Titanic 2020

Jeffers' eyes locked with Jimmy's. 'Those are the Captain's orders,' he repeated.

'What's wrong with you?' Claire asked. 'You're usually so enthusiastic.'

Jimmy shrugged. They were back in the office, working. His heart wasn't in it. He loved the paper, but he didn't like what he was writing. 'I just think it's wrong. Look at this — I'm writing about the fortress of San Cristobal and how wonderful it would be to visit and all the jewellery shops and . . . what's the point? There aren't going to be any tours of the island.'

'You don't know that, Jimmy.'

'Claire — the hospital is full of dead bodies; the Captain won't let us look at the Internet because it might be too horrific and they don't seem to be able to get any sense out of anyone in San Juan. Do you really think anyone at all is going to be interested in going sightseeing? Ty — have you any interest at all in visiting an old fort or buying cheap jewellery?'

Ty, who was replenishing paper supplies for the printer, nodded across. 'Yes, please,' he said.

Claire smiled.

'It can't be any worse than being here,' said Ty.

'Can't it? We're on a nice ship, we have lots of food, but who knows what it's like on the island? We don't know anything about this virus! For all we know anyone who dies from it turns into a blood-sucking zombie!' Jimmy cleared his throat. 'Although obviously your parents won't have . . .' Jimmy sighed. 'Look, my point is, we shouldn't be writing this crap. We should be writing the truth. We shouldn't be hiding things from people. We should be recording what's actually happening, not ignoring it or hiding it.'

'Like a proper newspaper,' said Claire.

'Exactly. We should have photographs of the conditions in the hospital, we should have interviews with the doctors, we should have reports from every city every passenger comes from. We should . . . tell the truth.'

'Captain Smith would never approve it. He'd just tear it up again.'

'Then we make two papers — one for him and one for the rest of the ship.'

Claire's eyes narrowed. 'What?'

'Why not? We have all the equipment here. We can write it, print it up and distribute it around the ship, and hopefully enough passengers will get to read it before he catches on.'

'Jimmy — Mr Jeffers was worried about the passengers staging a mutiny. But this is a mutiny. And what if the passengers mutiny because of what we write?'

They debated it back and forth. One moment Claire was keen, the next she was frightened, then she felt disloyal, then she felt indignant that they were being made to mislead people.

'Look Jimmy, it's all right for you, you've nothing to lose. But this is my dad's ship! I can't—'

'Do anything in case he doesn't buy you another pony?'

'That's not fair!'

'But true. I wouldn't worry about it, Claire, the ponies're probably all dead anyway.'

'Jimmy!'

'Oh yeah. Lying in a field just rotting away . . .'

Claire jumped to her feet. 'You . . . you . . . you're just evil, Jimmy Armstrong!'

She stormed out of the office.

Jimmy drummed his fingers on the table.

'That wasn't very clever,' said Ty.

Jimmy had a long history of annoying people. He wanted to say something smart and cutting back to Ty, but nothing smart and cutting would come. So he just said, 'Shut your cake hole,' and went after Claire.

***

He guessed right. She was going to see her parents. There is no accounting for the way the human mind works the world was in the grip of a deadly plague, but tor the moment she was more concerned about her ponies.

Jimmy caught up with her just as she was approaching their cabin.

'Claire!' She stopped and glared back at him. He came right up. 'I'm sorry.'

'For what?' Claire snapped back.

'For saying that.'

'For saying what?'

'Whatever I said.'

'You don't even know what you said.'

'Yes I do.'

'What, then?'

'All that stuff. Look, does it matter, I'm apologizing!'

Claire took a deep breath. She looked at the carpet. 'I'm sorry for running off. I'm just scared.'

'I'm sure the ponies are fine.'

'It's not just them. It's . . . everything.'

'I know. I'm the same. I'm too scared to even try and contact my parents in case I hear something I don't want to hear.'

'You should call them.' Claire turned to the door, but before she opened it she looked back at him. 'Come with me.'

'Are you sure?'

'Sure. If I start acting stupid, give me a kick.'

'With pleasure.'

Claire smiled and opened the door. She had the briefest glimpse of her father lying on the bed, fully clothed, his eyes wide and staring, before her mother hurried across and pushed her back out. Then she stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind her.

'Is Daddy . . . is he . . . does he have the . . .?'

'No . . . of course not, Claire, he's just . . . resting.' She looked tearful. 'Walk with me, dear.'

If she even noticed Jimmy, she didn't say. He fell in behind them as they moved along the corridor.

'What's wrong, Mummy?' Claire asked.

'Daddy's worried about the fleet, that's all.'

Claire had patiently explained to Jimmy that her family didn't just own the Titanic, but a fleet of nine cruise ships, all of which operated out of Miami.

'Why, what's happened?'

Mrs Stanford refused to answer until they'd arrived at the champagne bar on Level Twelve. She ordered the most expensive bottle they had left. The waiter told them that passengers had been going mad for it. 'They're spending all their money in case . . . you know . . .' He trailed off when he saw Mrs Stanford's frosty look. He poured her a glass and brought it on a tray with the bottle and an ice bucket over to the only free table. Jimmy had been in bars before, either with his dad or trying to get his dad out of one, but this was the quietest one he'd ever been in. People were drunk, but miserable and silent.

Claire's mother took a long drink. 'Well,' she said, 'that's better. Life always seems better with a little glass of champagne.'

'Mum — the fleet.'

'The fleet. Well, Claire, as you know, the company decided to continue with the cruise schedule despite this . . . flu . . . in the hope that it would soon pass and everything would get back to normal. Six of the nine ships put to sea, but unfortunately we seem to have lost contact with four of them.'

'What do you mean, lost contact?'

'What I say, dear. They're gone. Disappeared. There are still three in port, of course — although one of them is on fire. Your father saw it on a news report on his computer. He's quite devastated. He says we're ruined. I prefer to look on it as a little hiccup.' She took another long sip of her champagne, draining the glass. She set it down. 'We're Stanfords, after all, we always bounce back.' She stood up, then lifted the champagne bottle out of the bucket. 'I'll just take this back to share with your father — the room service is so dreadfully slow.'

She started to walk away. She gave Jimmy a rather frosty smile as she passed.

'Mum!'

Mrs Stanford stopped. Claire came running up and gave her a hug.

'Oh! Dear, what was that for?'

'Just.'

'Well — that's nice.'

'Mum, can I ask you something?'

'Of course, dear.'

'If there's bad news, do you think it's better to tell someone straight, or to keep it from them so they won't feel miserable?'

'Well — I think you should always tell the truth. When you start to tell fibs it invariably makes matters worse. Why do you ask?'

'Oh — no reason. Love you, Mum.'

Mrs Stanford smiled. She started to turn again, then paused. 'That reminds me. I did tell you about the ponies, didn't I?'