I had to smile at this, the motion feeling strange and unpracticed after days of worry.
“I’m going to get dressed and then go up to breakfast,” she said. “I’ll have something sent down for you. What do you fancy?”
“I don’t think I could eat anything yet,” I said. “Maybe a cup of tea.”
“The French have no idea how to make proper tea,” she said. “But peppermint or chamomile might be good for you. And a boiled egg. That’s what you need. I’ll go up and order it. None of this nonsense about bread and jam for breakfast. I told them ‘We are Americans. We expect a hearty breakfast not this mamby-pamby nonsense.’”
As soon as she had left I staggered down the hall to the bathroom and attempted to wash. I had to lean against the wall to prevent myself from passing out, and only just made it back to the cabin. I washed and changed Liam and nursed him. He seemed a little more interested but horribly weak, like me. Then I took a clean dress from the closet and was going to change out of my nightclothes when I was overcome with nausea and dizziness again and had to lie down. At that moment there was a tap on the door and the steward entered with a tray containing a pot of tea, a boiled egg, and toast. The tea was weak and slightly scented, made in the French manner, but for now that suited me just fine. I sipped at it, then dipped the toast in the boiled egg. I was going to finish it when I decided to try some for Liam. He sucked away with enthusiasm at this new flavor so I gave the rest of the yolk to him, then ate a few spoonfuls of white myself. This gave me just enough energy to take my clothes from the closet ready for repacking and I was dressed with my hair up when Miss Pinkerton returned.
“Ah, there you are,” she said, giving me a nod of satisfaction. “I’m glad to see you’re up and about again. So the boiled egg did the trick, did it? I knew it would. My friends also came to breakfast today looking like death warmed over. Miss Hetherington had to force Miss Schmitt to eat an egg. ‘It’s for your own good,’ she told her. We can’t have anyone lagging behind on the tour.” She looked at the open closet door. “Ah, I see you have your things ready for repacking. I believe the trunks are in the hall outside. I’ll bring yours in and help you pack. I don’t suppose you’re up to that yet.”
She did and packed with great efficiency while Liam and I watched. Finally the news came that we could clear immigration in the second-class lounge and then were free to go ashore. Porters arrived to whisk away the luggage. I thanked my patient steward and tipped him as generously as I was able. He wished me and “le petit” well and Miss Pinkerton helped us up to the lounge and then, after the minimum of formalities, toward the gangplank. The bright sunlight was so strong after days in my windowless cabin that I stood blinking and almost blinded.
“Come along, my dear.” Miss Pinkerton took my arm firmly and led me down the gangway to the dock below. We located the porter with my luggage and followed him through customs before emerging to the street beyond with the station on one side and a line of horse-drawn cabs at the curb. I fought to keep my balance as the ground still rocked under me as if I was at sea.
“I must send a telegram to my friends telling them which train I am taking,” I said to Miss Pinkerton, who was still standing beside me. “They promised to meet me at the station.”
“Very well. Leave the luggage and your child here with me.” She turned to the porter. “Attendez ici. Elle va à la gare,” she said in an atrocious French accent.
Off I went into the station. A train was standing at the platform, puffing smoke as if impatient to leave. I saw from the board that it would be departing in fifteen minutes. Everywhere there was commotion as porters flung baggage aboard and doors slammed. I decided that I was in no condition to rush and join that hubbub. I’d take the next train in an hour and a half. That would give me enough time to locate a telegraph office and send a telegram. As I made my way back I began to feel worse and worse. The ground still lurched as if I was at sea. My head started spinning. I could see Miss Pinkerton with Liam in her arms. He was wriggling and crying for me and she was looking as if she didn’t quite know what to do. I staggered toward them as the singing in my head grew louder and louder until suddenly the world went black.
Eleven
I came to, spluttering, as smelling salts were waved under my nose and saw a circle of people around me. Among the faces, I recognized Miss Pinkerton’s friends. Then I saw Liam’s frightened face in Miss Pinkerton’s arms.
“What happened?” For a moment I couldn’t remember.