Third class really wasn't such a bad way to travel. In fact, for Anastasia it was quite nice. She knew things would be a bit crowded after her room mates arrived, but in the meantime she took advantage of the room to unpack. When she took out the box, her heart froze. There was some subtle change, maybe the slightest change in weight or minute change in texture. She opened it and gasped. Her locket was gone.
Her mind raced. Where could it have gone? She only just saw it on the train. Then it was safely in her bag. The entire time… Then she remembered on the docks. The bags fell. The box fell out. That young man had handed it back. And she never checked it before shoving it inside. That must have been it! That was when the locket was lost!
Did that man take it? Anastasia found it very difficult to believe that such a kind person would do something like that, but she knew looks could not always be trusted. Did the locket fall out of the box before he handed it back? If that were so, it was still lying on the ground at the harbor! And the ship had already set sail. There was no possible way for her to go and look for it. Her only hope to recover it was if the man did have it. And if he would give it back. Her locket…her only connection to her mother. Warm tears fell from Anastasia's eyes as she sat desolately on her bunk.
There was a soft knock at the door. "Come in," called Anastasia, willing herself calm and wiping her eyes.
The door opened slowly and in came a sweet-looking lady, white hair piled on her head and two young children at tow. "Hello my dear," said the lady pleasantly. "You're our bunkmate I take it?"
"Yes," said Anastasia. "Anastasia Pickering."
"You can call me Grandma Victoria or Granny if you like," said the woman warmly. "These are my grandchildren, Ernest and Catherine."
She indicated to two young children, who shyly glanced at Anastasia. Catherine managed a quick "Hello". Ernest darted behind his grandmother to hide.
Anastasia smiled. "It's wonderful to meet you all," she said. "I always love company when I travel."
"I'm sure we'll get along splendidly," Victoria agreed. "Now who in the world could that be?"
Yet another person was knocking on the door.
"I don't think there should be any more people booked to this room…" said Anastasia, going to answer it.
Much to her surprise, she found herself face-to-face with a comically stout man. "Miss Pickering?" he asked. "Your guardian wishes to see you in her room. You know the way to first class I presume?"
"Yes," said Anastasia. Now what was wrong? "I'll be right there."
"You clumsy girl, look at what you did to our clothes!"
Anastasia cringed as her foster mother and sisters glared furiously at her. "I took care when I packed them," she said softly.
"Impudent girl!" said Lady Tremaine. "Are you contradicting me? It must have happened when you were a clumsy lout and dropped our luggage at the docks. Look at Bernice's dress! It's even got a rip in it!"
Anastasia glanced at the skirt of the dress, still half-in the suitcase. "It looks like it was caught on the latch," she commented.
"What did you say?" asked Lady Tremaine dangerously.
"I said I'd sew it right away," sighed Anastasia.
"That's what I thought you said." Lady Tremaine smiled, smug as a cat. " Take the rest of our clothes for washing and ironing as well. We want to look our best for the reception."
Hortense and Bernice looked at one another and grinned wickedly. Anastasia knew why. She had no fancy dresses or jewels like they did. There was nothing suitable for her to wear to the Titanic reception the next night unless one of them loaned her something. Of course they never would, but they did not stop hoping that Anastasia would dare ask, giving them an excuse to further mock her. Anastasia was too clever for that though, and determined not to give them the satisfaction. When she remained silent, Bernice took a tea cup in her hand. Without taking her eyes off of Anastasia, she deliberately dropped the cup to the floor, where it smashed into tiny pieces.
"Pick up that broken china," said Lady Tremaine dismissively.
"Yes ma'am," said Anastasia, bending down. That was all her life was. Kneeling before her foster family, picking up their broken pieces, and cleaning their messes day after day with no escape in sight.
As the humans unpacked in their rooms up above, the animals were getting settled in their own quarters.
"Just think," Mrs. Mouskewitz sighed. "A few days time and we will finally be in America!"
"Is it true that there are no cats in America and the streets are made of cheese?" asked Fivel eagerly.
"Maybe," said Mr. Mouskewitz, smiling at his son. "At least there will be a new life ahead of us."
Spirits high, Fivel leaned into his bag to make sure all of his toys were still there. Not that there was reason for concern, it was merely a childish compulsion. He was still inside the sack when he heard his mother scream and his father shout "Fivel! LOOK OUT!"
Fivel looked up just in time to see a large orange cat leap at him. He screamed and ran as fast as he could.
"Dinner time!" shouted Azreal, not far behind. The cat gave a nasty chuckle and batted at the mouse with his paw.
A ventilation shaft was up ahead and Fivel aimed for it. He knew that if he could get in and squeeze through the gratings into someone's room, the stupid cat couldn't follow him. Somewhere behind, he heard the sound of barking and of the cat hissing, but he didn't pause. He slipped quickly into shaft and ran for the nearest grate.
"Are you alright dear? Do you need any help with that?" asked Victoria kindly.
Anastasia had returned from her visit with Lady Tremaine, carrying a large wicker basket filled with an assortment of dresses and clothing, including Bernice's dress to be sewn. Anastasia had meant to start on it as soon as she returned to the room, but the loss of the locket still weighed heavily on her mind. She tried not to think about it. All it would lead to would be the overwhelming desire to cry. That was the last thing she wanted to do in front of the kind Victoria and her grandchildren.
"No," she whispered. "No, it's quite alright. I am used to work like this."
"Are those your mother's things?" Victoria asked.
"My foster mother's. And foster sisters'".
"If you don't mind my asking," said Victoria peering over her glasses, "if your foster family is in a first-class room, why are you in third?"
Anastasia opened her mouth to reply, but she had no words. What could she say? But her silence seemed to tell all and Victoria looked at her sympathetically.
"It's hard being on your own," she said. "I remember when my son and his wife left for America all those years ago. Now we're finally able to rejoin them."
"That sounds lovely," said Anastasia. "I've learned to deal with my foster family though. I'm so upset because I've lost my locket."
"Is it a pretty locket?" asked Catherine.
"Very. But it's not the locket itself that I valued. It was what was inside. In it was a picture of my real mother. I haven't seen her since I was a baby, so it was my only way to remember her."
"I haven't seen my Mama or Papa for a long time either," put in Ernest shyly.
"I'm sure the locket will turn up dear," said Victoria.
"I certainly hope so," said Anastasia. She fell quiet, wondering where the locket was and where her mother was.
"Look grandma, a mouse!" called Ernest, breaking the silence.
"Shush dear, we're talking," said Victoria patiently.
"But there really is a mouse," he insisted.
"There is!" cried Catherine, pointing. "There it is, in the vent. It's hanging by its tail!"
Fivel was in a strange predicament. The first grate he came to led straight to Anastasia, Victoria, and the grandchildren's room. He dared not enter of course (his mother direly warned him about the dangers of humans), but he also dared not turn back, certain that he would be eaten by Azreal if he did. So he did the only thing that he could think of: He perched between two bars in the grate, hoping that no one would notice him until it was safe to go back. When Ernest spotted him and called out, Fivel was so surprised that he fell through the grate. He would have gone straight to the floor (and a sudden, rather nasty end), except that - in a burst of quick thinking - he grabbed at one of the bars on the grate with his tail, which saved him from the fall but left him hanging for all to see. He waited anxiously. Would they throw him overboard? Or feed him to that cat?
The pretty redheaded girl who was so sad before smiled at him. "Hello, what are you doing up there?" she asked sweetly. She stood up and walked towards him. He shivered but she just held out her hand for him to climb onto. His tail was aching and he had no choice but to accept. "Would you like something to eat?" she asked when he was sitting on her palm. "I have a little bread I saved from the train ride".
"Let me see!" the little boy said as the redheaded girl rummaged one-handed through her bag.
"Ernest, behave," the old lady warned. "That mouse is a little darling, isn't he?"
"Here you go," the girl said, handing Fivel a small piece of the crust of bread. He eagerly took it in his paws and she giggled.
"Let me see him Anastasia!" Ernest pleaded.
"Granny said to behave," his sister reminded him.
"You're not the boss of me Catherine!"
"Time to go home now," said Anastasia. She carefully reached up and set Fivel back inside the grate. He smiled and scurried back down the vent, nibbling the bread along the way. The cat was surely gone by now and he had something he wanted to talk to his parents about.
"You go first."
"No, you go first."
"No, I insist."
"One of the two of you had better go," snarled Cruella as Jasper and Horace stood blocking the doorway to her room.
"Fine, I'll go first," the two men said in unison. At the exact same time, both moved to exit the room. Both tried to go through the doorway at the exact same time. As a result, both became jammed in the doorframe, owing mostly to Horace's bulk.
Cruella snorted. Served her right for training two lumbering oafs with hands like hams. The idiots always messed up in some way. She pushed back the sleeves on her black dress and fur wrap she was wearing and shoved them in the backs as hard as she could. With a crash, both of them fell to the floor. "You take the cabins at the far end," she sighed. "I'll take the ones at the middle. Don't you dare come back empty-handed".
"Right," said the two, running off.
"This should be easy. We're professionals," said Horace, as they approached the first cabin.
The door was locked, so he pulled out the pocket knife he always carried for such an occasion. He jammed it into the lock and began to wiggle it. Nothing happened. He tried again, shaking the door knob.
"Professionals who can't pick a lock?" asked Jasper sarcastically.
"You try it then," said Horace offering the knife to Jasper. "Have a go if you're so clev - mph!"
Jasper had suddenly covered his partner's hand with his mouth. "Stay quiet a minute and act natural," he whispered. "Someone's coming out here."
Sure enough, a door about three cabins down and across the hall was opening. Horace and Jasper leaned against the wall in what they hoped was a nonchalant manner, trying for all the world to look like anything but jewel thieves. Then they saw who was leaving.
She was a portly woman with a cheerful face, but it wasn't her body the two were staring at. Glittering at her neck, wrists, and fingers were the most beautiful pieces of jewelry they had ever laid eyes on.
"Jackpot, Jasper me old mat," whispered Horace.
The two grinned at each other and went to step forward, perhaps get a better look by passing her. A second later, they both fell to the ground with a crash. Something - and a closer look revealed it was a dog's leash - had been wrapped around their ankles, tripping them. Jasper turned back in disgust, to find himself nose to nose with a Cocker Spaniel which looked decidedly not amused.
"Flopsy, what on earth are you up to?" called the bejeweled woman in a strong Southern accent. "C'mon sugar, let's leave those men alone."
As she turned the corner to go up to the deck, the two thieves could hear her say to the dog, "Didn't I say to wait for me first? Look at the clothes they were wearing! Those two were clearly bums."