Forget Me Not (7 page)

A steward led both families to a table on the starboard side of the room. The men sat at one end, and the ladies at the other.

Over corned beef, baked jacket potatoes and vegetables, Mr Worthington chatted about Virginia. Hugh threw in the odd comment, but Thomas stayed silent, not because he didn’t have questions, but because his brain was crowded with his mother’s comment – “lose another child”. There had only been he and Eve until he was ten and then Bea was born. Surely, he would remember if he’d had another brother or sister. Thoughts swooped around his brain, too slippery for him to grasp.

“What do you think of that, Thomas?” Father’s voice brought him back to the table.

“I’m sorry, Father, I was thinking about another matter.”

“Mr Worthington was just saying he overheard the White Star Line chairman, Bruce Ismay, talking to several first-class passengers.”

Hugh’s father nodded. “Apparently, the
Titanic
will reach New York in record time. How about that?”

“Not surprising,” said Hugh. “Those boilers are large enough to break all shipping records, aren’t they, Thomas?”

Father set Thomas with a steely stare.

“At least that was what that steward chap told us,” continued Hugh, realising his mistake. “Imagine being on not only the
Titanic
’s maiden voyage, but on the ship that made the fastest voyage across the Atlantic.”

“What record will the
Titanic
break?” asked Mother, her voice strained.

“I overheard a conversation, Mrs Gilmore, just this morning, between White Star Line chairman Bruce Ismay and some first-class passengers,” said Mr Worthington. “Apparently, the
Titanic
will reach New York in record time.”

“This is an untried ocean liner. Is that responsible?” Mother shifted in her seat. “Shouldn’t they be taking all precautions to ensure a safe journey?”

“Alice, our safety is the captain and crew’s first concern.” Father turned his body away from her and continued to talk to Mr Worthington.

Thomas caught Eve’s eye and pulled a face. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide her grin.

A few lines from a bashful poet

Georgina Olive, Southampton, 8/04/1912

Lunch passed as a rumble of noise and a blur of movement. I don’t recall if I ate, but I do know I didn’t contribute to the conversation.

How could I after Mother made that strange comment in the passageway?
Another child
. The words hit me like a wave of icy water and were just as chilling. Never have I heard her mention such a thing before. Her words were so large they squeezed all other thoughts from my head.

I glanced at Thomas a few times during the meal, trying to gauge his reaction. He too seemed distracted.

After luncheon, and as soon as it was polite to do so, I escaped to the library, giving the excuse that I needed to write to Clara and Mary-Jane again. But I didn’t need to write, I needed to think. I took the first book I saw from the shelf and settled on a sofa, but instead of reading, I searched every memory I had for a hint of a baby other than Bea.

Before Bea was born, Mother and Father sent Thomas and me to stay with Grandmother and Aunty Beatrice in Winchester for several weeks. Aunty Beatrice took us to a service at the cathedral, which I remember because I tripped on a pew and landed on my knee. When I cried, it echoed around the massive nave.

By the time we returned home Bea was three weeks old. That was peculiar – leaving home with just a brother and returning to find I had a sister too.

I remember ages before, when Grandfather was still alive, Thomas and I stayed with Grandmother and Aunty Beatrice. It snowed so much that Thomas and I were confined indoors. Strange, but I have no recollection of how long or why we stayed.

I rubbed my forehead, hoping to clear my muddied thoughts. Those two words, “another child” had stunned me. What other secrets were my parents keeping from me?

I heard Mother’s approaching footsteps before I saw her. She stood over me, holding Bea’s hand. “I thought you were writing a letter.”

My face flushed. “I was, but …” I found it hard to look at her face.

“Evelyn, I need to rest.” She released Bea’s hand. “Take Bea and make sure she stays warm.”

Before I could protest, Mother joined three women on sofas by the windows. I clenched my teeth. Rest? What she really wanted was to gossip.

I felt the warmth of Bea beside me. “What would you like to do, Bea?” My voice was flat.

She tugged on my skirt and beckoned me closer. “Can we go back to the cabin? Please? Mother made me leave Teddy there and …”

Her quivering chin melted my anger. I glared at Mother and reached for Bea’s hand. “Cabin first, then you, me and Teddy will explore.”

After we collected Teddy from the cabin, we made our way back to the stairs.

“Did you know there are dogs on board, Bea?” I asked.

“No there aren’t,” said Bea, her jaw jutting out.

“Yes, there are. Thomas and Hugh told me a steward walks them on the poop deck. Would you like to see?”

Bea studied her teddy’s chest, as though the answer was embroidered on his fur. “Mother doesn’t like dogs. She didn’t like Dash.”

“I know, but Mother is busy resting in the library. She won’t know what we’re doing.” I tugged her hand. “Let’s go see the dogs.”

“Do you think I could pat one?”

“I’m sure you could.”

On deck the breeze loosened strands of our hair. Wisps of cloud floated across the sky, which was the same colour as the calm ocean. Around us, ladies walked the deck or rested in deckchairs. They wore hats of all kinds – crocheted hats, straw hats with broad brims, and hats with turned-back brims. Men in suits gathered in groups, talking and smoking. Half-a-dozen children galloped around the passengers. The children’s neighs and whinnies made Bea giggle. A lively jig floated through the air, adding a sense of lightness to the afternoon.

“Where are you two lovely ladies going?” There was Hugh, standing with hands in his pockets, smiling.

“Eve says there are dogs on the ship. I don’t believe her,” said Bea.

“What if I tell you I have seen them too? Would you believe me?”

Bea frowned.

“I’ve seen about a dozen different ones,” continued Hugh. “The stewards walk them on the poop deck.”

“That’s what Eve said,” said Bea.

“May I accompany you and show you myself?” He bowed. Bea giggled.

“There’s no need,” I said, unable to look at him.

Hugh perplexed me no end. Sometimes he infuriated me, yet at other times he was so charming he made me feel light-headed.

“I should like to.”

My face felt warm as we walked across the well deck and up the poop deck steps. Even though Bea was between us, I could feel Hugh’s warmth. On the poop deck the breeze was stronger and the music louder. And it was more crowded than I expected. An older couple, wrapped in scarves and woollen overcoats, scowled at two boys standing on the ship’s rails and leaning towards the ocean. I suspected the boys were spitting or dropping things into the sea.

Most people were gathered around three men sitting on the edge of a capstan at the back of the deck. Two played fiddles and the third a tin whistle that shone in the weak sunlight. The audience danced, clapped and stamped their feet. The inner circle of people heaved around them.

Hugh scooped up Bea and took my hand. “Come on.” His hand felt smooth and warm against mine. My stomach fluttered and my blood fizzed. I laughed as Hugh led us through the crowd, Bea beaming over his shoulder. We were swallowed by the sound of claps and cheers, which only made me feel lighter.

“Fancy a dance, madam?”

I was about to accept Hugh’s offer, only to realise he wasn’t asking me, but Bea.

Hugh released my hand and stepped into a gap in the dancing throng. I stood on the edge watching Hugh twirl and prance. Bea clung to his shoulders, her face filled with delight. Her chuckles and squeals floated between the music.

A young man with his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows bowed before me. “Care to dance, miss?” His Irish brogue was thick.

Before I could answer, I was caught up amongst the swirling dancers.

“I don’t know how,” I yelled.

“Just follow me.”

Within minutes I was laughing like Bea, stomping around the deck in a way that would horrify Mother – and I didn’t care. I was having too much fun. Without taking a break, the musicians began a new song. My partner and I continued dancing. When the music finally stopped I was out of breath.

“Care for another–”

“Eve!” Hugh’s cry drowned out the young man’s words. “It’s Bea.”

An icy chill flooded me. Where was he? Where was Bea? I stumbled and pushed my way through a wall of people and crashed into an empty bench seat, lifted my skirts and climbed it for a better view.

Hugh stood near the steps beside a pale-faced Bea. Even from here I could see she was gasping for breath, eyes wide. Panic exploded in my chest. I leaped from the bench and elbowed my way through the crowd.

“I’m here, Bea,” I said, squatting in front of her.

It took three wheezing breaths for her to say one word. “Teddy.”

“We’ll find him,” I said. My heart hammered in my throat. “But first, let’s go see my friend, Evelyn.”

“I’ll carry, Bea. You lead the way,” said Hugh.

“But Teddy,” she gasped.

“He’s still dancing, Bea.” I forced myself to sound bright. “Let him have a bit more fun.” I thrust Bea into Hugh arms and raced to the steps.

Thomas shuffled the cards. Father sipped the tea a steward had brought out to the covered promenade deck. From their deckchairs, Thomas and Father had a clear view of the calm ocean and open sky.

“Ready to be beaten again, Thomas?” asked Father, placing the cup back on the saucer.

“Father, may I ask you something? Something delicate?”

Father crossed his arms. “I’m not sure this is the time or the place.”

As far as Thomas was concerned, they were away from Mother and Bea, making it the perfect time and place. “What did Mother mean, before lunch … when she said she couldn’t lose another child?”

Father smoothed his moustache. The silence between them made the other sounds – conversation and distant Irish music – seem louder.

After the longest time, Father sighed. “There were two other babies, Thomas. The first before you were born – Elizabeth. She lived nearly a year. The second was born after Eve. He only lived a few weeks. They both had weak lungs. Like Bea.”

Thomas ran his finger along the edge of the cards, lost for words. It was as though jumbled pieces of a puzzle had slipped into place. Mother’s sadness, her fussing over Bea, the reason he and Eve stayed at Winchester with Grandmother and Grandfather that time it snowed and snowed.

“Boy?” Thomas’s voice was thin.

“Yes, one of each – Elizabeth, as I said, and William.” Father cleared his throat. “Well, come on, old boy, deal.”

Brain humming in time with the distant thrum of the
Titanic
’s engine, Thomas dealt the cards.

“Thomas, best you don’t speak of this to your mother. Or Eve.”

Thomas understood why he shouldn’t speak to his mother about the babies but his father’s warning about Eve puzzled him. Before he could ask why, Hugh sprinted across the deck, sliding to a stop in front of them.

“Whoa, there, Hugh, what’s the rush?” asked Father.

“Been looking for you. Everywhere.” Hugh panted and sweat dripped down his temples. “Bea’s ill.”

“Where is she?” asked Father, knocking his teacup as he stood.

“Hospital. With Eve.”

“And Mother?” asked Thomas.

“Can’t find her.”

Father regained his composure. “Lead the way, Hugh.”

From morn ’til night
,
May your life be bright
,
And misfortune never frown
.
May the sweet content
,
Of each day well spent
,
Be yours as the sun goes down
.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs Corinne Smith, Southampton, 09/04/1912

I stood alone in the
Titanic
’s hospital, back against the wall, stomach tight and knees sludgy like porridge. The lightness that had filled me earlier had gone, replaced by thick dread. This was my fault.

I was torn between wanting to charge through the door where Mr Dunford had taken Bea, and rushing back to the poop deck to find Teddy to help ease Bea’s distress, but my legs just wouldn’t move.

When Hugh and I burst through the hospital door, Mr Dunford’s expression was first one of annoyance, then dismay. Without a word, he took Bea from Hugh and whisked her away. He’d just gone when Hugh raced off. If I hadn’t been so terrified for Bea, I’d have been furious with him.

I couldn’t help but snap when Hugh returned, red-faced and hair more dishevelled than usual. “Where did you run off to?”

“To collect this.” Hugh held out Bea’s teddy.

My relief was so strong, I did something quite peculiar. I hugged Hugh. At first he felt rigid, then he softened and hugged me back. He smelled of soap and the ocean. A little strength returned to my legs. Embarrassed, I stepped back and took Teddy. “Where did you find him?”