The Moonlit Murders: A historical mystery page-turner (A Fen Churche Mystery Book 3) by Fliss Chester (best ereader for pc .txt) 📗

cabins. More and more troops were now boarding, and all bar none of the young men were courteous enough to always let Fen move along the deck or staircase as they passed her. Her shopping bag drew a certain amount of attention and Fen had a sudden thought that perhaps they might think her some rich heiress like Eloise, although if any of them had followed her back to her cabin, they would have noticed that she was very much not in the same class.

There were fewer passengers around as she got closer to her deck, and the walkway outside her window was quiet, save for the general hubbub she could hear from the docks below. She walked past cabin thirteen and was tempted to peer in through the porthole, but the German man had seen fit to do as she did mostly and draw the thin, floral-patterned curtains across.

She wondered if he’d show his face again this voyage, what with so many soldiers on board now, and if there was more to his being here than first met the eye. Prisoners of war were gradually being released, on both sides, but as far as she knew, few were travelling across the Atlantic to America.

The passenger list popped into her head and how it had been printed in Le Havre with the first- and second-class passenger names. There were heaps more soldiers on board now who weren’t listed, so perhaps the German man’s name had been missed off too?

Fen found her cabin key and let herself in. She placed the smart paper bag from the boutique down on the bed and sat down next to it. The passenger list was on the bed and she idly flicked through it again. A thought occurred to her and she did a quick count of the names and then turned to the page where a floor plan of the tourist and cabin-class cabins were situated.

‘Hmm,’ she thought to herself, but then a blast of the ship’s horn told her that the embarkation was nearing completion and she put the passenger list down. Peering out of her porthole she could see Southampton’s skyline beyond the deck, with lights appearing now in windows and on streets. No more blackouts due to the Blitz, no more fighting.

Maybe this poor German fellow was merely seeking a new life abroad and had asked the French Line for anonymity as he sailed? Still, Fen worried for his safety with this many troops on board and vowed to keep his presence to herself for the duration. If asked, of course, she wouldn’t lie, but not telling anyone wasn’t the same.

She’d just have to hope nothing bad happened to him so she wouldn’t have to spill the beans and own up to her friends that she’d known all the time about the German in cabin thirteen.

17

Fen hadn’t had much time to do more than flick through the passenger list before Eloise had knocked at her door again. Realising they had a few hours before dinner, Eloise had suggested they explore the ship, so they walked arm-in-arm through the various facilities and recreation areas of the first- and second-class decks.

The horn had sounded a couple of times as they’d meandered through the corridors and up and down lavish staircases and carpeted saloons and morning rooms – the De Grasse was now under way and there was a sense of anticipation and excitement in the air.

‘Too late to change your mind now!’ Eloise had said rather playfully, squeezing Fen’s arm with hers.

‘One sour look from your Aunty M and I might have to head straight for the lifeboats!’ Fen had joked back, knowing Eloise would find it hugely amusing. She was obviously dutiful towards her aunt, though Fen could tell that there was a certain amount of respect lacking for the older lady.

And whatever Eloise had said about Genie knowing her own mind and seizing control of her own destiny while she had none, well, Fen felt inclined to disagree slightly as she was pulled in all and any direction that took the American girl’s fancy.

‘I feel like you’re looking for someone,’ Fen had finally commented as Eloise insisted that they pop their heads into the smoking room.

‘No, not at all, what bunkum,’ Eloise had laughed. ‘And, in any case, I think it’s all these handsome young men who are doing the looking.’ She’d winked at Fen, who had to agree that even though they were yet to change into their new finery, they were certainly both attracting quite a lot of attention from the soldiers on board.

Still, it had seemed good-natured enough and Fen hadn’t cared a jot about it, plus she’d rather enjoyed the chance to see more of what the ship had to offer. Before she’d gone back to her cabin to change into her new red dress, she and Eloise had stopped off and seen not only the swimming pool, in all its Greco-Roman glory, with a room full of weights and exercise equipment next door, but also a charming nursery with children’s dining room and play area, plus a huge auditorium and even a cinema, and several boutiques, which were sadly closed for this crossing but looked every bit as glamorous as those in London, or even New York, Eloise had reliably informed her.

Dressing for dinner had been interesting, as the great ship coped with the rising swell of the sea as the English Channel wrapped itself around the Isle of Wight. The drizzle had stayed as a constant since Fen and Eloise had boarded, but in the warmth of her cabin, Fen had managed to wash and dry her hair using the basin and the one towel she’d been allotted, and set it back into the victory rolls she could now practically do with her eyes closed.

As she pinned each curl in place she wondered if maybe a trip to a New York hairdresser wouldn’t be out of the question. Her chestnut curls had grown far