The Dance

"Where are we going?" It felt forbidden to Rose, yet all she could do was follow the rhythm of her heart, listening to how it was telling her to go with it. What did she have to lose in this game they were playing? There was no competition, winner, or loser, just pure freedom for a short time.

It reminded her of the fairy tales she used to sneak off to read as a child, plucked from her father's grand library. Her stomach churned at the thought of returning to her world at night's end. Her carriage would turn back into a pumpkin, and then she would havereturn to Cal and Mother.

She squeezed Jack's hand anxiously, which he gave a reassuring squeeze in response.

"You'll see."

Once they were inside steerage, a fantastic Irish jig hit her cheerfully. She couldn't help but smile at how such a sound changed the entirety of the mood, her anxieties disappearing as quickly as they appeared.

Jack clutched her hand tightly as he led her down a line of stairs, and she followed, his giddiness infectious.

The Third Class General Room had been transformed into a dance hall. Crowds of men and women danced away to the ad hoc band, who were gathered around the upright piano and honking out lively, stomping music on the fiddle, accordion, and tambourine. People of all ages were dancing, drinking various beers, ales, and wines, smoking, laughing, and, as Jack pointed out, even brawling in the corner. She didn't see that every day, in her world at least. Aside from hushed whispers from her mother, gossiping about other members of society going to slumming parties.

And yet, this world, it all seemed so normal, so trivial, as though she had walked onto the set of a stage of an ensemble cast all performing for themselves and no one else.

"See, now this is a party."

Rose glanced around, suddenly self-conscious, but no one batted an eye as Jack led her through the throngs of people to the centre. He nodded to Fabrizio, who was chatting to a familiar Norwegian blond again. He assumed they had barely spoken since that afternoon; the language barrier was an obvious issue. He pointed out Fabrizio to Rose in the crowd.

"That is Fabrizio, he is my friend, he's Italian and understands very little English. He travelled across France and England with me. The young girl he's with is Helga. She is travelling from Norway with her family and does not speak English. See how they're still enjoying their time?"

They watched them laugh and dance together. Rose watched as Jack waved to them, and they waved back, recognising them from that morning when she had sought out Jack.

"They appear to be so…" She paused, watching them for another moment, the sparkle of something glinting within their eyes. Rose could only feel a slight pang within her chest. "So free, so adoring of each other. So in love." she wavered slightly.

Jack laughed, not seeming to notice. "He wishes. They only met yesterday. But I am sure that he's in love with her already."

Rose shook her head, amused, as she allowed Jack to pull her further into the crowd. People smiled at her; they nodded and said 'hellos' in their native tongues, whereas others bumped into her, clearly enjoying their dance, and when they didn't apologise, she found she liked them even more. Their dancing was not as stiff and choreographed as the ones she had participated in at various galas and cotilions throughout her adolescence.

"How did the two of you converse, with the language barrier and all?"

Jack shrugged. "We manage just fine now. When we met, he knew no English, and I knew no Italian. We nearly fought a few times until he got caught on."

They came to a table where Tommy sat with the Swede, with whom Jack and Fabrizio were bunking with.

"This is Tommy; he is another friend; he's from Ireland."

Tommy stood from his chair with a slight unfortunate wobble. "So, this is the lass you were on about, Jackie?"

Rose recognised him from that morning, too, and she smiled politely. Her heart fluttered that Jack had been talking about her, and she wondered what he had told them.

"How do you do?" Rose held out her hand to him, and he shook it harshly before puffing out cigarette smoke almost into her face and responding, chuckling inwardly at how he had told Jack that he'd have angels fly out his ass to get next to likes of her. Lo and behold, here she was.

"I'm even better now you've arrived."

Jack stripped himself of his bow tie and waistcoat before throwing his art supplies on the table, and they landed in front of Rose. She followed suit and removed her earrings, not wanting them to snag on anything. Her earlobes felt lighter as she placed her earrings in her purse, and much like Jack, she tossed it onto the table in front of her; it was expensive, though she could care less about such materialistic things. She then removed her gloves, setting them atop her purse.

"Do you want a drink, Rose?"

Rose glanced around. Everyone was holding pint glasses, dark liquor topped with frothy foam; her brow quirked in curiosity.

"It's stout." Tommy winked at her. "Go on, lass, if you're out with us, there ain't no lavish shite in a tulip glass."

Rose turned to Jack with a curious smile. "Yes, thank you, if it is what you men consume." Her eyebrow raised towards Jack, who gave her a knowing smile with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"I'll get them," Tommy called. "I need a refill, and Olaf here understands no bloody English, so he will not go to the bar."

Rose glanced at the other man at the table. She politely smiled at him, and he smiled back nicely enough, even though he was oblivious to what was happening.

"Thank you."

Seconds later, a girl no older than five with dark curly hair and lovely dimples upon rosy cheeks appeared. She took Jack by the hand and began pulling him in the direction of the dance floor without a single hesitation. Rose sat down at the table, observing them curiously.

"Hello, Uncle Jack. Can we dance?"

Jack turned towards Rose, his hands tugged on by the little girl. "Do you mind if I left you for just one dance?"

"Of course, I couldn't say no."

She watched as the little girl took Jack by both hands. The song came to an end, and another started. Jack was a natural with the young girl. She found her foot tapping along to the beat, and her hands clapped. Jack swung the little girl around and around, and Rose heard her screams of delight. She couldn't help but watch with a smile. It was as though everyone was so happy in their own little world. It was cramped; it wasn't the most pleasant of smells, but it was home to thousands. And she had been welcomed truly into it, just for one night.

Tommy returned with three pints of stout and handed one to Rose.

"Thank you!" She shouted above the music.

Tommy followed her line of sight and saw Jack dancing with Cora. "Ahh, I see he's been stolen already."

"Yes, she is sweet."

"Her name is Cora; she's from Manchester. She's got a baby sister out here charming someone else. Cute as buttons the pair o' 'em."

"Where is her family?"

Tommy pointed to an older man named Bert, and his wife Samantha sat a few tables back from them.

"There is her ma and pa."

"I see."

A loud squeal pierced the air, and a little girl threw herself at her father. She looked younger than Cora, and she had many similar features. Bert tossed his youngest into the air, and she squealed again, mops of brown hair flinging about. Samantha was watching lovingly. It was a joyful thing to witness.

Rose's attention returned to the dance floor, clapping to the band's beat as Jack spun little Cora around. She didn't take her eyes away as she tasted the stout for the first time; it turned out to be pleasant enough.

Watching the room, it was strange how earlier it had been quieter as people had read or chatted whilst their children played, and now it was a party in full swing with people celebrating everything there was to think of. She noticed no one stared rudely, for they were entranced with their own world. She pondered more about how she felt as though

she belonged here, more so than in her world.

With glittering eyes and a feeling that no one was watching, Rose reached for Jack's portfolio. Her fingers traced over the worn, battered, yet well-loved leather, and she knew that he must have owned it for some years. Slowly, she turned the first page. The drawing was of a woman breastfeeding a baby. Suddenly, the entire room seemed to fade away as she was just so drawn into the raw reality of the sketch. It was beyond brutally honest and beautiful. She traced her eyes and fingers across the charcoal, careful not to smudge his gifted lines, looking for the date and his signature before settling her eyes at the right edge of the page. It was dated and signed. J.D. 2/6/1912.

"Isn't he bloody good?" Tommy cut in, hovering over her, causing her to jump slightly.

"Truly," Rose shouted over the music. "Have you seen his works?"

Turning the page, she came across a series of nudes, and suddenly, her cheeks flushed entirely, and it felt as though the room had suddenly grown hotter.

"Well, hello, Jackie." Tommy slammed his beer down on the table, his stout sloshing slightly as he turned the portfolio towards himself for a closer look. "Isn't she a looker?" He turned the page to see a similar sketch of the same woman. "Wahoo! Look at these boys."

Fabrizio pushed through the crowd, leaning over Tommy to grab his beer, his eyes catching a glimpse of his friend's sketches. Rose glanced past him to Jack, dancing with the little girl, and smiled at their ease. Jack's hair fell back into its natural state, and his hair flopped about.

Still, glancing back at the sketch, she felt the intimacy present. It was as though she had peeked past a curtain into his life that she should not have, but still, she continued to be curious about the situation, feeling her cheeks flush slightly.

"I think he must have had a love affair with her."

"No, no, she was a-" Fabrizio struggled to find a word, stammering for a moment, his hands waving wildly until he found the correct one in broken English: "She was a one-legged prostitute."

"She what?" Tommy guffawed and was suddenly taking more of an interest and pulled out several more of the nudes, and Fabrizio pointed out the woman in question. They could see that it was a woman, standing without a limb below the knee and supporting herself upon a wooden crutch. It was not that which interested Rose, though. Ruffling through the other sketches, she found the one that Jack had shown her that morning—the one of herself.

She hoped Jack didn't mind them going through his portfolio, praying they wouldn't besmirch them in their excitement.

"He liked her hands,'" Fabrizio told him, in better English than before, to the point that Rose understood his fragmented speaking easier.

"I bet he liked more than her bloody hands or, rather, what she could do with them, eh?" Tommy waggled his eyebrows.

Everything faded for a few seconds more as she touched across the finely charcoaled version of herself that Jack had seen whilst she identified with her; it was as though they were melting away; she was feeling something that resembled freedom. Something that felt so far away from her usual self that it should have frightened her, yet it did not.

As the dance came to an end, Rose gulped more of her ale in the most unladylike manner. Jack had stopped dancing with little Cora, taking her back to Bert and Samantha before he came back to the table. He admired Rose, happy she was finally free, even just for tonight.

He moved his hair from his eyes and approached her with an extended arm, his face glowing with sweat and giddiness.

"Come on, Rose."

She glanced upwards at him, confused.

"Come on."

Hesitantly, she placed her hand into his, unsure why.

"Come, where?" she asked, getting to her feet but trusting him completely.

"Come dance with me."

Jack pulled Rose onto the floor, and she hesitated slightly. Glancing around her, she saw the other people dancing and concluded that she had no clue of the steps or how to conduct herself to this type of sound. The music was fast, and Jack pulled her closer towards him, so much so that she felt the heat from his chest spreading to her own. It was the most intimate they had been.

She only hoped that he couldn't see or feel just how hard her heart was pounding.

"Jack, I can't do this," Rose turned her attention back to him and realised just how close they were. "this was not part of-"

"We're going to have to get a little bit closer…" Jack placed his right hand on the small of her back and pulled her a little closer to him. "Like this."

She was nervously close to him. Picking up her skirts in her right hand, Rose slipped her hand into Jack's again, ignoring her tormented head and heart. One said to run, and one said to follow.

"But Jack, I don't even know the steps." she sputtered as he began to lead her into the middle of the crowd. "I cannot dance when I do not know the steps-"

"Neither do I. We don't need steps. We don't need to be taught how to dance or feel." He shouted above the music. "Just go with it, and don't even think."

Listening to his words, Rose followed his lead and did as he told her. He led her around the floor, and she screamed, having never danced this way before. Dance was usually so highly polished, and the steps perfected to the point where, if one foot was wrong, then she would be scolded. If it were in public, then she would be shamed. Now, though, her feet were all over, treading on Jack's, tripping upon other women's hems and in turn, they stomped on hers, but none of that mattered; none seemed to mind; they were all living in the moment.

She felt her perspiration misting her forehead. Usually, she would feel unsanitary, but instead, she felt so wild and free. Her grip on Jack tightened as he twirled her around, her giggles making his heart soar. As they came to a stop, he pulled her through the crowds of the dancing people onto a stage. She followed him without a second thought.

Glancing out towards the crowd, she noticed the crowd shift their attention to her and Jack. Flicking his hair from his face, Jack proceeded to clog a few steps. Rose watched, having no idea Jack could do such steps, glancing up at his focused face, an amused grin gracing her features.

She recognised them immediately. Pulling off her strappy shoes, she tossed them to a woman in the crowd and lifted the hem of her dress to reveal her legs up to her calves—shocking behaviour in her world. But with her stockinged feet, she continued clogging with Jack. He stopped, clapping along, an amused grin on his face, before clogging with her to their beat.

He then linked her arm with his and danced in a circle before spinning her around faster and faster. She screamed and laughed with joy, never having so much fun in her life. The crowds of people watching were forgotten, and she was only aware of herself and Jack dancing. It was beyond any dance she had ever participated in, beyond any fun she had ever had.

"I need a drink." Rose giggled breathlessly as she whirled around with Jack one final time before almost falling into his arms.

"Steady, all right."

Placing his arm around her shoulder, Jack pulled her through the crowds of people towards their table. Her shoes were lost in the crowd, someplace, carelessly.

Jack found Fabrizio at the table as Tommy handed Rose and Jack another beer.

"How you two doin'?" Jack asked Fabrizio, nodding across to Helga, who had returned to converse with her mother for a moment. Fabrizio shrugged. "I don't know what she's saying, she don't know what I say, so we get along fine."

Jack slapped his back and laughed. "Just dance, it's a common language."

Rose chugged half of her beer, not just because she was thirsty but also because she was feeling gutsy. Jack watched, amused.

"What you think a first-class girl can't drink?"

He was about to respond when Bjorn Gundersen crashed into Tommy, who sloshed his beer over Rose's dress. She gasped at first; it was cold and sticky, but she laughed, not caring. It wasn't as though she needed to look so pristine. Tommy lunged, grabbing Bjorn and wheeling him around.

"You, stupid bastard." Tommy caught his scruff. "Did you not see the lady?"

"Boys, boys. Did I ever tell you the one about the Swede and the Irishman goin' to the whorehouse?" Jack grinned at them both, trying to lighten the mood with an old joke he had already told them. Tommy puffed his chest out, then smiled and clapped Bjorn on the shoulder.

"You owe me four beers. Line them up, and I can letcha' go." Tommy threatened, his finger pointing directly into his nose, red from what alcohol he had consumed prior. Rose watched them, curious. Perhaps men were the same in whatever class they were in. They liked to fight; their egos were boisterous and eager, but they acted no differently from each other.

"So you think you're a big tough man? Let's see you do this."

Rose took the cigarette from Tommy's mouth, taking a long drag.

"Hold my dress, Jack."

Rose thrust the bottom of her dress into his hands, exposing her legs up to her knees. Something like that in her world would certainly ruffle more than a few feathers. In her stockinged feet, she did a ballet stance. She raised her arms and went up on pointe, taking her entire weight on the tips of her toes. The guys gaped at her incredible muscle control.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" someone in the crowd exclaimed.

She received applause before her toes started burning, causing her to lose her balance. She landed backwards in Jack's arms as laughter and claps broke out.

"I haven't done that in years." She laughed, clasping Jack's shoulders tightly. He was sweaty and wet from the spilt drink, and so was she. He came closer to her until their faces were not that far apart. Their intense gaze wasn't unnoticed by Tommy.

"Are you all right?"

"Of course. I am just not as polished at ballet as I once was." Rose moved comfortably within his arms. His scent was not unnoticed, even in the deep crowds.

"Come on, you two. Let's dance."

Tommy cut in, grasped Rose by the hand, and pulled her to the centre of the floor. She found Jack's hand and pulled him along.

"I don't know this song!" Rose shouted above the music and the crowd.

"Neither do I. That is the best part about it."

They danced in a circle, kicking their heels until they became dizzy and breathless. Who knew how much time had passed? Who knew how many ales were drunk? One thing was truly certain: Rose felt at home in this crowd. Felt free. Felt at ease in Jack's arms. The touch of a man's fingers was so delicate and gentle that she could almost feel herself fall into his gaze at times. How could she have grown so attached to a man who she had merely known one day when she was so repulsed by the touch of the very man that she would marry? It was odd, ridiculous even…

"It's almost midnight," Jack whispered into her ear sometime later as the band had grown quiet. Rose felt her stomach sink inwards, not realising they had been below decks for quite this long.

"I must go back."

Jack nodded. "Right."

Rose hesitated for a second, standing before him as he emptied his glass of ale, sensing the tension for a moment as it stretched out tautly.

"All right."

She turned as she went to leave, but he grasped her hand quickly. "Wait, I will walk with you. I cannot just let you go alone."

"You are still behaving like a gentleman." Rose smiled as she came close towards his face.

"No, Rose, that is just me and my principles. A girl should never walk alone at night." His sincerity cut through to her core. "Least of all you."