The Stowaway

The Stowaway - Chapter (1)

Chapter One.

“You ever been in love?” James asked miserably, glancing up at the bartender.  The man barely grunted in response, and continued wiping down a glass with a dirty rag.

James Finley sighed and turned his attention back to the drink in front of him. His last few hours in London, and he was sitting in a dark, dirty tavern. Not exactly what he had planned, but he had nowhere else to go.

His mother was busy saying goodbye to his step-father - Captain Halloran; visiting hours were over at the hospital his sister – Katherine - was in; his friends were spending their last few hours ashore with their families; and Lillian...

James sighed glumly and rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. Noticing with annoyance how prickly it already was, given he had only shaved less than two nights ago - the same night his mother had insisted on having his hair cut.

It was a tradition in the Navy for a man to grow out his hair as a sign of service. The longer the hair, the more years he had spent at sea. With seven years sailing under his belt, James’s hair had evidently grown too long for his own mother to handle.

The short and uneven, messy brown hair alone was bound to make him the latest joke with the crew. But then there was also Lillian Beaumont...

Lillian was what had brought him to the bar in the first place. They’d met at a fundraiser four years ago, and immediately fell in love.

Well... That’s what he’d thought.

After six arduous months at sea, James was only in London for three nights, before leaving on the September Monday morning. He had spent all voyage bragging about how when he returned on Monday, he would be engaged to the most beautiful woman in England. He was going to propose this morning...

James sculled the rest of his scotch and stared unseeingly at the tacky wooden bar. He was an idiot.

He should have seen the signs. The unusual reduced amount of mail; and the lack of detail in those letters that were received. The fact that, for the first time, she wasn’t waiting at the docks to welcome him home...

Idiot.

He should have known he could have never married the daughter of a Lord. What was he? A grotty Topman in the Royal Navy. No family wealth to speak of, and hardly ever in the country. He was in no way the most attractive man alive. Slightly shorter and scrawnier than the average – which although made him the ideal Topman, not a preferred trait with the Ladies. Rough and calloused hands, an anchor tattoo on his left shoulder and a faint scar on his right cheek bone, all classified him as anything but an upperclassman.

So of course she would find someone else when he was away. Someone who could be there for her when she needed them, and wasn’t miles across the Atlantic. Someone to look after her. Someone to love her...

Love her the way that he should have loved her.

 “Ya wanna ‘nother?” the bartender grunted, suddenly breaking James from his thoughts.

James glanced down at the empty glass in front of him and shrugged, pushing the glass forwards. Why not? He had been sitting in the same pub for over an hour, and downed at least four scotches and a whiskey. The thing with being a navy sailor; you built up a tolerance to grog.

But he hadn’t worked out if it was a good or bad thing yet.

“How do you even know if you’re in love?” James muttered glumly, watching the bartender pour out another drink. He wasn’t expecting a reply.