Day Four (23 page)

‘But I have told you, I can’t go down there!’

‘I understand that you had a shock yesterday, Mirasol. I asked you if you were fine to work. You said yes. Now you say you are not. Which is it?’

‘There are no guests down there. The carpets are wet. The toilets have overflowed. And . . . and the spirits are down there.’

Maria sighed.

‘I can do it,’ Althea spoke up. ‘I will go down there.’ She could do without the extra work, but she needed to set her mind at ease about the boy. That was where she had first seen him.

‘Althea, you can’t,’ Mirasol whined. ‘The Lady is there. I told you.’

‘I’m not afraid.’

‘Please leave, Mirasol,’ Maria snapped.

With an anguished look at Althea, Mirasol fled the room.

‘You are sure you are willing to do this, Althea?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Good. Thank you.’ The faintest smile of gratitude. ‘I need you to remove the linen. Mirasol is correct. The toilets have backed up down there.’ She sighed again. ‘Maintenance is refusing to go down there too. This is a mess.’ No eyebrows today. For an instant, her facade cracked to reveal the worry beneath – an expression Althea would have paid money to see just days ago. Maria was losing her grip. Good. About time the
puta
had a fall. But Althea would stay strong.

‘Is there anything else I can do, Maria?’

Maria looked at her sharply. Perhaps Althea was laying it on a bit thick. ‘It is fine, Althea. You may go.’

Mirasol was waiting outside for her. ‘Do you think I will lose my job, Althea?’

‘No, of course not. Maria is stressed and is taking it out on you. Ignore her.’

‘But a word from her and I will be off the ships. I can’t afford to lose my job, Althea. I owe the agency all that money.’

Althea sighed inside. The girl was becoming a drain. ‘Trust me. It will all work out. You will not lose your job. You were attacked by a guest. Of course you do not want to go down there.’

Mirasol opened her mouth to say something, no doubt to go on and on about the Lady again, but Althea cut her off. ‘They told you what to do if there was a virus on board during the training lecture, didn’t they?’

‘Yes.’

‘Make sure you keep to it.’

‘Yes, Althea. Thank you. How can I repay you?’

Althea smiled. She’d think of something.

She hurried along the I-95. There was a certain laxity about the atmosphere down here. A group of Indonesian workers from Maintenance and the garbage room were gathered in a tight little group and talking in hushed whispers. One of the officers, his white shirt stained with what looked to be coffee, hurried along, almost banging into her. There was none of the single-mindedness that was usual for this time of day. She would need to collect another box of surgical gloves out of her cabin. If it was as bad down there as they said, she would need as much protection as she could get. As she made her way to her cabin, she noted that the door to Trining’s cabin was open, no doubt to circulate what little air there was down here. Althea hadn’t seen her since Trining had asked her to take over her duties on the day the ship broke down, which now felt like forever ago. Had Maria told her she was fired yet? Curious, Althea paused and looked in. A strong smell of chlorine wafted out of the tiny bathroom. Good. Someone had had the sense to clean in here.

Trining was lying on her side, her back to the door. ‘Hello, Trining.’

‘Go away, Althea.’

‘Why do you speak to me like this?’

Trining rolled over. She didn’t look that sick. If it wasn’t for the bucket and scrunched tissues next to her, Althea would assume she was malingering.

‘I know that you lied.’

Shitfuck
. ‘I did not lie.’

‘Maria said you told her I hadn’t asked you to do my station.’

Althea widened her eyes. ‘She did? I don’t know why she would say that. Have I ever let you down, Trining?’

‘No.’

‘It’s just a misunderstanding. That is all it is. I will talk to Maria.’

Trining was no fool. She didn’t respond to Althea’s smile.

‘I am going to do your station now, Trining.’

‘I am not paying you extra for that.’

‘Of course not.’ Althea kept the smile in place. ‘Trining . . . On your station. Did you ever see anything strange?’

A flicker of interest. ‘Like what?’

‘Did you ever get the feeling that someone was watching you?’

‘No. Have you been listening to the ghost stories, Althea? Angelo has told me what those stupid peasants are saying about the dead passenger.’

Wait till I tell you about the ghost boys.

‘I was the one who found the girl, Trining.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes. It was very shocking. You are lucky you were ill and didn’t have to see what I saw.’

Althea noted with amusement that Trining’s morbid curiosity had got the better of her resentment. ‘What did you see?’

Althea mock-shuddered. ‘I can’t speak about it.’

A flash of disappointment. ‘I understand. I liked her. The passenger who died. She was one of the nicer ones on my station.’

Althea shrugged. Good or bad everyone had to die sometime. The boy was her concern. ‘I’m worried about you, Trining. You must come and find me if you need anything. And I do not expect you to pay me for that.’
Like hell.

‘Thank you, Althea. I am sorry I was rude to you.’

Althea exited, snapping off the smile the second her back was turned to Trining. That had been almost too easy.

She went into her cabin, shoved another handful of the purple gloves into the pockets of her cleaning smock, and made her way back up to the I-95. She paused as she reached the end of the corridor. The security guard who’d been with her when she stumbled upon the girl’s body was standing in an alcove next to Maria’s office, shaking his head as if he was having a serious conversation with someone. He hadn’t yet come to find her, but she was not surprised. The security and housekeeping departments were bearing the brunt of this situation. She waited until he walked away, then moved in the opposite direction, almost bashing into Rogelio, who emerged from the alcove.

She greeted him, but he barely acknowledged her. His eyes were downcast, and he looked as if he was about to cry. He practically ran into the crew mess. Why would the security man want to speak to Rogelio?

And then she understood. She hadn’t seen it because she hadn’t wanted to see it. Angelo was right about Rogelio, after all. Only it wasn’t Damien he was involved with. She stored this piece of information away. It might come in useful one day. She liked Rogelio, of course she did, but the world was tough and in her situation she needed to use every piece of ammunition she could gather.

The smell that greeted her when she emerged out of the service door into Trining’s station was worse than she’d anticipated, the lack of air-conditioning adding a potent edge to it. And the light down here was dimmer than she remembered. The floor was now scattered with passengers’ belongings. A pink flip-flop, a pillow, a pair of plastic angel’s wings. Mirasol was right; there were no guests down here. She slowly made her way over to the dead passenger’s cabin, the one that was sealed with tape. If the boy was anywhere, she suspected it would be in there, but she didn’t dare break the seal. There were cameras on these floors and that would be a firing offence.

‘Are you here?’ she whispered. ‘Show yourself.’

A thump came from somewhere in the heart of the ship. She walked forward cautiously. Halfway down the corridor a door stood ajar. That shouldn’t happen. The doors were weighted to close unless they were hooked onto the magnets. Holding her breath, she stepped inside it, waiting for her eyes to become accustomed to the murky light. A gush of fear filled her chest when she saw him. He was sitting in the corner, his knees up to his chest. His face was wet with tears, and she couldn’t make out his eyes. The only light came from the green emergency lights, not enough for her to see him in any detail.

‘Hello.’

The fear drained away, replaced with relief. She wasn’t going loco. He was here. He was real. She approached him slowly. ‘How did you get in here? Where is your mother?’

With no warning, he jerked, uncurled his limbs, and flashed towards her on all fours like a spider. Too fast – no one should be able to move that fast. She screamed and leapt for the door, flailing out into the corridor. A giggle came from behind her. She spun. He was standing a few metres away from her, nearly outside the dead girl’s cabin.

Impossible.

He sniffed. Now that he was standing in the light, she could make out his clothes: a fraying buttoned-up shirt, and trousers that stopped way above his ankles. Grime was worn into his bare feet and arms.

She walked towards him, a hand outstretched as if he were a dangerous animal. She expected him to run, but he didn’t. She reached down to touch his arm, half-convinced that she’d encounter empty air. But no. He was real. Flesh and bone.

He giggled again, skipped away from her, and ran towards the service door.

‘Wait!

He hesitated, then disappeared through it. ‘Wait!’ she tried again, then followed.

She could hear the skitter of his feet moving lower down the stairs, but she’d lost sight of him. He was waiting for her at the junction to the I-95; he smiled, covered his mouth with a hand, and darted straight across the passageway. A couple of maintenance engineers glanced at her curiously as she ran past them. She followed the sound of his footsteps, barely taking note of where she was going, until she reached a low corridor lined with white piping. She didn’t know where she was. Althea really only knew the crew area and the Verandah deck well – she was not allowed in the passenger areas and had no reason to venture into this part of the ship.

A giggle, and then she saw him again. He was right next to her. She felt a cold pressure on her hand, and looked down to see he was gripping it. He led her through another door and along a corridor lined with crew cabins. One of the doors was propped open and she walked past it as if she was in a dream, barely glancing at the couple writhing on the bed inside. The boy led her through a door that opened out onto a wide, dark space. Curtains billowed in front of her, large black boxes with steel edges were piled against the walls, and then she understood. They were at the back of the stage.

She found her voice. ‘What are we doing here?’

The boy wiped at his nose. He pulled out of her grasp and disappeared down a short flight of stairs. Althea stumbled after him and stepped into a low-ceilinged area, the glow of the emergency lights catching the spangles and sequins on the racks of costumes lined up against the far side of the room. Very occasionally the entertainment crew put on a show for the staff, but she’d never been to one. This was a part of the ship that was alien to her. She was always working.

Where was the boy? She moved towards the costume rack to see if he was hiding in there, when a low laugh came from behind her. She was not alone. She whirled, and something shifted in the dark corner next to the doorway. Mrs del Ray. Sitting in her wheelchair. Watching her. She rolled forward. ‘Althea, so nice of you to come.’

The boy reappeared, took Althea’s hand and rested his head against her side. A flush of warmth ran through her. She should have been repelled, but she wasn’t. ‘He likes you, Althea. And he’s a good judge of character. You should see what he does to those he doesn’t like.’

Althea’s throat was dry, but she made herself speak. ‘Did you bring him on board?’

‘Celine did. In a manner of speaking.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Mrs del Ray patted the back of her hair and smiled. There were too many teeth in her mouth. Wisps of blond hair wafted out of the hair-helmet that Althea had thought was as solid as a block of wood. ‘I have a proposal to make to you, Althea. You can help me, and I can help you.’

‘Help me how?’

‘Help you get what you want. Sometimes we do that, give people what they want. Sometimes we give people what they deserve.’

‘I don’t understand what you are saying.’ The woman was talking in riddles.

‘I know you have a secret. A secret you don’t want anyone to know. But they will in about seven months.’

Althea’s stomach dropped like a brick. Ghost boys, now this. ‘How did you know I’m pregnant? Not even I am sure.’ She was proud that her words came out calmly.

A wink. ‘Ain’t much I don’t know, me old duck. Things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. I’m the only one who can get you where you want to go.’

‘And where is that?’

‘Away from this. Away from Joshua.’

‘How do you know about Joshua?’ Had Angelo been gossiping about her to Celine? No. The woman was psychic. Perhaps she really could see into her head. Althea crossed herself. A
bruha
, a witch. Like the ones her
lola
used to tell her about, that would send insects to burrow under your skin, eat your baby alive in your womb.

‘No. I can’t see into your head, my darling. But close enough. Now, are you interested in dealing?’