An Unsinkable Love - By Terri Benson Page 0,6

these past several weeks.

His fingers itched to burrow into Miss Barry's long coppery 26

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

hair, a welcome relief to the boyish bobs sported by the haute couture.

He reached back and scrubbed the short damp hair on the back of his neck. He would definitely need to find out more about Miss Bridget Barry. The Titanic might be huge, but there weren't all that many people in first class—and she definitely qualified as first class. He wondered vaguely what brought her below decks. As far as he knew, the only facilities here were squash and racquet courts, the pool and Turkish bath, and third class quarters.

Already devising his seduction, he whistled as he sauntered to the elevator to meet his mother for tea.

[Back to Table of Contents]

27

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

Chapter 2

Bree had to ask two different stewards before she found the tailor shop tucked away in the bow between the linen storage and soiled linen rooms. Mr. Thorpe, a thin, balding and taciturn man, introduced himself as the head tailor. He stood next to a long table, frowning and clearly unhappy to find his new subordinate a female.

"I suppose I'll have to make do with you, young lady. But mark my words, you will follow my instructions precisely. If I receive even one complaint about the quality of your work, you will be discharged, Mr. Barton or no Mr. Barton."

"Of course, sir. I won't disappoint you."

"I'm sure you will, but that's a burden I've borne before.

All you young people are alike. More interested in meeting a wealthy passenger or carrying on with the other employees.

Well, I won't tolerate such behavior. Are you clear on that?"

He glared down at her through thick glasses perched on the end of his nose.

Bree nodded silently. With an abbreviated wave of his hand, he signaled her into a narrow wooden chair on the other side of his small desk. He opened a drawer in a cabinet behind him, retrieved a piece of White Star watermarked notepaper and scribbled a few lines.

Mr. Thorpe held the missive out to her and said, "Take this to the fitting room two doors down, on the other side of the soils room. Mrs. Unger will see to your uniform. Report back here as soon as she has you kitted out. Most of the day is 28

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

wasted, but you can still manage a little work, I expect." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Bree didn't think it fair to be blamed for not working all day, considering she'd only just arrived, but she held her tongue. A large heap of clothing sat on a worktable and she wondered if it represented only a half-day's work, or more.

He continued, "Tomorrow morning you will arrive by six o'clock sharp. I will assign your duties for the day. You will work until six o'clock in the evening, with one half hour for your midday meal. In addition, some of the passengers may require your services in the evening. You will remain in the employee recreation areas or dining rooms or your own room during the off hours so we can locate you when needed."

Bree was taken aback. She hadn't realized her every minute would belong to the company. Oh, well. It was only a few days. She wouldn't be any more under Mr. Thorpe's thumb than her father or Lady Rothberry.

* * * *

Mrs. Unger turned out to be the complete opposite of Mr.

Thorpe. A jolly, plump and red-cheeked Irishwoman, she couldn't complete a sentence without fitting in a laugh somewhere.

"Come on in, dearie, and let me have a gander at you.

Such a tiny thing you are. You say you're a seamstress?

That's a foin thing, as I'm thinkin' you'll be needin' to take in wotever I can find for you here." She flitted around the room, muttering to herself as she pulled articles of clothing off shelves and shook them out, nodding or shaking her head 29

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

depending on the suitability of the selection. A small pile accumulated on the table.

As she crossed the room to a row of cubbyholes, the heavyset woman called over her shoulder, "And wot size shoe are you wearin', dearie? I'd venture a size five, by the look of those foin boots you be sportin'."

Bree smiled in surprise. "Why, yes, that's right. How did you know?"

Mrs. Unger let out a brassy laugh and set chunky black shoes on the table next to the garments. She turned and put a