The Captain's Daughter

by Leah Fleming

  She’d hinted she’d like to pay her respects to the Titanic victims buried in Fair Lawn Cemetery in Halifax, and for once he’d not protested. He was still being nice to her after the latest beating. He must have known his mother had seen her bruises.

  Now Celeste prayed everything would go smoothly. She made a false lining in the bottom of the trunk in which she hid her dollars and papers. She must appear calm and submissive in his presence but the enormity of this deception sent her heart racing. The thought of the ocean voyage was terrifying. Surely lightning couldn’t strike twice?

  It would be high summer in England. She had scoured the papers for lists of transatlantic crossings, finding Halifax, Nova Scotia was as good as any. It would be a last-minute fleeing from Halifax and she would take any passage across the Atlantic she could find.

  At night she lay awake terrified of what she was planning. The escape must be foolproof. She would send Susan back on some pretext so the poor girl would not be subject to Grover’s wrath when he found out he’d been duped.

  If she escaped there’d be no more insults and violence, and no one could separate her from her son. The thought of seeing her family once more – May and Ella, too, rekindling old friendships back home – gave her the courage to stay calm and composed. Soon she would see them all but until then no one must even suspect any of these plans.

  When May’s letter arrived with news of the unveiling, it was a relief to Celeste to break her silence and prepare her for what was to come. She smiled to herself, thinking how soon she would be seeing them in the flesh.

  Roll on August vacations, she smiled. We’re coming home!

  46

  7 August 1914

  Angelo stood in the small side chapel of the cathedral waiting for his bride to arrive. There was just the priest with a smile a mile wide, some girls from the linen shop and a line of Bartolinis in their best finery. How different from the simple wedding in Tuscany with Maria, a lifetime ago. He hoped she didn’t mind this desertion so soon after her loss.

  ‘You do well to start again. Kathleen is a good girl. She will give you back a home and family,’ said Father Bernardo. ‘You were sent to each other.’

  ‘What do you want to marry Irish for?’ his gaffer had said at work. ‘She will take the pants off you.’

  ‘I like her,’ said Anna, the first night he brought her home. ‘You will have beautiful babies.’

  He thought of Alessia and the feeling that never went away that she was out there somewhere . . . He’d kept the shoe in the hope that one day he’d find her, but as the years went by he sensed it was a lost cause.

  There was a stir and the congregation rose. Kathleen was coming. He turned and through his tears saw a vision in a lacy cream dress floating in his direction. Don’t look back, look forward, his heart whispered. Ghosts will not warm your bed at night but here’s someone who will.

  47

  There was a section of Fairview Lawn Cemetery in Halifax, Nova Scotia, set aside for the Titanic victims whose bodies had been collected from the sea. Over a hundred small granite cubes lay side by side, tended with flowers. Already some had names and the numbers of when they were gathered up by the salvage boats: a terrible harvest for the sailors who’d brought them in. Perhaps May’s husband lay unclaimed, unrecognisable amongst them? Celeste sighed, clutching a bunch of violets as she strolled along the paths while Roddy skipped ahead.

  It was a peaceful resting place. She searched out the little stone plinth dedicated to an unknown child, which had caused so much concern in the newspapers that a subscription was raised to bury him with all due dignity. Celeste shuddered, knowing this might have been Roddy if she’d taken him with her. He was so full of life among the dead. How could she be thinking of risking another ocean crossing? But what choice did she have?

  There was a ship leaving tonight, according to the newspaper listings.

  She’d wait and give Susan her fare home, make some excuse about finding out about May’s husband and then make for the dock and book her passage.

  She’d done a secret recce around the port, where she’d seen a bustle of marching soldiers embarking on a troopship. The talk of war in Europe was on every billboard but she hadn’t wanted to think about that yet. Time enough when they were safely on board.

  Her heart was pounding with the enormity of her actions but it was now or never. It was time to buy their tickets. The money was burning a hole in her secret pocket. They were to travel Second Class so as not to draw attention to themselves. She’d make sure their departure was not easy to discover.

  An idea had grown from the scandal on the Titanic, when it was discovered that many passengers had travelled under false names. She thought of that French family aboard the ship, a Mr Hoffman, who had stolen his sons in France to bring them to New York. It wasn’t exactly false, but she would modify her own name. Her maiden name, Forester, was close to Forest and another name for ‘forest’ was ‘wood’. Celestine was too unusual, but why not use her second name, Rose? Rose Wood might help cover her trail.

  She took leave of the cemetery with a heavy heart. How many lost hopes and dreams lay under that soil? Now it was her turn to be strong and resolute. She’d been given life and strength to do what was right for Roddy. There was no going back.

  First she must let Susan go. She was standing watching the tall sailing ships on the harbour. It was hard to look calm. They were watching the soldiers lining up to embark and Roddy was jumping up and down pointing at them. ‘Soldiers, look!’

  ‘It’s time for you to catch your train,’ Celeste smiled, pointing to the station.

  They walked Susan back in that direction but suddenly she was reluctant to leave.

  ‘I ought to stay, ma’am. Mr Parkes said we were to stay together at all times.’

  ‘I know, but here’s a letter explaining everything. I did tell him I wanted to pay respects in Halifax and see how they are trying to identify victims. We’ll be following on in a few days She tried to sound casual and not raise Susan’s suspicions further.

  ‘But, ma’am . . .’ There was a look in her eye of genuine concern. She must know what went on in their house. Did she guess that this was a farewell?

  ‘Now off you go and enjoy the train journey. I’ll get a porter to see to the luggage . . . And thank you,’ she added. How could she leave that unsaid?

  ‘What for, ma’am? For doing my duty?’ Susan was looking up at her curiously. She must know what was going on now as Celeste shoved the letter in her purse and some money.

  ‘A little extra for your comfort; you’ve been a good nurse to Roddy,’ Celeste held her hand. ‘Give Susan a kiss.’

  ‘Susan’s coming too.’ Roddy held her hand tightly.

  ‘No, not today. Susan has to go home,’ Celeste smiled. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘I want Susan, I want Susan . . .’ Roddy was steaming up for a paddy.

  ‘You’d better go before he has a tantrum.’

  ‘I can’t leave you . . . let me stay on, ma’am. Where are you going? I know things have been difficult. I can help. Please take me with you. I don’t want to leave Roddy.’

  ‘I wish it could be otherwise but you must go. You’ve been so loyal and so discreet.’

  ‘Where will I find you, ma’am?’

  Celeste shook her head. Trying not to cry, she reached out her hands, gripping her maid’s tightly. ‘You must go and tell my husband I sent you packing, refused to let you continue with us, forced you onto the train.’

  ‘They shoot the messengers, don’t they?’ Susan answered anxiously.

  ‘Only in stories. Here’s a letter of reference. It will help you find another position. I wish you every happiness in the world. Take care.’

  ‘It’s been a privilege to serve you, madam. You are a good mother. I know what you are doing is for Roddy as well as yourself. I wish you the best luck in the world.’

  ‘We’ll need it, Susan. Now go before we make fools of ourselves.’


  Roddy was crying, sensing the emotion. Susan was weeping into her hanky and Celeste tried to choke back her tears. The platform was bustling with folk pulling their baggage from the incoming train, so many passengers hurrying to the port.

  ‘I expect they’re all trying to get home,’ Susan said. ‘What with the war starting . . .’

  Celeste dismissed this with a wave of her hand. ‘Oh, that’s not going to happen yet. What’s England got to do with Austria and Germany’s squabbles?’ She hadn’t time to let such terrible news sink in. She almost shoved Susan onto the train and waved her off with a forced smile. Roddy was too young to know he’d never see her again, she sighed as they made their way to the ticket office. The queues were long and impatient, full of anxious women flapping tickets in the officer’s face.

  ‘Ticket holders to the left, others to the right!’ he shouted. There was a murmur of protest among the crowd. ‘I’ve not got two pairs of hands. Be patient.’

  ‘Mama, I want to pee pee,’ Roddy said, tugging at her skirt.

  ‘Can’t you wait?’ she cajoled, not wanting to lose her place in the queue.

  ‘I’ll mind it for you,’ offered a woman with a kindly face. ‘There’s a gentleman’s convenience over there.’ She pointed.

  It was warm now and Celeste removed her coat.

  ‘Would you hold this too?’ she asked, not wanting to let go of the rest of her luggage.

  Roddy headed for the little urinal but Celeste made him come with her to the ladies’ comfort room. She daren’t let him out of sight in this crush.

  When they got back to the queue she searched for her place but the woman had gone and so had her coat. She asked round in a panic, but everyone shrugged their shoulders.

  ‘There’s always a few chancers, madam, waiting for an opportunity. She jumped up the minute you’d gone.’

  Celeste was too angry and tired now to protest that the man could have stopped her. It was back to the end of the queue, despite dusk falling around them.

  ‘Next!’

  ‘Two tickets to Liverpool, please.’

  ‘Sorry, madam, nothing to be had until Saturday now. Can I see your passport?’

  ‘My what?’ she asked, handing over her and Roddy’s birth certificates instead. ‘I’m still a British citizen.’

  ‘That’s as may be but no one will take you on board without documents of passage.’

  ‘Since when?’ she snapped, cross and scared. ‘I crossed over on the Titanic. No one asked me for anything then.’

  ‘Sorry, madam . . . new regulations since April. All passengers crossing to another country must show their identity documents.’

  ‘But here are our birth certificates,’ she argued.

  ‘Sorry, madam, you will have to apply for the correct papers . . . Next!’

  Celeste was not going to budge. She’d come too far. ‘But how long will that take?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say. There’s a war on, you know.’

  ‘Since when?’ Her temper was rising, flushing her cheeks.

  ‘Since ten o’clock this morning, madam. Have you not seen the papers? Look around you at the troops. England and Germany are at war, Canada is sending troops and they have priority over civilians. Step aside, please . . . Next!’

  Roddy sensed her desperation. ‘Are we going on the big ship, Mama?’

  ‘No, not today,’ she croaked. Celeste wanted to sit down on the dock and howl with frustration. Where now? Time was of the essence. She must get back before Susan took the letter to Grover. They must find a night train south. What a stupid ignorant fool she’d been to think she could escape so easily.

  Now they were trapped until this war ended or until she could procure a genuine passport home. All her bravado instantly evaporated. If they didn’t arrive with Susan, Grover would be waiting. There was nothing for it but to find a rest room and sit out this panic that was descending like thick fog, blocking out all other thoughts. Until she heard a familiar voice like a foghorn in her head piercing the gloom.

  What the devil are you going back for: more of the same, honey, more black eyes? You’ve made your break, gal. Just vamoosh . . .

  ‘But I can’t,’ she heard herself cry out.

  Why ever not? Who will be looking for Rose Wood when the world’s in turmoil? Make a run for it while you can and don’t look back. You’re like me, one of the unsinkable sisters. You’ll be fine on your own.

  Celeste stood up expecting to see Margaret Brown at her shoulder but there was no one. Could she do it? Could she make a run for it, get on a train and go anywhere she pleased? She had the dollars. She had her most precious possession holding her hand. Anything was possible if you wanted it badly enough.

  So she couldn’t make it across the ocean but that didn’t stop her getting as far away from Grover Parkes as she could. Mother and child stood invisible among the thronging crowd, Celeste smiling for the first time with relief as she made for the station.

  Go hide in a crowd, Rose Wood. No one will find you there.

  Part 2

  1914–1921

  48

  Washington, DC, November 1914

  Dear May

  You may be wondering where I am since I last wrote. We are living in the capital city of America, lodging with friends until I find something permanent.

  Before all post across the Atlantic goes haywire, please will you do me the most enormous favour and readdress any letters arriving for me, especially from my husband, back to me here and post these letters to him with a Lichfield postmark? Enclosed is a money order. You must not be out of pocket because of my deception.

  It is vital that Grover thinks I am back home and not likely to return. To compound things even further I shall be writing to Father as if we were still in Akron. It’s best if he knows nothing of this. If you can offer to post Papa’s own letters for him and readdress them here, I would be forever in your debt. I apologize for burdening you with all this. I did plan to come home but I was not well enough prepared and had to change plans at the last minute.

  I am trying to build Roddy and myself a new life here. I am now Mrs Rose Wood for the time being. It is important to stay incognito just in case . . . ‘O what a tangled web we weave . . .’

  Life here is interesting. I am helping in the office of the Congressional Union for Women’s Suffrage at the moment. Roddy is in first grade and getting used to his new life. We follow what is going on in France with fear and concern for my two impetuous brothers, who joined up in haste so as not to miss the show.

  How our lives have changed in the last months – England at war, and us, fugitives – but I have no regrets. If the Titanic taught me anything it was that our lives on earth are precious and to be savoured, not endured.

  Keep safe in these troubled times.

  Best love,

  Celeste (a.k.a. Mrs Rose Wood)

  May sat on the park bench rereading this epistle and shaking her head. Who’d have thought Celeste would make a run for it? How on earth could she be part of these mad schemes? Her husband would be on the next ship, demanding her return. What would poor Canon Forester make of it all? How could she, May, deceive him? But she must if Celeste was in danger. She owed Celeste her life.

  Lichfield was all of aflutter organizing homes for Belgian refugees and putting up posters warning of spies. There were guards on the railway lines and troops on the march. She couldn’t cross the streets for convoys of lorries and wagons. The whole world was going mad and now Selwyn was off on training exercises and his brother Bertram was already overseas.

  May pushed the baby up the hill towards the cathedral. It was a good place to cool off and just think. It had stood through many wars and troubled times; the tattered banners hanging from the ceilings of the side chapels spoke of conflicts. What should she do?

  They paused by the marble effigy of The Sleeping Children tucked at the back of the Lady Chapel. The Robinson sisters were buried together. Eliza Jane’s nightdress had caugh
t fire and she had died of her burns, while Marianne had caught a chill and had died soon after. How their parents must have grieved, as she grieved for Ellen; such a beautiful memorial glossing over such awful deaths. If only she had a place to mourn her lost loves. No one was ever alone with their troubles. Everyone had them, and now Celeste was having hers. You don’t walk past someone in trouble, she reasoned, especially a friend. Celeste had been a good friend to her when she had been more alone in the world than ever. She must now grant her friendship in return, no matter the cost. She must do what she could to help.

  49

  ‘Do I have to stay?’ Roddy argued. Celeste knew he didn’t like Thursday afternoons. All the boys in his class were allowed to run home and play ball or ride on their bicycles round the Washington streets, but he had to change into his best knickerbocker suit, comb his hair and open the door to their guests. He hated standing there as a troop of girls, towering above him, flounced in one by one to be announced at the drawing-room door.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Wood, how are you today? Good afternoon, Roderick.’ One by one they curtsied and bobbed in pretty dresses with ringlets in their hair, smelling of rosewater and lavender. He helped serve tea in china cups on a lacy tray and hand round sandwiches and then pass the cake stand on which sat dainty cakes, iced fancies, to be eaten with cake forks.

  Each of the girls had rehearsed a poem to recite and Celeste helped them when they stumbled. He had to clap and look pleased.

  ‘Why do we have to do this?’ he asked time and time again.

  ‘This is how I earn my living now, teaching girls to refine their accents and learn deportment,’ she replied, ‘teaching girls to be ladies.’

  ‘But why do I have to stay and watch?’

  ‘Because you are such a help to me, Roddy. This is something we can do together and when the young ladies are here I still need to be keeping an eye on you.’