Chapter 8
Banished from Alec’s side, Daisy felt rather at loose ends. She wondered what she could do that would help him without irritating him.
Or perhaps irritation was an efficacious remedy against sea-sickness.
At least she might try to get a physical description of Mr. Denton to see if he could possibly have been mistaken for Riddman.
The latter, she recalled, was tall and thin.
His darkish hair had been sleeked back, and he was very well dressed—unlikely to be true of Denton.
But if Denton had put on an overcoat and hat, as instructed by his wife, the pomaded hair and perfect evening togs would be hidden, so to speak.
Denton had gone up to smoke his pipe. Did Riddman ever smoke a pipe? He looked more the cigarette or cigar type. Brenda would know, of course, but if there was anything in the theory at all, she was probably involved. Alec would be simply livid if Daisy put her on the qui vive.
The first thing was to establish whether Denton was tall and thin.
Mrs. Denton should be sleeping. Daisy didn’t want to ask the steward she had had to put in his place. Dr. Amboyne was
the man to approach. She knew him, and he knew Alec was supposed to be investigating, semi-officially.
In the waiting room, a fair, plump woman in nurse’s uniform, crackling with starch, was putting sticking plaster on the forehead of the small boy who had been having such fun with his toy car. Daisy sat down and waited patiently.
“You want to be careful in these seas, Mrs. Beale,” the nurse said to the child’s mother. “Don’t take Bennie out on the open deck. Little kiddies lose their balance that easy, and we don’t want him sliding over the edge, do we?”
“It’s criminal,” said Mrs. Beale fiercely in a rather adenoidal voice, “the way there’s that great gap below the bottom rail. Why, anyone might slide through.”
“Well, we haven’t lost anyone that way yet.”
“I’m going to get my husband to write to the steamship company. They ought to put in a solid barrier.”
“Oh, they can’t do that. They have to be able to sluice down the deck, and then think what’d happen when the seas come over.
” The nurse laughed merrily. “My heavens, you’d have water sloshing back and forth with no way out, and then sometimes when the waves are big we get fishes and octopuses, even sharks landing on the deck.
Wouldn’t want them barricaded in, would you? ”
Mrs. Beale gaped at her, appalled. “Waves come over the promenade deck?”
“Not often,” the nurse disclaimed hastily.
“Gosh, Mummy, I hope a octopus comes and I can catch it and keep it for a pet!”
“You are not going out on deck unless there’s a dead calm, young man. And don’t say ‘gosh.’ Thank Nurse nicely and come along now.”
They left, and the nurse turned to Daisy.
“Do you really get sea creatures landing on deck?” Daisy asked.
“Oh yes, madam. Not that often though. I wanted to make sure Mrs. Beale doesn’t take the little one out.
You never can tell what some mothers’ll do, ’specially when they’re used to a nanny, but I didn’t reckon on the young limb wanting to take home an octopussy for a pet.
” She laughed again. “Fancy that! I hope I haven’t put ideas into his head.
Now what can I do for you, madam? Surgery’s closed and Doctor’s not in. ”
“I just wanted to ask after Mr. Denton. I was in here earlier with my husband, and I met Mrs. Denton.”
“You’ll be the lady took her to her cabin?” The nurse nodded approvingly. “Doctor told me about you, and he said Captain Dane asked your hubby to find out how Mr. Denton came to fall. Mrs. Fletcher, is it?”
“That’s right. Unfortunately, Alec’s been laid low by sea-sickness. Would you mind if I asked you one or two questions?”
“Right you are. I’ll just pop in and see how he’s doing. Doctor’s catching a spot of shut-eye having been up all night, so I don’t leave him alone for more than a minute or two when there’s something needs doing in here. I’ll be right back.”
She popped and returned, shaking her head.
“Not good?” said Daisy.
“His breathing’s something awful, poor lamb. I hope he’s not going to slip away. That’s why I went to sea instead of hospital or private work, we hardly ever have people pass on, which is what I don’t care about with nursing, to tell the truth. What did you want to know, madam?”
“Mostly just whether he’s tall or short, fat or thin. Alec’s trying to work out exactly how he could have fallen over the rail.”
“It is odd, isn’t it? He’s on the short side, sort of stocky if you know what I mean, not a big man but quite strong I
should have thought. After all, he’s a farmer and it’s a hard life. My uncle’s a farmer.”
If Denton was short, that just about put paid to Daisy’s theory.
He could not have been mistaken for the tall, thin American.
On the other hand, it made it less likely that he could have fallen without a boost. “What was he wearing when they brought him in?” she asked, in case the information might turn out to be useful anyway.
“Oh, we weren’t here, me and the doctor, not right away.
By the time they fetched us both, Mr. Harvey’d stripped Mr. Denton’s wet stuff off and had it taken away.
All sailors know it’s the wet and cold that’s worst, you see; it can kill you even if you haven’t inhaled water, like poor Mr. Denton did.
It’s a wonder they got him out quick enough that he didn’t drown.
Like I told Mrs. Denton, it’s Fate, that’s what it is, and he’s not meant to go yet.
‘You hold that thought, dearie,’ I told her. ”
“I’m sure it’s a comfort to her,” Daisy said sincerely. She had known too many nurses, in that war-time hospital, who always prophesied the worst. “Thank you so much for your help.”
“Is that all? Well, that wasn’t hard, I must say. What does Mr. Fletcher think happened then; was it just an accident or did the young lady really see—Oh, bother!” she exclaimed as a passenger came in and deprived her of her gossip, to Daisy’s relief. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Nurse, my wife’s most frightfully ill. You simply must do something!”
“Sea-sick? Dry toast or plain biscuits and fresh air.”
“I insist on seeing the doctor.”
“Dr. Amboyne won’t tell you any different, sir, and that’s the truth. He was up all night with a patient, and you won’t catch me waking him, not for sea-sickness.”
The passenger started to argue. Daisy slipped out with a farewell wave, wondering whether she could coax Alec to eat some dry toast and go up on deck. Perhaps he’d be willing to give Miss Oliphant’s remedies a chance, too.
She would try after lunch, she decided, or else she might find herself missing the meal to share his spartan rations.
In the meantime—she glanced at her wrist-watch, a present from Alec—it was too late to get any work done, even if she had not left her notes in the cabin.
She might as well see if she could find out what Denton had been wearing.
It just might be significant. Alec was always saying any detail could prove vital.
Since Denton was short and sturdy, Lady Brenda could not possibly have mistaken him for Riddman. She was no longer a suspect, so Daisy could ask her about the clothes. Clinging to the handrail, she went up to the promenade deck.
Arbuckle, Phillip, and Gloria were on their reserved deck-chairs, Arbuckle with his head bowed over some number-covered papers on his lap. Miss Oliphant was with them. Daisy asked Gloria if she knew where Brenda was.
“She’s having her hair done. They gave her an appointment right away because so many people are laid low.”
“Has Mr. Gotobed succumbed?”
“No, he went to see how Wanda’s doing.”
“Alec’s feeling pretty rotten.” She glared at Phillip when he snickered. “Miss Oliphant, if I persuade him to take it, can you spare some of whatever it is you recommend?”
“Of course, my dear, though I must remind you that, as I said, it is better taken before the onset of symptoms. Still, I have plenty of mint tea, a mixture of peppermint and spearmint, and if that does not help, enough ginger for one or two people. Should either relieve Mr. Fletcher, however, I must ask you not to trumpet my fame abroad. I have not sufficient for everyone aboard.”
“I bet they have ginger in the galleys, though,” said Gloria. “Is yours the same as cooking ginger?”
“The grated root is to be preferred to the powdered form. I should not wish anyone who failed to be helped by the powder to discount therefore the efficacy of all herbal remedies.”
“Maybe they have some roots,” said Phillip, unfolding his lanky length from the chair. “I’ll go and find out.”
“We can ask the steward at lunch, honey.”
“Just showing willing, dash it, so that Daisy stops scowling at me.”
“Thanks, old dear,” said Daisy, laughing. “But before we go upsetting the cooks, let’s hope Alec agrees to try the mint tea and that it works.”
A steward came round, booming on his portable gong. They all stood up to go to the dining room, all except Arbuckle. Daisy realized he had been unusually silent. His long face was wan.
“Poppa?”
“I’m not that hungry, honey. You go ahead.”
Phillip and Daisy exchanged meaningful glances.
“Mint tea?” the witch suggested hesitantly.
Arbuckle shuddered, making shooing gestures. “I’ll be just fine. I have some work to do.”
They left him. In the dining room, they discovered, wooden bars had been raised along the edges of the table to stop things sliding off. “Fiddles, we call ’em,” said the steward, handing out menus.
Dr. Amboyne did not come in, so the table was half empty, but Gotobed appeared as they were studying the bill of fare. He sat down next to Daisy, and she asked politely after Wanda.
“Ee, lass, she’s none so grand. Any road, that’s what her maid telt me. She won’t see me,” he said gloomily.
“I expect she knows she looks as wretched as she feels.”
“Aye. Well, there’s nowt more I can do, for she doesn’t care to try Miss Oliphant’s simples.”