She clasped the ticket into the palm of her hand and stuffed it into her elegant suitcase. She would get on the ship without a true identity. She was a determined beast, with fire in her veins and poison brewing in her heart. She walked to the mirror that had been pushed up harshly against the patterned wall and she began to fix her radiant red lipstick. It was the colour of delicious red wine and ripe strawberries. To those that knew of her, she was “the lady in red”. Just a slender confident woman with strapping green eyes and mysterious orban hair that showed her structured face perfectly. The men teased and taunted her, flirted even. She enjoyed drowning in their attention but was sure to never return it until she met her match. It was time. The red satin slit dress that showed her glossy left leg was almost worn out, but she had to wear it just one last time. It made a heavy statement to all that dared to look at her. 

 

She had been lucky to get one of the final tickets to board the ship. The Sea Sapphire was the talk of the county. Everyone who was anyone had to board the ship or they would miss out on a once in a lifetime opportunity. It was a trip from London to California. She had scraped her pennies together to afford a luxurious first class room on the ship and nobody would get in her way. She grabbed her suitcase and handbag and headed out. It was her time to impress strangers, a hobby that she loved the most. There it was. “The Sea Sapphire 1962” painted on the side of the ship in beautiful bold calligraphy. At just a year old, The Sea Sapphire was in extraordinary condition. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. She handed in her first class ticket and boarded the ship with nothing but excitement filling her body, making it difficult to find room for oxygen.

 

Were they staring at it? Did they notice it blinding them as they swooshed by her? She placed her palm over it and protected it with everything she had. Should she have been showing off such a gem? She was in the first class area, nobody would be so cruel as to even think about stealing something so precious. The lady ushered into her room and locked it away into her small antique jewellery box that she had brought along on her travels. The night was growing to be frosty, her bones felt intimidated by the cold air that surrounded her. She ruffled through her suitcase and managed to find the fur shawl to hang over her naked shoulders. A gift that had been passed down from her deceased mother with some hesitation. 

 

That is where her night really started. A brass band was set up at the front on a stage made of oak wood and a gold velvet curtain hung up behind them. She grabbed a colossal glass of champagne from a dark handsome waiter and began to sway her hips to the music. Her lipstick gently stained the glass with every sip but she became indulged in the taste. They all noticed her, how could they not? Her energy was electric, enough to strike lightning upon the entire ocean if she so wished. The crowds were full of rich middle aged men and young bright eyed women with plain cream and silver dresses. Her daring red revealing dress caught the attention of too many, possibly more than she could handle.

 

‘Madam, it is you in person. I thought I was dreaming.’ A calm collective voice muttered behind her. She steadily twirled around to face him and her dress followed gently. Her elegant presence captivated him almost immediately.

 

‘I am not interested in your ego or sense of entitlement. So do not bother to even breathe near me.’ Her firm and mysterious voice echoed in reply to him.

 

‘Forgive me Madam but I wish for just a moment with you, as any man would.’ The young man swished his dark brown hair towards the ceiling and couldn’t hide his happy grin.

 

She let out a devious sigh and pushed her way past him.

 

‘The way you have approached me does not impress me. I am tired of the clone of every man wishing for a moment with me. Not one man has impressed me, not ever. I doubt a silly little man such as yourself will be any different. Now please, stop wasting my time Sir.’

 

He heard nothing but the sound of her silver glitter heels clunking against the perfectly tiled floor. Her natural sweet scent mixed with her dignified perfume left a trail of curiosity behind her. One that he was tempted to follow but dared not to. He chose to observe her from the other side of the room. The young Arthur Wallace sat himself down at a table and glared over at her. He wanted to know more, he needed to know more. Her name, her age, her hobbies, her parents. Anything. But he knew the knowledge of her was like dust particles, hard to find and even harder to keep. Every fibre of his being warned him to let go, to move on. But he couldn’t. The dangerous inquisitiveness that he had for her would not be a candle so easily burnt out. The lady observed the whole room and soaked up its energy. She picked apart every imperfection of those around her, harshly comparing them to what she had to offer. But then, she saw him.