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sight, just as he’d been taught. Straight away she began bothering him with her dozens of inane questions.
    ‘Have you ever been skiing, Reg? You’d love it. You should visit Calgary some time and we’ll take you out on the slopes.’
    ‘Thank you, ma’am, but my work keeps me too busy.’
    ‘You’ve got such a good figure, you must play some sports. What do you play, Reg?’
    ‘I like a bit of football when I’m back home.’
    ‘What in God’s name is football?’
    ‘It’s a game with two teams where you kick a ball into a goal, ma’am.’
    The husband sat scowling throughout their exchange; then as soon as Reg left the table, he heard the hiss of their argument.
    ‘It’s vulgar to talk to the staff like that. You shouldn’t be overfamiliar. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?’
    ‘You’re such a snob.’
    ‘You’re so common.’
    The tension grew as they ate, and Reg tried to keep himself well clear of them. When he came to collect their plates, Mrs Howson’s face was pink with fury.
    ‘My husband thinks I shouldn’t fraternise with you, Reg. What do you think?’
    ‘Oh shut up,’ her husband snapped. ‘Leave the poor boy alone.’
    Reg was balancing their plates and a serving dish on one arm as he scooped a stray piece of cauliflower from the tablecloth. Mrs Howson turned and yanked the pocket of his jacket just at a moment when he was twisted at an awkward angle, leaning sideways towards the table.
    ‘I’ll talk to him if I feel like it,’ he heard her saying as he struggled to regain his balance, but it was no use. He managed to twirl at the last moment so that the dishes fell to the floor behind rather than into her lap, but the dining salon fell silent at the resounding crash of breaking crockery. It echoed round the Jacobean carved ceiling then died away to an expectant silence.
    Instantly Reg spun into action, crouching down and picking up the jagged pieces in his hands. John appeared by his side with a dustpan and brush and between them they had the floor spotless again in less than a minute. But the chief steward, old Latimer, was watching and as Reg scurried past, he said in a cold voice, ‘Wait behind after service.’
    Reg was glad to see that the Howsons had left when he emerged from the galley. Mr Grayling had gone as well, but Mrs Grayling sat alone at their table, so he approached to ask if he could fetch anything for her.
    ‘I saw what happened with those plates,’ she told him. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Will you get into trouble?’
    ‘Please don’t worry on my behalf, ma’am.’
    ‘I could explain to the chief steward what I saw, if that would help.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Reg said. ‘But I simply lost my balance. I’m sorry if the noise disturbed you.’
    She looked at him with her kind eyes. ‘They’ll make you pay for the breakages out of your salary, won’t they? I know how these liners operate. And I’m sure this porcelain is expensive. Please will you at least let me give you the money?’
    ‘We’re not supposed to accept money from passengers, but thank you very much for the offer.’ For a moment, he felt like crying under her maternal gaze. She was much nicer than his own mum, who’d never had any time for him. She couldn’t wait to send him out to work so he could contribute to the household coffers, which seemed to be his only value to her.
    ‘Nonsense. Plenty of the other staff members accept tips, and you will accept one from me. I insist. I will slip it to you quietly, when no one else is looking, some time before we reach New York, but for now I don’t want to hear any more about it.’ She stood up to bring an end to the conversation. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’
    ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Reg pulled back her chair for her, wrestling with a powerful wave of embarrassment mixed with gratitude.
    He would accept the money, he decided, after Old Latimer told him that the three porcelain plates he had broken cost two and six each. Reg’s