The White Voyage Read Free Page A

been as handsome, but she had kept her figure well and still rode a horse in the Grand Parade and the Cowboys-and-Indians tableau; sometimes she featured in the knife- and hatchet-throwing acts when the usual girl was ill. She had an alert, smiling, heavily wrinkled face, fixed in a disposition of curiosity and expectancy towards an ever-changing world.
    Josef Simanyi, the head of the family, was not tall either; measured against his daughter he might have had an advantage of half an inch, but no more. He was square in build, inclined to be squat, and although, at fifty-five, his shoulders were beginning to be bowed, he was exceptionally strong. In the ring, apart from bareback riding, he bent iron bars, tore up telephone books and otherwise demonstrated his strength. He had also, at one time, been a fire-eater and sword-swallower, but had more or less abandoned these practices.
    His son, Stefan, shared the trapeze act with Nadya. He had a white face and thick black hair which he kept combed back in a hard, glossy shell. His appearance otherwise was nondescript. He had small, uneven teeth and a small moustache.
    When Thorsen came out, Stefan and the parents greeted him with enthusiasm.
    ‘So we are back, you see!’ Josef said. ‘As promised. We said we come back on the
Kreya
. So here we are.’
    ‘Did you have a good summer?’ Thorsen asked.
    He shook hands with them in turn until he came to Nadya. She nodded at him and smiled briefly, her hands still engaged with the compact.
    ‘Not bad,’ Josef said. ‘In this country there is more money hidden away than one thinks at first. And not much television.’
    ‘And Katerina? Is she well also?’
    ‘For a time, in the west country, she was ill. I think she ate something bad, you know. But she is fine right now. She comes aboard soon?’
    ‘I suppose so. That is not my job. Will I show you to your cabins?’
    ‘Tell us the numbers and we find them,’ Josef said. ‘We know the way, remember.’
    ‘All the same, I’ll show you.’
    He made way for them to enter and climb the stairs. The women went first. Stefan, waiting at the bottom, clutched Thorsen’s arm.
    ‘The weather – it will be bad, eh?’
    ‘Not very bad, I think. The glass is rising again.’
    Stefan nodded in resignation. ‘I will be sick.’
    ‘Perhaps not. Last week it was very bad but it is better now. Maybe you will not be sick.’
    ‘I am always sick,’ Stefan said.
    Thorsen followed them along the corridor. ‘No. 2 and No. 4,’ he said. ‘This, and the one at the end.’
    Mrs Simanyi turned to him in surprise and consternation. ‘But they are not together!’
    ‘The other two had been allotted when your booking came in,’ Thorsen explained. ‘But they are all separate cabins, you know. They do not connect together.’
    ‘We had cabins side by side in April,’ she said. ‘I could knock on the wall to Papa, and he knocked back to me. I am not happy if there is another cabin between us.’
    Josef pointed to the door of No. 3. ‘This one is empty. Maybe they are not coming. It is past six o’clock.’
    ‘They are coming on early tomorrow morning at Fishguard. Perhaps they would change then.’ Thorsen shrugged. ‘But perhaps not. They are English.’
    ‘And the other cabin?’ Mrs Simanyi asked.
    ‘A mother and little girl. Would you like me to ask if they will change with you?’
    ‘Yes. No, I will ask myself. She is inside?’
    Mary Cleary came to the door in answer to the knock. She had taken off her coat and was wearing a blue wool dress. Behind her Annabel was sitting on the top bunk, her legs swinging. Mrs Simanyi explained her request.
    ‘Of course,’ Mary said. ‘It makes no difference to us. We’ll move over now.’
    Mrs Simanyi took her hand in both hers. ‘You are most kind,’ she said. ‘You know how it is that a woman wishes to feel her husband is close at hand.’
    Mary looked at her steadily. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Stefan!’ Mrs Simanyi called. ‘Carry the