Free The Lost Empress by Steve Robinson

After the words that had passed between them on the terrace, he had clearly felt too embarrassed to stay, and Alice was sorry that there had been no chance to mend things between them. If there had been, she would have said that none of it mattered; that they were good friends and always would be. She supposed that however Archie felt today, he would have felt better if she’d had the chance to tell him that.
    ‘The dockyard is quite old,’ the young officer said, interrupting her thoughts.
    Alice hadn’t caught his name because she wasn’t really paying attention when they’d first arrived. Her nerves had got the better of her as soon as they had passed through the main gates.
    ‘It was established as a royal dockyard by Queen Elizabeth I in 1567,’ the officer continued.
    Alice already knew most of the dockyard’s history. She was no stranger to the place, and her father had been thorough with her education. But that was when she was a child. Now her father would repeat that education with Chester, the son Alice knew her father had always hoped for. She watched Chester’s little boots switch back and forth, wishing she had insisted he wear a coat over his sailor’s suit, yet understanding that he wanted to show it off in a place such as this.
    As they continued, Alice tried to take the dockyard in through the veil of fog, but all she could discern were the dockworkers coming and going in their dark work suits and flat caps, and the indistinct shapes of those buildings that were once familiar to her: the huts and other structures where she knew a great many more people were busy earning their wage. Now and then she could see the disembodied heads of the dockside cranes as they came and went with the shifting fog.
    Beyond the dry docks to their left, which were alive with activity, they passed an impressive block of structures that ran out to the edge of the River Medway. She heard her father then, who had been pointing out anything of interest to Chester, telling him now that they were the covered slips, No. 3 slip to No. 7, and that they were built in the days of sail to protect the wooden ships from the elements while they were being built.
    ‘The ship I thought you’d like to see, my boy, is just ahead,’ he said. ‘HMS Calliope . She’s too big for the covered slips.’
    ‘Where is she?’ Chester asked, peering into the fog. Then after a few more steps, his question was answered: No. 8 slip began to emerge, causing everyone to gaze skyward as first the support beams that loomed above the construction came into view, and then the ship itself.
    Lord Metcalfe nodded and smiled to himself as though the sight of a Royal Navy ship being built from the keel up would never cease to impress him. He stopped walking and turned to Chester. ‘There she is, lad. It won’t be long now before the hull’s complete. What do you make of her?’
    ‘She’s very big.’
    ‘Big for Chatham these days,’ Lord Metcalfe agreed. ‘Her displacement will be nearly four thousand tons by the time she’s in the water, but she’s no more than a light cruiser.’
    ‘When are they going to launch her?’ Chester asked.
    ‘Not for several months yet, and of course she’ll have to be fitted out before she’s commissioned.’ Alice’s father turned to her now and continued to address them both. ‘Her keel was only laid down in January. It’s incredible what can be achieved in just a couple of months and round-the-clock shifts—even on a Sunday. In the House of Commons recently, I heard our First Lord of the Admiralty, the estimable Mr Churchill, say that there are currently around thirteen thousand workers employed in the Royal Dockyards.’
    Alice just smiled, feigning interest so as not to dampen her father’s enthusiasm, but now that they had reached their intended destination, her thoughts were focused on how she was going to get away and go about her business. For the first time she began to question whether she could