You sit down in the plush hotel room and take a sip from the glass of water placed in front of you. A waft of after-shave drifts across the table from the journalist opposite. His sleek hair is oiled back against his scalp; he looks at you over the top of his wire-framed spectacles.
"Thank you for joining us. I'm sure you've been through enough lately."
You nod politely but don't say anything. He's right.
"So, let's start at the beginning. What was your role on the Titanic?"
If you were a holiday-maker, go to [[2]].
If you were working on the ship, go to [[3]].A look of sadness passes over the journalist's face as he considers the implications of what you've said. "Where you alone?" he asks.
You shake your head but don't say anything. It's too soon to talk about those you lost. "Can I ask where you boarded?" he finishes, kindly.
To answer "Southampton", go to [[6]].
To answer "Cherbourg", go to [[7]].The journalist is impressed. "What was your job?" he asks, kindly. He can clearly sense that it is difficult for you to relive the ordeal.
If you were in charge of the guests (looking after their needs and entertainment), go to [[4]].
If you worked as an engineer or with the captain, go to [[5]]."The passengers must certainly have required some looking after, given the price of a ticket!" the journalist says with only half a laugh. You see the pen poised over the paper, ready to record anything salacious you say about the White Star Line. You know better than that and stay quiet.
The man continues, "So, where were you when it struck ice?"
If you were in bed, go to [[9]].
If you were seeing to a customer's needs, go to [[10]].Suddenly, the journalist seems to be much more attentive. "So you were in the room when it happened?" he asks eagerly. "You were there, with Captain Smith when he took his eye off the ball, or the iceberg, as it were?"
To talk about the captain, go to [[11]].
To try to change the subject, go to [[12]].
You see the journalist scribbling notes into his little pocketbook and wonder what his impression is of you. Does he think that your story is less noteworthy because you are only a child? Or is it more curious because of it?
He continues the interview. Go to [[8]]."Ah! One of the few from France. But, you aren't French, I believe?"
"No, sir," you say in your timid voice. "We were there on holiday to visit my mother's friend. We thought a trip on the Titanic would be a nice way to end it."
You see the journalist making notes in his small pocketbook and wonder what he thinks of you or if he even cares beyond your story. He places his pen down and continues the interview. Go to [[8]].
The journalist coughs and takes a sip of water. When he next speaks, his voice is more earnest. He is clearly approaching the main event and is hoping that you will give him the juicy story that he and his readers want.
"So," he begins, "tell me what happened."
"So you were asleep when it happened," the journalist says. You can't help but feel like he is judging you for not being wide-awake.
"I was on my break, yes. We were allowed to take a few hours between 10pm, and 2am to rest and recover. I had retired to my room after seeing to my guests."
"What was the first sign that something was wrong?"
"I heard the alarm going off just before midnight. At first, I was afraid. I was petrified. Then, a calm seemed to wash over me."
You sink back into your chair and retell the story of that fateful night as truthfully as you can remember. The journalist scribbles away furiously, and you know that your name will be all over the front pages by the morning.
"That must have been terrible," the man says, making a note in his pocketbook. "How did they react?"
You think back to the night when you'd been serving Mr and Mrs Carlisle a steak and potato dinner as per their room-service call. The look of sheer panic in their eyes as the alarm sang out is one that you won't forget in a hurry.
With a sigh, you sit back and begin to tell your story. No matter what, you want it to be as truthful as possible. You just hope that the reading public recognises how terrible it was.//This could be my chance//, you think to yourself. If you sell the story well enough, you could be on the front page like Rita Hayworth or Charlie Chaplin.
"I was indeed, sir. I saw everything that happened."
The journalist is overjoyed at your confession. You can see the delight in his eyes as he begins to scribble furiously. Sure, not everything you say is true, but it will certainly sell papers in the morning. You can already see your name in lights.
"Do you mind if we talk about something other than the captain?" you ask timidly. "I do not wish to speak ill of a dead man."
"Ah, so there is something ill to say," the journalist says with undisguised glee. He leaps on your error and tries to get whatever information out of you that he can. "Are you only alive today because you knew what was happening and was able to flee?"
You sink into your chair and resign yourself to the fact that the interview has taken a dramatic turn.
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