The Girl Who Came Home - a Titanic Novel

by Hazel Gaynor

  They’d arranged to meet outside The Java Bean – a coffee shop they used to hang out at. Whoever got there first was to order two flat whites to go and they would sit on the grass and talk. ‘Nothing else – no other expectations. Just talk and enjoy great coffee, huh? How ‘bout it?’ His words buzzed around her head as she walked towards the rendezvous point. As she rounded the last curve in the sandy path, she saw him standing there. Her heart pounding in her chest, she stood for a moment and stared, barely unable to believe it was really him. After all this time, after all the pain and belief that she would never see him again, there he was with a Styrofoam coffee cup in each hand, waiting for her.

  She took in every detail of him. He looked taller than she remembered him and had let his hair grow longer. It suited him. He was casually dressed in a sweatshirt, pale denim jeans and trademark Converse sneakers. She watched as he shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. He looked as nervous as she felt.

  And then he turned.

  Their eyes met.

  Grace felt as though her heart would burst from her chest it hammered so hard.

  They stared silently for a few moments and a steady smile grew across his lips as she walked towards him. It felt good. It felt OK.

  ‘Grace Butler,’ he said, standing tall in front of her. ‘Well, wow, would you look at you!’

  ‘Look at you,’ she replied, smiling. ‘You look great!’

  They laughed nervously, the spark of attraction they’d sensed during that first college lecture instantly there again, hanging in the air between them.

  ‘I would hug you,’ he said, gesturing to the coffee cups in his hands ‘but I’m kinda stuck here! Flat white with an extra shot?’

  ‘You remembered!’

  Laughing, Grace took one of the cups from him and they shared a long embrace, not saying anything, just remembering the touch of each other and inhaling the familiar scent of perfumes and aftershave.

  ‘Shall we walk?’ she suggested, keen to escape from the prying eyes of the coffee shop customers and the continual flash of cyclists rushing past them.

  ‘Yeah. Let’s take a stroll. So, that was some amazing story you pulled out of the bag. I bet O’Shea nearly crapped himself when that manuscript landed on his desk. You did an awesome job, really, I loved it – and what about your great-gran? Who would have known that quiet old lady had such a massive secret hidden away. How come she decided to tell you after all those years?’

  As they walked, Grace told Jimmy all about Maggie’s confession at her twenty-first birthday party and how she’d found the small suitcase with some of Maggie’s Titanic possessions in the attic.

  ‘She seems to have just reached a point in her life when she wanted people to know,’ she explained, enjoying the light breeze against her cheeks. ‘She told me she had missed being able to talk about it with great granddad, who was the only person in the family who knew about her Titanic trip. I think she just wanted to make sure that the story was left within the family before she…you know….dies.’

  ‘Well, if she’s anything like I remember her, she’ll not be doing that anytime soon!’ Jimmy laughed. ‘She’s an amazing woman. I reckon she’ll live to be at least a hundred.’

  ‘Oh, I dunno Jimmy. There’s something different about her these days. She looks older somehow. More fragile. She looks her age, I guess.’

  They sat on a grassy bank and talked easily about how Grace had contacted Professor Andrews and about the amazing reactions she’d had to the article. She told him about Edward Lockey and Maggie’s coat and letters and how Maggie had been able to piece together some of the missing pieces from that night and put to rest some of the things she had worried about and carried with her since that awful night.

  ‘I don’t think she’s ever gotten over it y’know. After all these years, I really think she has never really been able to come to terms with what happened – or that she survived when she watched so many others die. It must have been so terrible. I just can’t imagine. She once told me that she sometimes feels like she has never really gotten off that ship. That she walks those stairwells and decks every day, looking for her lost friends and family.’

  For a while, they avoided talking about their own relationship, neither one sure of how to broach the subject, anxious to avoid causing upset and argument when they seemed to be getting on so well.

  ‘Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you,’ Grace ventured when there was a pause in the conversation. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For giving me a chance. For coming to see me. I really didn’t think that after…..’

  He placed a finger delicately across her lips. ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Let’s not do that. Let’s not do the whole post-mortem thing. I don’t want to go back there, back then. It’s too painful for both of us. We both know what happened. We both have our whys and what-ifs and a need to explain ourselves, but I don’t think it would help. We’re here now, so let’s talk about now. You seem so happy Grace and that was all I ever wanted, was for you to find happiness in your life again – whether with me, or without me. I could never fully understand what it felt like to be you - to lose your father like that – and I eventually figured that I had no right to judge how a person should or shouldn’t react to such a shocking event in their life. I just hoped you and your mom and brother would find happiness again someday. I really hope you have Grace. That’s all.’

  Allowing the tears to fall then, tears of relief, tears for her father, tears for herself, Grace sank into Jimmy’s arms and they sat together, talking and laughing until the sun started to set on the horizon and she wrapped her jacket around her for warmth.

  ‘So, will you come with me then?’ Jimmy asked, as they strolled back to the parking lot, arm in arm.

  Grace continued walking, trying to keep her voice as casual as possible. ‘Come where? Where are you going?’

  ‘Ireland. Well, Ireland and the rest of Europe. I’m travelling this summer after graduation. You always said you wanted to go and see where your Irish roots came from – remember we’d sort of planned it?’

  Grace laughed, remembering the naïve, romantic, carefree conversations they’d had about travelling the world together. She also remembered how impulsive Jimmy could be. ‘Seriously? You’d want me to come with you?’

  He stopped and turned her to face him. ‘Well, only if you want to. I figured it might be a good way for us to spend some time together again, y’know, get to know each other again. What d’you think? Unless you’ve other plans for the summer?’

  She smiled, a beaming smile which seemed to spread through her entire body. ‘It sounds like a great idea! Of course I want to go with you. I want to more than anything in the world!’

  While her mother fussed over the dinner in the kitchen later that evening, Grace sat in the swing chair on the back porch, enjoying the relaxing, rhythmic sensation; thoughts of Jimmy and the wonderful words he had said skipping and dancing around her mind. Maggie sat on the bench opposite, smiling at her.

  ‘So, what’s got you all excited then?’

  Grace sat up. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘What’s got you so excited,’ she repeated. ‘Because something certainly has. You’re practically fizzing with excitement.’

  Grace laughed at her great-grandmother’s perceptiveness. ‘Good Lord Maggie, nothing gets past you does it? Are you sure you’re nearly ninety years old?!’

  Maggie chuckled. ‘Sadly yes, although I don’t feel a day over seventeen y’know. Up here,’ she added, tapping her head. ‘So, are you gonna tell me or am I gonna have to beg?’

  Stepping down from the swing chair, Grace sidled over to sit beside Maggie and clasped her hands in hers. ‘Oh Maggie, it’s just amazing. I just can’t believe it. I met Jimmy today.’

  ‘Jimmy? Your Jimmy?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Grace laughed. ‘My Jimmy!’

  ‘Well, go on then. Tell me all about it. I can tell by the twink
le in your eye that you were definitely pleased to see him.’

  Grace had barely been able to believe everything that had happened since she’d spoken to Jimmy on the phone, but she was desperate to tell somebody and she knew that Maggie would listen without judging her. So, she told her all about the note she had written to Professor Andrews along with the newspaper article, and how Jimmy had called her and how they’d arranged to meet for coffee earlier that day and how it had been amazing and was as if they’d never been apart. She hardly stopped for breath as she relayed all her exciting news. Maggie listened patiently as she sipped her cup of tea.

  ‘And, you’ll never guess what Maggie.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s going travelling around Europe this summer and he wants me to go with him. To Ireland! I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland.’

  ‘And are you going?’ she asked, when Grace eventually stopped talking.

  ‘Yeah. I think so. What do you think?’

  Maggie put her cup and saucer down purposefully and stared Grace straight in the eyes. It was a look she gave people when she wanted their full attention; wanted them to sit up and take notice and not be distracted by anything else going on around them at that moment. ‘You don’t need to know what I think Grace. It’s what’s in here that counts,’ she said, tapping her chest. ‘There are probably a hundred and one reasons for you not to go rushing off around Europe with a young man whose heart you’ve already broken once, but if there is just one reason why you should, then perhaps that’s the one reason you should listen to. You’ve been cooped up here in this sleepy town for two years longer than you’d ever planned to be. I think only you can truly know if now is the right time to leave home and get on with your life.’

  She nodded after making this speech, as if to reinforce the solemnity of her words.

  Grace sat and thought for a moment. ‘You’re right,’ she sighed. ‘It may look crazy and rushed and foolish to people on the outside, but I’ve got a good feeling about this. I don’t think I can go for the whole summer though – I’ve got a lot of catching up and prep to do before I go back to college in the Fall, but he’s planning on visiting Ireland first, so I thought maybe I’d just go there with him and come back.’

  ‘Ireland huh?’ Maggie smiled. ‘D’you know, I never went back. I’ve never stepped foot on Irish soil since the day I stepped onto the tender which took us out to the Titanic moored offshore in Queenstown. I was too afraid, you see. I made a promise to myself you know while I sat in that lifeboat bobbing around on the great blackness of the Atlantic ocean – I promised myself that I would never sail again until my dying day. And it’s a shame because I often think that it would be nice to know what happened to that little cottage I used to live in with my aunt Kathleen; would be nice to know whether anyone living in Ballysheen now would know about the fourteen of us who left that spring day.’ She sighed and laughed a little. ‘I wouldn’t think the people living there now would have any notion of what happened to us all. They’ll be too busy watching that awful MTV nonsense and doing that silly Rubik’s Cube thing.’

  Grace chuckled. ‘Probably,’ she agreed. ‘Quite probably.’

  A silence fell across the porch then as the two sat in silent thought and watched the cat chase a bee among the camellia bushes.

  Grace’s mother gave her absolute blessing for Grace to travel with Jimmy to Ireland. She’d been putting it off and putting it off, worried about her mom’s reaction, wondering whether she would be OK about the prospect of being in the house on her own.

  ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea love,’ she said. ‘And I’m delighted that you and Jimmy are finally patching things up. He’s a good kid, I always liked him – and your father was fond of him too. Anyway, I’m gonna have to get used to being here without you when you go back to college in September. Imagine, all that laundry I won’t have to do – what ever will I do with myself?!’

  Grace and Jimmy spoke every day on the phone, the love she felt for him growing stronger and stronger every day. Within a matter of weeks the travel arrangements were made and the flights were booked.

  It was over a cup of tea and a slice of Mississippi Mud Pie in the Blossom Tree Café that Maggie made her announcement. ‘By the way, I was wondering if you kids wouldn’t mind too much if I came to Ireland with you.’

  ‘What?!’ Grace exclaimed, bursting out laughing. ‘You’re not serious?’ She looked across the table at Maggie and sensed that she was deadly serious. ‘Are you?’

  ‘Of course you can come with us,’ Jimmy interjected. ‘It would certainly be our honour to escort you back there, wouldn’t it Grace,’ he continued, kicking her under the table.

  Grace was stunned. ‘Well, yes, of course, but….well, are you sure you’d be up to it Maggie? It’s a really long flight to Europe and there’d be lots of travelling once we arrived in Ireland.’

  ‘Well, I figure I’d only have to sit in an airplane seat the same as I sit in that old chair of mine at home and I don’t reckon you’d be asking me to do any of the driving – so what’s the difference – apart from a few hours here and there with the time of day?’

  Jimmy and Grace stared at the old woman in shock.

  ‘Seriously,’ Grace asked one more time. ‘You really want to come?’

  ‘I’ve never been more serious,’ Maggie replied. ‘I know, I’m nearly ninety-years-old and I don’t really like to leave the house too much and I’ve never been on a plane before and all the other reasons why it sounds like absolute nonsense, but ever since you two got back together and decided to go to Ireland, I’ve been thinking about coming with you. I’ve tried to forget about Ireland all these years, but it won’t leave me. I’m part of it you know and I think I’m ready to go back now, after all these years. I doubt there’ll be another chance and I’ll admit I would like to see the old place again, before it’s too late. So, I figured, why not? Maybe it’s time for me to finally go home.’

  ‘Well, I think that’s fantastic Maggie, really fantastic and we’d love to take you back to your home. But, are you absolutely sure? It won’t be too upsetting will it?’

  ‘Hmmm, probably. But I figure you don’t get to be a ‘nearly-ninety-year-old’ woman without being able to cope with a bit of upset now and again. I think it will do me good to see that place again, see the faces of the people who live there now. Sure, they’re never going to give a hoot about some little old lady snooping about are they? I can travel back to Chicago with you Grace while Jimmy goes off exploring Europe. If an old lady won’t cramp your style too much, I’d really like to come with you.’

  It was settled. Maggie would travel with them to Ireland, back to Ballysheen. The girl who had left all those years ago was coming home.

  As the plane thundered down the runway and took off, Maggie closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of speed and of being pushed back into her seat. She felt alive. More alive than she had done in years and she smiled as she looked down at the patchwork of fields below, the land she had called her home for most of her life, fading into obscurity behind the clouds as they climbed higher and higher. She patted the pocket of her coat which was carefully folded up on her lap. Yes, it was still there. The packet of letters was still there.

  CHAPTER 37 – Ballysheen, Ireland, 1982

  The journey took a lot out of Maggie. She was exhausted by the time they landed at Shannon airport, and was glad that Grace had insisted they stay overnight in a local hotel before continuing their journey north to County Mayo the following day. She barely noticed the nice hotel carpet and the pleasing décor before falling into a deep sleep.

  Sitting in the passenger seat of the hire car the next day, she watched, mesmerised as the Irish countryside flashed past the window. Her mind wandered back to the train journey she had taken all those years ago from Castlebar, the great whistle of the engine startling her as they’d pulled out of the station with a groan and a jolt, slowly building up pace down the track towards Claremorris and f
rom there to Limerick and then Cork. Eight or nine hours they’d travelled before they finally reached Queenstown. The salty sea-air of that town had made her feel queasy – she remembered it now as if it were yesterday.

  Jimmy drove through small town after small town, stopping here and there so they could have a cup of tea of a bowl of soup and some homemade soda bread. The vivid colours of the houses and shop fronts delighted them all, the smoke from the fires burning in the grates of the houses snaked skywards from narrow chimney pots, filling the air with the smell of peat. It was a smell which Maggie recognised immediately and one which transported her right back to the kitchen of the small cottage she’d lived in with her aunt.

  They drove out then into open countryside, past lush, green fields, dry stone walls and crops of wheat and barley. Maggie already felt oddly at home, at ease; at peace. It was dusk as they approached the familiar landscape of County Mayo and Maggie sat in mesmerised silence as she surveyed the scenery around her. And then she saw it. The majestic, distinctive shape of Nephin Mor. It was still lightly snow-capped from the harsh winter there’d been that year. A few fluffy clouds passed lazily across the sky. She could see the fields where she’d watched the men gather the potatoes at harvest time. She recalled herself as a young girl staring at another failed harvest, at the blighted crops, and her mother telling her how she remembered those fields lush and green with healthy crops, all the food they could wish to eat silently bursting into life in the dark earth through the winter, the tender green tops pushing through the ground in the springtime. It thrilled Maggie to see those same fields lush and green again; bursting with life and with food to feed the community ten times over.

  Everything rushed back at her, memory after memory, season after season spent among this countryside; conversations, laughter, tears, heartache – it was all still here, all still hidden among these timeless stone walls and the enduring topography of the landscape.