Thanks everyone for reading! It's been a long time, but here's chapter three! Again, I don't own anything but the new characters.


A steward assisted Diana to her room, B92. It was on the starboard side of the ship, across from the 1st class entrance and reception area. After boarding, Diana had gone to the Purser's office to deposit any valuables if she so chose. She had none, so she was merely given her room key. Now she fitted the key in the lock, gave it a turn and pushed the door open. Her baggage had already arrived. It was a very pretty room. It wasn't very large, but was very well outfitted. The walls were of dark wood paneling and pink floral wall paper. The furnishings consisted of a wooden bed, a vanity stand and mirror, and an armoire, all of which were made of the same matching dark wood. She guessed perhaps it was cherry wood. Also, there was a small round table, and on the table was a lovely bouquet of white roses and blue bells, mixed with sprigs of ivy and baby's breath.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, going over to them. "But who would send me flowers?" she asked herself. For an instant Josh crossed her mind, him being the only one she knew on board, but she quickly dismissed the thought.

"Passengers customarily receive flowers, Miss," said a voice behind her.

Diana turned and saw a young stewardess opening her trunks and beginning to hang her clothes in the armoire. She was petite and blonde haired. Diana didn't think that she could be past twenty. "I beg you pardon?" she asked.

"They are a gift from the White Star Line shipowners. Very common on a ship's maiden voyage."

"Well, they are lovely, whoever they are from," said Diana, bringing them to her nose to smell the sweet aroma. "Mmmm…I love white roses."

"I'm Lucy, Miss," the girl said. "I'll be available if ever you need assistance."

"Thank you, Lucy. My name is Diana Ryehart. Here, let me help you. I feel silly standing around doing nothing." Diana took a few hangers from the wardrobe and started hanging her dresses in it.

"Well, I must say Miss Diana, you are one of the less difficult passengers I've come across," Lucy said, taking Diana's jewelry box from the bottom of one of the trunks and setting it on the vanity.

"What do you mean?"

"All some women do is ring the bell all day long! It's as though they cannot do a thing without help." Lucy's cheeks reddened and she went busily back to putting away Diana's things. "I beg your pardon, Miss Diana. It was wrong of me to say that."

"Don't apologize, Lucy. There are people I know that make me want to scream sometimes."

Lucy smiled. "You're a very different sort of person, Miss, if you don't mind my saying."

From the depths of the ship rose a loud blast from the smokestacks. "If you are planning to watch the launch above deck," said Lucy. "I suggest you find a place now. It can become very crowded."

"Good idea. I'll see you before dinner then. I'm afraid I'll need to 'ring the bell' for you, if I have even a fragment of hope getting into one of these dresses."


"Damn, how many bloody corridors are on this ship?"

Josh had boarded Titanic immediately following his health inspection and then began looking for the third- class room number which was written on his boarding pass. So far, he had been looking for close to an hour. He passed a stairwell, above which was hung a sign reading "E Deck". Beyond that was a passage of some sort, He began down it. It seemed very much like the countless others he had tried and retried again; very long with several white doors lining either side. When he came to the end of this one, he turned and his mind began to wander.

"What can she be thinking? Well, it's quite simple. Oh, yes. I know it shouldn't be hard to understand, or so everyone feels the need to tell me, no matter the topic. You know, I'm not a bloody half-wit! Do people forget that I went to university as well?"

After a time, he turned again, though now not aiming for any particular direction.

"I think it's always been about my father, right? I mean, he was never one for fatherly love. And now with my joining his board of directors, there's just so much pressure! The aggravation, the expectation, so goddamn unbearable. I really don't think it's for me."

He turned again…

"She is just too stubborn! She always has to be right, always. And she's been the same since we were five! Christ, I don't know what it is, but something feels wrong. Don't ask me how I know, hell, I don't even know, but something just doesn't feel right. Maybe I have a sixth sense. Now that would be wicked."

Suddenly, he halted. Hadn't he been there before? Everything was so familiar. But this wasn't just run of the mill "everything looks the same," everything seriously looked the same! Josh sighed heavily and sunk to the ground below the "E Deck" sign.

"Dear God," he whimpered. "When will it end?"


Diana had found a tight place on the boat deck rail, beside a large gentleman and a woman who was wearing rather too much perfume. Nevertheless, she had a beautiful view. For a moment she had thought to have caught a glimpse of Mr. Andrews, his notebook open in his hand. But the image was gone as quickly as it had come, and it was useless trying to find him amongst so many people.

Below her was an endless wave of people come to see the ship off. The came a loud burst from the smokestacks, and the passengers on deck were waving and shouting at the people on land: relatives, friends, and complete strangers. Diana couldn't help but be caught up in it. Her gloved hands gripped the railing, keeping her from losing her balance as she leaned over it, waving at the people below. Next to Diana, the man and woman were saying above the noise to each other:

"Can you see Ginger?" asked the woman.

"My, dear, I haven't been looking." The man responded.

"Haven't been looking? How can you say such a thing? She must be petrified! I knew we shouldn't have left her behind, she should have come with us!"

"Well, my dear, if you would step off the ship to get her, I'm sure you'd find her well enough, but then you would have missed the ship. Actually, perhaps you should…"

"Oh! There she is, I see her!"

"I'm not sure that's-"

"What am I saying? That can't be her, I remember Agnes curled her hair only this morning. Where can she be?"

"Perhaps-"

"Good heavens, there she is! There is Agnes with her right now."

"Oh yes, quite right, there they are."

"GINGY!" shouted down to the dock. "There now, Agnes has seen us. Well hold her up, incompetent girl! How does she expect us to Ginger in this crowd with her down on the ground?"

"I haven't the slightest notion, my dear."

Amongst the crowd was a young woman, plain dressed. In her arms was a curly haired Yorkshire Terrier.


"Hey, you okay? Do you, uh, need a hand?"

Josh stopped banging his head against the wall long enough to look up. He saw two young men, both looking to be around his age, perhaps a bit younger, peering down at him curiously. One, whom he assumed had spoken, had light, somewhat sandy coloured hair, a shock of it falling close to his eyes. The other stood close behind. This one was dark, perhaps Italian Josh assumed, and had curly black hair. Both were dressed somewhat poorly, their clothes a bit worn. But then, so was he.

"I look that pathetic, huh?" Josh took the hand that was offered and was helped to his feet.

For a moment they stood around awkwardly saying nothing. This was probably mostly his own fault, Josh realized, with his never failing ability to act weird in front of strangers. He just never could think of anything to say. He thought about bringing up great nautical disasters of the twentieth century, but for some reason that didn't seem entirely appropriate. Fortunately, he didn't have to say anything.

"So," the American said. "Where you headed?"

"I've got no bloody idea," said Josh flatly.

"Maybe we can help. Let me see your ticket."

Josh reluctantly handed it over. What a Rude-American, he decided. Still, Rude-American's help was better than no help at all.

"I think I know where this is," said Rude-American, after a moment looking at Josh's ticket. "Fabri, this is close, right."

"It's there, no?" responded the Italian, motioning a short ways down the corridor.

Josh hastily snatched his ticket back. He laughed nervously, picked up his rucksack, and turn towards his room, two doors away from where he'd been bludgeoning his brains out against the wall. Before leaving, he paused. Perhaps this Rude-American and the Italian chap weren't- completely- rude. He stuck out his right hand to the Italian.

"Thanks a lot," he said and smiled. "My name's Josh Byrd."

"Fabrizio," the Italian responded.

Josh turned to the American, extending his hand.

The American shook it. "I'm Jack Dawson," he said.


Diana remained above deck long after the other passengers had gone inside. Overhead the sun glistened upon the sea, lighting it up like a brilliant blue diamond. But Diana didn't see its beauty, nor had she seen the last of England recede into the horizon, and then disappear altogether. She did not see the other first-class passengers shiver and scowl as the Atlantic breeze picked up, and she did not hear them complain amongst themselves about the chill. Diana's eyes were closed, and all she saw and heard was Home. She had live in the same place her whole life. Very soon after they were married, Diana's parents had bought their home in Surrey. It was not large. Diana was born less than a year later and it had always remained just the three of them. It did not need to be large.

But it was comfortable. It was cozy, and a place she could always turn to. It was home. When she was young, her parents had been her world. They'd done everything together. Cooking with her mother, tending the garden with her father. Where were they now? Were they at home? Daddy could see her parents sitting together in front of the fireplace in the living room. Dad would be reading the Evening Standard, his spectacles perched precariously on the tip of his nose. There would be dirt under his fingernails from the garden, but Mum wouldn't mind, as long as he didn't track any onto the carpet from the hem of his cords. Where was Mum? Mum was leaning upon the armrest, staring into the fire. Is she wondering where her daughter is? Where her little girl has gone?

The house in Surrey, 1991

" 'Ana, please fetch Mummy the cups. Your Dad will be home soon, and we'll want everything ready for him. "

Four-year old Diana Ryehart stood on a chair to reach the top of the cupboard where her mother kept her china. She carefully took down three plain white teacups. As she was stepping down from the chair, she spied the beautiful blue flowered one her mother kept for special occasion. Well, this was as special an occasion as any, wasn't it? Father hadn't been home for a week and Diana wanted his homecoming to be special. She reached for the cup. It may have been too large for her small hands, or the delicate handle possibly was slick with dust. Whichever it was, the teacup suddenly fell from her hands and shattered on the linoleum floor.

"Well, don't just stare at it!" scolded Mum. "You made that mess, you're going to clean it up. No one is ever going to do anything for you."

Diana started to cry. Suddenly her mother's arms were around her, Diana sobbing into her shoulder.

"Miss, can I get you anything?"

Diana looked up. It was mid afternoon. Titanic was heading south towards Cherbourg, and would arrive in a few hours. A steward now looked inquiringly at her and Diana realized that he had asked a question.

"Oh," she said. "Tea would be nice I suppose, thank you. Oh no, I can –"

Despite her protests, the steward helped Diana settle into one of the deckchairs. He left momentarily to bring the tea. Soon after, he returned with a warm blanket to "ensure that she was comfortable." Tucking it around her, he turned to the tea tray he had brought.

"Really, I can do that…" Diana said as he poured and prepared her tea. Finally she gave up, realizing that nothing would keep them from doing everything for her. She sighed and sank into the deck chair, gazing across the sea where in a short while France would be seen on the horizon.

"Do you require anything else, Miss?" the steward asked.

"No," Diana said. "No, I'm fine."

"Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything at all."

"I won't," said Diana with a slight, soft smile.


Chapter 4 soon, I promise!