"I'll not want to be waiting here too long, sir," said the chauffeur, inclining his head uncomfortably across the terrace towards a gang of small boys with patched and baggy shorts, who were whistling and shouting and kicking an empty tomato tin around on the pavement. "A motor like this is a red rag to scruffs like them. Last time I stopped in Bootle some little blighter rubbed a sheet of wet-and-dry all the way down the bonnet, begging your pardon."
"We won't be long," Edgar assured him. He waited patiently in his seat while the chauffeur walked around the car to open the door for him. Then he stepped down, and held out his hand to Catriona.
"I've never been down here before," said Catriona, and she rather wished that she wasn't here now. She stood in the late-afternoon sunlight smelling the curious aroma of coal fires, boiling vegetables, sweat, cats, and stale hallways. A man walking down the other side a with his hands in his pockets stopped and stared at her openly.
"Percy Fearson is really your man when it comes to a guided tour him," said Edgar. "But come with me; let me show you something."
They walked down a few doors, until they reached No. 17. There was a peeling maroon-painted door, left ajar to catch the last of the sun, and on the doorstep sat an old woman in a flowery-print housecoat, knitting with knobby arthritic fingers.
"Hello, grandmama," said Edgar. "Is Mrs Colehill in?"
"Hello, Mr Deacon, sir," replied the old woman, toothlessly. "Fine afternoon, sir. Good for me bones."
"Is Mrs Colehill in?" Edgar repeated, louder.
"In the back, Mr Deacon, sir. Beating the rug."
"Follow me, Miss Keys," Edgar asked her, and led the way through a narrow hallway with crumbling plaster and brown wallpaper that smelled of kippers and mould. Catriona glanced anxiously into the a parlour. There was a dilapidated sofa sprouting horsehair, and sheets of newspaper on the floor. Two kittens dashed from one side of the newspaper to the other. On the wall was a picture of Jesus smiling beatifically into the middle distance.
They walked through the kitchen. A single green-corroded faucet dripped stains into a sink that was beyond cleaning. On a shelf above the sink was the family's entire larder: a tin of Rowntree's Cocoa, a small jar of Marmite yeast extract, a half-empty tin of Hartley's him jam, a packet of tea, a saucer of cooking-fat, a piece of sweaty Cheddar, and a bottle of HP sauce.
Through the misted glass of the back window, Catriona could see a thin ferret-faced woman beating a worn-out rug with a carpet-beater. A small boy stood dutifully beside her, in a skimpy green sweater with holes at the elbows and boots without laces. A ten-month-old baby banged a wooden spoon in imitation of his mother.
Edgar called, "Mrs. Colehill?"
The woman stopped beating and turned to see who it was.
"Mrs. Colehill, it's Mr. Deacon. I told your Ernest that I'd stop by, just to speak to you. I've brought Miss Keys with me."
"Oh," said Mrs Colehill, flustered. She came into the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. The boy followed her, pinched and silent. "You should have let me know, I'd have had some cake."
She shook Catriona's hand, and bobbed a little curtsy. "I was ever so upset to hear about Mr Stanley," she said. "It was ever so young to go, wasn't it? We're all right sorry."
"Thank you," said Catriona, gently.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Mrs Colehill asked them. "It won't take a minute to put the kettle on."
"That's quite all right, Mrs Colehill," said Edgar. "We have to get down to the pier in a very short while. I just wanted Miss Keys to meet some of the important people in Keys Shipping before she meets the ones who only think that they're important. Mr. Colehill is one of our riggers, Miss Keys; been at Keys for nine years, longer than I have."
"I suppose he's down at the landing-stage, seeing the Arcadia off," said Catriona. "He must be just as excited as I am."
"Well, he would have given his right arm to have sailed on her, seeing as how he worked so hard on her; but of course you couldn't take along every Tom, Dick, and Harry who wanted a free trip, could you?"
There was no sarcasm in her voice at all. Edgar reached out and held her arm solicitously, and said, "Tell Mr. Colehill not to worry. We'll find a place on the Arcadia for him sooner or later. And remember that Mr. Keys promised a one-pound bonus for every man who worked on the ship when she arrives in New York, and two pounds if she takes the Blue Riband."
"Well," said Mrs. Colehill, smiling respectfully at Catriona, "that'll come in handy. A pound's a pound, after all; and it isn't easy for anyone to make ends meet these days, is it? Don't think that I'm complaining, mind. Two pounds sixteen shillings the week is good money by any standards. There's plenty who have to make do with less."
Edgar nodded towards the pale young boy in the torn green sweater. "How's young Godfrey?"
"Making progress, thank you, sir. The doctor says he should be well enough to go back to school in a month or so, after the summer holidays perhaps."
"How do you feel, Godfrey?" asked Edgar sharply. Godfrey said nothing, but hid his face behind his mother's skirts.
Edgar smiled, and reached into his pocket for sixpence, which he held out to Godfrey as bait to come out into the open.
"Perhaps I should explain that young Godfrey was suffering from a severe case of rickets," Edgar said to Catriona, still smiling, still teasing the boy with the silvery sixpence. "It's quite common here in the backs; what with the lack of fresh air in the winter, and the poor diet that many of our lower-paid workers have to put up with. If only the company could afford to pay them more. But young Godfrey's condition came to your father's personal attention, and he paid for Godfrey out of his own money to be treated by a specialist in Manchester, and for a regular supply of fresh milk and cod-liver oil to be delivered here to improve his health."
Mrs. Colehill said earnestly, "If it hadn't have been for your father, miss, he might never have walked. As it is, he's going to be handy; but his Da says that he could always be a jockey, seeing as how his legs would fit around an "orse."
Catriona leaned forward and held out her hand. Godfrey watched her suspiciously at first, but at last he reached out with his own thin a hand and took it.
"It's been lovely to meet you, Godfrey," she said gently. "When I come back from New York, I'll bring you a present. What would you like more than anything else in the world?"
"Come on, chuck," his mother chided him. "What would you like for a present from America? Miss Keys won't buy you nothing at all unless you tell her what you want."
Godfrey cleared his throat, and then he whispered, "Raspberry junket."
Catriona said, "Is that all? No toys?"
"A lead sailor, if they do them, please."
"A lead sailor and a raspberry junket?"
Godfrey nodded.
Catriona squeezed his hand and kissed his forehead and said, "If that's what you want, that's exactly what you shall have."
They talked to Mrs Colehill for a few minutes about the baby, who was sleeping badly; but then Edgar took out his pocket-watch and said that they would have to be leaving if they were going to get to the landing-stage on time. Mrs. Colehill bobbed Catriona another curtsy, and then they left, and walked back up the street to where the chauffeur was zealously standing guard over the Rolls-Royce.
Edgar said, as they approached the car, "I expect you're wondering why I brought you here."
Catriona looked at him. "You said it was to show me who the really important people were."
"Yes, well it was. Well, partly. It was also to show you where your father always believed our responsibilities lay. You see, your father and I spent a great deal of time together. We became very tight chums, don't y'know, and I learned after a number of years what really made him tick. Apart from being a remarkable engineer, and a well-respected commander, he was also a philanthropist. He believed that his duty in life was to help the human race, rich and poor, and that no enterprise should be undertaken unless it eventually produced some ultimate benefit for the world as a whole."