The Girl Who Came Home - a Titanic Novel

by Hazel Gaynor

  ‘You look pretty today Mom,’ she said, pouring them both a glass of iced tea. ‘That new dress is lovely. The colour really suits you.’ It had been a while since Grace had been genuinely able to say that. Her mom hadn’t bought herself anything new for ages or paid much attention to her appearance. She looked more like herself that evening; more like how Grace remembered her mother used to look.

  ‘Thank you. It is kinda lovely isn’t it,’ her mother replied, brushing her hands over the dress and twirling slightly.

  She’d been into town for the day with a friend and had decided to have her hair curled and coloured. Feeling revived by the subtle change, she’d popped into Walsh’s department store and emerged with a lovely new, emerald green tea dress. She knew it suited her the moment she tried it on. ‘Cost a fortune though. I really shouldn’t have.’ Her smile showed that she really wasn’t too worried.

  ‘Mom, I’ve been thinking,’ Grace began, sipping her iced tea nervously.

  ‘Thinking what, love?’ Her mother put down her fork to give her daughter her full attention.

  ‘Well, you know, I’ve been thinking about maybe going back to college in September, y’know, starting over with the studies and picking up the journalism thing again.’

  Her mother smiled. She didn’t seem at all surprised.

  ‘Good. I am very glad to hear it. So, what’s brought all this on?’

  Grace had told her mother all about Maggie’s story. Maggie was happy for her to do so. She’d said it had taken her a lifetime to tell one person and she didn’t think she was up to the task of saying it all over again. As far as Maggie was concerned, Grace could go off and tell the entire world now, just as long as she didn’t have to do anymore of the telling herself.

  ‘So, I suppose with me turning twenty-one and listening to Maggie’s story I’ve realised I’m not getting any younger and that you can’t take life for granted. I was thinking that with Art coming back for the summer and you seeming to be a bit happier these days…..’ She trailed off, hoping that she hadn’t misread the signs.

  Her mom laughed. ‘Not getting any younger! Would you listen to yourself! I’d give my right arm to be twenty-one again. You know, that’s how old I was when I had you and Art. All a bit of a surprise to your father and me. We’d only been married a few months and then, wham, you two came charging into our lives.’ She smiled at the memories and pushed the sweetcorn around on her plate. ‘So, what about Jimmy? Have you given any thought to him?’

  Grace knew that her mother had always been very fond of Jimmy and although she’d been too distracted by her own grief to really notice her daughter’s refusal to acknowledge him after the accident, she had often wondered about him.

  ‘I’m not sure about Jimmy. Sometimes I think about him but he’s most probably forgotten all about me by now. I wasn’t really very kind to him was I, ignoring his phone calls and his letters? He’ll be graduating this summer anyway. He’s probably moving on somewhere.’

  ‘My goodness Grace, there’s an awful lot of probablys in all of that. You should probably get in touch with him and find out whether any of your probablys are actually realities. I’m sure he’ll understand about the phone calls and letters. It was a very difficult time we were all going through. Death makes people react in strange ways and you certainly wouldn’t be the first to block somebody out of your life because of your grief and I doubt you’ll be the last.’ Her words reminded Grace of Maggie. She’d blocked all sorts of people and memories out of her life after Titanic. ‘If there’s meant to be a future for the two of you, I’m sure he will forgive you. And if not, then at least you’ll know the truth rather than spending the rest of your life in a world of probablys and what ifs.’

  They carried on eating their dinner in silence as a light rain began to fall outside.

  ‘So, why don’t you call that professor friend of yours and talk to him. See if you can get enrolled again for the fall semester and see if that feature opening might be resurrected? You’ve some story to go to them with now, hey?’

  Grace had been thinking about this for the last week. After searching so hard for an original angle for a feature two years ago, one had now landed right in her hands.

  ‘Yeah. Maybe. I’m not sure I want to write Maggie’s story though mom. I’m afraid I won’t be able to do justice to her and to the memory of all those people. I’m not sure I’m a good enough writer for a story as gigantic as Titanic.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ her mother replied, looking at her seriously. ‘Now you look here Grace Butler. All your father ever dreamed of for you and Art was to do something you loved in life. He didn’t care about fancy qualifications or fancy clothes or cars, just that you were both happy and fulfilled. He was so excited about your dreams for a career as a journalist and he would be so proud to see his daughter’s name in print. You’re a great writer Grace. If you want my opinion, which I realise as my daughter you probably don’t, you should use this opportunity which has fallen into your lap and use it to write Maggie’s story. Nobody will ever be able to bring those poor people back, but we can certainly remember them through your wonderful words.’ She paused for a moment, refilling both their glasses before adding, ‘You would make her incredibly proud you know.’

  Grace was quiet. She hadn’t heard her mother talk so forcefully or passionately about anything for years, another sign, perhaps, that it really was OK for her to move on now.

  ‘So?’

  Grace smiled at her and wiped away a tear. ‘Yes mom. You’re right. I will. I’ll call Professor Andrews tomorrow and I’ll think about contacting Jimmy, I really will.’ She placed her hand on her mother’s and squeezed it. ‘Thanks mom. For everything.’

  ‘No Grace. It should be me who is thanking you. I know you’ve made a huge sacrifice being here with me these last few years and I want you to know how much I love you and appreciate what you’ve done for me. You deserve some time to yourself now.’ Gathering the dishes from the table she walked over to her daughter and gave her tender kiss on the top of her head. Grace remembered her doing this when she was a small child. It was a comforting, reassuring gesture. ‘Oh and there’s something else,’ her mom added. ‘I want to turn your bedroom into a guest room – it’s about time those awful posters came down and that dreadful wallpaper was taken off, don’t ya think?’

  The rain continued to fall outside, bringing a fresh scent of flowers and cut grass through the open door. The sound of the neighbour’s lawnmower stopped. A plane flew across overhead. The cat ran inside, shaking itself to remove the raindrops from its fur. The timer on the oven rang to signal that the apple crumble for dessert was ready. Everything’s good here, Grace thought, everything’s as it should be.

  For the rest of the evening, Grace sat in her bedroom surrounded by Maggie’s journal and the bundle of old newspaper clippings, listening to the rain falling on the decking outside. She looked around her room. Her mom was right. Her bedroom hadn’t changed much in recent years; the Bryan Adams and Bon Jovi posters were still on the back of the door where she’d left them as an eighteen-year-old heading off to college. She still had the same, faded snoopy duvet cover she’d loved as a kid and a cabbage patch doll sat on the end of the bed. It was kind of comforting in a way to have these familiar things from her childhood around her and neither she, nor her mother, had been in a rush to modernise things. Maybe if she’d been hoping to bring boys back to the room she might have attempted to make it look a bit cooler, more grown up. But she hadn’t been interested in boys and maybe there was a part of both her and her mom which subconsciously wanted to leave things as they were before her dad died. Her mom’s suggestion that she start reorganising and decorating must surely be a sign that she had really turned a corner.

  With a notebook by her side, Grace pored over every detail of the press reports. ‘The Titanic sank at 2.20 this afternoon. No lives were lost’ stated the headline of one newspaper from April 16th and in another ‘Carpathia Refuses to Give Any D
etails of Titanic’s Loss and as Fruitless Hours Go By, Suspense Grows More Maddening.’ She wondered how the Irish travellers’ relatives must have felt, waiting for news of the disaster, reading these mistaken headlines and having hope only to see them replaced in the following hours and days by the terrible truth. ‘1,302 are Drowned or Missing in Titanic Disaster, Latest Report,’ and the final details ‘Titanic’s Death List, 1,601; Only 739 Lives Are Saved.’ Other pages reporting odd details like one paper reporting, ‘As vessel plunges to her fate, band plays ‘Nearer My God to Thee’ and a shocking headline of, ‘Foreigners Who Refused to Obey Orders Are Shot Down.’

  She then unrolled a couple of smaller newspaper clippings, one of which was dated 20th April 1912 from the Connaught Telegraph. ‘Immediately the news reached Castlebar, one of the local agents for the White Star Line, Mr. Thomas Durcan, wired to the head office in Liverpool and received the following reply:- Liverpool. 4.30 p.m. Tuesday. "Referring to your telegram re. Titanic, deeply regret to say that latest word received is steamer foundered; about 675 souls, mostly women and children saved." The presumption is that all the passengers booked by Mr. Durcan have been lost, still there is a hope that some of the females may have been rescued. In the list of Survivors published on Thursday the name of Miss Maggie Murphy appeared.’

  CHAPTER 14

  Grace continued reading the newspaper clippings and the scrawled pages of Maggie’s journal, late into the night. She was so completely immersed in Maggie’s Titanic world she barely noticed day turn to dusk and eventually to the darkness of evening, absorbing every last detail as Maggie described life on board the ship; every thread on the linen tablecloths in the room where they ate their meals, the friendly manner of the crew, the steward she referred to as Lucky Harry who seemed to have befriended Maggie and some of the other younger girls in their group, the sounds of the Uilleann pipes and fiddles played in the general room after dinner, the sparkle of the diamonds Maggie saw on the fingers of some of the First Class ladies during mass. She read each page of the journal, lost in the thoughts of a seventeen-year-old girl, through whose eyes she saw this most famous of ships in an entirely new light.

  April 11th 1912

  Day 1 at sea

  …the third-class quarters are very nice. We have real mattresses on the beds and there is a reasonable amount of space – at least there is for the four of us sharing our cabin, number 115. The steward told us that there is a family of nine sleeping in the cabin next to ours and that it is exactly the same size. I asked him how they could fit everyone in. He told me there are two in each bed and the baby sleeps in a suitcase on the floor. I can hardly believe how cramped that must be and feel a bit guilty that we have this space just for the four of us. Peggy says she reckons you’d be able to fit one of our cabins into the First Class rooms four times over and still have space for a set-dance. It is an unbelievably big boat - we’ve been wandering around the ship for hours now and I don’t think we’ve even seen one whole side of it.

  …. Peggy is dying to see the First Class quarters and Katie heard someone saying there are eight giant crystal chandeliers in the First Class dining room. I think my eyes would pop right out of their sockets if I saw such a sight!

  … I think about Séamus a lot and hope his Da is getting better. I took the packet of letters from my coat pocket today and read the first one. It was so nicely written and the words were so kind it made me cries. He says he has written one letter for each of the fourteen months of our courtship together in Ballysheen – the first letter is called ‘January’ and he has written about his memories of the first night we danced at the Brennan’s wedding. He says he thought me lovelier than all of the stars that shone in the sky that night. I wish he was here with me now. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain to him what this ship is like – maybe he will sail on it himself one day if he can ever come to America to join me.

  April 12th 1912

  Day 2 at sea

  ……Peggy is complaining that the vibrations from the engines kept her awake last night. I think it’s quite a nice noise - a sort of humming sound like a big swarm of bees have set up a hive in the boiler room. Katie says Peggy should stop thinking about that English steward we met yesterday – she thinks it’s more likely him which is keeping Peggy awake at night and not the engines at all!

  ….I was lost earlier today! I’d been for some fresh air on the promenade deck and couldn’t find my way back to our cabin. I think I went down the wrong stairwell and ended up on D deck instead of E deck. Luckily there are always plenty of crew members around and I asked someone where I was. He walked me personally back to E deck and all the way down the crew passageway which he told me is called ‘Scotland Road’ to the place where our cabin is. I was glad to be back there. I gave myself quite a fright being separated from everyone like that. I think I’ll ask someone to come with me for fresh air next time.

  …..the meals on board are very nice. We are already used to the call from the bugler who signals that we can make our way to the dining saloon where we sit at tables covered with white linen tablecloths! Today we had smoked herrings for breakfast, brawn for lunch and corned beef and cabbage for dinner. I think I’ll be needing some new clothes in America if I keep eating at this rate. To think that there’s a whole army of crewmen peeling our forty ton of spuds and carrots and boiling our forty thousand eggs while we sit on our backsides! Tea and biscuits are served in the afternoon. Katie says they have the biscuits laid out in such neat rows on the plates it would nearly stop you taking one so as not to break up the pattern.

  …we are all in good spirits, even though it feels like we are a very long way from home now. We’re always talking of the people we’ve left behind though – one of us will remember something somebody said or a time they made us laugh and we try to get the time of day right in our heads so as to imagine what they are doing while we steam further away from them across the ocean.

  April 13th 1912

  Day 3 at sea

  ….the general recreation room is for steerage passengers to use for reading or playing cards or a bit of dancing. It’s a big room with a piano for us to play whenever we like. Some French fella plays most of the time, he’s very good. He likes to play some of the ragtime music I’ve heard a little. I think John O’Dea back home would have mighty craic with that piano, it would put the small yoke he plays in D’Arcy’s pub to shame! The man with the Uilleann pipes plays a fair bit too. He’s very good and gets a good old sing song going among us Irish – there’s plenty of us, I’d say we take up at least half of the steerage if not more.

  …today Peggy and me played with some of the young ones. One woman has seven children with her and is travelling all alone, God love her. I think she might be Italian or something, none of us can understand a word she says, but she’s nice and her kids are nice. I played with the baby a lot. He likes to drop things and watch you pick them up again. Maura Brennan was talking with a family from a place called Wiltshire in England. The mam and da are taking their five little ones to join relatives in Philadelphia. The youngest is just two year old and the eldest is turned sixteen. She’s a nice girl, Elsie is her name. She told me about her home and it sounds a bit like ours with the fields and the lake.

  ….Ellen Joyce has found another woman who is to be married when they arrive in America so they are all talk about wedding gowns and veils and admire each other’s rings all the time. There are four other newly-wed couples in our section of the ship who are headed out on honeymoon and Maura has been talking with another woman who’ll be having a baby soon. It’s quite a social gathering altogether! Peggy and Katie have taken to fanciful talk again about what they’ll do when they are in America and what the fancy homes they will live in will look like.

  …There are some sad stories of people who are unhappy to be leaving loved ones behind, or who are travelling to visit a sick or dying family member. I heard someone say there are over two thousand people on board this ship, so I would
imagine in all of that there are plenty of sad hearts as well as many happy ones.

  …the English steward Harry (Lucky Harry is his nickname) is very sweet on Peggy. He talks to her at any opportunity and makes up all sorts of excuses to knock on the cabin door, or to fuss over her at dinner. He admired her hat yesterday and she was practically married to him then! He’s a nice fella and is great craic altogether with the stories he tells us. Like the sailing from Southampton with the bands playing and people standing on the quay to cheer and wave as the boat set out. He swears he saw five grand pianos and a motor car being loaded onto the ship before they left Southampton – but I think he’s pulling our legs. He says that the stewards on the upper decks wish they were assigned to Third Class – they have a pain in their arses with all the fussing and complaining of the First Class passengers. Some of them can be awful rude apparently and demand that their rooms are cleaned several times a day and grumble about the wrong sort of linen on their bed covers! He told us that one of the stewards says he wouldn’t be surprised if they asked him to wipe their arses for them next! Peggy told him all about the tealeaves and the strange man at Queenstown. He told her not to be worrying because he had personally seen a priest blessing the lifejackets!