The boat ground slowly into the port at Liverpool. Shivering slightly in the cold, Nita leaned over the small table that took up most of the space in the cabin and looked out the round window on the far side. The cabin was tiny, two bunks on either side of the room, and the table nailed down to stop it from sliding around when the sea was rough. The whole cabin smelled like tar and beer, as if the two had been mixed together in a bucket and used to mop the steel floors. The door at the end of the cabin lead out onto another badly lit, terribly smelling corridor. Nita hated this ship, but she would rather be here than back home. She shuddered; she had not thought of home for the two weeks they had been on the ship.
“Best not start now,” she muttered.
She wiped the frost from the porthole and tried to see what was outside. Fog blanketed most of the dock, swirling slightly in the light breeze. Nita could just make out the shapes of people moving in and out of the fog. Their whispered conversations carried up into the air, clinging to the glass window so Nita could almost make out what they were saying but the words were soon gone, drifting higher into the fog. Nita trembled; there was something sinister about the dock below, the shapes of buildings looked like large animals ready to pounce. She shook the thought from her head, reminding herself that she must not think too much in case the guilty feeling which knotted her stomach took over the rest of her body. Allowing her to relax she began to change. She chose inconspicuous clothes, a dull grey dress and a head scarf. It had become an art, being invisible. She learnt how to drift with the crowd, to fade completely, just to be a face amongst thousands. Polite, but not enough to be remembered, the type of person you forgot as soon as the conversation was over. She quickly removed the little possessions that belong to her from around the cabin and put them in the small bag she kept under her bunk. Picking up the book she was reading from the place on the floor where it had fallen the night before, she settled herself on the edge of the bunk waiting for Nishad to come and tell her it was time to disembark.
“Your up,” Nishad remarked, opening the door slowly. He spoke English with a thick Indian accent, unlike Nita who had been sent to an English school and only a trace of an accent could be heard when she spoke. Nita felt it was not her business to ask where he learnt such good English. A peasant living on the streets of Bombay had little time to go to school, Nita knew; but he had never asked her any questions so she did not ask him any. He offered her a place to stay, fed her and hid her as policemen looked for her in the streets. They had become good friends during those weeks when she could not leave his small shanty house for fear of being caught. They talked often and Nita felt like she knew Nishad, that she had known him all her life. She put down her book and smiled at him; his tall figure filled most of the door and he stood like a great adventurer ready to explore this new land, his hair damp with sea spray and his eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Well,” she asked. “Are we there?”
“Yes, yes,” Nishad replied excitedly. “We’ll be getting off in the next 20 minutes.” He said all this as he dashed around the cabin putting his possessions in his bag. Nita watched slightly regretfully. She knew her time with Nishad was coming to an end, that it was better if they parted and went their separate ways, but it was going to be hard. Nita made the decision not to do it till the last possible moment. Then tucking her book into her bag and pulling the zip closed she said, “Let’s go up then.”
The deck of the ship was quiet. Most of the sailors had gone ashore as the ship would only remain in port a short while. There were five other families milling around nervously, waiting to pay the captain the rest of the fare. He was a tall man with red hair and a red beard. There was a permanent scowl upon his face and his skin was leathery from years at sea. His voice was rusty like the heavy, dark chains that littered the deck and in the fog he appeared menacing like a large animal approaching. Unconsciously, Nita stepped behind Nishad.
“Your fare please,” he growled.
Nishad handed the money over wordlessly. The charge was ridiculously high, but it also was a ‘no questions asked’ deal and so they paid without bargaining.
“You may be on your way.” He pointed to the gang plank then turned aside, eager to forget the travellers who had journeyed on his ship.
Nita followed Nishad down to the dock below. Looking back, the ship seemed huge and unwelcoming. They pushed their way through the crowd until they stood in a quiet street. Nita looked around and made out an inn on the corner. She was just getting ready to say her goodbyes when Nishad said, “I have a cousin here, Samir. He doesn’t live far away.”
Nishad turned to look at her. As their eyes met the goodbyes she had been dreading lodged in her throat and she nodded acceptingly. One more day could not hurt she thought to herself, at least till she was settled.
“This way,” Nishad said before disappearing into the fog.
Nita picked up her bag. A sense of unease welled momentarily in her stomach but it was quickly subdued, and then it was gone.
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