Everything is a Choice

Chapter 2

Previously...

Allan and John eventually find us and, once again, they and Much resume their conversation about the likelihood of the boat making it to France, while all I can think is that if the boat goes down, because I’m the only swimmer among us, I might survive while they all drown.  The irony of it is not lost on me.

“Allan’s got us cabins,” Much beams.

I simply nod.  It doesn’t surprise me.  Allan could probably get you the moon if you asked him to. But you can’t get me Marian back, can you? 

I walk away. Because I hate them and I don’t want to hate them.

Chapter 2

“You call this a cabin?” Much splutters. 

Allan shrugs.  “What did you expect? It’s a boat, not a flipping hostelry.”

“You couldn’t swing a cat in here,” Much says.

“Or a rat,” John remarks, as something rat-like scurries down the near-dark corridor. 

“There goes tonight’s dinner,” Allan sniggers. 

Pushing past them, I step into the narrow cabin and sit on a bunk, wondering when and where I might find myself a drink. 

“I’ll be back shortly,” Much says. With a bang, he shuts the door on me, as if daring me to walk off. 

Much is right, though; the cabin is small.  There are two slim bunks with a thin grey blanket covering each and a block of greasy-looking leather that serves as a headrest.  A tatty straw mat covers the strip of floor that separates the beds, and there is a jug of water perched on an upturned barrel between the two bed-heads. There is enough light from the horn-covered porthole to show up the film of dust floating on top of the water jug.

I stare at the straw matting, idly studying its pattern and watching with detached curiosity as a spider picks its way through the numerous holes.  I shiver, inwardly cursing my earlier stupidity at the harbour and hope Much thinks to bring back some spare clothes for me once he’s done whatever it is he’s gone to do.

After a while of hearing nothing but the creaking of the ship’s timbers, I find myself listening to some disconcerting grunting noises coming from the adjacent cabin, shortly followed by the low timbre of two male voices.  The spider stops by my boot for a heartbeat and then darts underneath it.  I lift my foot to see where it’s gone. Moments later, I hear an intense groan, closely followed by a guttural roar, and I realise what’s going on next door.

My heart goes out to the spider as I disgorge the meagre contents of my stomach onto the mat. 

~

I suppose he has seen me at my worst, but even so, I wouldn’t have blamed Much for just leaving me to wallow in my own filth.  As it is, he immediately sets to work, covering the offending mess with his own blanket and making me sit on his bunk.  I sit motionless, feeling as if the slightest movement on my part might cause me to shatter into a thousand pieces.  The jug of water, unfit for drinking, sorts out the worst of the mess and when he has done all he can do, Much shuts the door on me again. 

A short while later, he is back, armed with fresh water, clean blankets, a bundle of clothes and a loaf of bread tucked under his chin.

Much sets the clean water jug on the barrel and dumps the blankets and clothes on the bed. Untucking the bread from his chin, he sits beside me.  He offers me a cup of water.  I take a few grateful gulps and wordlessly hand the cup back.  He then proffers the bread. I shake my head no. Shaking his own head at my lack of appetite, Much tears into the misshapen loaf as if he hasn’t seen food for a month.  If I didn’t feel so heartsick, I might have smiled.