Forget Me Not (2 page)

“Your father, Thomas,” said Mother, her voice loud as she stepped onto the ship, “is an overly cautious man. He is a third-generation jeweller of great renown. Of course we should be in first class.”

Father’s breath whistled out between his teeth.

On the deck, a sailor in full uniform stood inside an open doorway. “Welcome aboard,” he said. “This way, if you please.” He directed the Gilmores into a light, open room, with wood-panelled walls and patterned carpet.

Alfred handed over the trolley to another sailor and shook hands with Father and Thomas before departing.

Father lowered Bea to the floor. “Stay with Thomas and Eve while we have our tickets checked. We won’t be a moment.”

Bea tucked Teddy under her arm and wormed her way between her brother and sister.

Thomas rested his hand on Bea’s shoulder and watched as his parents spoke to the officer sitting behind a desk. The officer directed Father to a different room, perhaps the purser’s office, where Thomas knew his father planned to deposit the majority of the proceeds from the sale of their property, legal documents and Mother’s jewels for safekeeping. Thomas had felt rather important when Father had discussed with him how much to keep aside for the journey.

While Father dealt with the finances, Mother explained to the stewards which bags were to stay with the family, and which were to be stored as cargo until the
Titanic
reached New York. She fussed around the luggage, which Alfred had unloaded by the desk, checking each item after the steward attached either a “Not Wanted – Second Class” sticker, indicating these were to be stowed, or the green-and-white tags indicating these were to go to the cabins.

Thomas wanted to point out to Eve how disappointed Mother seemed when all the stickers and tags were correct and she had nothing to complain about. A few months ago they would have giggled at her fussing.

When Father returned to the room where the children and Mother waited, he looked at Eve and pulled a strange face. “Won’t be a moment,” he said, turning back the way he’d come.

“Come along, children,” said Mother. She motioned for them to follow the steward.

Thomas bristled. Children? He would turn sixteen after they arrived in New York. Father treated him as an adult, why couldn’t Mother? With a sigh, he took Bea’s hand and followed.

Father met them on the stairs.

“Is everything organised?” asked Mother.

Father patted his pocket. “Indeed. Which deck are we on?”

“The saloon deck, sir,” said the steward. “This way, sir.”

Thomas was relieved when the steward directed his mother and the girls to one cabin, and he and his father to another across the corridor. Being in a confined space with a snappy Mother and sulking Eve didn’t bear thinking about.

While Father helped Mother and the girls, Thomas went to his cabin and tested the bunks for comfort. It was clear that this cabin was impressive by any standards. He couldn’t help wondering what the first-class furnishings would be like.

He was lying on the bottom bunk, hands behind his head, when his father entered.

“How is it?”

“Quite comfortable.” Thomas sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the berth, knocking his thigh against the wooden rail.

Father laughed. “Might take a while to become used to that.”

Thomas rubbed his leg. “And Mother’s and Eve’s moods.”

“Ah, yes.” Father sat on the sofa opposite the bunk. “Be patient, Thomas, your mother is anxious about the journey.”

“But she said moving to America was a wonderful opportunity.”

“And she meant it. Bea’s health is troubling her, and the ship.”

“But this is the safest vessel ever built.”

“Yes, but being transferred from the
Oceanic
because of the coal strike has unsettled her.”

“That coal strike is a stroke of luck, if you ask me.” Thomas brushed lint from his trousers. “Is that Eve’s problem too?”

“I suspect she simply doesn’t want to leave, but even by those standards she is glum.” Father frowned. “Why don’t we collect Mother and the girls and go up on deck for departure?”

Two men look out the same prison bars
.
One saw mud and the other stars
.
Therese Bradshaw, Southampton Post Office, 4/04/1912

Father left us to settle into our cabin on the port side of the saloon deck. Bea sat on the tapestry sofa, rubbing her teddy’s ear, her feet dangling above the red-and-white linoleum tiles.

I stood with my back to the door and tried to quell the panic nipping at me. Though the cabin was comfortable enough, I didn’t relish the prospect of living in such close quarters with Mother. She seemed to watch my every move with such a harsh face. What if I had bad dreams again? I shivered as pieces of last night’s dream drifted back to me – Bea, Mother and I in separate boats on a still ocean.

I took a slow breath in to steady myself. The smell of paint tickled my throat. I touched the wall with my fingertips, expecting the white panelling to be tacky, but it felt cold and smooth.

“It’s small,” said Bea.

“I’m sure first class would have been more spacious,” said Mother, running her hand along the bunk. “Fancy! This is mahogany.” Next she pulled down the washbasin and pressed the lever. A stream of water flowed out.

“Is that the only place we have to wash?” I asked.

“Don’t you listen? That steward explained the bathrooms and lavatories are down the passage.”

I chewed the inside of my cheeks and crossed the cabin to the bunk beds. Curtains, which could be closed for privacy, were gathered at the pillow end. The sight of the raised rail, which ran a quarter of the bed’s length made my stomach flutter anew. How rough would the journey be for such a thing to be necessary?

“Where do I sleep?” asked Bea, looking at the bunks.

Before the upheaval, the sound of Bea’s voice and the sight of her blue eyes improved my mood, no matter how good or bad I felt. But now, about to be whisked away to a new country on this at ship, Bea’s voice infuriated me.

“You are not sleeping with me.” The words sounded harsher than I’d intended.

“Evelyn, your ill humour is tiresome.”

I looked at my boots, face hot. She was right, even I was tired of my moods and fear. I felt I had no control over them.

Mother sat on the sofa beside Bea. “As it happens, Bea, this sofa is to be your bed. The steward will make it up each evening.”

There was a rap on the door. “Alice, may I come in?”

Relieved at the interruption, I scrambled to open the door for Father.

“How is everything?” he asked.

“Fine, thank you,” said Mother.

Thomas pushed past me into the room. “You have a porthole.” He pressed his face against the thick glass. “There’s a large crowd on the dock.”

Father opened his fob watch and then shut it with a click. “Shall we go up on deck for departure?”

“A grand idea,” said Mother. “Bea, dear, is it necessary for you to bring your bear?”

“Of course it is.” Father patted Bea’s head. “Ted has to be part of this historic event, doesn’t he, Eve?”

I grunted agreement, and with my autograph book still in my hand, followed my family into the passageway where a young steward struggled with bags.

“Excuse me,” said Father, “could you tell us the best place to watch the ship’s departure?”

Despite his load, the steward smiled. “Second-class promenade on the boat-deck, sir. Behind the lifeboats shouldn’t be too crowded.”

Thomas scooped up Bea and rushed to the stairs before Father had finished thanking the steward.

“Hurry, Eve,” called Bea over Thomas’s shoulder.

I didn’t understand their excitement. All I could feel was sorrow, and since we had boarded the
Titanic
, a spreading smudge of dread.

On the stairs we passed other passengers on their way to their cabins. The gentlemen nodded in greeting to Father and Mother. When we reached the boat-deck, Thomas rushed through the door and hoisted Bea on to his shoulders. “Look at all the people, Bea.”

I walked past folded deckchairs and towering lifeboats held aloft by metal structures. At the last one, a shudder wracked my body and the ship seemed to surge beneath me. I braced myself against a lifeboat marked with the White Star Line’s red flag logo and the number 16 until the sensation passed. Shaken, I continued to where Thomas and Bea stood.

“Are you ill, Evie?” asked Bea.

“I’m fine,” I said.

On the pier below us, miniature people scurried along the gangway. Most headed off the ship, but a few were still boarding. Wagons, horses and automobiles were dotted amongst the crowd. I scanned the tiny faces, hoping to catch a last glimpse of Mary-Jane or Clara. If only I was down there with them, watching the
Titanic
sail away instead of being on board.

Passengers pressed against me, jostling to share the vantage point. Beside me Thomas chatted and pointed out Southampton sights to Bea.

Even though I’d heard the
Titanic
’s steam whistle before, it surprised me when it blasted. On the boat-deck the sound was louder and more urgent. Below, sailors busied themselves releasing the mooring ropes on the dock and ship’s deck.

“This is it,” said Father behind me. “Wave goodbye to England, forever.”

I gritted my teeth. It may be forever for him, but I would be back as soon as I could.

The blasts of the
Titanic
’s whistle mingled with the cheers and shouts and became a roar. Thomas watched the passengers on the decks below wave handkerchiefs and hats to the crowd on the dock. Somewhere a band played. Thomas couldn’t see it, he just caught snatches of the music.

Another blast rent the air and Thomas felt the
Titanic
sway as her maiden journey began. A surge of excitement rushed through him. It was so strong that Thomas was sure Bea could feel it.

“We’re off!” he yelled. “Wave, Bea.”

Beside him Eve stared down at the growing expanse of water between the ship and the dock. She clutched her autograph book to her heart. Thomas felt a twinge of sorrow for her. He wished Eve was as excited as him. He was about to try to jolt her from her thoughts, when Bea squealed and twisted on his shoulders.

She tapped the top of his head. “Thomas, look at that boat!”

Thomas turned to the starboard side. Only a short distance away a smaller vessel headed straight for the huge ship’s bow.

“It’s going to hit us,” cried Bea.

Eve gasped and gripped the ship’s rail with her free hand.

“Oh, my.” Mother covered her mouth with her fingertips.

“It’s probably just inspecting the
Titanic
,” said Father, though a look of concern crossed his face.

The passengers on the deck below, facing the dock, continued to wave, unaware of what was happening on the other side of the ship. Those on the boat-deck cried out, but their voices were lost in the excited farewells from the other decks.

The
Titanic
stopped moving, but the smaller boat kept coming, propelled by the giant ship’s wake. A tugboat, with dark smoke chugging from its funnel, somehow managed to position itself between the two vessels, and stopped the smaller ship from crashing into the
Titanic
, with only feet to spare.

“That was close.” Thomas let out his breath in a loud rush. “And just a little bit exciting.”

“Exciting?” Eve glared. “That was terrifying. How could it happen?”

“I’d say the
Titanic
’s wake pulled the other vessel from its mooring,” said Father.

“A lucky save by that tugboat,” said Thomas. “I say, the name of the other ship is
New York
.”

Eve turned on him. “Must you be so flippant, Thomas? That incident just confirms my fear.”

Thomas frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“This boat, ship, makes me uneasy.”

“Eve’s a baby, isn’t she, Bea,” said Thomas, poking Bea’s leg to make her giggle. Eve huffed and stepped away from them.

For the next half hour, the
Titanic
bobbed in the harbour while the
New York
was once again moored at her berth. When the
Titanic
set sail again, the crowds on both the docks and the decks had thinned, making for a more subdued farewell.

“I think I shall retire to our cabin,” said Mother. “Come along, Bea.” Thomas lowered Bea from his shoulders. “Are you coming, Evelyn?”

Eve didn’t look at her mother. “I’ll stay here. With Father and Thomas. If that is suitable.”

Mother, holding Bea’s hand, walked to the stairs. Father stood between Eve and Thomas at the railing. The three of them watched Southampton grow smaller as the
Titanic
made its way up the River Test.

“This will be a grand adventure,” said Thomas.

“Yes, but not without sorrow.”

For a moment Thomas thought Father was referring to Eve’s misery at leaving Southampton, but from the expression on his face, Thomas realised Father spoke of his own sadness at leaving. For the first time Thomas felt a stab of regret for the life he was leaving behind.

When the golden sun is setting
And your heart from care is free
When a thousand things you’re thinking
Will you sometimes think of me?
Nellie Pearson, Southampton Library, 4/04/ 1912

While I watched Southampton, then England, become smudges of grey, Father and Thomas strolled on the deck. Near the end of the River Test, an American gentleman stopped beside me and marvelled to no one in particular, “Magnificent vessel. Incredible feat of engineering. Neither God nor man could sink this ship.”

He moved on, which was a relief as I had no suitable reply. His confidence did little to shift the heavy feeling that had cloaked me since the near miss at the Southampton dock.

As that boat had headed straight for the
Titanic
, a string of unsettling images from my dreams flashed through my head – black seas, tiny boats, cries in the night, panic, so much panic. I shuddered.

As if sensing my unease, Thomas returned and tried to prise me from the rail. “See the couple talking to Father? The ones on the deckchairs? They are a most fascinating couple. American. The gentleman says there is a good life to be had in America if you put your mind and back into it. That’s encouraging, isn’t it, Eve?”