The Stowaway

XXVI

"Inequality hardens society into a class system. Inequality divides us from one another ... Inequality undermines democracy." George Packer

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XXVI.

Eliza had read dozens of novels which described the feeling of falling in love, but experiencing it in real life was quite unlike anything she could have predicted.

That is what she thought that she was experiencing; falling in love.

Thinking of Tom, recalling their conversations, and knowing the deep trust that there was between them made Eliza feel as though she was the only one who knew him. She knew his flaws, she knew his insecurities, and she was the one that he had trusted with them.

She respected him immensely, and she had an overwhelming desire to be near him, to speak with him, and listen to him and confide in him.

And good Lord did she want to kiss him again. The fire in her belly that had been lit when he had kissed her was unlike anything she had ever felt before.

They had been at sea for a week, and Eliza found herself finding every excuse there was to look at him. Whereas once he might have scowled at her, criticised her, or even ignored her, Tom simply smiled at her.

He had kept his promise. He was kind to her, and the other sailors were noticing, though none had clued on to what had truly happened between them. Tom was careful to keep his distance, though she was never long out of his sight.

Eliza thought that this caution was for the sake of her reputation, which she did think was thoughtful, but in her head, she knew any such caution was useless. She had run away on a ship full of lonely sailors. She knew that she was returning home ruined.

But Eliza hoped that did not matter. It had not escaped her notice Tom's reaction to meeting her parents. She did not think that she was so misled that he would not want to meet her parents. What was between them was not fleeting. He would have to meet them sometime, and Eliza suspected that conversation, the conversation regarding what was to happen when they reached Plymouth, would come later.

They had left the Caribbean Sea, or perhaps they were still sailing on it. Eliza was not sure as to where the Sea ended, and the Atlantic Ocean began. But sailing past the islands for the last time had saddened her. It had been the most exhilarating adventure, and she was hopeful that it would not all end upon her return to England.

"Are you making me handsome, Eliza Lee?" Diarmuid asked her.

Eliza's fingers were tangled in Diarmuid's mop of curly red hair, and she had been so distracted by her thoughts of Tom, that she had not been paying attention to what she was doing with the scissors.

She jumped, but luckily did not alert Diarmuid as to her inattention. "Oh, terribly," she replied.

As she was a woman, the crew had decided that she must be an expert on hair maintenance. Eliza felt the need to direct their attention to the bird's nest atop her head which was once a nice lot of blonde curls, but they did not seem to mind.

Eliza had perhaps only had three or four haircuts in her life. She was, of course, an expert.

Eliza had had a succession of sailors visit her on that day, and she had chopped and styled as best she could to get hair out of the sailors' eyes. Eliza brought her focus back to Diarmuid's hair and continued to cut it as best she could, trimming it away from his eyes, ears, and neck.

When she was satisfied that it did not look entirely dreadful, she declared, "There. What do you think?"

"Couldn't get any uglier," chimed in Cian as he passed them, teasing his brother.