Chapter Three: I'm on a boat!

Date: April 12th 1912.

Time: Unknown.

Location: Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean on ship that will sink in three days! HELP!

"The Titanic?" Fiona stuttered.

"The one and only" the man replied.

'Fat chance' Fiona thought. 'Give it one hundred years and you'll have them announcing the number two. Why?!'

"Um…what time is it?"

The man checked his watch as his daughter looked on impatiently.

"It is five minutes past two o clock."

"Thank you, sir" Fiona smiled, and watched the man and his daughter walk away along the boat deck.

Update: Time: 2:05pm

"Oh hell! Oh hell oh hell oh hell!" Fiona practically screamed to herself, grabbing hold of the railings and looking over, down to the base of the ship where the ocean waves lapped at the side. Fiona fought back the sudden urge to be sea sick, and pushed herself away back from the railings and back towards her sun-lounging seat.

"How the hell did I get here? Why am I here? More importantly, how do I get out of here? Off this ship?" She realised she had said that last sentence out loud, catching the attention of the passengers, looking at her like she was insane.

"My apologies" she answered. "Uh…I'm an actress…rehearsing lines" she smiled back at the passengers, who then returned to their daily business of doing nothing.

"An actress, huh?" a voice came. Fiona turned to see a young man, about her age, looking at her with hazelnut eyes, holding a violin case in his left hand, his right hanging limply at his side. He was a few inches taller than Fiona, wearing black trousers, a faded white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a muddy brown waistcoat that was missing two buttons, scuffed black shoes that looked like they would fall apart at any moment, all complete with scruffy brown hair that hung over his eyebrows and cut short so it stopped at his ears.

His violin case looked like it had seen many generations of use, the fabric peeling at its edges and the paint on the handle flaking in several places.

The boy, who was smiling an irresistible grin, awaited a response from Fiona – who stood dazzled at the sight of him.

"Um…" she began, stuttering. "Yes, an actress…hoping for my success to begin in New York."

"Well, here better a place than to start your success, ay?" the boy replied.

"Indeed" Fiona replied. "Where better a place. I see you play the violin?" she added, pointing to his withered old case.

"Indeed" the boy commented. "No chance of making a fortune in England, so New York is where I'll go."

"I know. England does lack certain…recognition in the performance industry. I'm Fiona" she held forward her right hand for the boy to shake. He gladly shook Fiona's hand with his free right hand, beaming as she formerly introduced himself.

"Lovely to meet you Miss Fiona. My name is Thomas."

"Thomas" Fiona grinned.

"Taken after my grandfather and his before him."

"I wish I could say that about my name. Simply hand-picked because the others did not amuse my parents."

"Don't sound so displeased with it, Miss Fiona. It is a lovely name."

'Charming, good-looking, sweet and complimentary. All he needs now is a sense of humour and he's my dream man! Even if he is one hundred years before my time.'

"Oh, I'm not displeased Thomas. I am merely…grateful that my parents did not choose an unfitting name."

"It fits perfectly, if I may say so."

"You may. As does Thomas" Fiona could swear – if it wasn't for the April heat – she could feel herself blushing. "What part of the ship are you from?"

"You mean what class am I from?"

"I do not mean to offend, but out of curiosity, you understand…"

"I am from third class, Miss Fiona. Not overloaded with riches, but know how to enjoy life."

'Eeek! And he shares my same thoughts on life and fulfilment!'

"My thoughts precisely."

"May I guess you are from first class?" Thomas asked.

"What makes you say that? Certainly not my…" Fiona began, before looking down to see the clothes she wore. She had not taken in to account what she was wearing a few minutes ago when she woke, but naturally assumed she was in something similar to Thomas' – brown skirt, white blouse, black small-heeled shoes and some sort of shawl around her shoulders, with her hair in a bun. But no. Not what she had thought.

Instead, she was wearing a scarlet red dress with touches of cream lace at the cuffs and hem of the skirt. It was made from the finest fabric she'd seen, touched the wooden deck of the ship, and highlighted her figure – which until now she believed could be improved in some places. This dress was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and it came complete with auburn coloured boots, small-heeled and made from leather.

Complete on her arm was a tiny purse, covered in cream lace, dangling over her wrist by a thin silver chain. Fiona opened it in a hurry, ignoring Thomas' bewildered looks. She pulled out a small compact mirror that had tucked itself away neatly. She opened it wide and found her shocked face staring back at her. Ruby red lips, pink rosy cheeks, brown eyes and brown hair fashioned neatly in locks of thick curls.

This isn't me! This can't be!

Fiona tucked away the mirror back in her purse, looking back at Thomas who was examining her every move.

"Indeed, I am from first class."

"You certainly don't act like one." Thomas smiled, placing his violin case at his feet, folding his arms across his chest.

"Sometimes I forget…or just don't believe it. I certainly don't feel like one Thomas, I shall confess that."

"You most definitely talk like a first class girl."

"This is my posh voice. Back home, I'm the southern girl who can't shut up."

"And where is 'back home'?"

"London. Good ol' blighty."

"London? Posh!"

"Not entirely. It lacks in places and sometimes I wonder why I'm still there, and why I haven't moved on to pastures new."

"Meaning?" Thomas asked, as Fiona rested her arms on the railings. He came close to her by copying her position and resting his arms, one on top of another, his elbows nearly touching hers.

"Meaning…living in the same place for nineteen years has its effects on me. I'm so used to seeing the same walls every day, it makes me feel crazy. And every time I am out of the house and exploring new things, I don't want to go home. I just want to continue exploring and only stop when my bed calls to me."

"Well, why don't you?" Thomas asked. Fiona looked to him like he didn't understand.

"Several reasons. One of which is…"

"Let me guess…money?"

"Money, yes. I don't have enough to support me for a week, let alone the rest of my life."

"You don't need money when you've got a free spirit."

"The other thing being my parents."

"What's wrong with parents?" Thomas asked. "What's not to love about them?"

"Evidently you're parents are saints compared to mine."

"I wouldn't say that…largely because I've never met your parents."

"Let's keep it that way. Mum would never approve of me being on a ship, let alone travelling in first class."

"You shouldn't be so harsh about your parents. They're the best thing that can happen to you. Family."

"I'm guessing you have a family you idolise?" Fiona asked, turning to Thomas.

"Of course, why wouldn't I? They gave me life, love, two darling little sisters and joy for every new day."

"You have two sisters?"

"Yes. Lucy and Minerva. Seven and nine years old."

"Ah, sweet. Wish I had a sister. The closest thing I have to a sister is the family dog. But I love her like a sister, so…close enough." Fiona thought back to her Labrador dog at home, probably fast asleep on her 'day bed' A.K.A. the living room sofa, unaware her sister was one hundred years behind her time.

"Thomas?" Fiona began.

"Yes Miss Fiona?"

"Stop calling me 'Miss' Fiona. Makes me feel like royalty. I don't like that."

"I call you 'Miss' because I believe you are fit to be royalty."

Smooth talker!

"Charming, and thank you. But the real me yearns for adventure, excitement, thrills and life, not jewels, class, boundaries and fashion. This corset is like a chain that holds me back. I yearn to cut loose and fly off in to the horizon. Without it, I am a free spirit."

"Cliché!"

"I know, right?"

"Still, you are a free spirit no matter what. Nothing can hold you back except the limit you set yourself." Thomas quoted.

I swear I've heard that in an advert somewhere.

"True, true. I tell myself everything is impossible, but truth be told…nothing can really stop me. Thomas. When you arrive in New York, what do you plan to do next?"

"Start earning a living as a musician; maybe get some work for a big name in the city, bring some money home to help support my family. And you?"

"Go home."

"Go home? Back to London, when you've just spent four days travelling on board the finest ship all the way to New York? Back to the place that holds you back from conquering your fears and realising your dreams?"

"No. Home to my parents. Back to Mum and Dad. I want to tell them I love them, and no matter what happens, I always will."

"You make it sound like you're going to die."

Funny you should mention that.

"I'm not. But just in case I were to die soon – or unexpectedly – they need to know. I cannot take that risk of leaving this world and them not knowing what I feel."

"Fiona."

"Good, no more 'Miss'."

"Fiona, on a more positive note. Would you like to join me for a walk along the deck? This lunchtime sunshine is too glorious to miss."

Fiona hesitated. The first proper invitation from a guy, for a walk along a ship that will soon go down (literally) in history. How could she say no?

"Don't mind if I do, thank you Thomas."

Then, arm in arm, with Thomas' spare hand gripping on to his violin case and Fiona's spare hand holding on to her new purse, they journeyed down the deck of the ship, heading towards the bow as the April sunshine radiated their figures.