He was dreaming.
Or, no, he wasn't.
The voices had started out in a bizarre adventure featuring talking hamsters, but they no longer seemed to exist inside his head, but outside it. They had been squeezed out and replaced by an unbearable pain sweeping through his entire body. For the first time in his life Jimmy realized why his dad was so miserable in the mornings, and, quite often, in the afternoons. Too much alcohol. Now Jimmy was suffering from his first hangover. To make matters worse, there was a blinding light coming from the balcony window. And those annoying hamster voices were getting louder, and louder and . . .
Jimmy bolted upright.
Daylight!
I've slept straight through!
Voices, outside in the corridor.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no . . .
My head!
I'm going to throw up!
I'm going to vomit on the bed — and get caught doing it!
Get up!
Jimmy rolled off the bed and staggered to his feet. The cabin seemed to be revolving around him. The voices were so close. He looked about him in panic. It was too late to escape from the room itself. Hide! Somewhere! Anywhere! He stumbled towards the cupboards, then the balcony and the bathroom, but finally threw himself under the bed. He curled himself in a ball and sucked in his breath to try and stop himself from heaving up.
Pass by! Pass by!
But of course they didn't. If they had to choose one cabin on the entire ship to stop at, it just had to be his.
Because he was, of course, Lucky Jimmy Armstrong. So although the ship was supposed to be empty of passengers until she reached Miami, of course the only non-crewmembers on this trip wanted his cabin.
'This is us,' said a man.
'Oh darling, it's wonderful,' said a woman. There was the sound of a kiss, and then the woman's voice grew more serious. She called out to someone else: 'Darling, will you hurry up please?'
'What's the rush?' It was a girl, further away, sounding annoyed.
Jimmy saw two pairs of shoes enter the cabin. One pair sturdy and black, the other slim, red and high- heeled. A few moments later a third pair joined them: trainers, with pink laces.
'Isn't it beautiful, darling?' the woman asked.
'S'all right,' said the girl.
'Your room's just through there,' said the man.
The trainers moved to the right. There was a slight pause, then the girl said: 'Is that it? It's tiny.'
'It's not tiny, darling,' said the mother.
'It's actually extremely large for a cruise ship,' said the father.
'Still small,' said the daughter.
Jimmy squirmed. He just wanted out of there.
'Oh for goodness' sake,' said the father. Jimmy saw the man's shoes move rapidly across and stop at the foot of the bed. 'Look at this.'
'Champagne?' said the mother. Then Jimmy saw her knees as she bent down along the side of the bed. He sucked his breath in. 'Chocolate wrappers. George? And look — someone's been sleeping in my bed!'
The girl laughed.
The mother snapped, 'It isn't funny, Claire.'
But Claire evidently thought it was. 'Someone's been sleeping in my bed!' she mimicked. 'Do you think it was Goldilocks?'
The father tutted. 'Your mother's right, Claire — this just isn't good enough. Someone's head will roll for this. We're moving to a different suite.'
Claire snorted. 'Just straighten the bed and put the wrappers in the bin, Dad.'
'That's not the point,' said the mother. 'This is your daddy's ship, Claire, it has the best of everything. What kind of message does it send when the chief designer and owner comes on board and he's presented with a room full of rubbish?'
'Exactly,' said the father. He marched out of the cabin.
The mother said, 'Claire, you could show a little more interest. This is a big moment for your father.' There was no response. Jimmy suspected there was a shrug. She sounded like a spoiled brat. Jimmy's own shrugs were entirely different, of course. Claire's mother tried again. 'Darling — when you're older you'll look back on this and really appreciate the fact that you were one of the first passengers on the new Titanic. It's an historic moment.'
There was another pause, then Claire said: 'We could have flown.'
'Claire! The mother stomped out of the room.
Claire let out a long, sad sigh before reluctantly following her parents. Jimmy waited until their renewed bickering had faded, then crawled out. He rose gingerly to his feet, feeling dizzy and sick. If this was what alcohol did to you, he was never going near it again. He checked his watch. God almighty! It was after eleven in the morning! The ship and the dock would be a hive of activity! How was he going to get off undetected?
Don't think about it . . . head too sore . . . just do it.
He moved to the door and peered out. The family was just disappearing along the corridor to the right.
Jimmy turned left, and, moving as quickly as his frail condition would allow, came almost immediately to a set of elevators. He pushed the call button.
What was I thinking of? I came on board to scratch my name and teach them a lesson! And I haven't even done that! He felt in his shirt pocket. The lucky penny was still there. I should have thrown it in the sea when I had the chance!
He glanced at the lights above the doors, which showed the elevator moving steadily upwards.
Relax. What have you done that's so wrong? Snuck on to a boat and eaten some chocolate. Drunk some champagne. Ruffled a bed. Hardly the crime of the century.You've nothing to be ashamed of. Hold your head up.
And he would have held it up if he could have. He just felt so ill. The whole ship seemed to vibrate around him.
Ping.
The elevator was empty. Jimmy stepped in, pushed the button for Deck Three, then pushed himself against the back wall as it descended past the shopping mall. For extra protection he shut his eyes, as if somehow his not being able to see anything meant that no one else could see him. He was still half drunk.
Ping.
The doors slid open.
Two men stood opposite him. They wore crisp white short-sleeved shirts with fancy designs on their arms, and black baseball caps.
One was saying, 'But Captain, this is our best opportunity to . . .' but stopped as he saw Jimmy. They both stared at him in confusion.
'Who the hell are you?' the Captain demanded. He was a stout man with a neat grey beard.
Jimmy did his best. He stepped out of the lift and said, 'It's all right, I'm with the school tour.'
It was a gamble. The ship was bound to be having lots of other school tours.
'What school tour?' demanded the other one — a taller, thinner man.
'That one,' said Jimmy and pointed to his left. As the two men turned to look, Jimmy charged off to his right. A moment later they came charging after him, the Captain shouting and his companion yelling into his radio. Jimmy skidded around a corner and ran at full pelt down the corridor. It was busy with crewmen, moving back and forth, in and out of doors, carrying boxes and sacks and wheeling equipment, chatting and singing in half a dozen different languages — and luckily, none of them English. Even as his pursuers shouted after him, Jimmy dodged in and out, in and out, barely changing his pace at all.
I can do this!
I can do it!
The adrenaline was pumping through his body, banishing the headache, quelling the sickness.
Freedom!
Escape!
Jimmy crashed through the doors at the end of the corridor and out on to the deck, then turned frantically, searching for the nearest gangway on to the dock.
But there wasn't one.
For the simple reason that there was no dock.
In fact, there was no land.
The Titanic was at sea, steaming fast for America.