Take Your Last Breath

Hitch nodded. ‘It’s certainly a theory. I have no idea if it’s a good one, but it’s a theory.’

‘It could mean that Trilby’s death, though accidental, was actually the consequence of something bigger,’ said Ruby. ‘Something sinister. So I guess what I am suggesting is, yes, in a way his death could be an accident, nothing sinister. But in a way it perhaps wasn’t and is.’

Hitch raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m barely following.’

Ruby looked at him like he was a few blocks short of a load.

‘Maybe you need another cup of coffee or three,’ she said.

‘Maybe.’ He took another slurp. ‘And the whispering?’

‘I don’t know.’ She was thinking, trying to tunnel down to some lost thought, but whatever it was, was lurking deep in the furthest depths of her mind and she could not reach it so she just said, ‘Could be entirely imagined of course.’

‘Yes,’ said Hitch. ‘One person says they’ve heard something – then a whole lot more people imagine that they’ve heard the same thing.’

‘Yeah, happens all the time,’ said Ruby, nodding. ‘People are very suggestible.’

‘It’s true,’ said Hitch. ‘I mean if I start mentioning the words jelly and donut, do you find yourself kind of yearning for one?’

Ruby gave him a look. ‘You got one?’

He shook his head. ‘So what do you think – did those people hear the whispering or not?’ asked Hitch. ‘That little Redfort brain must be thinking something. You have any kind of gut feeling on this?’

Ruby looked at him, straight in the eye. ‘My brain is telling me I should be asleep, but my stomach is telling me that I sure could do with a jelly donut and a glass of banana milk.’

‘Well, let’s make it happen kid.’

Mrs Gruemeister’s dog

Pookie was barking…

In fact he had been barking for quite some time, but everyone aboard had chosen to ignore him, it being 5.46am.

‘Probably seagulls,’ murmured Mr Gruemeister, pulling the blankets over his head. ‘That dog will bark at any little thing.’

‘I’ve tried my darnedest to train him,’ sighed Mrs Gruemeister. ‘Only bark at intruders, that’s what I taught him, but he doesn’t listen.’

In cabin 4A, Brant Redfort sat up in bed, yawned and rubbed his eyes. He switched on the radio, but to his great disappointment the only station he could get any reception on was one playing the most awful music. In fact he wondered to himself if it was music at all.

‘What is that dreadful noise?’ moaned Sabina. ‘Sounds like violins having the most vivid of disagreements.’

Brant switched it off in disgust. He had been looking for a pleasant sound to block out the barking dog, but it wasn’t going to happen.

‘I can’t take much more of this yapping,’ he said. ‘How about an early breakfast up on deck honey?’

‘Good idea Brant. That bow-wow is beginning to give me the most dreadful headache. Honestly, you’d think they would have raised him better. Can you imagine if Ruby yelped like that?’

‘Well, no honey, but then she isn’t a dog.’

‘But you know what I mean Brant.’

‘Sure I do honey; Ruby is a far better daughter than Pookie would ever be.’