Page 227 of Carousel

“They’re the best,” he insists. With a tiny screwdriver he’d also produced, which he tells me he stole off an engineer once, he skilfully prises the can open by getting under the rim of it.

We find my spoons and sit back on the bed.

He feeds me, and I feed him.

The sharp sweetness fills my mouth.

It really is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

I think another hour or so must pass while we’re still curled on the bed. We’ve finished the peaches. Even taken turns sipping the golden juices out of the tin. I laughed when he got some down his chin. I kissed it right off.

Then we feel it. The sudden stopping of the ship.

We’re swaying. The bed squeaks as it rocks, and we grab each other to keep steady.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I’ll go and find out.”

He rushes out of the room before I can stop him.

Every second I wait for him kills me.

But he barrels back in a few moments later. “It’s all right,” he says quickly. “It’s just dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Dezeeves wants us all together for a final meal on the ship.”

I’m already settling back into the bed. “We’re not going to go to that. Let’s just stay here. Where we’re safe.”

“We can’t survive on tinned peaches and each other, Ara.”

If only we could.

“Come on,” Cosmer says. “We’ll go for the food, and we’ll get out of there as soon as we can.”

He makes it sound so reasonable.

There are only enough of us remaining on the ship to fill one of the long oval tables in the Wardroom. In many ways the scene reminds me of the Captain’s Dinner. The table has been done up similarly with napkins, silver spoons and small plates. No rum or flowers this time.

The Rhavnans have again dressed in their best. Dezeeves looks out of place among us with his Hevallan features and captain’s uniform.

And so does Cosmer.

The thought makes me uneasy.

But he doesn’t seem to mind. He leads me confidently right over to the opposite end of the table, away from Dezeeves, Drake, Meg, and Rike.

And I’m glad he does. It’s better this way. Safer.

I can’t help thinking this is going to be one more test. With Dezeeves, it’s difficult to imagine it could be anything else.

And I decide I don’t like the way Drake has been seated between Dezeeves and Meg. As if, tonight, he is the guest of honour, and the guest of honour alone.

Two soldiers come around the table with coarse bread rolls.

“Please eat,” Dezeeves says to us. As we are all gathered around the one table, he doesn’t even need to stand. “I will make a short speech at the end.”