Titanic 2020 t2-1 Read online

  ***

  There wasn't any problem getting access to the dock itself; it was just a case of climbing over a couple of fences. There was a security hut at the end of the pier, but by coining at the dock from the rear he was already behind it. There was a barrier across the road, but it was raised to allow the trucks carrying supplies access to the half-dozen gangplanks that had been lowered on to the dock. Two of them were wider than dual carriageways. Vehicles rumbled across to deposit their goods directly into the bowels of the ship. The others were narrower, with teams of workers carrying boxes scurrying back and forth along them. It was undoubtedly busy, but it wasn't constant. Jimmy, standing hidden behind a pile of discarded wooden crates, observed that there was a one- or two-minute period between the end of one delivery and the beginning of the next that might allow him to zip up a gangplank undetected, even if those on either side were still busy.

  There was a moment — a very brief moment, admittedly — just before he made his charge for the Titanic when Jimmy paused to consider if he was doing the right thing, if he was about to turn a bad situation into a terrible one. But then, as criminals and politicians often do, he was able to justify his actions by reminding himself that he was the one being victimized and persecuted and he was just standing up for himself, and more, striking back! It was his right. And if he did happen to get discovered, he could just act stupid. He was still in his school uniform. He could say he had been on a tour of the ship earlier in the day and got locked in one of the cabins by accident. Or that he'd slipped and fell and knocked himself out. There were a million stupid things he could say. He was an expert on stupid.

  So, having convinced himself, Jimmy thundered out of the shadows and up the gangplank, his heart hammering. He was going so fast, and the gangway finished so abruptly, that he almost took off as he reached the end. He skidded to a halt against a tower of cardboard boxes before ducking down and around them until he was out of sight. He took a moment to catch his breath before cautiously peering out. There were a dozen similar towers around him, all awaiting redistribution around the ship. Dozens of men in different-coloured overalls were hard at work driving, carrying and shifting — but for the moment he was safe. However, with the ship being stocked up, all of the lower decks were going to be just like this, brightly lit and buzzing with activity. He had to get to a safer location. Already workers were back on the gangplank he had used. He had to get moving, and now.

  Jimmy took hold of the closest box, quickly tested it for weight, then heaved it up on to his shoulder and began walking. In a few moments he found himself clear of the immediate distribution area. He turned into a long, straight corridor. There were two men coming towards him, chatting in a language he didn't recognize. Jimmy moved the box slightly forwards and at an angle so that even as they squeezed past they couldn't see his face. Words were spoken, but he couldn't tell if they were directed at him; he just grunted and kept walking. He came to a set of stairs, looked both ways, then set down the box and darted up them. At the top there was an elevator which opened as soon as he pressed the button. He selected the ninth floor at random. The doors eased shut and Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief.

  But it was short-lived.

  As the elevator rose out of its resting place he suddenly realized that its walls were made of glass, and now he could be seen from virtually every point of the hollowed out central section of the ship. He was passing up through a vast shopping mall four decks high and running virtually the entire length of the vessel. It glistened with chandeliers and was lined with exclusive designer shops and soda fountains and wine bars. He would definitely have been seen — if there'd been anyone there. But the mall was completely empty. Not a soul. Like a very well-kept ghost town. After what seemed like an eternity he was finally hidden again in the darkness of the lift shaft.

  The elevator pinged. Jimmy tensed as the doors slid open — but there was no one there. He stepped out. He listened. No voices. No footsteps. He ventured forward and peered down long, straight, half-lit corridors, then moved cautiously along them. He hesitantly opened doors to cabins, looked inside, then hurried on. Gradually he began to relax. There really wasn't anyone this high up. He ran down the corridors, not out of fear, but with an exhilarated lope, like a zoo animal released into the wild. And not just on the ninth. He worked his way up to the highest level, the fifteenth, taking time on each floor to study the framed floor plans which decorated the walls at regular intervals, familiarizing himself with the layouts and noting the areas to avoid.

  Below him there were ten decks devoted to the guest cabins — although each deck also had some other kind of attraction, like a library or a cinema or restaurant. Beneath the guest cabins was the shopping mall and a formal dining area which itself had three levels. Lower down there was the crew quarters, the kitchens, storage areas and medical facilities. Beneath that the huge turbine engines which powered the ship. His teacher had been right, it was like a floating city. And just like that fat bus driver had said, there was even a helicopter pad — and an ice rink. He had never ice-skated in his life, but when he found boxes of brand new skates he thought why not? and glided out on to the pristine ice. He fell over. He fell and fell and fell and laughed and laughed and laughed. He was there for half an hour and never managed to stand unsupported for more than a few seconds. But he loved it. His legs were sore, his knees raw, but he was having a ball. When he had finished he returned to the fifteenth deck and sauntered out into the cool night air. Up here, so high, all by himself, the disasters of earlier in the day felt like they had happened to someone else. He imagined that the Titanic was his to command. He would sail it across the great oceans of the world, he would have fantastic adventures!

  ***

  It was now almost four o'clock in the morning. He was thirsty and hungry. There were restaurants aplenty on board, but they wouldn't open until the passengers arrived. If he wanted food he would have to venture into the kitchens far below — and he could see over the side of the ship that supplies were still being loaded from the dock. It was just too dangerous. He was having the time of his life, no point in risking it all for the sake of a rumbling turn.

  Then he had a brainwave — the mini bars in the cabins. Jimmy chose the biggest and best of the Presidential suites and helped himself to Diet Coke and Toblerone. He lay back on a huge bed and stuffed his face.

  This was the life!

  He was no longer just the Captain — he was the owner. All of this belonged to him. He was the Jimmy Armstrong who went to America on the Titanic — but this time he survived. He became wealthy and famous and now here he was, not leaving but returning home to the city of his birth. He should celebrate! A toast to his success! Jimmy opened the mini bar again. Champagne!

  Why not?

  Jimmy opened a bottle. The golden liquid foamed out over the plush carpet. He didn't even consider cleaning it up. One of his servants could do it in the morning. The champagne was slightly bitter, but he found that the more he drank the nicer it tasted and the happier he felt. He hated Gary Higgins with a passion, but part of him wished he was here now, to enjoy this with him. Or his mum and dad. Or Granda.

  Granda, it's all mine! The Titanic!

  Except he wouldn't call it that.

  Jimmy raised the bottle.

  'I name this ship — the Jimmy! May God bless all who sail in her!'

  He giggled, then collapsed back down on to the bed. He took another swig. He was so relaxed. Jimmy's eyes flickered. It had been a long day, and his adventures on the Titanic had been as exhausting as they had been exciting. But he knew it had to end. He had to go home. Face the music. First, though, if he just closed his eyes for five minutes he could recharge his batteries. Then he could sneak off before first light.

  Jimmy closed his eyes.

  Five minutes.

  Maybe ten.

  2

  Surprise

  He was dreaming.

  Or, no, he wasn't.

  The voices h
ad started out in a bizarre adventure featuring talking hamsters, but they no longer seemed to exist inside his head, but outside it. They had been squeezed out and replaced by an unbearable pain sweeping through his entire body. For the first time in his life Jimmy realized why his dad was so miserable in the mornings, and, quite often, in the afternoons. Too much alcohol. Now Jimmy was suffering from his first hangover. To make matters worse, there was a blinding light coming from the balcony window. And those annoying hamster voices were getting louder, and louder and . . .

  Jimmy bolted upright.

  Daylight!

  I've slept straight through!

  Voices, outside in the corridor.

  Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no . . .

  My head!

  I'm going to throw up!

  I'm going to vomit on the bed — and get caught doing it!

  Get up!

  Jimmy rolled off the bed and staggered to his feet. The cabin seemed to be revolving around him. The voices were so close. He looked about him in panic. It was too late to escape from the room itself. Hide! Somewhere! Anywhere! He stumbled towards the cupboards, then the balcony and the bathroom, but finally threw himself under the bed. He curled himself in a ball and sucked in his breath to try and stop himself from heaving up.

  Pass by! Pass by!

  But of course they didn't. If they had to choose one cabin on the entire ship to stop at, it just had to be his.

  Because he was, of course, Lucky Jimmy Armstrong. So although the ship was supposed to be empty of passengers until she reached Miami, of course the only non-crewmembers on this trip wanted his cabin.

  'This is us,' said a man.

  'Oh darling, it's wonderful,' said a woman. There was the sound of a kiss, and then the woman's voice grew more serious. She called out to someone else: 'Darling, will you hurry up please?'

  'What's the rush?' It was a girl, further away, sounding annoyed.

  Jimmy saw two pairs of shoes enter the cabin. One pair sturdy and black, the other slim, red and high- heeled. A few moments later a third pair joined them: trainers, with pink laces.

  'Isn't it beautiful, darling?' the woman asked.

  'S'all right,' said the girl.

  'Your room's just through there,' said the man.

  The trainers moved to the right. There was a slight pause, then the girl said: 'Is that it? It's tiny.'

  'It's not tiny, darling,' said the mother.

  'It's actually extremely large for a cruise ship,' said the father.

  'Still small,' said the daughter.

  Jimmy squirmed. He just wanted out of there.

  'Oh for goodness' sake,' said the father. Jimmy saw the man's shoes move rapidly across and stop at the foot of the bed. 'Look at this.'

  'Champagne?' said the mother. Then Jimmy saw her knees as she bent down along the side of the bed. He sucked his breath in. 'Chocolate wrappers. George? And look — someone's been sleeping in my bed!'

  The girl laughed.

  The mother snapped, 'It isn't funny, Claire.'

  But Claire evidently thought it was. 'Someone's been sleeping in my bed!' she mimicked. 'Do you think it was Goldilocks?'

  The father tutted. 'Your mother's right, Claire — this just isn't good enough. Someone's head will roll for this. We're moving to a different suite.'

  Claire snorted. 'Just straighten the bed and put the wrappers in the bin, Dad.'

  'That's not the point,' said the mother. 'This is your daddy's ship, Claire, it has the best of everything. What kind of message does it send when the chief designer and owner comes on board and he's presented with a room full of rubbish?'

  'Exactly,' said the father. He marched out of the cabin.

  The mother said, 'Claire, you could show a little more interest. This is a big moment for your father.' There was no response. Jimmy suspected there was a shrug. She sounded like a spoiled brat. Jimmy's own shrugs were entirely different, of course. Claire's mother tried again. 'Darling — when you're older you'll look back on this and really appreciate the fact that you were one of the first passengers on the new Titanic. It's an historic moment.'

  There was another pause, then Claire said: 'We could have flown.'

  'Claire! The mother stomped out of the room.

  Claire let out a long, sad sigh before reluctantly following her parents. Jimmy waited until their renewed bickering had faded, then crawled out. He rose gingerly to his feet, feeling dizzy and sick. If this was what alcohol did to you, he was never going near it again. He checked his watch. God almighty! It was after eleven in the morning! The ship and the dock would be a hive of activity! How was he going to get off undetected?

  Don't think about it . . . head too sore . . . just do it.

  He moved to the door and peered out. The family was just disappearing along the corridor to the right.

  Jimmy turned left, and, moving as quickly as his frail condition would allow, came almost immediately to a set of elevators. He pushed the call button.

  What was I thinking of? I came on board to scratch my name and teach them a lesson! And I haven't even done that! He felt in his shirt pocket. The lucky penny was still there. I should have thrown it in the sea when I had the chance!

  He glanced at the lights above the doors, which showed the elevator moving steadily upwards.

  Relax. What have you done that's so wrong? Snuck on to a boat and eaten some chocolate. Drunk some champagne. Ruffled a bed. Hardly the crime of the century.You've nothing to be ashamed of. Hold your head up.

  And he would have held it up if he could have. He just felt so ill. The whole ship seemed to vibrate around him.

  Ping.

  The elevator was empty. Jimmy stepped in, pushed the button for Deck Three, then pushed himself against the back wall as it descended past the shopping mall. For extra protection he shut his eyes, as if somehow his not being able to see anything meant that no one else could see him. He was still half drunk.

  Ping.

  The doors slid open.

  Two men stood opposite him. They wore crisp white short-sleeved shirts with fancy designs on their arms, and black baseball caps.

  One was saying, 'But Captain, this is our best opportunity to . . .' but stopped as he saw Jimmy. They both stared at him in confusion.

  'Who the hell are you?' the Captain demanded. He was a stout man with a neat grey beard.

  Jimmy did his best. He stepped out of the lift and said, 'It's all right, I'm with the school tour.'

  It was a gamble. The ship was bound to be having lots of other school tours.

  'What school tour?' demanded the other one — a taller, thinner man.

  'That one,' said Jimmy and pointed to his left. As the two men turned to look, Jimmy charged off to his right. A moment later they came charging after him, the Captain shouting and his companion yelling into his radio. Jimmy skidded around a corner and ran at full pelt down the corridor. It was busy with crewmen, moving back and forth, in and out of doors, carrying boxes and sacks and wheeling equipment, chatting and singing in half a dozen different languages — and luckily, none of them English. Even as his pursuers shouted after him, Jimmy dodged in and out, in and out, barely changing his pace at all.

  I can do this!

  I can do it!

  The adrenaline was pumping through his body, banishing the headache, quelling the sickness.

  Freedom!

  Escape!

  Jimmy crashed through the doors at the end of the corridor and out on to the deck, then turned frantically, searching for the nearest gangway on to the dock.

  But there wasn't one.

  For the simple reason that there was no dock.

  In fact, there was no land.

  The Titanic was at sea, steaming fast for America.

  3

  The Anxious Stowaway

  Announcements were made by the Captain over the public address system, appealing for Jimmy to give himself up, telling him that he wouldn't get into trouble.

  Yeah, right
.

  He had stowed away. There was no land in sight anywhere, in any direction. He was in BIG TROUBLE.

  They followed up their appeal with a deck by deck, cabin by cabin search. But the ship was too big, and the crew was too small. Even though he only had a few hours' experience of the layout of the Titanic, he had thirteen years' experience of being chased, and he put it to good use. He was constantly one step ahead of his pursuers. And sometimes two.

  Jimmy was torn between being frightened by what he'd done and hugely exhilarated by it. There was a slightly sour feeling in his stomach, and it wasn't just the after-effects of the champagne. His parents, once they got over the urgent desire to slap him around the head, would be going frantic. His granda, who had sent him on a mission to throw away the lucky penny, was probably blaming himself, convinced that Jimmy had somehow slipped and fallen into the water and drowned.

  On the other hand — what a story he would have to tell when he got home! Some boys skipped off school for an afternoon and thought they were pretty cool. Even getting expelled was relatively commonplace. But running away to sea on the Titanic — now there was a tale worth telling!

  The easiest thing would be just to give himself up. What was the worst they could do? Shout at him? It was the early afternoon of the first day at sea — if he surrendered now, they would almost certainly be compelled to return to Belfast to hand him over.

  But what if he . . . stayed hidden?

  Wouldn't they get to a point of no return — where it made more sense to continue on to America and send him home from there?

  Absolutely!

  The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Avoid them for a few days — then give himself up and enjoy the rest of the cruise in style! Maybe they'd fly him home first class as well!