'Sure I'm sure. Just . . . keep your distance. And . . . uh . . . sorry about hitting you . . .'
Jimmy got to his feet. 'Thanks, mate,' he said, then tramped slowly back up the flight of stairs. He stopped when he reached the landing and looked back down at the boy, who was still watching him with a look of genuine horror. 'Oh . . . Ty, is it?' The boy nodded. 'Ty . . . I just wanted to say — SUCKER!'
Jimmy laughed, and fled. This time there was no catching him.
17
The Editor of the Titanic Times
Jimmy sought refuge in a lifeboat on the top deck where he and Claire had hidden out earlier. Through a small gap in the covers he was able to keep an eye on Ty Warner, who was patrolling relentlessly. It had clearly gone beyond a stolen T-shirt now. Next time they met there'd be no tears or lies or calling anyone a sucker. There would be extreme violence.
He was just beginning to nod off when he was roused by an announcement over the PA system:
'Could James Armstrong please report to the newspaper office.'
Oh sure. Like I'm going to fall for that one.
Ten minutes later it was made again: but this time it was Claire's voice. And she added, 'Really; it's fine.'
Oh yeah. Right. You're being forced to call me in. Blackmailed by your own dad. He wondered what she'd sold him out for. A shopping trip in Miami? Another new pony?
'Would James Armstrong report to the newspaper office immediately . . .'
Not more than three seconds later the covers of the lifeboat were ripped back, and there was First Officer Jeffers glaring down at him.
She had given him up!
The little—
Jeffers grabbed him and hauled him out. He plonked him down on the deck. 'All right, Jimmy, let's go . . .'
Jimmy shuffled forward reluctantly. 'You never would have got me if she hadn't—'
'Just keep moving.'
As they walked towards the elevators Ty Warner stepped out of a doorway and followed along behind. 'He stole my T-shirt . . .' he started.
'He's done a lot of things,' said Jeffers.
'Want my T-shirt back.'
'Leave your name with Customer Services; I'll make sure you get it.'
'Want it now.'
'Well you can't have it now.'
Ty stood sullenly behind them while they waited for the elevator. When it arrived he waited until the doors started to close before stepping in after them. 'It's my favourite T-shirt.'
'What are you, six years old?' said Jimmy.
'Quiet, Jimmy!' said Jeffers.
'Is it like your blanky?'
'I said, quiet.'
'What're you going to do, arrest me?'
Jeffers sighed.
'I want my shirt,' saidTy.
'I've told you. Report it to Customer Services, you'll get it—'
'I think you are gay,' said Jimmy.
'I said quiet, and I won't say it again!'
Jimmy shrugged.
'I want my—' Ty began.
'You too!' bellowed Jeffers.
Ty looked genuinely shocked. 'You can't talk to me like that!'
The elevator doors opened and Jeffers pushed Jimmy out in front of him. They were on the same floor as the newspaper office. 'Where are we going?' Jimmy asked.
'Just keep moving.'
'What about my T-shirt?' Ty asked.
Jeffers ignored him. As they progressed on down the corridor, Ty gradually fell behind. 'I'm going to tell my mom on you!' he shouted after them.
'You're a big girl's blouse!' Jimmy shouted back, and got a shove in the back for his trouble.
Jeffers stopped him outside the newspaper office. 'In here,' he said, and pushed the door open.
There she was — the betrayer. Claire sat on the edge of one of the desks; she looked sheepishly at him. There was no sign of the editor.
'Thanks a lot,' spat Jimmy. 'I hope your ponies die in a horrific traffic accident.'
'Jimmy . . .'
'I'm not talking to you.' He turned to Jeffers. 'So?'
'The new editor of the Titanic Times wanted a look at you. He's in the bathroom. Go in and see him.'
'Yeah, right.'
Jimmy stood where he was.
'Jimmy, please . . .' said Claire.
'I told you, I'm not talking to you.'
Jimmy looked towards the bathroom. 'What's he doing, a poo?'
Ty was back, standing in the open doorway. 'I want my T-shirt.'
Jeffers rolled his eyes. 'Go away,' he said, and pushed the door shut. He turned back to Jimmy and nodded at the bathroom.
Jimmy tutted. 'Better than looking at you two.' He strode into the bathroom.
It was empty.
'Turn to your left,' Claire called.
'What?' There was only a mirror.
'You're looking at the new editor of the Titanic Times!
Jimmy looked at his own reflection for a moment, then swiftly turned back out into the office. 'What the hell are you talking about?'
Jeffers was smiling. So was Claire. She clapped her hands together. 'Jimmy! We're serious! The new guy didn't get on in Miami! No one else knows how to put the paper together! The Captain says you have to do it until the end of the cruise or the end of the world, whichever comes first!'
Jimmy looked from one to the other. 'You've got to be joking!'
There was a knock on the door. 'I want my T-shirt!'
18
Ty
They weren't joking.
Jeffers pulled out a chair for Jimmy to sit down. 'Guy called Travers was supposed to be doing this. He did actually get on board, but then he got right off again, said his parents were sick and couldn't leave them. So we're stuck. Fact is, Jimmy, the passengers go nuts if they don't get their fix of news in the morning, especially with what's going on at home. So we want you to do it. With Claire's help.'
Jimmy nodded at Claire. 'Was this your idea?'
Claire smiled again. 'I came down here and he . . .' she nodded at Jeffers,' . . . was trying to put a paper together, but he hadn't a clue.'
'It's harder than it looks,' agreed Jeffers.
'So I told him you were the only one who really knew how to do it.'
'It makes sense, Jimmy,' said Jeffers. 'I checked it with the Captain and he checked it with Mr Stanford, and they both agreed. It's yours if you want it, until the end of the cruise.'
Jimmy examined his fingernails. This was indeed a surprising turnaround in his fortunes. And, as his granda had often told him, it was important to make hay while the sun shone. 'So,' he said, 'how much do I get paid?'
Jeffers burst out laughing. 'What? You're lucky we don't toss you in the brig and throw the key away!'
Jimmy smiled indulgently. 'No, really. How much?'
'Jimmy . . .' said Claire, 'they're letting you—'
'I may be a stowaway, Claire, but I'm not a slave. I'll expect to be paid whatever whatshisname, Travers, was going to be paid.'
'You're only a kid!' Jeffers bellowed.
'Then stop exploiting me and pay me a fair wage!'
Jeffers put his hands on his hips. 'You, sir, have a brass neck.'
'Yeah, I know,' said Jimmy.
***
Jeffers told them he'd have to check with the Captain, but in the meantime could they please get started on the newspaper. Jeffers pulled his cap down hard, and was just leaving the office when Jimmy said, 'And Claire will have to be paid as well.' Jeffers took a deep breath and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Claire immediately burst into laughter. 'You have such a nerve, Jimmy Armstrong.'
'It's James, when I'm working.'