I made sure I went across the hall to Cal's suite at precisely seven o'clock, to avoid yet another comment about my lateness. Freddie was less than willing to come with me, whining about how it was he had to come as well. I'd argued with Ann as well. Something I always hated doing.

She had been less than sympathetic when I had briefly told her the events of the morning, leaving out some of the finer details that I felt she didn't need to know, however much I knew she would love to hear them. She had turned on me suddenly, calling me foolish for falling for such a man as Jack Dawson anyway.

"So what about the dazzling Mr Donald Rust then?" I had questioned, eyes narrowing.

Ann had proceeded to become extremely red and flustered, muttering something about that "being different".

In retrospect, I should probably not have then shook her violently and shouted in her face, but it is not my fault I inherited my father's hot temper.

It was only after she had fled from the room did my breathing become slower, and realization hit that, no matter what my feelings were for Jack, they were not worth losing a friend for. But by this time it was too late, and I had to make my way over to see Cal.

Mr Lovejoy was there as well as Cal when I entered the room with Freddie, though he stood up hastily as I went in.

I took a breath "Mr Lovejoy, Mr Hockley, Sirs" I addressed them in what I hoped was a polite and professional manner. Cal merely nodded and smiled to acknowledge my presence, whereas Mr Lovejoy began talking at rapid rate,

"Ah, yes, Scarlett, wonderful, oh and Freddie too, yes, simply marvellous. Well, best be going, places to be and people to meet. Goodnight all!" And with that, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Before I had time to puzzle over Mr Lovejoy's strange behaviour, Cal was stood in front of me, peering down, looking deep into my eyes.

"Do you know why you are here, Scarlett?" he said, in a voice barely audible.

I had a few vague ideas, most of which involved punishment for my earlier behaviour, and an excuse for me not to visit Jack, but I kept my ideas to myself and merely shook my head.

"No, Sir" I said

Cal seemed surprised, and possible also slightly annoyed at my response; I suppose he had wanted me to give him some sort of witty answer. He straightened up, and cleared his throat, awkwardly.

"Well" he said "I've got an abundance of dirty shoes that will need shining and polishing by tomorrow morning. You will find the shoes and anything else you may need by the fire. I have a large amount of work to be doing, so please do not disturb me." Cal finished in a surprisingly professional and swift manner. "Understand?" he said

I nodded. "Of course, Sir"

Cal strode over to his desk, which I was irritated to find was actually in very close proximity to the fireplace, where several pairs of shoes seemed to have been dumped in a pile, along with a few cleaning cloths and polish. I didn't even know Cal and Mr Lovejoy possessed that many pairs of shoes.

I settled myself and Freddie down on the hearth, and briefly gave my brother a lesson in polishing shoes. Before too long, we were well away with the work load, but every time I thought we were nearing the end, Cal would lean down from his chair and inform me that our work was not up to scratch.

Minutes ticked by like hours, hours ticked by like days. Freddie fell asleep right on the floor, clutching a dirty cleaning cloth to his face. It must have been getting late, but if Cal realised this, he chose not to mention it.

I felt my eyes beginning to droop, shiny surfaces of shoes blurred in front of me. But then, something strange happened. A faint grinding jar seemed to come from deep inside the ship. It was not much, but enough to make me look up from my work. Cal, too, looked up from his paper, and our eyes met briefly, before I hurriedly looked back down at the floor.

My mind pondered over what this grinding jar could have been. I tried to connect it with something familiar. It seemed to me as if the ship had just rolled over a thousand marbles. Then, when I had thought a little more, I decided perhaps that was not the right analogy, and maybe a giant running his finger along the ship was a better one.

The jar had left a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that something wasn't quite right, but Cal had continued with his work, so I guessed there was nothing to worry about.

But there was something else not quite right in the room. The gently vibrations beneath me from the ship's engines were gone. After the grinding had come to a stop, there was an eerie stillness about the room; I had grown quite accustomed to the movement beneath us.

Again, I looked to Cal for some sort of indication, but he was busy scribbling away. I looked down at Freddie, asleep and blissfully unaware of the turmoil going on inside me. I began polishing methodically, trying to reason with my insides that there was nothing to worry about, the cloth going round and round.

I was just becoming slightly calmer about the whole affair; perhaps we had just slipped a propeller blade or something, when there was a knock at the door. This sudden noise interrupted my methodical polishing, and I jumped slightly.

"Come in" Cal's voice echoed around the room, which I noticed had been deathly silent before.

In came a porter; not the young ones I had seen so regularly around the corridors, but a much older one, with thick grey eyebrows that seemed to be in a constant upright position, giving him a permanent look of worry. He seemed agitated about something, and strode right over to Cal as soon as he entered the room.

He crouched down to Cal, who was sitting, and position himself with his back to be. He began talking in a hurried whisper. I found that if I shifted my body slightly to the right, I could hear snatched of their hushed conversation.

I caught the words "iceberg", "life jackets", "boat deck" and "life boats". I also distinctly heard Cal say "There's no need". At this point, the porter hissed something at Cal, stood up and straightened his jacket, and swept from the room, slamming the door.

I looked at Cal, and this time, when he looked back, I didn't look away. Cal gave me what I'm sure he hoped was a reassuring smile, but he didn't quite make it before returning to his work, though I noticed his grip upon his pen had grown tighter.

After no more than five minutes after the porter had left us, did another one appear. This one seemed even younger than the regular toothy one, and was almost shaking with the idea of speaking to a man like Cal.

"Um, excuse me, uh, Mr Hockley, uh, Sir" he stammered "But, um, your presence is required in the, err, Dining Saloon. Um, Sir" he finished.

Cal sighed, "Fine" he said, pushing his chair back and standing up. "Scarlett, do not even think about setting foot outside of this room until I get back, do you hear?"

I nodded. Cal exited the room. The porter made to follow him, but I was on my feet and next to him before he could move. I grabbed hold of his arm.

"What's going on?" I demanded to know.

"I, uh, nothing. Classified, information..." The porter began, but I wasn't having this for an answer. I took hold of his shoulders and pinned him against the wall.

"You're not leaving 'till you tell me what on earth is going on!" I glared at him, in my most menacing way. Freddie stirred on the hearth.

"Alright, alright!" said the porter, trying to shaking my grip off "We've struck an iceberg, if you's must know...ma'am?"

My grip loosened on the porter in sheer shock. I took a step back, for this was not the answer I had been expecting. But now it all added up; the grinding jar, the cease of gentle engine hum.

The porter was talking again, but my mind was too busy to hear what he said. He obviously took my lapse in concentration as a cue to bolt from the room. I didn't care anymore. I knew all I needed to know.