Maiden Voyage

THIRTY-FIVE

Catriona was on her way back to her stateroom when she collided with Philip Carter-Helm. He was hurrying along the corridor with his hands thrust in his pockets, and his bow tie was untied.

"Oh! Hallo," said Catriona.

Philip inclined his head. "I say. Here I am, galloping along like a prize ass."

Catriona smiled. "You don't have to talk like an old Etonian for my benefit."

"I'm sorry?"

"I know you come from the North. I heard it in your voice the first time you came around to tell me that Mark Beeney was sorry."

"Oh." Philip grinned. "In that case."

"You're in a hurry," Catriona remarked.

"Well, yes. Expecting a message from the wireless room, as a matter of fact."

"Where do you come from?" asked Catriona.

"What? My cabin."

"I mean, where in the North do you come from?"

"Oh. Cheshire."

"Not far away from me, then."

"No."

Catriona smiled at him. For some reason she couldn't understand, she felt quite relaxed with him, as if it wasn't particularly important to make polite conversation. She said, "Have I met you somewhere? I seem to recognise your face."

"Not unless you go to the Crown and Anchor at Holborn Bars."

"Well, no, I've never been there. Are you staying in New York, or are you going on?"

"Oh, I'm staying in New York. In fact, I'm coming right back, on the next ship. This is a sort of a joyride, really."

"No business? Marine insurance, wasn't it?"

Philip laughed politely. "Yes, that's it, what a memory, hey? No, not much business. Well, some family business, but that's all."

"You've got relations in New York?"

He paused for a second, which seemed oddly significant. "I hope so," he said.

They began to walk together down the corridor, Philip going back the way that he had come.

"You know something," he said, "I think it's quite incredible, the effect that one's relatives can have on one's life, whether one knows them very well or not."

"I'm not sure that I follow you," said Catriona.

Philip raised a hand. "Look at this ship, for instance. Your father built this ship, didn't he? What an extraordinary achievement. And what an effect it's had on your life. Yet, really, you didn't know him particularly well, did you?"

"Not really."

Philip stopped where he was, his hands in his pockets. "From everything I perceived about him when I met him, and from everything that people told me about him, your father was a remarkable man. Very strong, very determined. But mysterious, too, in a way; although I suppose that everybody, once they're dead, him mysterious. There are always so many unanswered questions; so much tantalising information which is taken to the grave. My God, if only we could interrogate the dead for one last time before they went."

Catriona said, "I'm not sure that I like this conversation."

Philip stared at her, and then blinked himself back to his senses. "Oh. I'm sorry. I do tend to get carried away sometimes. I didn't mean to say anything in bad taste. I'm sorry. Did I upset you?"

"No, you didn't. Well, a little. But never mind."

Philip frowned along the corridor. 'I suppose I'd better go and get my messages."

"Yes," said Catriona.

"I wish—" he began, then checked himself.

"You wish what?" asked Catriona.

"It's nothing, really. I suppose I'm rather a dreamer."

"A dreamer? What do you mean?"

"Well, sometimes I wish that life could have turned out different. Especially in the light of what one has managed to learn, as time goes by."

"Do you always speak in riddles?" Catriona smiled.

"That wasn't supposed to be a riddle."

"Perhaps it wasn't," said Catriona. "Perhaps it was more of an answer without a question." She was beginning to like Philip Carter-Helm, not because of what he was saying, which was all quite foxing, but simply because he was warm, relaxed company. And, quite unusually for a good-looking man, he wasn't trying to make a pass at her.

"Who are you?" she asked him, without really meaning to.

"Who am I?" he replied. He paused, made a face, shrugged, and then said, "Who is anybody? I'm all kinds of things. A marine insurance assessor. An amateur fisherman. A chess player. My father's son, and my sister's brother. Oh, and I'm quite good at croquet."

Catriona said slowly, "You told me the other day that I'd do well to sell the Arcadia to Mark Beeney, if I had to sell her at all."

"Yes," he nodded, a little more cautiously.

"Well, tell me something. Why did you say that? You don't have any personal interest in it, do you?"

"Hm," he said, as if he were disinclined to answer.

"Well?" she pressed him.

"Well," he said. "I think I'd rather wait and see."

They said their goodbyes outside the door of Catriona's stateroom. Alice was hovering menacingly inside; and when Philip caught sight of her, he waved and coughed and retreated quickly.

"Rather untidy young gentleman," said Alice as Catriona came in.

"Untidy?"

"Didn't bother to tie up his necktie, did he? A gentleman always does up his necktie, in front of a lady. That's unless they're particular friends."

Catriona turned and looked back at the door, which had just closed behind her. "I don't know," she said. "Perhaps we are particular friends."