The Titanic Sisters

by Patricia Falvey

  I smiled. It seemed that Hans had the same yearning for adventure as I had – or used to have. What had happened to that yearning? Back in Donegal I’d thought that adventure would save my life. Exploring new lands and meeting exotic new people would bring me all the happiness I needed. But now I realized adventure alone was not enough. I was still as alone and unloved as I had been in Donegal.

  SHOUTGUN CITY

  1913

  NORA

  The Adolphus Hotel in Dallas was the last word in luxury. I couldn’t believe the size of the room, the lovely smelling cotton sheets, the wee bottles of every kind of creams and lotions, and the lovely view over the main street. I felt like a queen.

  The night I arrived a knock came to my door. I opened it and peered around. There stood a good-looking boyo about thirty years old. He wore a white linen suit without the trace of a crease in it. He took off his big, white hat, revealing thick, glossy black hair.

  ‘Miss Nora Sweeney?’

  I nodded.

  He took my hand and kissed it. ‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

  His words came out in a low drawl. No one had ever kissed my hand before, and I stood there, fascinated.

  ‘My name is Shane Kearney,’ he said, ‘and Mr Sullivan wanted me to make sure you were settled in. Is everything to your liking?’

  ‘Oh, er, yes,’ I said, realizing I’d been so busy looking at him I hardly heard what he said.

  Mr Kearney told me to take a couple of days to get settled, then he would be back to take me to Shotgun City. Apparently, he ran a hotel there. I wondered how he had time for that since he was working for James Sullivan, as well, but there again he never said exactly what he did for Sullivan. But, more important, he’d said I should go shopping for whatever clothes I needed and charge it to James Sullivan’s account. He didn’t have to tell me twice.

  The hotel staff told me the best shop for women’s clothes was Nieman Marcus, so the next morning I landed there. I was over the moon when I walked in. I’d never been in a place like it. I’d loved style since I was very young, and I was like a child in a sweet shop.

  The first floor smelled divine. All sorts of perfumes in wee coloured bottles were on offer. The saleswoman was as attentive as the hotel staff. If all the Texans were like these ones, I’d be happy to stay. I bought a small bottle that had a beautiful scent, the sweetness of flowers with a hint of something more earthy. I told the saleswoman to hold it as I was going to look at dresses and hats. She scurried around from behind the counter, and almost dragged me up the stairs to the second floor.

  ‘This young lady wants to look at dresses and hats,’ she told another saleswoman, who dropped everything and ran over to me. I smiled to myself. She must have smelled a rich lover.

  After my time studying the wealthy, first on the Titanic, then at Mrs Shaw’s, I had no trouble at all pretending to be a toff. I ignored the saleswoman and went over to the racks myself while she trailed along behind me. I couldn’t believe the prices, but I passed no remarks. I let her carry my choices into the dressing room and fuss over me as I tried them on.

  In the end, it was worth her while. Besides the perfume, I walked out with six new dresses, two hats, two pairs of shoes, matching bags, as well as stockings, petticoats and drawers – which she called ‘undergarments’. I announced that she should send everything, along with the bill, to the attention of Mr James Sullivan at the Adolphus Hotel. Her eyebrows shot up when I said that, but I ignored her and sailed out of the shop as if I owned it. Ah, ’twas great craic altogether.

  The next day, when I was expecting Mr Kearney, I fussed over which dress and hat I would wear. I picked out a lovely pink one, which suited my complexion, and a matching hat and shoes. He’d told me to dress comfortably for the journey, as the oilfields were very muddy, and the town itself dusty, particularly when the wind was high. I ignored him. I was determined to make a good first impression on anyone I met. Ma had always told me how important this was. ‘Never set foot out the door unless ye are looking your best,’ she always said. ‘Ye never know who ye’ll be after meeting.’

  When Mr Kearney arrived, he looked me up and down, but said nothing. Anyway, who was he to judge me when himself was wearing a white linen suit and fancy leather boots with a raised heel? Comfortable clothes, indeed.

  As we rode in his car, he told me stories about the people who lived in the area. He was a grand story-teller and had me laughing till I cried. He was great craic altogether. I was almost sorry when we came to the outskirts of Shotgun City and he stopped talking. As he drove down the main street, I could hardly believe my eyes. The place was packed with every class of people you could imagine – from toffs to those wearing what I’d say were rags. Men in narrow trousers, with some sort of leather coverings, boots like Mr Kearney’s except scuffed and dirty, and big hats with wide brims, loitered beside tethered horses. They eyed me as we drove past, their eyes squinting against the sun.

  Mr Kearney stopped outside the biggest building in the town. A sign above it read ‘Kearney Hotel’. I looked at him sharply: ‘You didn’t say you owned this bloody place!’

  He laughed. ‘You’ll learn everything in good time, Miss Sweeney, including the fact that I know another Miss Sweeney who may come and work for me. Her name is Delia, would you happen to know her?’

  I sat bolt upright. I hadn’t prepared myself for this question. Even though I had come all this way to find Delia, suddenly I wasn’t quite ready to see her. I didn’t want to know just yet whether she was involved with Aidan O’Hanlon. If she was, I’d have to forget about working for Sullivan. And I had to admit that I was looking forward to the challenge of selling oil leases. In the back of my mind I also knew, but wouldn’t admit, that I already liked being treated like a queen and the lure of more money would be hard to resist. What harm can it do to put our reunion off for a wee while? I told myself. After all, it’s been well over a year since we’ve seen one another.

  ‘Sweeney’s a common name,’ I said. ‘She could be my sister. I haven’t laid eyes on her since the Titanic sank. But I heard a rumour she’d gone to Texas.’ I nodded to the hotel. ‘I can’t believe she’d work in a place like this. She’s very refined.’

  A smile stole across Kearney’s face. ‘Don’t worry your head none about that. She wouldn’t be working in the dance hall. Would you like me to arrange a meeting?’

  ‘I’d prefer to wait, if you don’t mind. You see, my sister and I have never been very close. And I’m not sure that she even knows I’m alive. I was listed as missing on the Titanic, you see. So, you can understand that I want to pick exactly the right moment to meet her – in case it is her, of course. And if you’d not say anything to her now that would be better. ’Twould be an awful shock for her.’

  I’d rushed through my words, and I wasn’t sure at all that Kearney believed me. I was nervous, and he could see it. He was the kind of a boyo who missed nothing.

  ‘Shall we find a place for lunch?’ he asked. ‘I was fixin’ to take you into the hotel, but now that I know...’

  He let the words trail off.

  When we stopped at the first oilfield, I held my breath. Huge wooden contraptions rose into the sky. Cables were tied to some class of a metal tool wrenching up and then dropping down into a big hole. What really fascinated me were the lines of rough-looking fellers walking back and forth on broad wooden planks like they were on see-saws.

  ‘Who are them boyos?’ I said to Kearney.

  ‘Ah, I thought you might find them interesting. They’re what we call roughnecks, and they’re every bit as violent as they look. A pretty young woman like you would want to stay well out of their way.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mr Kearney, I can look after myself.’

  It had been raining and I was in mud up to my ankles – my lovely pink shoes sinking farther into the ground with every step.

  Kearney looked down and smiled. ‘I think you would have been much better off in boots, Miss
Sweeney.’

  I glared at him. I suppose he thought I was a useless woman. Well, I’d show him! I walked around the derricks, ignoring the whistles of the men on the planks, racking my brain to remember what I’d read in a big notebook Sullivan had given me to read on the train. I threw out as many questions as I could think of, to show him I wasn’t a feckin’ eejit altogether. They must have been good because Kearney lost the grin on his face and answered every one of them with respect.

  Funnily enough, something about the place stirred my blood. For all the dirt and mud and the rough customers walking the planks, there was an air of excitement. Maybe it was the recklessness of it that drew me – that people would gamble all the money they had in the world in hopes that a shower of black oil would burst into the sky and, if it didn’t, they’d have to crawl home penniless.

  Now I really understood what James Sullivan was up to. Aidan O’Hanlon was one of these gamblers. If there was no oil in the wells he drilled, he’d be running short of money. Then he’d want more leases to try again. But if I was able to buy the leases out from under his nose, he’d be left penniless. I had to admit ’twas a brilliant scheme altogether.

  After my first visit to the oilfields, I was anxious to get to work. I was glad he’d agreed that I could stay in Dallas. Shotgun City was dirty and noisy, and the Kearney Hotel looked shabby, not to mention the fact I risked running into Delia. Besides, after a hard day touring the ranches and farms, I’d be dying to come back to the Adolphus and soak in a lovely warm bath. I was getting used to luxury, no doubt about it.

  Sullivan had hired a car and driver for me, but the following morning, instead of going straight to Shotgun City, the driver took me to a building in Dallas. The sign on the door said ‘S&K Exploration’. Two older men greeted me, and Kearney was there as well. That man seemed to be everywhere. He introduced the other two – one was a geologist name of Harris, a feller who studied the soil and guessed whether there was a good chance of oil underneath. Unless he was a magician, I thought, he’d be as much use as a hole in the wall. The other one was a slippery-looking boyo with a face like a rat who said he was a scout – Sullivan’s eyes and ears on the ground. Scout, my arse, I thought, he’s a spy if ever I saw one. His name was Grissom, and I made a point to remember it even though I hoped I’d never run into him again. I still hadn’t worked out what Kearney did. Did he know Sullivan’s plan? I put the question out of my head. After all, I’d be getting paid a good wage and a bonus for every lease I arranged, and that’s what counted.

  Armed with a list of ranchers and farmers Sullivan had given me, I set out in high spirits. I wasn’t disappointed. It turned out to be great craic sweet-talking these fellers into signing with S&K Exploration. Some were oul’ whiskery craturs, whose accents I could barely understand. I found if I kept smiling, maybe patted their hand a few times and insisted I was not from ‘back east’, I had a good chance of convincing them to sign over their leases. I learned they didn’t trust anybody from the east, so I made sure to tell them we were a Texas company. Often their wives hovered in the background looking daggers at me, but I soon found out the men paid no attention to them. This was ‘men’s business’ and that was grand with me.

  The younger fellers were a different kettle of fish. They were suspicious of me and grilled me all about the oil business to make sure I knew what I was talking about. If I passed that test, they’d chance their arms by saying they’d agree if I did them a favour in return. When that happened, I stood up and walked out. Some called me back and said they were sorry, and some didn’t.

  Sullivan’s list included both Aidan O’Hanlon’s leases as well as others. He’d said it would make it less obvious that it was only O’Hanlon’s leases we were after. But I was getting bonuses for all the ones I signed, so I treated them all the same. The hardest nuts to crack though were with them that had leases with O’Hanlon. I was shocked at how loyal they were to him, even though I was offering them more money. Feminine persuasion only went so far in these cases, so I stuck to the money side of it. That often did the trick. If not, and the wife was hovering in the background, I would appeal to her: ‘I’m sure you could use the extra money, couldn’t you?’ The wives would give the husbands a pleading look and often they’d give in.

  I had to admit I was good, and I was enjoying myself so much that at times I even forgot why I was there. My memory was jogged one day when driving past one of the oilfields I saw Sullivan’s spy, Grissom, standing talking to a handsome, dark-haired man who looked to be in his thirties. Curious, I told the driver to stop and made my way over to them. Grissom looked surprised and even a bit annoyed to see me.

  ‘Hello there, Mr Grissom,’ I said, ignoring his frowns. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  He began to turn away from me, but I wasn’t having it. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’ I said.

  Grissom looked even more annoyed. ‘Of course. Where are my manners? This is Mr Aidan O’Hanlon. Aidan, this is Nora Sweeney, a friend of mine.’

  My God, so this was Aidan O’Hanlon. I’d expected a much older man, fat and homely. This feller was gorgeous. I extended my hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, Mr O’Hanlon,’ I said, flashing my best smile.

  He shook my hand and gave a slight bow. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Sweeney, a pleasure to meet you, too.’ He scrutinized my face and I had to look away from his deep blue eyes. ‘I have a friend named Delia Sweeney. I suppose it’s too much of a coincidence to think you might know her. I understand she had a sister named Nora, but alas she was drowned on the Titanic.’

  I struggled not to give myself away. ‘No, I can’t say I do.’

  He smiled. ‘No matter. I understand it’s a common name in Ireland. Her family is from Donegal. You?’

  I thought quickly. ‘No, I hail from Cork, Mr O’Hanlon,’ I said.

  Grissom cleared his throat. ‘I must be going, Miss Sweeney,’ he said.

  I swung around. I’d almost forgotten he was there.

  ‘And I must be going too,’ I said sweetly. ‘Goodbye, Mr O’Hanlon.’

  Grissom escorted me back to the car.

  ‘What was all that business about me being a friend? Why didn’t you say we work together?’

  ‘Don’t be such a fool, Nora. He’ll know soon enough what you are up to. I didn’t want him to connect me with you.’

  ‘What I am up to? Don’t you mean what we are up to?’

  Grissom pushed me roughly into the car.

  ‘You need to mind your own business,’ he said.

  As he turned to go, he paused and looked back at me. ‘And don’t be getting ideas about O’Hanlon. He’s spoken for with that Delia. And you have work to do. Mr Sullivan wouldn’t like to hear you’re not following his orders.’

  I banged the door shut and shouted at the driver to go. I needed to get away from here, and fast. I closed my eyes and sighed. What had I got myself into? Grissom was a dangerous character, and so was Sullivan. I let my thoughts wander to Delia. Surely she must be in love with Aidan O’Hanlon. What girl wouldn’t be? I hoped I was wrong. I hoped that O’Hanlon had a dark side and Delia wanted rid of him. I comforted myself with that thought, because I really didn’t want to hurt Delia. By the time I reached Dallas I realized that I felt well and truly trapped.

  DELIA

  One August evening, Mayflower came rushing up the steps of the veranda, her face flushed. Hans and I gave each other a knowing look. What new gossip was she bringing from Dallas? we wondered.

  Mayflower sank down into one of the rocking chairs, breathing hard and mopping her brow with a handkerchief. When I looked closely at her face, sudden fear rose up in me. Something was terribly wrong.

  ‘What is it, Mayflower?’ I said.

  ‘Oh, Lordy, Delia,’ she managed through ragged breaths, ‘you won’t believe it, but lightning has struck twice.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Mayflower?’ Hans stood up and reached for his wife’s hand. ‘Take your time, my love.’
/>
  ‘She’s gone again.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Lily. She’s just up and disappeared faster than a prairie fire in a tail wind. One minute she was setting in the Kearney Hotel talking to Francine and the next she was gone. Miss Francine can’t talk for crying. Folks’ first thought was she’d gone back to the Dallas house, but they were wrong. Just grasping at straws, I guess. Poor Rosa’s praying up a storm. Folks everywhere’s out looking for her. And I can’t imagine what poor Aidan is suffering. He’s—’

  I sprang up. ‘But why, Mayflower? Why would she do such a thing?’

  Mayflower sighed. ‘I told y’all she’d stopped talking, but Rosa said she kept drawing pictures of a ranch, and then she drew you, Delia, and wrote your name beside it.’

  ‘What did she mean, Mayflower?’ I said, my heart thumping. ‘What was she trying to say?’

  Mayflower looked straight into my eyes. ‘I’d say after she saw you at the picnic, she was missing you and wanted to come to the ranch to find you. That little girl loves you, Delia.’

  ‘I didn’t think she’d seen me at the ranch,’ I said. ‘She was busy playing with the other children.’

  ‘Most likely she saw you riding off, and watched her daddy follow you.’

  ‘You don’t think she just wandered off somewhere like you said she did when she was little or when she wandered across to the hotel when we were in Shotgun City?’

  I looked up hopefully at Mayflower, but I could see by her face I was wrong.

  ‘Not this time,’ she said. ‘There’s been no sign of her all day.’

  The three of us were silent for a minute, letting the news sink in. Then Hans was suddenly all business.

  ‘I will gather the ranch hands together and we will search every inch of this ranch. Mayflower and Delia, you stay here at the house in case she appears.’