An Unsinkable Love

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

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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

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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 thick arm around Bree's shoulders, and gave her a gentle hug.

"Ah, dearie, when you've been doin' this as long as I have, you get a feel for it. As I said, you'll be doin' some alterations on these uniforms. I haven't anything tiny enough for you, so I hope you don't mind stayin' up tonight to shorten the hems, and maybe takin' up the waist a wee bit."

Bree shook her head. "It won't be the first time I've whiled away the hours sewing into the night. At least this time it will be for me."

"You've got two dresses, and four aprons. Try to keep the dresses clean. You'll not be given any more and since we've no laundry on this ship, you'll have to wash them in the bath and dry them in your room. There are two pairs of stockings, two caps, and the shoes. You'd best try everything on now so I can pin the dresses for you, and we can change the shoes if they don't fit."

Bree removed her suit, leaving on her combination undergarments, and slipped on the black dresses one by one.

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Mrs. Unger pinned up the hem and extra tucks on each side of the waist. While Bree removed her boots and picked up one of the heavy shoes, the woman ran her hand over the wool suit.

"This here's a foin piece of work. If it's yours, old Thorpe will be lucky to have you. His eyes are so bad, he don't dare do any of the fine work hisself."

The shoes had been worn previously, but showed only slight wear. With a shrug, Bree slid them on and pulled the laces tight. She took a few steps and found them clumsy and stiff, not at all like her soft, light boots. They would be serviceable, though and, once broken in, quite tolerable.

Mrs. Unger nodded her approval. "You're lucky Titanic is new. I've seen a few ships where the shoes and clothes were better suited for the rag picker than hard-workin' people."

She bundled the clothing up and tied it with twine. "Will you be takin' these with you, or shall I send them to your cabin?"

"Mr. Thorpe asked me to return to work as soon as you were finished with me, so if you could send them to my cabin, I'll deal with the alterations this evening."

"That old slave driver. As if it would hurt to allow you a few hours to get settled," Mrs. Unger grumbled. "You go on then.

I'll see to it. I expect I'll be seein' you by and by, dearie."

Bree went back to Mr. Thorpe and began work. As she finished one garment, Mr. Thorpe quickly filled her hands with another. The tedious chore didn't hold her attention. A button here, a few stitches there—her hands seemed to complete the tasks with no thought whatsoever. Her mind wandered to the near collision with the handsome and very upsetting man. His 31

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behavior had been quite impertinent. If they met again she would certainly put him in his place, passenger or no passenger. But while she devised several cutting comments, her body followed a different tack altogether. She squirmed in the hard chair and felt heat on her face as her unrepentant imagination conjured a vision of blue eyes lowering to hers, his smirking smile replaced by a tender, love-filled gaze.

She jerked and sucked in a deep breath as blood welled from a tiny pin hole. Her inattention had made her careless.

She quickly stuck the finger in her mouth and sucked, not wanting to leave a bloodstain on the fine piece of lace. From under lowered lids, she stole a look at Mr. Thorpe to see if he'd noticed. As luck would have it, his back was turned.

Mentally chastising herself for mooning over a stranger, she attacked the remaining sewing with a vengeance and put the annoying young man out of her mind. Almost.

Her back ached and her eyeballs felt dry as dust from the dim electric light when Mr. Thorpe grudgingly dismissed her for the day. Before she left, Bree begged needles, scissors, a measuring stick and matching thread to alter the uniforms.

He glared, his lips pressed together tightly then said, "I'll allow personal use of the equipment just this one time, but don't presume on my good nature again."

Bree bit her lip to keep from laughing at "his good nature."

The multitude of corridors and stairs were confusing and, after eventually making her way back up to E Deck where she stopped for a quick supper in a dining hall she happened upon, she took a wrong turn trying to find her cabin. While searching for a steward, she rounded a corner and found a 32

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

large common area populated with several employees. The room was well lit, with tables and chairs scattered around, a piano in the corner, comfortable sofas and a large, full bookcase. It would be much easier to sew here than perched on a chair in the tiny cabin with just the one dim light. Bree asked directions to her cabin, fetched the bundle of clothing to be altered and returned to the common room. She chose a table in the corner and set to work.

Not long after, several male employees noticed her and came over to introduce themselves. Bree was polite, but firm.

With the hours of work ahead of her, she had no time to spare parrying extravagant compliments and listening as they touted their various virtues. It took repeated pleas to be left alone, and a promise to visit with them another night, to get them to leave.

As evening aged into night, the room filled with more off-duty employees. The noise level increased, especially after a middle-aged man sat at the piano and played a series of Irving Berlin songs, including Alexander's Rag Time Band.

Lady Rothberry's nephew had pounded out Mr. Berlin's music with gusto the past winter before the grande dame locked the piano.

Tables and chairs were cleared from a large area in the middle of the room and several people paired up and trooped out to dance. A trio of couples showed off their skills at the fox trot, and an amused chuckle burbled from her throat. " A shìorraidh!" Bree stuck herself again with the needle. She sucked on the injured digit, shaking her head at the dancer's enthusiastic gyrations. When the modern dances became 33

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson

popular up back home, Lady Rothberry had expressed her disapproval in no uncertain terms, complaining bitterly and often, stating the waltz was the only proper dance for genteel women.

Before she bent back to her sewing, a handsome black pair took the floor and danced a sultry tango. Bree couldn't take her eyes off them as they moved sensuously across the room, and she knew her face flamed by the time the dance ended.

She cleared her throat and quickly turned back to her stitches.

It was late and the room was empty by the time Bree stood and stretched her cramped muscles. She gathered the completed garments and tools and went in search of her cabin. Anne's sleeping form occupied the lower bunk when Bree crept in. The dim light still burned, and she made a mental note to thank her roommate for being so thoughtful.

She struggled to make her bed with as little noise as possible, wishing she'd had the foresight to do it earlier after cracking her head on the low ceiling several times. Bree crawled from corner to corner tucking in the sheets, an unsatisfactory method resulting in wrinkled sheets that probably wouldn't stay where they belonged.

After she dug her nightgown out of the wardrobe as quietly as possible, she wearily climbed the ladder. She pulled the coarse sheets and scratchy blanket up to her chin and got comfortable, then realized with a groan that she'd forgotten to turn out the light. Her jaws popped with a huge yawn, and she decided it wouldn't hurt to leave it on. Bree closed her eyes, her mind roiling with the fantastic changes this 34

An Unsinkable Love

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momentous day brought to her life. "What on earth will tomorrow bring?" she wondered, as sleep overtook her.

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35

An Unsinkable Love

by Terri Benson