The Girl Who Came Home(77)

Completely captivated now by this quietly spoken man and his connection to Titanic, Grace wanted to know more. ‘What?’ she asked. ‘What clicked?’

‘Well, you see – and I am aware that I may be completely mistaken here – but my uncle had, in his possession, a ladies coat and a packet which he believed to be love letters. The name Maggie is handwritten on the front of the packet of letters and there’s a note scribbled onto them, which I presume was written by my uncle. I have it here in front of me. Would you like me to read it to you?’

‘Yes, yes please.’ Grace was now on the very edge of the step.

‘OK, let me just find my reading glasses. Ah yes, now, here we are. It says, ‘Possessions of a Miss Maggie Murphy who travelled from Ireland on Titanic with her aunt and two girls - Peggy and Katie. Items found in lifeboat on the Carpathia.’ I have to assume, Miss Butler, that these items belong to your great-grandmother.’

Grace couldn’t believe it. Maggie’s letters. The letters from Séamus. After all these years.

‘That’s amazing,’ she gasped.

‘Yes, isn’t it,’ the man continued. ‘And from what I hear among members of my own family, my uncle was very keen to see these items reunited with their owner. With no means of finding her after the Carpathia docked in New York, he kept them in the vague hope that one day he, or the coat and letters, would find her again.’ He paused for a moment to take a breath. ‘I am hoping that after all these years, they possibly have.’

Grace couldn’t speak for a moment.

‘Miss Butler? Are you still there?’

‘Oh, yes, yes, I’m sorry. I’m here. I just can’t believe it! I can’t believe you have Maggie’s letters. Are they all still there?’

‘Well, Miss, I’m not sure, but the packet certainly seems to have been kept in very good condition. My uncle was very particular about them and insisted that nobody read them – those were his specific instructions in his will. He apparently told members of the family that he believed they were love letters from a boyfriend Maggie had left behind in Ireland and that only if Maggie was found, should they be read.’

Grace was stunned, her heart racing at what this would mean to Maggie. Her letters finally returned to her. It momentarily crossed her mind that it might all be a bit too upsetting for her. She often seemed reluctant to talk about Séamus, as if thinking about him upset her too much.

‘This is just incredible Mr…….’

‘Lockey. Edward Lockey.’

‘This may be a silly question Mr Lockey…’

‘Please, call me Edward,’ he interrupted, laughing.

‘Sorry, Edward. Was your uncle’s name Harry, by any chance?’

Now it was his turn to be surprised. ‘Yes! Harry was his name! How did you know that?’

‘Maggie kept a journal on Titanic,’ Grace explained. ‘She mentions a Harry often, or Lucky Harry as she and the girls she shared a cabin with seem to have called him. She told me a steward called Harry helped her get to the lifeboat. It must be him.’

They spoke for a few moments more about the incredible coincidences: Edward reading Grace’s article and him being related to the man who had helped Maggie get off Titanic and that he now had what they believed to be Maggie’s lost coat and letters. It was simply amazing.

‘I think it would be useful to meet,’ Edward Lockey continued. ‘I’d prefer to hand over the items to you in person if that isn’t too much of an imposition? I certainly wouldn’t want to rely on the postal service to get them back to Maggie; it would be terrible if they were to go missing after all this time.’

Grace agreed and they made arrangements to meet the following week at a coffee shop they both knew in downtown Chicago. She thought it best not to say anything to Maggie just yet – in case the man turned out to be a crackpot. The letters clearly wouldn’t change anything for Maggie now, whatever they said, but Grace hoped that they might bring her some sort of closure; allow her to lay to rest some of the ghosts which had haunted her life since that night.

She put down the phone and walked through to the kitchen.

‘So?’ her mother enquired from inside the larder which she was rearranging. ‘Was it another reporter?’

Grace sat down at the kitchen table, absent-mindedly taking a banana from the fruit bowl. ‘No, he really wasn’t a reporter. It’s unbelievable mom. He says he’s the nephew of someone else who survived Titanic and we think it’s someone who Maggie knew.’

Her mother appeared then, wiping her hands on the front of her trousers. ‘Really?’