A/N: Woot! Update! And hey it's only a day later than normal, so that's not too shabby :) Herein, Kate broods and acts surly and mysterious whilst angsting a wee bit. Jim, on the other hand behaves in a suitably adorable fashion, lol. Actually, this chapter sort of took on a life of its own in that what I intended to happen when I started this section got tossed completely to the sidelines and probably won't show up now for a good chapter or two. Freaking fictional characters running amok on me. I hate when that happens! Well, actually no I don't because the story will end up being much better for it I think (hope).
In other news, this story has now officially become the longest thing I've ever written. Actually, I think it hit that mark somewhere in chapter eight, but I've only just noticed it so I'll announce it here. Yay!
In even more news I must thank LazyChestnut, sabresrthebest and PrettyLadyPansy for their reviews. There was much squeeage to be heard upon receiving :D
In the Third Class General Room, Kate sat curled on her bench with one leg tucked up underneath her skirt, and the other swinging a restless pattern in the air an inch or so from the floor. She had one elbow resting on the back of the bench and she'd propped her head up on her fist, all the while hoping that she appeared at least slightly attentive to what was going on around her.
Kate Mullins, who was busy knitting a pair of heavy stockings in coarse wool the precise colour of burned bread, rolled her shoulders to relax her muscles, "It's nice bein' able te knit at me own pace, 'stead of havin' me Mam hoverin' around tellin' me te go faster."
"I'm sure," Kate replied absently. She knew, from Mullins' near-constant chatter since breakfast, that her friend's mother was a seamstress and that Mullins and her two younger sisters were all learning the trade themselves. Kate envied Mullins her knitting – she'd not thought to bring along a project of that sort, though sewing had always been a favourite hobby of hers. The steady click-clack of Mullins' needles made Kate's fingers itch.
"The girls'd have a clean fit if they knew how much free time we was gettin'." Mullins continued, "They'll never believe me when I write te tell 'em. They'll think I'm makin' fun."
Murphy plunked down on the bench beside Kate just in time to hear this comment. She had been off helping Margaret Rice with her brood of five feisty young boys. Kate thought Margaret- who she had met yesterday- awfully brave to be attempting to make the crossing with all of her children in tow and no one to help. Kate Murphy had apparently been thinking much the same thing because she had offered to watch the four older boys while Margaret attempted to get food into the baby, a wee lad of two. Murphy, it turned out, liked children and she was very good with them. Kate liked children too, but parents tended to be wary of letting their youngsters spend much time with her. She supposed they believed she'd influence them poorly, and the thought made Kate a little sad.
To Mullins, Murphy raised both eyebrows and said with genuine curiosity, "An' what did they s'pose ye'd be doin' onboard then? Swabbin' the decks?"
"Well…" Mullins said slowly, dropping her knitting into her lap and scrunching up her face in thought, "D'ye know, I'm not rightly sure?" She giggled, "Maybe they thought they'd make us row."
Murphy burst out laughing, "That's what ye should tell 'em in yer letter," She said, "That the Captain made us poor Steerage folks row the boat all the way te America. See what they say."
"I can't do that!" Mullins exclaimed, still giggling furiously, "They'd believe me."
Though she would have normally found this banter extremely funny, Kate managed no more than a distracted half-smile. A single curl had come loose of its comb and was now drooping across Kate's forehead. She toyed with it, pulling the coil of hair straight and then letting it bounce back over and over again. Eventually this odd behaviour drew the attention of her two friends, who exchanged looks of puzzled amusement.
"What's the matter with you then?" Kate Murphy said, after a moment of watching Kate play with her hair.
Kate blinked and dropped her hand back into her lap, letting the wayward curl bounce into her eyes, "Nothin'." She said quickly, sitting up straighter and trying to look more attentive. "How'd ye get te be so good with the young 'uns Kate Murphy?"
If Murphy noticed how forced the topic change was, she had the tact not to say anything. Instead she shrugged one shoulder and said, "I got seven younger siblings. Don't s'pose I could help it, could I?"
"I got younger brothers too y'know," Kate reminded her, "But I don't know the first thing 'bout lookin' after children. Not really."
"Aye, but mine are all younger then yers," Murphy said, meaning her brothers and sisters, "Next oldest in me fam'ly is Mae, an' she's only fourteen. Then Charlie's twelve an' so on an' so on from there. Then ye take into account all my cousins, an' I've been helpin' te raise babes since I was but ten years old."
Kate considered this. The oldest of her four brothers, William, was seventeen. She'd been eight when Michael, the youngest was born which was old enough to help with small things, but not quite old enough to be entrusted with full care of an infant. She might have been able to help with some of her cousins, but her uncles and aunts, like most adults, had never seemed particularly eager to have young Kate aiding the upbringing of their children. "I s'pose ye've got a point." Kate finally conceded.
Murphy gave Kate a long searching look, "Why d'ye ask? Ye got a job in America workin' with children maybe?"
"No, no, nothin' like that." Kate said, trying not to squirm under the weight of Murphy's gaze, "I was just curious is all." Sensing that the other woman needed something more in the way of explanation, Kate added, "I was thinkin' ye'd make a good Mother. Me, I'm likely te be right dreadful."
"Ah well, no doubt ev'ry women thinks that sometimes," Murphy said wisely, patting Kate's knee in a consoling fashion, "I'm sure ye'll be fine when yer time comes."
"Sure she will!" Mullins piped up enthusiastically. "'Sides, it's not like ye've gotta worry 'bout that any time soon, is it?"
Kate laughed in a way that she hoped sounded at least marginally natural and said, "Of course. Yer right. Pay me no mind – I just get these notions in me head sometimes."
They lapsed into a silence that was comfortable for Mullins and Murphy, but felt strained to Kate. The rhythmic click of Mullins' knitting needles resumed. Kate jiggled her foot in time with the noise and shifted restlessly on the bench. All at once, she felt that she couldn't sit still for another instant and half jumped to her feet, startling her companions.
The clacking of the needles ceased, "Kate?" Mullins said, looking up at her in surprise; "What're ye doin'?"
"I'm goin' fer a walk," Kate said, deciding on the spot that she needed to get out of the smoky inner room and up where she could get some air, "The noise in here's givin' me a headache." That part wasn't true in the slightest, but Kate thought it might keep the girls from questioning her sudden departure. "D'ye want te come?"
"I'll stay if ye don't mind," Mullins said with a cheery smile, "I want te see if I can get this done 'fore lunch bell rings." She held up her half-finished stocking.
Murphy nodded in agreement, "Aye, think I'll stay behind as well." She arched one eyebrow at Kate, "Ye can get over yer…headache…in peace then."
Kate pressed her lips into a thin line. Murphy was a lot sharper than Kate gave her credit for. "All right then. I'll see ye in a wee bit."
First, Kate returned to her cabin for her coat and hat. She intended to go up on deck, but she thought maybe she'd try and get to the forward Well Deck, via the route Jim had told her about the day before. The problem with most of the third class deck space was that it was at the stern where a person had to always see where they'd come from instead of where they were going. Kate had a need to see where she was going just then.
Following the signs, Kate made her way up one level to E-Deck and then started out up the long corridor Jim had described. Kate wondered if it really ran from one end of the ship to the other. If it didn't and she ended up getting lost for three hours in the depths of the Titanic, Jim Farrell was going to have some explaining to do.
Kate travelled at a leisurely pace, admiring again the beauty and grandeur of the ship. She wondered what life was like in the first class decks. Kate couldn't imagine any luxury finer than these clean white walls and the electrical lights in their shining brass fixtures. She supposed the rich folks had cabins draped in velvet and slept every night on silk sheets. Kate had felt silk once in the lining of a fancy coat belonging to a rich lady who had stopped for a night at the inn where Kate worked. Sleeping on material like that would be like sleeping on woven water, or cream. Kate shivered pleasantly at the thought and wondered if the first class passengers had even the slightest inkling of how lucky they were. Likely not. No one ever did.
Though she'd been temporarily buoyed by her fanciful musings on the life of first class, Kate felt her earlier dark mood creep back at this thought. She sighed and stopped walking, running the back of one hand across her eyes. She wished she was one of those fancy girls who'd never had to worry a day in their lives, who could get into all manner of trouble and always have the means to buy their way back to safety. Kate felt certain that not a one of the ladies in first class knew what it was like to be afraid, really and truly terrified and not be able to show it because letting it show would mean telling someone what was wrong.
"Stop that," Kate said out loud to the mercifully empty corridor, "Stop that right now Kate McGowan." She told herself that she was strong and that she was going to be fine, no matter how much it seemed impossible sometimes. Thinking otherwise would not help her in anyway.
Thus steeled, Kate resumed walking, though her hands remained fisted at her sides giving her strides an almost militant look. She half marched the remaining length of hallway then came to a halt. She'd hit a staircase, and though the corridor kept going past that Kate felt that surely she'd walked far enough by now.
Frowning, Kate scanned the area for something to indicate that this was the staircase that would eventually lead up to the deck. She was sure there had to be some sign, but could not immediately spot it. Hands on her hips, Kate contemplated the steps, wondering if she should just try climbing them and see where she ended up.
"Are ye gonna go up the stairs then, or are ye just gonna stand here scowlin' at 'em?"
Kate shrieked and whirled around, "Jim Farrell!" She said, dealing him a solid back-handed slap across the shoulder that was hard enough to make him yelp, "Bleedin' Hell, how many years' growth are ye plannin' on scarin' me outta?"
Jim, rubbing his shoulder, gave her a highly disgruntled look, "Well hello te you too then."
"What d'ye do, stand in the shadows an' wait fer me te walk by?" Kate demanded, pressing the heel of her hand over her pounding heart.
"Well Christ, how'm I s'posed te know if ye hear me comin' or not?" Jim shot back, looking suspiciously as though he was trying not to laugh, "It's not my fault yer such a jumpy wee thing."
Kate glared at him for a moment, then spun on her heel and started up the stairs, not bothering to ask if she was going the right way. She practically heard Jim hesitate before deciding to follow her. When he caught up, Kate glared even harder, "Why is it ev'ry time I turn around yer there Jim Farrell?" She snapped.
Jim made an incredulous noise in the back of his throat, "Could ask ye the same thing couldn't I? I didn't plan te come up from my cabin and find ye hoverin' by the stairs like a damn storm cloud ye know."
Refusing to answer, Kate picked up her pace, each foot fall pounding the steps as though they were to blame for her foul mood. She was being unfair to Jim and she knew it, especially since she actually did enjoy his company. In fact, deep down she suspected that she was glad to see him and somehow that only made things worse. When she'd first spoken to Jim, Kate had never expected that they'd hit it off as well as they had. The last thing Kate needed was to find that she was starting to care about some damn man.
Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Kate realised that Jim had fallen behind. By the time she hit the top of the staircase, he was still three or four steps below her. Kate stopped and looked back at him questioningly, hands fisted on her hips. Jim stopped his ascent and frowned up at her.
"Well, d'ye want me te leave or not?" Jim said finally, crossing his arms and sounding thoroughly irritated.
Kate twisted her mouth to one side, "Why would I want ye te leave?"
Jim looked at her as though she'd gone completely out of her head, "Because I've met mad dogs more friendly then you are t'day, that's why."
"Oh." Kate deflated a little and let her arms fall limply to her sides. For a moment they stared at each other, Jim raised one eyebrow. Kate sighed, "Well, I thought ye'd know I didn't mind ye bein' here."
"And how in Hell am I s'posed te know that then?" Jim asked, "I can't read yer bloody mind ye damn crazy woman."
For half a second Kate felt the urge to burst out laughing. Instead she scowled half-heartedly and stuck out her chin, "I'll tell ye plain then," She said, "Ye can come with me if ye like." Kate turned and started away from him, then paused and added, "But I warn ye, I'm not in the best o' tempers."
"Ye don't say." Jim drawled sarcastically, not moving from his spot on the steps.
Realising that he'd made no move to follow her, Kate stopped walking. She sighed and looked at her boots rather then back over her shoulder where she was positive she'd find Jim staring at her disapprovingly. "Jim." Kate said softly, "Come with me. Please?"
The silence that followed stretched so long that Kate was sure that Jim had left, but she was afraid to look and confirm. She started to tell herself that it would be better if he went away because then it would be easier to pretend that she didn't want him to like her. Just as Kate was beginning to convince herself that this was true, there was the sound of footfalls on the stairs and Jim finally came up to meet her.
"All right," Jim said, drawing up even with Kate's right shoulder, "But only because ye said please."
And even though she was determined not to care, Kate couldn't help but smile.
.
