Chapter 14 Ore
Chapter 14
Ore
Ore felt triumphant. Daniel had cracked, if only for a moment, but he’d confirmed many of her suspicions about Chuck. Ore prided herself on being a good judge of character, and she liked being right.
She was still peeved about having to be chaperoned during her interviews but she believed Daniel when he said he was not a spy. Obviously his role was to mildly intimidate her interviewees into knowing they were being listened to, but she took him at his word that what was said would not go any further.
They walked through a series of identical corridors, Daniel weaving through doors and down stairs with the quiet confidence of a person walking through their own home. They ended up outside the mess.
Daniel knocked, and when Vicky answered the door, she looked bemused.
‘You don’t have to do that, this is your boat, Captain.’ Ore glanced over at Daniel. He looked a little sheepish, and Vicky was wearing a wry smile. This was going to be interesting, thought Ore. Vicky didn’t seem the type to be cowed by Daniel’s presence, and from what he had said earlier, she was also discerning.
‘Hi, Vicky! Would you mind if we sat down for a chat? I’d love to ask you a couple of questions.’ She’d slipped into reporter mode.
Vicky turned and gave her a chilling once-over. There was an uncomfortably long pause before she said simply: ‘Sure.’
She walked over to the table and sat down. Ore took a seat opposite and Daniel remained, disconcertingly, standing somewhere behind her.
‘Just a moment.’ Vicky inspected something smudged on the table in front of her, then with a huff she stood to fetch a cloth and wiped down the surface thoroughly. Ore lifted her notepad when it became clear her corner of the table would not be exempt.
‘Right, that’s better. Sorry, where were we?’ Vicky sat back down, and Ore found herself thinking how many type A’s must work on boats. Her life back in New York, and even in London, had been full of creative, liberal arts types. The sorts who would probably enjoy the aesthetic of a ring left on a wooden tabletop by a glass of red wine.
Ore suddenly felt nervous. Vicky was not a woman to shy away from eye contact, and Ore was under-prepared. She’d been imagining how these interviews would go on for days, at times hard to differentiate from a friendly conversation. They would be easy-going and subtly explorative. Now she found herself unable to think of anything to ask.
‘Um, where are you from then, Vicky?’ She picked up her pen, if only to have something to do with her hands.
Vicky looked over Ore’s shoulder, throwing Daniel a look she couldn’t quite decipher but it didn’t seem generous.
‘I’m from LA,’ Vicky said flatly, now crossing her arms.
‘Cool, sorry, um I just …’ The slow warm-up wasn’t working terribly well. Get to the point.
‘Did you want to come back when you have some actual questions?’ Vicky made to stand up and Ore felt her opportunity to gain Vicky’s respect slipping away.
‘No, I’ve got them here.’ Ore’s voice was firm this time, forceful even, and Vicky’s demeanour changed, as though her curiosity was suddenly piqued, and she leant forward slightly.
‘Obviously you know I’m here to write about Chuck, so I guess what I want to know is … What is he like?’
‘To work for? Or as a person?’ Vicky did not seem fazed by the prospect of commenting on either. Ore tried to contain her excitement.
‘Either,’ said Ore, before quickly adding, ‘or both.’
‘As long as you understand your place, by which I mean, the difference between his “guests”, in his case, mostly his investors, and his “staff”, he’s as good to work for as anyone,’ Vicky explained. Hardly a glowing recommendation, thought Ore.
‘And as a person …’ Daniel cleared his throat then, and Vicky’s eyes flashed up once again, to somewhere behind Ore’s head, and then back again.
‘He’s nice I suppose … generous certainly.’ So Daniel’s presence was going to be a hindrance; that was clear.
‘And when you said, “the difference between staff and guests”, what did you mean by that exactly?’ Ore wasn’t giving up.
‘Well, I’ve worked in boating for fifteen years and as much as employers love to say differently, we’re not a family. Some of us are here to serve, and others …’ Vicky paused and held Ore’s gaze, her dark eyes piercing ‘… others are not.’
There was silence and Ore wasn’t sure if Vicky would say more, but she did.
‘Those who confuse those boundaries don’t last very long.’
‘Can you give me an example?’ Ore was poised over her lined pad. She heard movement behind her and then Daniel was standing right by her left shoulder.
Vicky didn’t look at him this time, though it was clear he was trying to get her attention.
‘No, I cannot,’ she said simply.
‘OK, maybe you could explain what you mean by boundaries?’
But Vicky had already checked out. She shifted in her chair and uncrossed her arms. ‘I’ve actually got a lot to get on with – apologies.’ Without even acknowledging the question, she stood up.
‘Oh well, I’ve got a couple more—’
Vicky cut her off. ‘Sorry there’s not more time, good luck with your piece.’ Ore could only say ‘thanks’ to the door left swinging in Vicky’s wake. That must be a new record, thought Ore, she’d managed one question. Well, two if you counted the wasted ‘where are you from.’
She turned to Daniel, exasperated. She opened her mouth to say something, although she wasn’t totally sure what exactly.
He cut in first. ‘That went well.’ Usually Ore was good at detecting sarcasm, but the accent and his placid expression was throwing her off. Either way it niggled at her.
‘Really, Daniel? You think that went well?’ She sounded whiny, rather than the combo of unfazed but self-aware she was hoping for. She was surprised to see his brow furrow with concern. Maybe he had been sincere. She realised that she couldn’t afford to not have him on side.
‘Sorry, Daniel, I didn’t mean to snap. I know you’re just trying to be helpful. It’s my job to get them talking after all.’ She looked down, feeling a surge of something familiar course through her body, one she had been blissfully free of since that email from Agatha. It was a tightening in her stomach and a faint sense that she was outside of herself. She would observe the crouching figure, braids falling over her face, eyes set on the linoleum, painted nails picking at each other, foot tapping softly but rhythmically. That’s when the refrain began, softly at first and then building into a din. You really thought you could do this? A couple of little online articles and you think you’re ready for a big scoop? You? A staff writer at the New York Herald ? There’s ambition and then there’s delusion.
The warmth of a hand on her shoulder pulled her back into her body, and the imposter syndrome chorus quietened, though it wasn’t silenced.
She looked up to find Daniel standing close to where she was seated, with his palm laid upon her shoulder, inches from his belly button. She could feel the small space between them like she could hear the loaded silence, and both felt unbearable.
She stood up, and Daniel took an unsteady step backwards, his wayward hand finding refuge in his pocket.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to … I don’t know what …’ Daniel began. Ore had her own fumbling to do, so they spoke over each other.
‘I better be going. I didn’t want to …’ She reached for her notepad, which was embarrassingly empty. They both giggled nervously as Ore turned back to Daniel.
Another silence. Ore felt the agony of guessing at his thoughts. He knows you’re a fraud now. She shook her head instinctively.
‘Are you OK?’ The concern in his voice, like his hand on her shoulder, only added to her sense of shame so she plastered on a smile.
‘Sure, just going to head back to my cabin for a little bit, regroup; maybe I can meet you later and we can try and talk to Ollie?’ She only needed to get out of this room and then she could be alone and give that snarling voice a talking-to, like she had before.
Ore was already marching to the door when Daniel replied: ‘Shall we say three o’clock?’
‘Great.’ Ore was breathless. With one hand opening the door, she swung herself round and witnessed herself in another out-of-body experience, lifting her other hand to her forehead in a salute and saying the words: ‘Catch you later, Captain.’