All day Marco had been on his best behaviour. It had been a close call yesterday when he’d fallen asleep in Pia’s cabin. If it hadn’t been for Paulo, he would have been fired and maybe worse – not that it wasn’t worth every moment.
He still couldn’t believe his luck. That a woman like Pia would want to marry him when he had nothing but himself to offer her was amazing. The story she told him about the future and her age were just that – stories – their truth still remained questionable, even though he knew Pia believed every word of them.
For a time there he had weakened and almost given in to her plea to consummate their union without marriage. However, the fact that she was a virgin put too much pressure on him. He wanted the first time with her to be perfect. And for that kind of perfection he needed wedding vows, flowers and a real bed to lay her on; not a hurried coupling on a narrow bunk between shifts in the restaurant. She deserved better than that. She deserved better than him, if he was truly honest with himself.
Nevertheless, she knew what she was getting and she still wanted him anyway. That was all that mattered. Her age, her home and the possible sinking of the ship were all irrelevant next to that.
He'd managed to get away right on time from his split-shift today, as it was a much slower day in the restaurant-half of the business. Interestingly, he noticed that it was the turn of the staff in the Café Parisien to be run off their feet. So it all balanced out in the end, and they would all have a share in the bountiful tips that still flowed freely from the pockets of their rich patrons.
Of course, if Pia was right, then the money was immaterial. The ship would sink tonight and any cash they’d earned would go down with it along with the men who’d earned it.
Now that he had the day and time of the incident, it felt that much more plausible, especially as he was to meet Maxwell Ingham and his friends outside the restaurant just after eleven. It seemed amazing to him that such rich and influential men were meeting him, especially so that he would make the extraction point without issue. Such special treatment was more than he deserved.
What did they all do when this Portal didn’t open? Would they just laugh and say it was a mistake? Would the men of influence be angry at being tricked or would they laugh, too, because they had been party to the hoax all along? Entertainment for the voyage.
He remembered hearing about a group of religious fanatics who had gone into the mountains north of Milano to await the Second Coming of Christ. They’d been so sure that it was to be on the last day of the century. But when January 1, 1900, dawned, what must they have felt like? To be found to be that wrong about something so important must have been shattering. It must have crushed their faith.
It would crush Pia’s faith, too, and her belief in herself when this Portal didn’t open. And for no other reason, he would be there tonight so that he could pick up the pieces for her. She would feel devastated, humiliated, confused and even betrayed. And she would need him then, as she had not needed him up to now.
He pushed away the thought that she might be right because that would mean Paulo would die and he couldn’t face that possibility. More so now after what the boy had risked coming to find him the day before. If not for Paulo, he would have been in real trouble. Instead, he was just a little deeper in their bad books for being a bit late for shift and more crumpled than usual.
They had accepted his excuse that he had fallen asleep but there were whispers going around that he hadn’t fallen asleep in his own bunk – and if not there, then where? Some of the other staff had seen him with Pia on deck and the word had got around. Jealousy and indignation fuelled the gossip, until Gardi had taken him aside that morning and asked him straight-out what was going on with the third class passenger.
He’d told Gardi that Pia was just a girl he talked to sometimes on deck. Nothing more, he'd assured the sceptical man. However, it was good that he'd met Pia on deck today, because if he'd gone anywhere near her cabin there would have been eyes on him reporting his actions, and Paulo wouldn't be able to save him then.
The boy was a gem. He was the best friend Marco had ever had and he deserved a long and happy life. And he would get it, too. If Marco had to move heaven and earth to give it to him, he would. It didn't matter what it cost him personally because for too long he had lived selfishly.
Why else would a loving mother reject him? Even back then it had always been about what he wanted, what was best for him. He hadn't cared about his mother's feelings, about the sacrifices she was making for her family. It was his jealousy and pride that had forced her to turn against him.
And the older he got the more self-centred he'd become. He took women as easily as he took breath. And he discarded them just as easily as he exhaled, never considering their damaged pride or hurt feelings. He moved from place to place without concern for the people he left behind. When his mistress called, he would follow. Look at poor little Micky. Who would feed that child now that he had left? He could have done more for the boy, but all he‘d been worried about was the Ship of Dreams and his new, perfect life in America.
Well, it would never have been perfect; he knew that now. And so he'd deserted the child for no good reason. He wouldn't do that again. Not to Paulo. This time, somehow, he would put the boy first. His selfish desire for the love of the sweet Pia would have to come second to the boy's life. It was time he thought of someone other than himself for a change.