Struck! A Titanic Love Story Page 2

  Megan unraveled them, put on the bracelet, and admired it. She liked the contrast between the heavy band and her delicate wrist. The bracelet was much too masculine to be fashionable for her, but she enjoyed wearing it in the privacy of her room. She raised her wrist and examined the bracelet more closely. It looked old, with a dull shine where she had accidentally rubbed it. She rubbed a little more and started to see a pattern of something carved into the bracelet. A line with baby flowers started to emerge. It shined up like a new penny but she thought it was gold, not copper like a penny.

  She slid it off her wrist, dropped it back into the felt sack, and looked at her money situation. She had fifty-two pounds. She paused to think about it and decided it was enough to get her to where she wanted to go, since she had the cost of the ticket covered. She grabbed a sixpence so she could buy a pint for herself down at Donovan’s. She put the sixpence in her secret pocket and the rest of the money back in the sack along with the ticket. She cinched up the cords, closing it tight, and hid it back in its place. She opened the curtain and went to help her sister Molly in the kitchen.

  After a bit she sat down at the supper table and looked about. “Da, where’s Colin? He’s not in his usual place. Is he still down at the newspaper?”

  “No, he went to Donovan’s for a pint or two. What’s it to you, lass?” he answered in his usual curt manner.

  “Aw, it’s nothing that a trip down to Donovan’s after supper cannot fix. I’ll go and have a pint myself,” Megan replied with some gusto. That got a chuckle from her sister Molly.

  “And whilst you’re down there be a thinking about quitting your job and getting back into helping out around here,” Da said. “After Molly marries Liam, you’ll be needed at home. You too need to marry, but who would take you, with a job and all? Comin’ and goin’ as you pleased all these years. You always were your mother’s favorite. You have done her proud, but it’s time to come on home and take care of us. The wedding is next month, as you know. Be thinking of that, now lass. Your mum died too early, that is for sure. I miss her.” Da stirred his coffee.

  Megan opened her mouth to spout off, but stopped. No, don’t get into it now. She had time to figure it out. The secret was hidden in her treasure sack. Megan finished her supper silently fuming.

  Afterward, Megan ran to her bicycle and started the ride down to Donovan’s. This gave her the opportunity to think. How could she meet someone who might give her a spark? A slight bump in her tummy would suffice. Everyone she had met in the past was not up to snuff, in her opinion. She needed to like the chap, didn’t she? One who might grasp her sensible side instead of looking for a romantic side. She wasn’t even sure she had a romantic side. No one had ever given her a zing, a moment that stood still, a feeling in the pit of her stomach that felt like a thousand butterflies taking off at once. She had read so many stories of such feelings that she wished it would happen to her. Was she holding herself back? Maybe she needed to be more open to the suggestions she heard from other people. Be more open to new adventures. She turned into the lane of Donovan’s and stopped with a swoosh. She propped her bicycle against the wall of the pub and turned to look out onto the harbor and see the beauty of Southampton. The sun was at the right angle to create a shimmering gleam upon the water.

  Since she’d been about seven, she’d donned a cap and tucked her hair underneath and gone in the back door to Donovan’s. Women weren’t permitted in pubs, and certainly not a girl, but she’d been running with her brothers since she was a wee lass. Molly too, but she didn’t like the pub as much as Megan. It was Megan who started singing with Colin and Niles when they needed a third for harmonies. She had grown up there. Everyone knew her.

  Megan pushed open the back door and looked about the room. Inside it smelled like boiled mutton, sweat, and ale. She headed to the crapper to change her clothes and emerged a moment later tucking her borrowed shirt into Niles’s trousers. She sauntered in.

  “There you are, Megs,” Uncle Donovan said from behind the bar. “We haven’t seen so much of you lately.”

  “Da’s been giving me a hard time, Uncle,” Megan said. “Now that Molly’s getting married, he wants me to quit my job and take care of him and the boys.”

  “That’s too bad, lass,” Uncle Donovan said. “We’ve missed your voice down here. What’ll you have to drink?”

  “My usual pint, please,” said Megan. “Is Colin here?” She looked toward the back of the room.

  “Shootin’ darts, I think,” he said as he pulled a pint and slid it down to her.

  “Thanks, Uncle.”

  COLIN MAHONEY STARED into his pint and wondered how he was going to get out of this one. How had it all happened so quickly? One minute he was happy as a lark, biding his time, waiting for his ship to call and say he had a job playing his violin. Now he felt as if a noose was around his neck.

  He hadn’t meant for anything to come from frolicking with Catherine. He thought he knew what he was doing. He knew he was toying with her affections and all, but he never wanted her to fall in love with him. He was not the type. He was to be a man of the sea. He’d been studying for it his whole life. To play music on board a vessel off to another world had always been his dream.

  At this point, a voyage to nowhere was something. He’d even be happy going to the Mediterranean. It was not his favorite destination, but it would be a very nice holiday. He had done everything they asked. He had even become a member of the Amalgamated British Musicians’ Union and had been in contact with the Black Brothers of Liverpool to be included on the list to possibly be chosen for the voyage of Titanic. All for nothing, since they didn’t pick him. So the question was, now what? How to jump ship and leave Catherine?

  That was it. He would jump aboard that big ship in the harbor and go far, far away, to a new land, a new life, and become a new man. He would get a job aboard not as a musician, but as something else on the crew. Yes, it was a splendid idea. He could possibly play on board with the other chaps while at sea. Who would know? Now, how to get such a job?

  He glanced about the pub and noticed a lad a few years younger than himself, but strapping just the same. A dirty, black coal cap sat on his head. The bill was turned over his face, a small bill as it was to be flipped around so he could put on his goggles when working. The lad held his head in his hands, glowering at his empty pint. Colin watched him for a few minutes, then picked up his pint and his violin case and made his way over to the bar. He sat on a stool beside the lad and pretended to stare forward into space. In reality, he was watching the lad in the mirror. After a few long seconds, the lad’s head came up and he caught Colin’s gaze. His eyes were bloodshot and tired looking. His whole demeanor was low.

  Colin nodded toward the empty pint. “You look like you could use another. Hey, Donovan, we could use a couple more down this way. What you say?” Colin’s voice rose above the soft classical rhythm of the guitar in the background.

  “I’ll have a half and half if you don’t mind, since you’re buying and all,” the boy said. Colin looked over at Donovan and saw Megan. “Hey, Little Megs, help your mate out and bring our drinks on your way over, will you?”

  Megan took the half and half, joined Colin at the bar, and set down both their drinks.

  “I’m Colin, and this is Megs,” Colin said. “One of my clan.”

  “His favorite,” Megan said. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “Hello, my name is Lucas. I am pleased to make both your acquaintances.”

  Colin asked, “What brings you down to the pub this fine evening, Little Megs? Da doesn’t need me, does he?”

  “I came to find you for a bit of song and some brew. That’s all.” She took off her cap and scratched her forehead then put it back on and shoved up her hair, the gesture as natural to her as breathing.

  “My Lord, you’re a lass. A—a—a girl!”

  Megan replied, “Oh, don’t be troublesome. I’ve been coming here my whole life. Everybody knows me and l
oves me. Since you’re sitting with my brother, I figured you’d be all right with me. Let us drink up and be merry. Have you come from a ship?”

  “The biggest of them all. I work as a fireman on Titanic. Are you in need of a job? There is a big hiring tomorrow at the ship. Bring your papers and you’ll get a job. Come as a girl though. All that red hair, you could easily get a job with your looks.”

  Megan smiled and said, “No thank you, I have a good job already.”

  “All right then,” Lucas said and gazed back into his glass. “Well, I haul coal now because of the coal strike, but I was hired to ferry the tenders from ports. There are all sorts of jobs on board, if you don’t mind heeding to the rich. It seems to be one’s station in life to bear and all.”

  Colin kept his remarks of his future to himself, but he filed away the information of the ship’s hiring.

  “Come on then, Colin,” Megan said. “Grab Violet and play me a song or two. Help get my mind off my worries and all. Then let’s drink to success and I’ll ponder on mine. Here’s to that grand ship, Titanic.”

  Colin removed his violin from the case. Lucas looked around. “Is there another lass here? Where’s Violet?”

  Megan laughed. “Violet is what he calls his violin.”

  “I was just a lad when I named her,” Colin said.

  “I get it, Violet, the violin. That’s quite smart of you.” Lucas laughed and grabbed his half and half. “I’ll drink with you, lass, while Colin plays. Here’s to Titanic.”

  MEGAN LAY IN bed that night, trying not to be restless so she wouldn’t wake Molly. She couldn’t stop the thoughts in her head though. It would only be a glance and a ticket punch from the agent on board, Megan reminded herself. It was the number they would note, if anything, ticket number 242154. That’s all it would take. It was just a small moment out of time.

  Oh, Lord, what was she thinking? Just what she had been dreaming about since she first started working all those years ago. There where she’d been watching all those ships coming and going, day by day, night after night.

  Stop! Megan tossed in her little bed. Okay, she could do this. The ticket was not a problem, since the name hadn’t been filled in by the patron, and she had piles of the regular forms the passengers got with their tickets. It was the boarding pass that was ruining her sleep. It had gone into the little Frenchman’s fire, and she couldn’t get on the ship without one.

  It felt so right to go, though. She was going to follow her heart even if it hurt some people in the end. It was a new beginning for her. She was sorry that she would have to miss Molly’s wedding and all, but she was an adult. She was the oldest sister. She could say what track of life she chose, and she did not choose this anymore. She was too young, with her whole life before her, to feel so old. She needed to leap. Leap and the rope will appear. Isn’t that what Ma always said?

  Why did these thoughts keep jumping into her head? If she kept fretting about things out of her control she was going to make herself go mad. She needed to get some sleep so she could actually do what she had been lying there thinking about for the last hour or so. She had to get some sleep. The morning would come too soon.

  Megan turned over and closed her eyes against the moonlight. “Lord, please keep me safe and help me to follow the path in which you lead, for I am ever faithful.”

  MEGAN OPENED THE office the next morning. Cecil wasn’t due in until nine. She was a lucky girl. As she unlocked the safe and opened the curtains, she glanced about the office. This was the place she had spent her working years. Even the splits in the wooden timbers had become dear to her, since she had named the little faces she saw in the knots. Adding the slight ink eyes was her way of never being alone. She was always watched, but never alone. In a good way though. They were friendly.

  All right then, ink, pen, bolder black ink, nibs, paper, newspaper, stamp, creaser, that blotter and what else could she need, Megan asked herself as she gathered the items. She would just reissue all the stuff that went into the package she regularly mailed to passengers after they bought their tickets. Anyone who was anyone would have already bought tickets for the maiden voyage of Titanic. They would have tags for luggage, the stickers for luggage and boxes to be put into storage, all the things she had been issuing for the last three months. The White Star Line issued the tags, and Megan didn’t have any for herself, but she thought she could create her own just as well. She pulled her ticket from her hiding place to check the cabin assignment. Deck F, Cabin B, berth 4. That wouldn’t do. It was a family berth near the bow. Single women were placed in the stern. She would need to choose something in the stern that hadn’t been assigned as yet. With just a few days left before sailing, there were only a few berths not purchased. She would work on the boarding pass and issue herself some luggage tags for deep storage for now. She would have time to fill in the berth assignment soon enough.

  Megan glanced about, walked to the door, opened it, and went out onto the walkway of the dock. She peered out toward Titanic. “Busy as ever, I see,” she said as if someone were about. With no would-be patrons scurrying around, Megan thought this might be the best time to do her tomfoolery. She turned her back and shut the door with enough force to make the little bells jangle. Only after walking around the high counters and behind the closed steel shutters did she really relax. Now, very carefully, she dipped her pen into the heavy, dark India ink and placed the nib onto the sticker tag marked for not-needed items. She left the tip on the paper a smidge too long, which was enough for the ink to follow the veins of the paper and create a royal mess. Okay, that was not going to work. The paper was too porous. She needed a different type of ink. She switched out nibs and ink and tried again.

  She set to marking the ticket number onto the luggage tags, disclaimer tags, and immigration papers, then turned to the boarding pass. She had to create that from scratch, and it took a few tries to get it right. There, that was better. It was like there was a being inside her, telling her what to do. She was so practiced in the issuance of tickets. Lord, this is too easy, she thought. The last touch of 242154 had just been applied to the boarding pass when the front doorbell jangled. Megan swooped down a newspaper and covered everything she had been working on.

  “A good day to you sir. How may I help you?” Megan asked with a smile in her voice and one on her face.

  By the time she returned to her desk, the documents had dried and were somewhat passable. Well, actually, they were great. If she ever needed a new kind of job she could take up counterfeiting. She had a steady hand.

  It was going to work. She would just have to see if she could find a berth for herself that had not been sold and find a bag or two for her things, add that berth number to her boarding pass and cabin bag tag, and—thank you Lord, thank you Lord, from the bottom of my heart. She felt like she’d just been granted her wings. She would praise the Lord again if he could get her on board that ship.

  Amen to that.

  Chapter Two

  05 April 1912 — Southampton

  FRANCES CHESWICK WISHED she were somewhere else. These dances of late had been on the dull side. She also wished she could say what she wanted when asked, but she only gave appropriate answers to questions like, “How do you feel about Mr. Johansson?”

  She didn’t feel a thing for Mr. Johansson, she wished she could say. He was a nice enough gentleman and all, but that was just it. He was a gentleman. Her actual reply? “He is such a gentleman.”

  “Boring, boring, boring. If I have to dance one more dance with one more bumbling idiot with roaming hands, I shall scream. I will do it, you do know that, right Alice?”

  Alice replied, “Yes, my girl. Shall I fetch you another spot of tea Franny?” Alice had been living with the family since Frances was seven years old, a God-sister, if there was such a thing. She was the only one who could get away with using Frances’s childhood name.

  “No, I shall get it myself. These dances are becoming somewhat of a bore. It’s the same p
eople, gathering after gathering. The same crowd showed up at the Sterling Castle just last month. An intelligent conversation would do. It is too bad that I can’t be the one to choose who to dance with. That would set the tongues to waggle. Oh, Alice, I don’t know why you hide yourself back here with the refreshments. I love what you did with your hair tonight. Those ringlets just in front of your ears are lovely. The light catches all the colors in your hair, the light brown and gold and red. It accentuates your blue eyes just so. But oh, that color on you. Who would have guessed a vibrant red wouldn’t clash with your hair color but it actually enhances it. You should be out there mingling, trying to find yourself a—a—a someone. Hmm? Or, you could dance with me? I would enjoy that immensely. But I can see by your stern look that I am dreaming. So, enough of this talk. I do see that Father is speaking to a rather fine looking woman and gentleman over there. I shan’t be long.” Frances whisked off.

  By the time Frances had crossed the room, her cheeks had cooled from throwing herself out there once again to Alice and she was able to greet her father calmly. He was in deep discussion with the gentleman, speaking of ships and land to be had, the green kind of land like in Ireland with rivers and forests and plains galore. That’s what could be found in a place called Pennsylvania.

  Frances approached them with the air of belonging. Her father smiled at her as she placed her arm through his. She nodded and noticed that the striking woman was studying her intently. Frances met her stare.