A/N

So it's been a long time, I am very aware of that. First let me explain. I was taking part in NaNoWriMo this month which was very time consuming and creatively draining, though I really enjoyed taking part and despite not winning I am very proud of what I achieved. But also I am a uni student and creative writing and literature are my majors so...there's a lot of writing involved with the course. My degree takes priority in my writing life at the moment so updates here may not be as regularly as I like but I have not forgotten and there is plenty I want to write. Over Christmas I am hoping to be a lot more active.

Many thanks! Hope you like the chapter

I gripped to the steel railing that bordered the safety of where I stood and the icy waters below. I gripped tightly until my knuckles grew white and my palms hurt from the coldness of the metal. Staring out into the vastness of black that lay before me, I thought of how much I envied the fish that swam below in the hidden depths. They were completely oblivious to the events that unfolded above them.

The lower class cabins where always noisy. There was always someone drunk, or some poor bloke who had been locked out by the Mrs and of course there was the constant cries of babies. You grow quite used to it over time. It wasn't so different for Charlie, of course, after growing up in a city. The lower class cabins weren't too different to the streets of Belfast, always some commotion going on.

He had a smug smile as he placed down his hand and looked at the other men with a look of glee. He leant back in his chair, rather cockily. How many times was he going to win tonight before these fellas gave up?

"Well boys, I take the lot" Charlie looked from one face to another. Slowly they changed, shifting from shock to anger. Directly opposite to him, a large bald man with a head so shiny it looked as if it had been freshly polished. The man wore a brown plaid t-shirt that only exaggerated his sheer size more so. This bald man, who Charlie knew only as Vladimir, slammed his fist hard against the table. Losing balance, Charlie fell back on the chair.

"Cheat!" Vladimir shouted "Dirty little cheat! You think you can fool us?"

"Now boys, I did not cheat" Charlie tried to defend himself as he pulled himself off the ground "I just know my cards"

"I watched you" Vladimir raged on, turning to face his comrades around the table "He was counting the cards, he tried to con us the little mick"

"Now it's really debateable whether card counting is cheating" Charlie said raising his hands up in defence and backing away slowly "Technically speaking counting the cards is just playing the game really well"

"Give back our money kid"

People were rising from the table now. Charlie had got himself in quite a bit of trouble here and it didn't look like he was going to be able to talk himself out of it. Not this time. He kept backing up, racking his brains for an idea. He couldn't give the money back, that would take him straight back to square one. What could he do?

"That seems very fair gents…but…" Charlie felt the door knob poke into his ribs, there was nowhere left to back up "I'm sorry, I need this money more than you guys"

With that Charlie bolted, slamming the door behind him as five burly Russians dived over the poker table. There was no time to think now. Run up the stair case, two steps at a time as the thundered through the door. Leg it down the corridor at top speed. Left. Right. Left. Left again. Into the restaurant.

Charlie weaved in and out of the table as best he could manage, trying not to cause any more trouble than he already had. At one point he lost his balance, knocking a woman's soup into her lap. He shouted apologies over his shoulder but couldn't stick around. Whilst he was lean and quick, the Russians muscular build did nothing to help them catch up to him. He lost them in the restaurant before stumbling out on the deck with a cocky grin as he neatened his hair.

Walking backwards, his hands locked together behind his head, he grinned at the pile up that was taking place in the restaurant, and watched as waiters crowded around his pursuers in an attempt to bring order. He didn't look where he was going and walked right into a girl that was gripping the side rail. She gave a panicked squeal, seeming to think she was going to fall, before turning around with a face like thunder.

She was absolutely beautiful.

He collided with me, I thought for one sickening moment that I would fall over the side. A small, sharp squeak of fear forced its way from me. But I was safe, the rail kept me secure and grounded. At least in the literal sense. I turned around ready to murder whoever I laid eyes on. As it happened it was a scrawny boy with ginger, freckles and a cocky grin. He had one of those face where you didn't know whether you wanted to kiss him or kick him.

I was definitely leaning more to the kicking spectrum.

"Do you know who I am?" I cringed at my own words, sounding so similar to my own mother. The boy was around my age dressed in a shirt of white cloth though tinged with dirt and brown slacks with worn knees. His braces that kept him trousers up looked almost ancient and his flat cap had certainly seen better days. He was a mess, but before I had a chance to call him on anything, some very brutish men burst out of the restaurant.

The ginger boy grabbed me, a little too hard, before dragging me away. He pulled me to the side, hiding beneath one of the lifeboats that were stored there. He placed a finger to my lip and whilst I wanted to slap him, bite him, head butt him – honestly anything that would wipe that ungodly smirk from his face – I could sense the urgency in his actions and held my tongue.

The brutes walked past, their thunderous footsteps disappearing in the distance along with the sound of their thick accents. She couldn't quite place it but it was definitely European. We waited, in deafening silence with his finger still on my lips. Finally, after what felt like hours he turned to me.

"Do you know how many ladies would kill to be in your shoes?" he said, accent thick with Irish "You just won the romantic lottery love!"

This time, I did bite him.