stood there, his face sinister in the lantern light, breath steaming.‘I’m not sure,’ I said, and I wasn’t.‘Something bothers me.Can’t we talk?’He said, ‘That we can’t, sir.Piss off,’ and with that he turned his back on me, cool as you please.I was astounded at his insolence.Melchett, Hopper and I played bridge later on, Ginsberg making up a fourth
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