Ghost Writer(37)

“Still dehydrated, Mrs. Kirby?” asked Tinsdale.

“Low blood sugar,” I explained. It was a better explanation than the truth.

“I should have asked Petty Officer Briseau for some juice or a piece of fruit this morning. I generally manage my hypoglycemia better.”

“And when you forget, my first mate remembers. That is, or perhaps was, Mr. Gravell. He took good care of the research team, Jen especially.”

“Ah, that explains it,” said Reuben.

“Explains what?” asked Dora.

“Lil and I wondered why Gravell acted like a mother hen around you, Jen. I'll have to tell Lil about your hypoglycemia. She thought you were having an affair.”

I tossed back another glass of juice, wishing it was something harder. Then I could blame my flushed cheeks on the alcohol. I shot Reuben a killing look and received a mischievous one in return.

I reached for the jug. A hand stopped me. I looked over and Gravell was shaking his head.

“You'll spike your blood-sugar if you drink too much juice. You need protein and complex carbohydrates now.”

“He's right,” said Dora. “Maybe you could get her a piece of cheese.”

She was having way too much fun at my expense.

Mercifully, the topic was dropped once food was in front of everyone. French toast, doused in real maple syrup, peameal bacon and sausages, and wedges of melon demanded our full attention. When the coffee was making the rounds again, I waited expectantly for Dora to step onto her soap box. The topic was not broached by my friend. The silence was breached by our American guest.

“I hear you enjoyed a lively discussion last night. A regular brainstorm.”

Dora nodded at Captain Tinsdale. “Brainstorming definitely took place. When we raise the station, it will be interesting to see whose hypotheses come closest to the truth.”

“If you raise the station. There is no guarantee that you will get permission to make a second attempt and no guarantee you'll succeed if you do.”

Reuben jumped in. “Oh, we'll get permission. Count on it.”

“And we'll raise the station,” said Franchot with confidence.

“Would you go back, Jen?” Tim asked, leaning around Gravell.

Would I? It wasn't as if my presence was strictly necessary, and I had a good reason to excuse myself.

“To get answers, I'd go back. To recover Matt Parker's body and put the ghosts to rest, yes, I'd go back.”

I lifted my chin and fixed my gaze on Captain Tinsdale, silently daring him to say he didn't think the risk worth the rewards. He acknowledged my point with a nod that I took to denote respect, not agreement.

So, I thought, Tinsdale may be my enemy, but he isn't a villain.

“Are you going to see us off?” Dora was asking me.

“Of course.”

Franchot made a flourishing wave. “The whole team will be there to wish you luck. Then I'll take them back to our ship. I'd like to take you back too, Jen.”

I shrugged. I was torn. I would be more comfortable aboard the émil Gagnan , but staying here might have its compensations. I looked from the captain to Gravell and back again. Would I be allowed the choice?

“Ms. Kirby will stay for the time being. I will speak to the doctor. When he releases her, we can reconsider the arrangement. Regardless, you're still getting Mr. Hassan, Captain Franchot.”

Franchot gave Mr. Hassan a gracious bow of the head.

“He is welcome. Your security detail, on the other hand, is eating us out of house and home.”

Captains Campbell and Tinsdale exchanged glances. The unspoken question was did the security detail need to be there? With a slight nod, Tinsdale conveyed that he wouldn't encroach on the émil Gagnan directly.

“They can come back on the boat when you return to the émil Gagnan. We can probably replace some of your supplies too. We have more incoming.”



Supplies and mail arrived. Dora and Reuben left. Then Mr. Hassan left with Mike, Mary Lou, Lil, and some fresh food. I returned to sick bay for my daily checkup. Someone told on me to Doc, because he put me through a blood glucose test.

“So, will I live?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you when I complete the tests. Your lungs are clear. Your blood pressure is good. You should have told me you had hypoglycemia,” he chided.

“I put it on my medical form for the voyage. It's not my fault you didn't check it.”

“I'd need your permission for it to be released to me, my dear.”

“You didn't ask.”

We stared at each other.

I always told Seamus to own up to his responsibilities. Could I do no less?

“Sorry. I should have mentioned it. I forgot. I often forget about it. Dealing with it is almost automatic.” I gave him a sheepish grin. “As my son will attest, I sometimes forget to take care of myself when I get preoccupied.”

He granted me one of his charming smiles. “Understandable. From what I hear, you have someone looking out for you aboard the émil Gagnan.”

“The first mate took care of all of us. I just gave him more to do. I was horribly seasick the first couple of days.”

“And again last night? Briseau mentioned you went AWOL.”

I groaned. “I've been told off for that already. I apologised to Sophie and agreed to get an escort from Gravell before going walkabout again. Maybe it would be easier if I returned to the émil Gagnan.”