Another hollow moan from the dying vessel reverberated over the water like a death cry. I buried my face in my hands, not wanting to see more, then I realised our lifeboat was gaining speed. I stared at a sea that tossed and turned like a restless sleeper under a blanket of splintered lifeboat and chewed limbs. Bodies seduced by the false promise of safety. They had felt secure for a moment in that white-painted vessel, as I had.

Terrified, we ploughed through the carnage, headed for similar disaster.

We passed under the boy scout. ‘I can’t hold on any longer!’ he yelled.

We had already travelled three-quarters of the way towards the propeller. The Britannic was such a length; the biggest translantic passenger ship in the world before the military got it. I locked eyes with the priest, for a moment thinking about my parents. They’d be devastated to get the news. I’d failed them.

Noise and chaos brought me back to now. ‘Should we jump and make a swim for it, before we get any closer?’ I cried above the din.

‘Are you stronger than those monsters?’ The priest nodded towards the churning propellers. ‘I don’t think so. What hope has a mere girl against blades powerful enough to pull God’s oceans under a ship this size? Pray with me, Gertie. Pray for a miracle.’ His voice was loud, but calm, a preacher’s voice, but there was madness in his eyes. His words rose above the growing thrum of our destiny. ‘Our Father, who art in heaven . . .’

Everyone joined in, focusing on the priest as the turbulence almost capsized us.

‘Mother!’ I cried, seeing her sweet face as terror and turmoil crashed through my mind. If I could fill my thoughts with her, then death would not be as bad.

The water was now thick with the chaos of limbs and wreckage in a boiling soup of sea. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by a need to be with my parents, many miles from this hellish situation. I yearned for my mother’s arms around me in my final moments.

People at the front of our boat scrambled towards the back, dangerously close to upending us; but why should I worry? We were doomed.

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

SHELLY

Dover/Greece, present day.

‘WELL DONE, DAD.’ SHELLY HAD thrown the lid of the trunk back and they both stared at a grey blanket that covered the contents.

‘Looks like an army blanket,’ Gordon said. ‘What’s on the label?’

‘It’s embroidered, Johnathan Perkins.’ Shelly frowned. ‘Does the name ring a bell?’ She was relieved to be concentrating on Gran Gertie now. Shelly’s past was just as big a monster as that ship’s propeller, and she was just as terrified of being dragged towards it.