The long straight corridors were perfectly suited to a speeding wheelchair. Jimmy had to run at full pelt just to keep up. Scoop finally ushered him into a suite on the eighth floor. There was no bed or cupboards or mini bar, instead almost the entire floor space was covered by large cardboard boxes.
'OK,' said Scoop, 'here's the story. Our passengers want to wake up in the morning and have a newspaper waiting outside their door, just like at home. So that's what I do — I write, edit, design and print a daily newspaper. It's a mix of news from the countries the passengers come from — mostly America — and stories about the ship, interesting passengers, profiles of the crew, that kind of thing. It's only small — eight, twelve, sometimes sixteen pages — but it's important; helps people feel that they're not entirely cut off from the outside world.'
'Can't they just switch the telly on?'
'We're in the middle of the ocean, there's no signal. The telly plays tapes we bring with us, mostly old TV shows, and documentaries about the islands the cruise visits. If they want news, it comes from me. Been doing it on different Stanford cruise ships for twenty-five years, son. Ever since I lost these.' He tapped his — well, no legs.
'It wasn't Pedroza, then.'
'I lost them in the first Gulf War. Do you remember that?'
'Before my time.'
'The Daily Express managed to get me a place on an aircraft carrier. It was to be my first time as a war correspondent. I was so excited when they told me, I was planning to run all the way home to tell my wife. Except I got knocked down by a taxi on the way. It smashed my legs up so badly I had to have them amputated.'
Jimmy didn't know what to say to that. He was actually struggling not to laugh. Sometimes you just can't help yourself. He tried to cover it by nodding at the boxes and saying, 'So what's the deal with this lot?'
'You know anything about computers?'
'Some.'
'Used a screwdriver before?'
'Now and again.'
'Ever wired a plug?'
'Sure.'
'All right then! I need these boxes opened and everything set up. It's a pain in the arse trying to do it from a chair. So you can start by sorting this lot out for me.'
Jimmy looked at the boxes, then back to Scoop. 'I'm not some kind of unpaid slave, you know.'
Scoop thought about that for a moment, and then said, 'Yes you are.'
***
Jimmy was disruptive, unruly and disrespectful. He didn't like being told what to do. But if he was interested in something, he gave it everything. He was also good with his hands — had to be, really, as there was never much money around at home. So if he wanted something, he built it himself. He'd created a motorcycle out of parts other people had thrown away and he'd built a tree house that was more like a fortress, complete with electric lights and a fridge. He could do things if you left him alone to get on with them and didn't breathe down his neck, particularly if he saw some value in it. Working for Scoop in exchange for a free cruise made sense to him.
Scoop himself wasn't entirely convinced, so he positioned himself at the end of the corridor to make sure Jimmy didn't slip out and lose himself in the depths of the ship again. But the office door remained closed, and when he re-entered after an hour he was genuinely surprised to find that all the work had been completed. Two desks were up, each with a computer and scanner on top, both switched on and apparently fully functioning; the printer was set up, there was a column of printer paper sitting beside it; a filing cabinet was screwed to the wall; and all of the packaging had been folded and neatly stacked in one corner, awaiting removal. Jimmy was sitting at one of the computers, installing a program.
'I didn't think you'd even have the boxes open,' said Scoop. Jimmy shrugged. 'This is fantastic.'
'So what now?' Jimmy asked.'There's no passengers on board yet, so do you just sit on your arse until we arrive in Miami?' He said it without really thinking. 'I mean, you've no alternative but to sit on your arse, but is this all your work done?'
Scoop exploded in laughter. 'Hardly started, son, hardly started! What we have to do now is make sure it's all working, start making up a few dummy papers, print them up, pass them around, get feedback. Each ship has its own design, you see, its own character, and that has to be reflected in the newspaper, so the sooner we . . .'
Jimmy held up a hand. 'You keep saying we. Who exactly are you talking about?'
'Well, you and me.'
'I opened the boxes, I set up your gear. I thought that was it.'
'Well — I thought you might want to help with putting the paper together.'
'Why?'
Scoop folded his hands in his lap. He looked towards the balcony, and the grey sea beyond. 'Because I can't do it myself. You see, lad—'
There was a sudden sharp rap on the door. Scoop, seeing the panic in Jimmy's eyes, held up a calming hand. 'It's all right,' he said quietly. 'I ordered some food for you. Still — best if you slip into the bathroom until the coast is clear.'
Jimmy hid himself, but kept the door open just a fraction.
Scoop positioned himself at one of the desks, with his back to the door. 'Enter!' As the door opened he said, 'If you just put it down over . . .' but as he glanced around he saw what Jimmy had already seen: Claire, the surly teenager with the pink laces. Her black hair hung down over one eye and she was chewing gum. She hardly even looked at Scoop as she spoke, preferring instead to study her bright pink fingernails.
'Dad ordered me to come down to give you a hand unpack— oh.' She had looked up, finally. 'It's done.'
'Yes, Claire, all finished.'
'You did all this?'
'No. I had a team of elves to help me. Am I right in thinking your dad ordered you to come down yesterday to help me?'
'Yeah, well, I was busy.'
'I'm sure you were.'
'That it then?'
'Yes, Claire.'
'All right. See you.'
She shrugged and turned out of the cabin. Scoop waited until he was sure she was gone, then called Jimmy out of the bathroom. 'Sorry about that. The owner's daughter.' He shook his head and sighed. 'And to think that one day she'll inherit all of this . . .' Scoop waved vaguely. 'She'll probably paint it pink.'
Jimmy sat on the edge of one of the desks and folded his arms. He wasn't the slightest bit interested in hearing about Claire Stanford. 'So why can't you put the paper together yourself?'
'Well. It's like this, Jimmy — this is my final trip for the company, my job is just to set up the newspaper here on the Titanic like I have on every other ship the Stanfords own, then hand over the reins to the new man when we arrive in Miami. There's a nice big company pension waiting for me if I can get through this trip, as I'll have completed my twenty-five years of service. But if for any reason I don't complete the voyage, then I'll get nothing. It's just the way big companies run. Anyway, the thing is, I don't know if I can do it. I'm just not well, son. It's not the legs, I'm used to them being gone, it's the other stuff — my blood pressure's bad, Jimmy, I've a real shake in my hands, and my eyes go all cloudy and I can't concentrate for more than . . . anyway, the truth is, I lied to the doctors before we set off. I told them I was fine, but I'm not. If you don't help me do this then I won't have a leg to stand on.' He thought about that for a moment. 'Or two, for that matter. Jimmy, I want you to help me run the paper. You'll do a bit of everything — find stories, write them up, design the pages, print it. Will you do it, Jimmy, will you help me?'
'No.'
'Aw Jimmy — why not? You could do it, easy.'
'Look, I'm sorry, all right? I'd be . . . useless, you know?'
'But how do you know?'
Jimmy shrugged. 'I just know. All right?'
Scoop rolled a little closer. His voice softened. 'You got expelled, didn't you?'
'How'd . . .?'
'It was on the report they sent with the photo. What'd you get expelled for?'
'For being stupid.'
'Ah, nonsense!' erupted Scoop. 'You're not stupid, Jimmy! Not stupid thick anyway. Stupid headstrong probably; stupid I always know best maybe.'
Jimmy gave the smallest shrug.
'Jimmy, son, that's the kind of stupid that gets things done, that changes things. They call people stupid when they just don't understand them. Guy that came up with the wheel, they probably called him stupid. Guy that invented aspirin, they probably told him he was thick. Photography, there's a stupid mistake, if ever there was one, and where would we be without it? Do you understand what I'm saying? You can do this, Jimmy, I know you can. It's your chance to prove to yourself that you're not the sort of kid they say you are. So are you on, Jimmy? Will we do this together?'
'No,' said Jimmy.
'I'll pay you,' said Scoop.
'OK,' said Jimmy.