‘Oh, that’s nice isn’t it,’ her employer had responded, barely acknowledging the fact. Catherine suspected Mrs Walker-Brown felt that there was little comparison to be made between the luxury in which her daughter would be surrounded during her journey on Titanic and the distinct lack of luxury surrounding her sister’s own Titanic experience.
Catherine knew that Emily Walker-Brown was extremely proud of her daughter’s achievements and hoped that she and Robert would settle on a date for their wedding soon after returning to America. Vivienne was Emily’s only daughter and she was so thrilled about the impending wedding that she’d already settled on the hat she would wear as the mother-of-the-bride. She’d shown it to Catherine in the pages of Harper’s Bazaar magazine. It was in a photograph of the First Lady, Helen Herron Taft. She was wearing the hat on the occasion of a cherry blossom tree planting ceremony in Washington. She was pictured planting one of the three thousand trees which had been donated to the city by the Mayor of Tokyo, the blossom petals falling around her as she elegantly placed some soil around the foot of the tree.
‘Isn’t it wonderful,’ Mrs Walker-Brown had enthused in a rare moment of personal communication with her employee. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a hat quite as exquisite and all that blossom falling around her reminds me of confetti. As soon as I saw that picture I knew that it was this very hat I would wear at Vivienne and Robert’s wedding.’
True to her word, she had tracked down the designer and all the necessary details and had ordered the exact same hat. It was waiting for collection in Bloomingdales. All she needed now was the occasion to wear it and it was her intention that before the summer was out a date would be fixed and before the year was out, the hat would, finally, be introduced to her head.
She had kept her domestic employees busy all that week and with Vivienne sending a message to inform her mother that they now expected to dock in New York in just two days’ time, the house was a hive of activity.
Being a widow, Emily placed more emphasis than perhaps some other mothers would on her daughter’s presence in the family home and she busied herself now, planning for welcome home parties and bridge evenings with the ladies and dinners for the studio executives and their wives. Having been socially dormant over the winter months, there was a renewed vigour to her which ensured that after a days’ work, her home was left gleaming and her employees were left exhausted.
Before she finished up for the day, and sensing that her employer was in more jovial mood than usual, Catherine decided to ask Mrs Walker-Brown’s opinion about a suitable birthday gift for Katie. ‘I’m thinking it would be nice to buy her something small from Macy’s,’ she explained. ‘This being her first time in New York, and it being the largest department store in the world. But I was wondering, since you have such impeccable taste yourself, what you might suggest as a nice gift for her.’
Clearly flattered, Emily Walker-Brown suggested gloves. ‘No lady should be without a decent pair and Macy’s has a wonderful selection of the finest styles. You are aware, of course, that Isidor and Ida Straus are travelling on Titanic also.’ Catherine looked blankly at her, having no idea who Isidor and Ida Straus were. ‘The owner of Macy’s department store and his wife!’ Emily Walker-Brown continued, condescendingly. ‘So, I think, considering that your sister will have celebrated her birthday aboard the very same ship that the owner of the store is sailing on himself, a gift from Macy’s would be entirely appropriate. Entirely appropriate indeed. Yes, I should settle on gloves.’
Catherine resisted the temptation to inform her employer that she was sure Katie couldn’t care less whether the owner of Macy’s was sailing on Titanic or not, and thanked her for her advice before requesting permission to leave for the day. It was given.
Despite her exhaustion, Catherine set out in the direction of 151 West, 34th Street. A short while later, she emerged from the store, delighted with her purchase of a pair of white, cotton gloves, elegantly presented in the traditional Macy’s packaging; a white box with a red star in the centre.
*
Katie Kenny looked at her dinner plate, admiring the White Star Line emblem in the centre of the plain, white plate; a red, swallowtail flag with a white star in the centre. The same, by now familiar, detailing appeared on her coffee mug and soup bowl. It was little things like this which continually surprised and delighted her; the logo of the ship’s owners stamped onto every knife, fork and spoon, the woven blankets on their beds – red with white detailing and the distinctive White Star Line star and lettering in the centre. It was a level of attention to the absolute last detail which she had not encountered before and had certainly not expected on a steerage ticket.