City of Darkness and Light by Rhys Bowen

drink. She reported the dining room was less that half full at lunch time, and by dinner there were only twelve people apart from herself and Miss Hetherington. The widows and Miss Schmitt had also succumbed. I spent the night alternately worrying that the ship might go down and then wishing it would so that I could be out of my misery. The night seemed to go on forever and having an inside cabin with no porthole meant that I had no idea when dawn was breaking and whether the day showed any promise of improving conditions.
    Miss Pinkerton went up to breakfast and came back to report triumphantly that there were only three people in the dining room and that the waiter had turned positively green when she asked if she might have scrambled eggs and bacon to keep her strength up. She also reported that the upright piano in the second-class lounge had broken loose from its moorings during the night and had careened about the room, demolishing everything in its path as well as itself. All that was left was the keyboard, standing up like a skeleton with the pedals sticking out below it.
    When I didn’t smile she bent closer to me. “My dear, you must make an effort, for your child’s sake. How can you provide him with the nourishment he needs if you just lie there? Come on now, buck up. Try sitting up and sipping a little broth.”
    “I can’t,” I wailed. “The room spins around and I feel as if I’m going to faint.”
    “Nonsense. Remember what we said before? Mind over matter, dear. Mind over matter.”
    I tried, closing my eyes as the walls lurched around me. I staggered across to the crib and picked up Liam. His eyes fluttered open, then closed again. His cheeks already looked hollow and sunken. I made a supreme effort and spooned a little of that broth into his mouth. He moved his tongue a little as if he liked the taste. I tried a little more, then put him to the breast. He sucked a few times before falling back to sleep. I hoped this was a good sign. God knows I needed some kind of good sign right now.
    The ship continued to roll violently all day. We should have been arriving in Le Havre right now, I thought. I thought of Sid and Gus, awaiting my telegram to say that I was on my way to Paris. What if they worried and cabled Daniel, making him worry too? The thought of seeing them, of knowing I was in safe and capable hands, made me feel a little hope for the first time. By nightfall I tried a little bouillon and a small square of dry toast, then fell asleep.
    The next morning I awoke to complete silence and darkness. It was so eerie that I experienced a moment’s panic, fearing that I had died and was in a coffin. “I’m alive!” I shouted and tried to stand up, banging my head against the top bunk. That, of course, brought me back to the reality of where I was. I felt my way across the room and turned on the electric light. Miss Pinkerton, still sleeping in the top bunk, groaned and raised her head. “What is going on?” she asked. “Ah, you’re standing. That’s a good sign. But it’s only five o’clock. Too early to get up yet.”
    “We’re not rocking anymore,” I said. “And it’s so quiet.”
    “That probably means we have docked in Le Havre,” she said. “I will put on my robe and go up on deck, if you like.”
    She climbed down nimbly, put on her robe, and left the cabin. Liam slept on, which was rather alarming. I stood over his crib, watching him breathe, and finally couldn’t stand it any longer and gave him a little shake. He woke up instantly, looking around him with frightened, bewildered eyes. When he saw me he held out his arms and started to cry. Then vertigo overcame me again and I had to sit down, gathering what little strength I had before I could pick him up. I had just about managed to bring him over to my bunk when Miss Pinkerton appeared again.
    “Good news. We are in port. They are just making fast the lines now. And it is daylight and not raining. In fact it promises to