The Girl Who Came Home(40)

‘Right so,’ she replied, winking back. ‘Oh and I wanted to ask you somethin’,’ she added, lowering her voice and colouring a little in the cheeks.

‘Yeah? What is it? I don’t think I’m going to be able to get you upgraded to a First Class Stateroom y’know!’

Maggie laughed. ‘No, it’s nothin’ like that. It’s just that my cousin Pat tells me you’re quite friendly with the Marconi telegram boys. I was after wonderin’ if you’d be able to help me send a message. Y’know, to home, like?’

‘Yeah, I know them alright,’ he replied. ‘Is it a message to your Mam?’

Maggie shuffled her feet. ‘Erm, no it ain’t for mi Ma. I’m not sure what sort of’ service those telegram fellas are offerin’, but I doubt they’re up for sendin’ messages to heaven now are they?’

Harry looked at his own feet now, annoyed with himself for being so stupid. ‘Oh bloody hell Miss. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘It’s alright. Ye weren’t to know. Anyway, would it be alright d’ye think? To send somethin’? Even if it’s not for mi dead Ma?’ She smiled shyly up at him.

‘Yeah, I’m sure I can get something sorted out for you. Write it all down on a piece of paper and keep it short. Pass it to me later. I’ll see what I can do.’

Maggie smiled warmly, delighted at the prospect of sending a note to someone back home, whoever it was, and thanked him several times before scurrying off to catch up with her friends. She passed her cousin Pat who had stopped to check the ship’s log again.

‘What’s the report today then Pat,’ she teased, finding his fascination with the speed of the ship and the conditions of the sea quite amusing for a boy who had never been near the ocean in all his life.

‘It’s a calm sea, 22 knots and icebergs ahead,’ he replied.

‘And is that good, or bad?’ she asked. ‘The knots and the calmness an’ all?’

‘Well, it’s mainly good.’ He laughed at his young cousin’s naivety. ‘We’re almost going full speed. Some are sayin’ we might be in New York a full day ahead of schedule and that would be the fastest crossin’ of the Atlantic there’s ever been! The ships have to watch out for the icebergs though,’ he added. ‘One of the crewmen told me that some of them can be so big you could probably spot them from Ireland on a clear day.’ He whistled at the thought. ‘Anyway, come on, we’ve got to get on our Sunday best for this Mass.’

They both laughed then, knowing full well that they were already wearing their Sunday best, it being the same as they had worn the day before and the day before that.





CHAPTER 16 - R.M.S Titanic, 14th April, 1912





As they ascended the main staircase towards the upper decks, Kathleen Kenny reminded everyone to have proper manners about them during the service and not to be staring at the ladies and gentlemen. She was a woman of immense pride and stood staunchly by her heritage and her people, proud of who she was and where she had come from and not in the least bit inclined to apologise for the class of ticket she was travelling on, or impressed by those who were travelling on a more expensive one.

During her years living in Chicago, Kathleen had heard plenty of stories about the upper classes in society, many of them involving some sort of scandal or wrong-doing. As far as she could gather, theirs may appear to be a life of luxury and indulgent happiness from the outside, but more often than not, there was a litany of family trouble, business trouble or other sorts of trouble bubbling away underneath the glossy, coiffed exteriors; the sort of trouble which, in her estimation, tends to come about when people have too much money to spend and too much time on their hands to find ways in which to spend it.

During the religious service however, she was unable to prevent her eyes from wandering, being drawn to the scene around her. Despite her stoical disregard for anything fashionable or excessive, she was as fascinated as everyone else who had come up from the lower levels of the ship, taking in the extravagant opulence of the dining room with its rich, oak panelling, creamy white frescoed ceiling, Persian-carpet styled linoleum flooring and the heavy crystal chandeliers which the motion of the ship caused to sway ever so slightly above their heads. It was a degree of luxury she could never have imagined, matched only by the fur coats and extraordinary hats and exquisite jewellery which adorned the ladies standing towards the front of the room. It was like nothing she had ever seen before and she momentarily forgot that she was standing on a ship which was steaming across the Atlantic Ocean.