The Titanic Sisters

by Patricia Falvey

  I sank down in bed with Silver curled next to me and drifted off into an exhausted, thankfully dreamless, sleep.

  The next morning, I sat up in bed sipping a cup of tea, while Mrs Shaw sat in a chair beside me. Her expression was a mixture of sadness and anger.

  ‘I’m so sorry about what happened.’

  ‘’Twasn’t your fault, Mrs Shaw. You tried to warn me.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not about that sort of behaviour. I never thought he was capable of that.’

  I shrugged. ‘I didn’t either.’

  A wave of self-pity came over me then and I began to cry. I thought about how over the moon I’d been about the party; how much I’d loved showing off my new dress; how I secretly hoped Sinclair might be the man I’d been waiting for. But then he’d gone and ruined everything. I felt dirty, my body aching and bruised from the force of his fingers trying to invade me, full of shame at his accusations. I’d made a fool of myself and maybe I deserved what I got.

  As if reading my mind, Mrs Shaw left her chair and lay down on the bed beside me. She took me into her arms.

  ‘It’s not your fault, dear child, you did nothing to bring this on. It is Sinclair who should be ashamed.’ She paused and stroked my hair. ‘Ben told me what happened. He said Sinclair lost a great deal of money in that card game. Then he got very drunk and took his anger out on you.’

  ‘’Twas Ben who saved me,’ I whispered. ‘Who knows what might have happened if he hadn’t interfered.’

  Mrs Shaw nodded. ‘Ben is a fine young man. His loyalty to my nephew has always puzzled me. But, after last night, he has finally seen Sinclair for the monster he really is.’

  She went quiet but continued stroking my hair. I had a feeling of contentment I’d never known before – certainly not with my ma. I’d always thought my mother loved me, but I realized now that for all her sweet talk and compliments, what she was really after was control. Her own dreams had never come true, and she was hell-bent on realizing them through me. Real love, I knew now, was when somebody cares about you while expecting nothing back from you. What I felt now from Mrs Shaw was real love. I looked up at her and smiled. How I wished this woman had been my mother. How different my life might have been and, more to the point, how different a girl I might have turned out to be.

  ‘Ben told me you remembered your name.’

  ‘I have. I was as shocked as anybody when it came out of my mouth.’

  ‘Nora Sweeney. It’s a lovely name. It suits you.’

  I smiled. But I knew then she deserved to know the rest of it. ‘I’ve been keeping some of it back, Mrs Shaw. And I’m sorry. I was just afraid you’d make me go back home if you knew and, well, I didn’t want to go.’

  She said nothing as I told her the details of my story – how I was born on a farm in Kilcross, Donegal; how I had a sister named Delia; how I was supposed to go to work for a man named Aidan O’Hanlon; how my ma had told me to try and get him to marry me. Mrs Shaw’s eyebrows went up at this last bit, but she passed no remark on it.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,’ I said, my voice trailing off to a whisper.

  She patted my hand and got up from the bed. ‘Don’t be sorry, Nora. You were right to wait until you felt ready to tell me. You just rest now, and we’ll talk about what we should do next when you are feeling stronger.’

  A few days later, Mrs Shaw came into the kitchen, all business, and sat down. Beatrice was humming away at the sink, and Teresa was away on an errand.

  ‘I’ve been thinking, Nora,’ Mrs Shaw began, ‘the first thing we should do is contact your parents and let them know you are alive. They deserve to know the truth.’

  I nodded. I knew she was right.

  ‘I’ve looked up the list of Titanic survivors I saved from the newspaper. There was a Delia Sweeney from Donegal listed.’

  I put my hand to my mouth. ‘Thank God,’ I whispered.

  ‘We must find her. Do you have any idea where she would be?’

  I shook my head. I was embarrassed to admit I had paid no attention to where Delia was going to work. ‘I’m sorry, I just don’t remember. She was to go to work as a domestic in some house in New York that my da had arranged, but I never knew the name.’

  ‘But how would you have contacted her after you both arrived in New York?’

  I blushed. ‘Delia and myself didn’t get along so well.’

  Mrs Shaw pursed her lips but said nothing, though Beatrice said an ‘mm-hmm’ as if to herself. I knew she had been listening. Now I was doubly embarrassed.

  ‘And this Mr O’Hanlon. Do you have his address?’ Mrs Shaw’s tone was brisk.

  I shook my head no. ‘Delia carried all the papers,’ I said miserably. ‘She was to give them to me when we docked. I’m sure he has taken on another girl by now and, anyway, I’m not sure I want to go there,’ I finished, stubbornly.

  ‘Have you thought about what you want to do now, Nora?’ Mrs Shaw’s voice was gentler now.

  I wanted to tell her I didn’t want to go home, and I didn’t want to find Delia or Mr O’Hanlon, that I wanted to stay with her, but I didn’t have the courage, so I said nothing.

  ‘It’s all right, Nora, you don’t have to rush your decision. Give it some thought, and when you’re ready we can talk again.’ She stood up. ‘Now come with me into the library, please.’

  Beatrice let out another ‘mm-hmm’ as we left the kitchen.

  When we were alone, Mrs Shaw sat me down.

  ‘I’m going to discuss something important with you, Nora. You know that I have become especially fond of you. In fact, I think of you as my daughter.’

  I drew a deep breath.

  ‘I would like nothing more than to see your future secure – financially, I mean. But you should understand that Sinclair, after inheriting from his own father, also stands to inherit this house and all my other assets. You see, my late husband left everything to me as long as I was living, but upon my demise his will states that what assets remain are to go to his only living relative, Sinclair.’

  I winced at the sound of his name.

  So, you see, Nora, I cannot change the terms of the will. However, what I can do is transfer a sum of cash into an account with your name on it.’ She paused and laughed. ‘It’s good we finally know your name. That way I’ll be satisfied you’ll have the means to get on your feet and start on a new path if something were to happen to me.’

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she put up her hand to quiet me.

  ‘I have something else for you, Nora. Something more personal than money.’

  She put her hands up to her throat and unfastened the locket she wore. I had often silently admired it. It was solid gold, heart-shaped and engraved with what I recognized as a Celtic knot.

  ‘Turn around,’ she said. ‘My dear husband gave this to me on my wedding day, and I want you to have it.’

  I held my breath while she fastened the delicate chain around my neck. I put my hand up to touch it and turned to look at her. ‘I . . .’ I began, suddenly at a loss for words.

  ‘Ssh, my dear,’ she said and enveloped me in her arms.

  It was then my tears began to flow, and I hugged her back fiercely. At last I drew away from her. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to you, Mrs Shaw,’ I whispered.

  She threw back her head and gave a loud, husky laugh. ‘Dear girl, I have no intention of letting anything happen to me!’

  I suppose when God hears you declaring your own intentions, He sometimes lets you know it’s His intentions that count.

  A week later, Mrs Shaw was dead.

  She’d been on her way to the bank to make the money transfer she’d told me about when she skidded off the road in that curse of a car of hers. She was most likely driving like a madwoman as she always did, thinking no calamity could ever touch her. She had the rest of us believing that way too.

  After Mrs Shaw’s death, the house was thrown into paralysis. Beatrice wrung her hands and sang hymns
, Teresa went silent, and I hid in my room with Silver. A minister came to talk about funeral arrangements. None of us knew what to tell him and he sighed and went away again. The only comfort we had was when the suffragette ladies came, including young Martha who had helped me with my preparations for the Christmas Eve party. Mother of God, was that only a month ago? Martha said the ladies had talked among themselves and they would take over Mrs Shaw’s arrangements.

  It might have been better for the three of us, Beatrice, Teresa and me, to have busied ourselves with the wake and the funeral and the reception afterwards. As it was, with nothing to do, we were left to our own thoughts. I couldn’t bring myself to cry, although my heart was breaking. I thought of how the old Nora would have behaved. She would have worried about herself first. She’d have been spitting mad about the money she’d never get now, and the fact that she’d have to find another place to live and complain about how she didn’t deserve this. Had I really changed so much in less than a year? I knew in my heart the change in me was in answer to what Mrs Shaw gave me. When you’re given love, it seemed, you respond with love.

  What would happen now that Mrs Shaw was gone?

  It took that bastard, Sinclair, only three days after Mrs Shaw’s death to show up at the house and hammer on the door.

  I refused to be afraid of him. ‘What do you want?’ I cried. ‘Sure, the poor woman’s not even cold. Where’s your respect?’

  He sneered down at me and shoved me back inside the hallway. ‘I’ve come to collect my inheritance,’ he said. He waved his arm around. ‘All of this is now mine, Miss Nora Sweeney, and if you ever had any thoughts of getting your grasping little fingers on any of it, you can forget it.’

  I wanted to claw the eyes out of him. He pushed on past me and went into the kitchen. Beatrice stood wide-eyed, while Teresa tried to fold herself into a corner. He banged his fist on the table. ‘You two,’ he said, ‘you work for me now and I will tolerate no slacking. I have also discovered from the financial records that your wages are excessive. You will take a cut in pay and improve your work habits, or you can leave. I will give you to the end of the week to decide.’

  He swung around to look at me. I stood glaring at him with my arms folded. I stood within easy reach of the kitchen knives. If this feller made a move towards me, I was ready to swing for him. He must have sensed the danger, for he backed up a couple of paces.

  ‘You,’ he said, ‘you have no such options. You’ll go and pack your things this minute and get out of my house.’

  I stood my ground, while Beatrice began praying aloud. As I stared at him, I believed I was looking at the divil himself. How could I ever have thought I was in love with this man? A cold shiver ran through me as if somebody was walking on my grave, and I knew I had to get away from him as quickly as I could.

  I gave no thought as to where I would go. I just wanted to get out of this house. Silver sat meowing as I threw some clothes into a bag, Beatrice came into the room, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, Miss Nora, what’s to become of you?’

  I stopped what I was doing and hugged her. ‘Don’t worry about me, Beatrice, I’ll be grand.’

  I looked down at Silver who was rubbing against my leg.

  ‘Would you be willing to take Silver, Beatrice? Otherwise Sinclair will torture him.’

  She dried her eyes with a big handkerchief. ‘I sure will. Now you run over to next door to where Mr Frankie works. You tell him Miss Beatrice sent you. Tell him she says he’s to give you a ride in ’is cart into the village.’ She gave a quick smile. ‘Ole Mr Frankie, he’s done got a soft spot for ole Beatrice. He do ’most anything I ask him.’

  As if the effort of speaking was too much for her, Beatrice sank down on the bed and began to weep again.

  ‘Will you stay?’ I said.

  She stopped crying at once. ‘Stay?’ she said. ‘I’d rather go and live with the devil.’

  A half hour later, I left the Shaw house for the last time. I ignored Sinclair’s taunts as I pushed past him. Good to Beatrice’s word, Mr Frankie hitched up his horse and wagon and helped me up into it. Tipping his old crushed hat, he climbed up beside me and we began the slow drive towards the village. I never looked back.

  As the old horse plodded along, I was reminded of the ride Delia and I had taken with Da from the cottage to the train station on our way to board the Titanic. What a lifetime ago that seemed.

  We were just entering the village when we met a car coming at speed from the opposite direction. I recognized it at once, and asked Frankie to stop. The car halted alongside us and Ben jumped out.

  ‘Nora!’ he cried. ‘Where are you going? Have you seen Sinclair? He told me he was coming here, and I followed him to make sure he didn’t cause any trouble.’

  ‘He tried to, Ben,’ I said. ‘But then he just sent me on my way. To tell you the truth, I was glad to go. I’m going to New York. I’m not quite sure how, but I’ll find a way.’

  Ben looked from me to Frankie and back. ‘Not in that, you’re not,’ he said in astonishment. ‘Let me drive you there.’

  I almost refused, but I stuffed down my stubbornness. How else was I to get to New York? I climbed down and thanked Frankie. ‘Make sure Beatrice is all right,’ I said.

  He nodded, turned the old cart around, and drove away.

  Ben threw my bag in the back seat and settled me into the front. We said nothing for a long time. As we drew close to the city, I began to worry. What was I going to do? My first instinct was to find Delia, but that would be impossible. Besides, at this point all I wanted to do was run away and lick my wounds. I wanted nothing more at that minute than to go back home to Donegal. But how was I to do that with hardly a penny to my name? My tears began to flow even though I fought to hold them back.

  ‘What’s wrong, Nora?’ Ben said.

  I let the words pour out of me. ‘Oh Ben, I just want to go home, and I’ve no money. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

  Ben looked at me and said nothing. When we arrived in New York, he drove straight to the White Star offices to enquire as to when the next ship was sailing for Ireland. He talked to the clerks and came back smiling.

  He handed me a ticket. ‘There’s a ship sailing in two days,’ he said.

  I looked at him in shock. ‘But . . .’ I began, ‘I didn’t mean for you to buy me a ticket. I’ve never begged in my life, and I don’t intend to start now.’

  ‘Do you have money for a hotel?’ he asked, ignoring my protest.

  I looked at his earnest face. I realized that in my hurry to get away from Sinclair I hadn’t even thought about where I would sleep tonight. I lowered my head.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  He smiled. ‘I thought not. Here, take this.’

  I started to refuse, but he pushed some banknotes into my hand. I held back tears as I thanked him. He drove me to what he said was a respectable hotel. When I got out of the car I stood on the pavement with my bag. He and I looked at each other. I don’t think either of us knew what to say. Finally, he broke the silence. ‘Good luck, Nora. Safe journey.’

  ‘Thank you for everything, Ben,’ I said. ‘You’ve been a good friend. I promise I will pay you back one day.’ Without thinking, I reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

  I turned away and walked to the hotel entrance without looking back.

  DALLAS, TEXAS

  1913

  DELIA

  The transcontinental train rolled in a steady rhythm along the tracks, slow enough for me to take in the passing scenery. I put down my book and looked out the window. City landscapes gave way to wooded acreage and then to open fiatlands. It was like watching a moving picture show. My imagination ran wild; making up stories of adventurers – like those in my books – exploring new and uncharted territory. I was like a child, delighted with my own make-believe. I must have been smiling because, when I looked away from the window, Aidan was eyeing me with curiosity. I blushed and turned away to Lily who
sat beside me, drawing pictures in her notebook.

  I was bursting with love for the child. It was she who had given me this second chance and I would forever be grateful to her. About a week before I was to sail for Donegal, I knelt in front of the child and took her stiff little body in my arms.

  ‘I’m so sorry, darlin’,’ I whispered. ‘I have to go away soon. Your daddy is taking you to Texas and I will not be going. You see, I did a bad thing. I told your daddy a lie – well, several lies – and he is very upset with me. I told him my name was Nora. But I’m not Nora. I’m Delia.’

  She stared at me solemnly.

  ‘And – and I have been s-staying away from you on purpose because . . .’ My voice cracked. ‘Because you must get used to life without me.’

  I expected her to burst into tears. Instead, she pulled away from me and stuck out her chin. What I saw in her eyes was not sadness, but some other, stronger emotion. If I’d not known better, I would have said it was anger. My heart sank.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Lily,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to make you sad or angry. I love you very much and I never wanted to leave you. But your daddy—’

  Without waiting for me to finish my sentence, Lily seized my hand and pulled me forward. I got to my feet. Still holding onto my hand, she pulled me out of the room and down the stairs. When we reached the door to the library, I froze. I knew Aidan was in there, and the last thing I wanted was to face him. I tried to wrench my hand away, but Lily was having none of it. She pushed open the door without knocking and, with me in tow, marched straight over to Aidan.

  He looked from Lily to me.

  ‘You may go now,’ he said.

  I nodded and turned to go, but Lily’s small hand was like a vice. She looked Aidan in the face and shook her head from side to side as if to say she was not letting me go anywhere.

  I could see Aidan was working hard to control his temper. ‘Now, now, Lily. You mustn’t be impudent. I know you are fond of your governess, but you must get used to life without her.’