“Yes, ma’am, and I do apologize for the inconvenience. I’m sure everything will be okay. But please put on your life belts.”

She closes the door. “Life belts? Can you imagine?”

“It must have been the swell. You don’t think we hit something, do you?” Perhaps it’s just a precaution, but a clanging begins in my head, like the ash-collectors banging their drums.

“A big boat like the Titanic? You’d think everything would get out of her way.” She sets down her glass and opens the armoire. Reaching up, she pulls down two life belts. “We’d better go find Mother.”

“I have to go back to E-Deck,” I tell her.

“No. If we did hit something, it’s better to be closer to the lifeboats, wouldn’t you say? Your brother will find you. Stay with me.”

“It’s not just him I’m worried about.”

“Valora, wait—”

But I’m already out the door.

34

I hurry down the tidal-wave staircase, this time not slowed by the tan pumps. Most people have retired for the night, but the few late birds throw disapproving glances my way. A steward passes, suggesting that folks return to their rooms. Another directs them to the Boat Deck. No one seems to know much beyond the fact that something is happening.

The hackle feather floats into my mind. Something’s going to happen.

My stomach clenches like a fist.

When I finally reach the first-class corridor on E-Deck, I’m surprised to see Charlotte and Jamie hurrying to her room. “Jamie!” I call after them.

“Valora!” Charlotte waves. The hem of her evening dress peeks out from under her wool coat. Her tiara has gone crooked, and her hair hangs in messy curls, the kind of curls that look played in. From the way she’s blushing, and the way Jamie pulls at his ear, I can’t help wondering what they’ve been up to in the time since he left me.

“Jamie, what’s happening?”

“Not sure yet.”

The cabin door opens and Strudel emerges, followed by a woman in a blue-grey duster who must be Charlotte’s mother, holding a life belt as if it were a soiled baby’s nappy. More clanging goes off in my head.

“I’ve been waiting for you, darling,” Mrs. Fine says a little dreamily, her eyelids fluttering. “We were told to put these on and go to the Boat Deck. But at this hour? It’s hardly the time for drills. Why, hello, dog walker.” She blinks at Jamie, then turns her eyes to me. “Oh, and another dog walker?”

“I think it’s best to do as they suggest,” Jamie tells the women. “Let me help you with that.” Jamie helps Mrs. Fine clip the straps on the life belt while she holds her silver-blond braid to one side.