‘It’s cockney rhyming slang for word.’
‘What’s a cockney?’
‘Someone who’s born within the sound of Bow bells.’
‘Where are these Bow bells?’
‘No idea. But Fergal will know.’
‘Are there any English passengers on board?’ asked Elena.
‘Only four, and they rarely speak to each other, let alone anyone as lowly as a waiter. They’re standoffish.’
‘I’ve never heard that word before.’
‘Fergal uses it a lot, particularly when he’s talking about the English. I looked it up in the dictionary. It means distant and cold in manner, unfriendly.’
‘Perhaps they’re just shy,’ suggested Elena.
With only three days to go before the ship was due to dock in Southampton, the chef informed Elena that Mr Hallett, the purser, wished to see her when she came off duty.
‘What have I done wrong?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Nothing. In fact I suspect the exact opposite.’
Once the cook had released the kitchen staff for the afternoon, Elena went straight to the purser’s office. She knocked on the door, and when she heard a voice say, ‘Come,’ she walked in to find two men seated on either side of a large desk. They both rose, and the purser, dressed in a smart white uniform with two gold stripes on the sleeves, waited for her to be seated before he introduced Mr Moretti, and explained that he was a passenger who had asked to meet her.
Elena took a closer look at the elderly gentleman dressed in a three-piece suit. He addressed her in English with a slight accent that she couldn’t place. He asked her about her work in Leningrad, and how she had ended up on board the ship. She told him almost everything that had happened during the past month, including how her husband had died, but didn’t mention why her son had nearly killed the local head of the KGB. By the time Mr Moretti came to the end of his questions, Elena had no idea what sort of impression she’d made, although he did give her a warm smile.
‘Thank you, Mrs Karpenko,’ said Mr Hallett, ‘that will be all for now.’ Both men rose again as she left the office.
She returned to her cabin in a daze, to find Sasha waiting for her. Once she had told him about her interview with Mr Moretti, he said, ‘That must be the Italian gentleman who owns a restaurant in somewhere called Fulham. I know he’s also asked to see the chef and Fergal, so keep your fingers crossed, Mama.’
‘Why Fergal?’
‘He wants to know how I’m getting on in the dining room. I think he’s hoping to get two for the price of one. So Fergal’s going to tell him I’m the best assistant steward he’s ever had.’
‘You’re the only assistant he’s ever had.’
‘A minor detail that Fergal will not be mentioning.’
The meetings with the chef and Fergal must have gone well, because Mr Moretti asked to see Elena a second time, and offered her a job at his restaurant in Fulham.
‘Ten pounds a week, with accommodation above the premises,’ he said.
Elena had no idea where Fulham was, or if it was a good wage, but she happily accepted the only offer she was likely to get, if they didn’t want to go straight back to Leningrad.
The purser then proceeded to ask her several more questions about why she was seeking asylum, while he filled out a long official Home Office form. Once he’d double-checked each entry, he and Mr Moretti signed on the bottom line, having agreed to act as her sponsors.
‘Good luck, Mrs Karpenko,’ said the purser as he handed the completed form to Mr Moretti. ‘We will all miss you, and if things don’t work out, you can always get a job with the Barrington Line.’
‘That’s kind of you,’ responded Elena.
‘But for your sake, let’s hope not, Mrs Karpenko. Before you leave, don’t forget to collect your wages.’
‘You’re going to pay me as well?’ said Elena in disbelief.
‘Of course.’ The purser handed her two brown envelopes. He then walked to the door of his office, opened it and said, ‘Let’s hope we never see you again, Mrs Karpenko.’
‘Thank you, Mr Hallett,’ said Elena, who stood on her toes and kissed him on both cheeks, which left the purser speechless.
She went straight to her cabin, keen to let Sasha know about the offer. When she opened the door, she was both surprised and delighted. Delighted to find her son waiting for her, but surprised to see a large parcel on the bed.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, taking a closer look at the bulging package wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string.
‘I have no idea,’ said Sasha, ‘but it was there when I came off work.’
Elena undid the string and slowly removed the wrapping paper. She gasped when she saw all the clothes that spilled out onto the bed, along with a card that read, Thank you both, and good luck. It was signed by every member of the crew, including the captain. Elena burst into tears. ‘How can we ever pay them back?’
‘By being model citizens, if I remember the captain’s exact words,’ said Sasha.
‘But we’re not even citizens yet, and will remain stateless until the immigration authorities are convinced that we’re genuine political refugees, and have real jobs to go to.’
‘Then let’s hope that they’re a bit more friendly than the English passengers on board, because if they aren’t, we’re about to find out the true meaning of the word “standoffish”.’
‘The chef’s also English,’ said Elena, ‘and he couldn’t have been kinder. He even apologized for not being able to act as one of my sponsors.’
‘He daren’t risk it,’ said Sasha. ‘There’s a warrant out for his arrest. Whenever the ship docks in Southampton, he has to remain on board. Fergal tells me he locks himself in the kitchen and doesn’t reappear until they’ve left the harbour.’
‘Poor man,’ said Elena.
Sasha decided not to tell his mother the reason the British police wanted to arrest Eddie.
Elena and Sasha joined Mr Moretti on the passenger deck the following morning, but not before Sasha had vacuumed the dining room, and Elena had left the kitchen spotless.
‘Magnifico,’ said Moretti, when he saw Elena in her new dress. ‘When did you find time to go shopping?’ he teased.
‘The crew have been so generous,’ said Elena. ‘But don’t say anything about Sasha’s jeans,’ she whispered. ‘Fergal isn’t quite as tall as him, and he’s still growing.’
Mr Moretti smiled as Sasha leant over the railings and watched two dockers winding one of the ship’s heavy ropes around a bollard and tying it fast.
‘Let’s hope the immigration authorities are equally understanding,’ said Moretti, as he picked up his bags and headed for the gangway with Elena and Sasha in his wake. ‘But you have one thing going for you — the British hate the communists every bit as much as you do.’
‘Do you think they’ll let us in?’ asked Elena anxiously as they stepped onto the dockside.
‘Thanks to the purser, we can be confident that all the necessary forms have been correctly filled in, so we’ll just have to cross our fingers.’
‘Cross our fingers?’ repeated Sasha.
‘Hope we get lucky,’ said Moretti. ‘Now remember, Sasha, don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, and if the immigration officer asks you a question, just say yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir.’
Elena burst out laughing. Sasha couldn’t stop looking around him as they walked along the dockside. Some buildings looked as if they’d been built quite recently, while others had just about survived the war. The locals appeared to be relaxed, and no one had their head bowed, while the women were dressed in colourful clothes and chatted to the men as if they were equals. Sasha had already decided he wanted to live in this country.