Forget Me Not (5 page)

“Hugh and Meggie are travelling to New York,” said Thomas.

“Really. I thought they might be alighting in the middle of the Atlantic.”

Meggie grinned.

Hugh’s laugh surprised me. “Your sister is quick-witted, Thomas.”

Thomas scowled. “Aren’t you supposed to be supervising Bea, Eve?”

“Indeed I am, and I’ve been doing a better job than you.”

“That would be my fault,” said Hugh. “I insisted Thomas accompany Meggie and me to the boiler room.” His eyes twinkled.

“The boiler room is out of bounds.” I cringed at the horror in my words. He would think me such a baby.

“Only if you are caught,” said Hugh.

“And we weren’t,” continued Meggie, “except for on the landing in first class when that old man shook his walking stick at us.”

I gasped.

Hugh shook his outstretched hand, imitating the man’s anger. “I say, I haven’t seen you here before. Steward! These children aren’t first-class passengers.”

“We ran before the steward arrived,” said Meggie.

The three of them chuckled. While I’d been listening to dolls and a teddy take tea, they’d been exploring. And having fun. Anger swelled from my boots to my fists.

“The boilers are enormous, Eve. Huge. And you should see the workers. Black they are. Covered in coal dust. Come see for yourself?”

I folded my arms. “No thank you, Thomas.”

“See what, Thomas?” asked Mother.

I jumped. I hadn’t seen Mother coming.

Thomas’s face flushed. “The barber shop, Mother.”

Mother studied Thomas. “Why are you so filthy?”

“I’ve just been asking him the same thing, Mother,” I said, shaking my head. Though Thomas was a little dusty, he was hardly filthy. “Don’t they look unseemly?”

Mother pressed her lips together.

“Have you met Hugh and Meggie, Mother?” I continued.

Mother’s face remained stern as Thomas introduced the Worthingtons.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Gilmore.” Hugh’s charm softened her a little. “Are you enjoying the journey?”

Before Mother could answer, Bea ran up to join us. “The ship has stopped!”

Thomas realised the distant hum of the engines had stopped. He nodded at the green, hilly land in the distance. “Queenstown, Ireland. Our last port before New York.”

Everyone went to the ship’s rail.

“More tenders,” said Eve, watching two boats teeming with people draw near the
Titanic
. “I suppose Queenstown’s port is too shallow as well.”

“Just like Cherbourg,” said Hugh. “The
Titanic
is too big for many ports.” He rested his forearms on the ship’s rail.

Thomas noticed Eve glance at Hugh then back.

“I can’t see,” said Bea, on her tiptoes in front of Thomas.

He lifted her onto his shoulders.

“It’s crowded on those boats,” said Bea.

“It’s not so bad when you’re on board,” said Hugh. “At least it wasn’t until we reached the
Titanic
. Then everybody rushed to be first on board.”

“I’m glad we boarded from the docks at Southampton,” said Eve. “I imagine it would be a rough journey.”

“Much rougher than the
Titanic
, that’s for sure,” said Hugh. “This trip has been smoother than many rail journeys our family has taken.”

“I don’t know,” said Thomas, “the tenders would be like an adventure.” He leaned over the edge for a better view of the deck below. The
Titanic’
s crew readied ropes to throw to the tenders.

Bea clung to Thomas’s hair.

“Thomas,” snapped Mother. “Stand back immediately, before Bea tumbles to her death.”

As Thomas straightened up and stepped back from the edge, Hugh winked at him. Thomas rolled his eyes.

“What are the smaller boats behind the tenders?” asked Meggie.

“Traders,” said Hugh. “A fellow was telling Father at dinner last night that the local people bring lace and other crafts to trade with passengers.”

Mother shook her head. Thomas wondered if it was directed at the traders or Hugh. He couldn’t see the problem with either. The traders showed enterprise and Hugh was well informed.

“Time we went to meet your father, children,” said Mother. “It’s almost lunchtime.”

Thomas considered arguing that he was old enough to stay with Hugh and watch the tenders and trading boats, but decided against provoking Mother’s temper. With a sigh, he slipped Bea back to the deck and farewelled Hugh and Meggie.

As he walked away, Bea gave a cry. “Teddy!”

Thomas’s heart thudded in his chest, fearful Bea had dropped the bear overboard.

“He’s fine, Bea,” said Eve, squatting in front of her. “He’s there on the deckchair. See?”

Before Thomas could move Hugh had picked up the abandoned teddy and brought it back to Bea.

“He’s rather cold and hungry, though,” said Hugh.

“Thank you,” said Bea.

“Thomas, Eve, if we don’t see you at luncheon, perhaps we could meet afterwards, if you don’t have other plans, Mrs Gilmore.”

“I think that would be suitable, Hugh,” Mother said.

Thomas fought back a smile. If Hugh could charm Mother, there would be no end to the adventures they could have together.

Some may wish you happiness
Others wish you wealth
I wish you the best of all
Contentment and health
.
Mrs Jane Bigmore – Mary-Jane’s Ma,
Southampton, 7/04/1912

I didn’t see the Worthington family at lunch as Mother asked the steward if we could sit at a table in the far corner of the dining room. Not that I was disappointed. Hugh Worthington was too slick for my liking.

After a lunch of a cold meat selection, cheeses and fresh fruits, Mother announced that she and Bea would return to the cabin to rest. “Eve, Thomas, you will be under your father’s supervision.”

“Yes, Mother,” we sang in unison. So much for her agreeing to let us meet Hugh and Meggie after lunch.

The moment Mother and Bea left the table, Thomas groaned. “Father, I’m almost sixteen. Do I really need supervising?”

Father dabbed his mouth with the napkin. “I believe you are both quite able to look after yourselves.”

Thomas grinned.

I scooped up my autograph book. “I’m going to visit a friend.”

“What friend?” asked Thomas.

“Miss Marsden. She’s a stewardess and a nurse. And Australian.”

“Can’t say I’ve met an Australian before,” said Father.

“She’s lovely and so kind. She insisted we ask for her should Bea become ill on the journey.”

A frown crossed Father’s face. “Good, good. Well, run along then.”

At the dining room door, I asked the steward directions to the hospital. He studied me as though assessing my health. “Miss Evelyn Marsden asked me to visit,” I added.

“Right you are. Hospital’s on this deck.” He pointed past the staircase. “Straight along there, Miss, then turn left.”

When I reached the hospital door, I smoothed my dress and knocked, opening it after a voice said “Come.”

An older steward sat at a table in a room twice the size of our cabin. He ran his index finger down an open book.

“Excuse me.” My voice sounded small.

The steward glanced up. He appeared to be Father’s age, but seemed much sterner. “How may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Miss Evelyn Marsden.”

“And may I ask the nature of your business?”

“I, um …” My autograph book seemed such a childish thing. “She said I should visit her.”

The steward looked from my face, which I was sure was flushed, to the book in my hand. “Miss Eve, I take it? Miss Evelyn said you would be dropping by. I am William Dunford, hospital steward.” His smile made me relax. “I shall find Miss Marsden for you.”

Evelyn arrived moments later. “Eve, how lovely. You remembered.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Why don’t I sign your book, then we can take the air.” She spoke as though we were old friends, banishing the nerves I’d felt at imposing upon her.

She took a pen from Mr Dunford’s table and reached for my book. “Have you collected many signatures today?”

“You are to be my first on the
Titanic
.”

“Oh my, that’s a responsibility.” After she finished writing, her face lit up. “Would you like other signatures?”

“I would, thank you. If it’s no trouble.”

“Perhaps William could sign for you while I am gone.” While Mr Dunford signed, Evelyn slipped through the door.

She returned with a gentleman a little older than her, wearing a waistcoat and white shirt. “Evelyn, this is our assistant surgeon, Dr Simpson.”

Dr Simpson smiled. “I believe you have a book for me to sign, Eve,” he said.

“I shouldn’t like to bother you, sir.”

“Not at all. My friend Amelia has one which she asks everyone to sign.” He picked up the pen and wrote. “What a pity Dr O’Laughlin is upstairs in the surgery,” he said, recapping the pen. “I’m sure he’d be delighted to add his moniker.”

“Dr O’Laughlin is the ship’s chief surgeon,” explained Evelyn. “Doctor, Eve and I are going to take a stroll on the promenade deck. I shan’t be long.”

I picked up my book. “Thank you so much for signing my book, Doctor Simpson.”

“My pleasure, Eve. Enjoy your journey.”

“Shall we?” said Evelyn, holding the hospital door open.

As we reached the starboard side of the ship, the
Titanic’
s whistle blew and was answered by a chorus of smaller blasts from the trading boats and tenders. Somebody played a mournful song on bagpipes. It was difficult to place where the musician stood as the music swirled around with the breeze. The tenders and smaller trading boats glided away from the
Titanic
, and headed back to Queenstown.

Evelyn and I walked along the deck past families watching the tenders depart. “What are your plans for the future, Eve?”

No one had ever asked me that before, and I’d never told anyone of the spark deep inside. I took a slow breath before saying the words aloud for the first time. “I’d like to be a nurse and help children like Bea.”

Evelyn looked very serious for a moment. “You would be well suited to it. I should be happy to write an introduction letter for you, when you’re ready.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Evelyn.” A rush of excitement made my skin tingle. I wondered how Mother would cope when she learned of my wish. I could hear what she would say. “Ladies should occupy themselves with genteel pursuits, like sewing, reading and taking tea with friends”. That was her opinion, which she shared often. But this was 1912 and I wanted to be more than genteel. I wanted to be a nurse.

The
Titanic
’s engines rumbled and the ship moved beneath us.

“Looks like we’re on our way,” said Evelyn. “Plain sailing until we reach New York on Wednesday.”

A rush of icy fear surged through me.

After Eve left the dining room and Father retreated to the smoking room, Thomas decided to seek out Hugh and Meggie. He searched the promenades and sitting rooms before finally finding them near the library.

“Thomas, we were about to explore the poop deck. Care to join us?” asked Hugh.

Thomas had already seen the third class, or steerage, children running and climbing on the deck, laughing and squealing as they played. “Poop deck it is,” he said. “Lead the way.”

They climbed a flight of stairs and walked across the well deck to the poop deck at the stern of the ship. Children played jacks and chased each other, while adults strolled or chatted on the benches. Dotted across the poop deck were funnels and capstans. The cranes Thomas had seen loading and unloading cargo when the
Titanic
was at dock stood at the end closest to the well deck. Closer to the ship’s stern, a lone sailor stood on top of a white bridge-like structure.

“Imagine the view from up there,” said Thomas.

“Don’t like our chances of finding out,” said Meggie. “Not with that fellow on watch.”

They walked to the ship’s stern and leaned over the rail to watch the water churn beneath them, leaving a foaming trail in the
Titanic
’s wake.

“The ship’s propellers must be enormous,” said Hugh.

Thomas felt strange peering over the edge, so he turned and rested his back against the rail. A steward walking three dogs on leads neared him. Thomas bent to pat the first one, an orange ball of fluff. The other two dogs, which both had long tan and white hair, pushed forwards to share the attention.

“That looks like fun,” said Hugh.

At first Thomas thought Hugh was referring to patting the dogs, but when he followed Hugh’s gaze, he realised Hugh meant something else.

Two boys from steerage, judging by their rolled sleeves and woollen caps, swung like monkeys on the baggage cranes.

“Oi, off there,” yelled the dog-walking steward. He tugged the dogs’ leads and trotted in the boys’ direction. “Off there, I say!”

One boy swung his legs and pulled himself to sit on top of the crane. He waved to the steward.

“Let’s watch the sport,” said Meggie. She, Hugh and Thomas followed the now red-faced steward. As they reached the first set of funnels, the swinging boys thudded to the deck and wiped their hands on their pants. Thomas could see the grease smears from where he stood.

The steerage boys pulled faces at the steward and sprinted off.

Thomas laughed. He’d have loved to swing just as they had, but feared his mother’s reaction if he smeared grease on his clothes.

“Thomas, we should visit the barber shop. After all, you did tell your mother that’s where you’d been,” said Hugh. “Wouldn’t do if you were unable to answer her questions.”

“Too true.” Thomas had forgotten his lie.

“I’m coming too,” said Meggie, tagging along.

The three of them met Eve on the stairs at the saloon deck.

“Care to accompany us?” asked Hugh. “We’re on our way to explore the barber shop.”

“The barber shop?” squeaked Eve. “You can’t be serious.”

“The second-class passengers’ barber shop,” said Thomas, hoping to calm Eve.

She folded her arms. “I don’t care what class it is, I refuse to go into a gentlemen’s shop. It’s no place for–”