The Girl Who Came Home - a Titanic Novel (34 page)

Grace found herself wiping away the tears by the time Mr Lockey had finished his stories of his wonderful uncle. ‘It’s such a shame,’ she said. ‘If only he hadn’t gone off to the war? If only he’d got to the hospital earlier the day the girls were discharged, he might have been able to form a relationship with Peggy sooner or hand the coat and letters back to Maggie himself.’

‘
Ah yes, but then we could also say ‘if only the Titanic hadn’t sunk. If only that iceberg hadn’t been in a direct collision course with the ship. If only the lookouts in the crow’s nest had a pair of binoculars.’ Harry was a great believer in getting on with the hand life dealt you. He never once felt sorry for himself. He often said that someone had given him a second chance in life and that while he sat in that lifeboat waiting for the rescue ship, he promised God, and himself, that he would make the most of that second chance. He believed he was the luckiest man alive after escaping from that ship.’

They fell silent for a moment then, each reflecting on everything they had shared and on the connection between them.

‘
Well, I guess I’ve taken up enough of your time Mr Lockey – I’d better head back to the car and free my Mom! Thank you so, so much – for everything. You’ve no idea what this will mean to Maggie,’ Grace said, gathering her belongings. ‘So many strange things have happened since Maggie told me about being on Titanic. It would almost make you think that the ship doesn’t want to be forgotten - wherever it is.’

They parted with a brief embrace and Grace thought for a moment about her father and how she missed that feeling of comfort and protection. The man left then and she sat for a while longer, stirring the cold remnants of the coffee in the bottom of her cup, wondering how Maggie would feel when she saw her coat and letters after all these years.

‘
I met someone yesterday Maggie,’ Grace ventured, as she made tea in Maggie’s small kitchen. She waited for a response. There was none. Her great-grandmother was flicking through the TV channels. ‘Well,’ she continued, placing the teapot, cups and a packet of biscuits on a tray and carrying them through to the small sitting room. ‘Don’t you want to know who?’

‘
Of course I want to know who,’ Maggie replied, shifting herself to a more upright position in her chair, ‘but only after you’ve found a nice plate for those biscuits and set them out properly. Did I teach you nothing, girl?’ she sighed, waving her hand dismissively across the poorly presented tea tray.

Grace laughed and went back through to the kitchen. ‘What is it about you and plates of biscuits anyway Maggie? We’re never going to eat a whole plateful are we?’

‘
That’s not the point,’ the old woman chided. ‘If something’s worth doing, then it’s worth doing properly, even if it is only offering a biscuit with a cup of tea.’

Grace arranged the biscuits neatly on one of Maggie’s ‘fancy plates’ as she called them and sat down opposite her.

‘
And,’ Maggie continued, ‘I saw them do it on the Titanic and I promised myself that when I got to America, I would always serve my biscuits as nicely. So, who did you see anyway?’

Grace was almost afraid to tell Maggie about the letters, unsure of stirring up memories which she had clearly spent a lifetime trying to forget. She poured the tea. ‘Well, I met a very, very nice gentleman called Edward Lockey.’

‘
Do I know him?’

‘
Well, no. Not exactly. But he knows someone who
did
know you.’ Grace paused and looked into Maggie’s eyes. She could tell she was interested. ‘He read my article in the newspaper and contacted me because he recognised the name Maggie Murphy.’

‘
Oh? How? No one has called me Maggie Murphy for years and years.’

‘
Well, you’re not going to believe this, but his uncle was on Titanic too.’ At this Maggie raised her eyes again, her interest piqued. ‘His uncle was a third class dining saloon steward,’ Grace continued. ‘His name was Harry Walsh.’

CHAPTER
35

Maggie’s hands flew to her cheeks and a gasp came from her core. She sat forward in her chair.

‘
The
Harry? Harry Walsh? Are you sure?’

‘
Yes! I know - it’s unbelievable isn’t it? That Mr Lockey happened to read the article about you and that he also had a relative on Titanic who, it turns out, you knew - out of all those thousands of people.’

Maggie was lost in thought. ‘He saved my life you know Grace. I would never have got off that boat if it wasn’t for him. He took us to the ladder you see and……’

Grace leant forward and placed her hands on Maggie’s. ‘I know Maggie. I know.’ She wanted to try and calm her down before she revealed the next bombshell. ‘But that’s not all.’

The old lady looked at her, wide-eyed. ‘What? What else?’

‘
Well, sadly Harry isn’t alive anymore.’

She paused then, giving her great-grandmother a moment to register this fact. ‘Really? Oh, that’s sad. That’s very sad. He was such a nice young man. I so hope he had a happy life.’

‘
He did Maggie. A very happy life. He lived to the grand old age of ninety - and he left something very important to his nephew in his will. That is why Mr Lockey contacted me, because he wanted to return it to its rightful owner.’ She paused and reached for the coat and packet of letters from her bag beside her. ‘He wanted you to have these Maggie.’

She handed the items to Maggie.

She recognised them instantly. ‘This is my coat, and these….’ She turned the packet over and over in her hands, lightly touching the brown paper and the fraying piece of string. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘It can’t be.’

Grace explained as briefly as she could about Edward Lockey and how Harry came to have the letters. ‘They were in your coat pocket Maggie. Harry found the coat when the Titanic lifeboats were lowered into the White Star dock from the Carpathia when it reached New York. He’d gone to look for lifeboat sixteen to remove the R.M.S Titanic ensign as a souvenir for his father. He noticed the black coat in the bottom of the boat and remembered it was yours. He tried to find you on the Carpathia and again in the hospitals in New York but he couldn’t find you. He kept hold of the letters all those years in the hope that he would someday find you. And now he has.’

Grace wasn’t sure whether Maggie had heard a word she’d said. She sat quietly, turning the packet of letters over and over in her hands and rubbing her fingers along the handwritten ‘
Maggie’
on the front.

‘
Will I leave you to read them?’ she asked, sensing that Maggie would like some privacy.

‘
Yes,’ Maggie whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of the breeze whipping around the trees in the garden outside. ‘Yes, please. I think I’d like to read them alone.’

‘
Well, if you’re sure you’re not going to get too upset? Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?’

Maggie smiled ‘I’ll be fine. It will be nice to see the familiar handwriting again and finally I’ll see what was written all those years ago. Now go. I’ll be perfectly fine.’

Reluctantly Grace gathered her bag to leave. ‘Well, OK then, if you’re sure. I’ll call round tomorrow morning. I haven’t forgotten what day it is. Will we visit the cemetery first and then go for afternoon tea?’

‘
Yes dear. That would be lovely. I’ll see you at ten as usual.’

With that Grace kissed Maggie on the cheek and let herself out.

It wasn’t until Maggie heard the car pulling out of the driveway that she untied the string and took the letters from the packet. The paper was yellowing and stained in places with what she assumed to be sea water, but overall the letters were in excellent condition considering what they had been through and how long ago they were written.

Harry must have taken extremely good care of them, she thought to herself, smiling at the memory of the handsome young steward and his strange, southern English accent.

She read first through the letter from Harry which accompanied the packet of letters and explained how he came to have them in his possession. She felt as though she were back on the ship; back in that lifeboat.

Steeling herself for what she was about to read, she opened the first few letters, the ones she had read while sitting in her bunk bed in cabin 115 on Titanic. She had thought it the grandest cabin imaginable at the time. Seeing the letters again she could almost feel the vibrations from the massive engines which gently rocked their cabin.

She studied the letters carefully, enjoying the sight of Séamus’s simple handwriting. Smiling at the memories the evoked she then started to read the letters she hadn’t previously read. Her heart leapt and soared at the words they contained, just as it had that first night she had danced with Séamus at the Brennan’s wedding.

October 1911

It’s autumn now Maggie. I can hardly believe I’ve been lucky enough to spend the whole spring and summer with you. Sometimes I think I will wake up from a long dream! We’ve all been busy with the potato harvest these last few weeks so we haven’t had much time to see each other - but I’ve your face in my head all the time – I’m happy even to see a peek of those curls under your hat from across the market. I sometimes think I’d like to cut one from your hair and keep it for myself – that way I’ll always remember how your hair shone in the autumn sun – but I think you look loveliest when they fall about your face so I wouldn’t want to take one from you. Some of the lads in the village tease me about you and ask me about being with a girl. I just tell them to get away out o’ that and mind their own. I wish everyone could know how it feels to be with you, then they would know why I walk around like a drunken eejit all the time!

November 1911

You told me today that you’d written to your aunt Kathleen in America to see whether she’ll be coming home for the Christmas. I know you’d like to see her, but I can’t help but be worryin that she’ll come and want to be taking you back to America with her. What with all her fancy notions of life there and all her talk of there being nothing to keep a young woman in Ireland, I’m afraid she’ll take you away from me Maggie. I hope I’m wrong. I don’t know what would become of me if you left.

December 1911

Do you remember the snow Maggie? The drifts against the fences and walls are as big as some as the houses. I haven’t seen you for days and days what with the roads and tracks being blocked up. I’ve never seen snow like it in my life and neither has Da. He says when it snows like this, it means there’ll be a change coming in the New Year. I asked him what sort of a change. He just said ‘a change’. I’m worried for his health. The cold air makes him cough something awful day and night. He coughs so hard sometimes I think his lungs will burst out of his stomach altogether. I am miserable sitting in the cold cottage, listening to Da’s retching and not seeing you. I can’t imagine what life would be without you now Maggie. You make me so happy I sometimes feel like the biggest fool the way I fuss and moon over you so. I hope I didn’t embarrass you when I told you that I loved you. Because I do, you see. Very, very much and I feel better for letting you know it.

Maggie’s heart raced as she absorbed the words, remembering everything Séamus had written and described of the time they had spent together in Ballysheen as if it were yesterday and not seventy years ago. She could almost sense him in the room now, could almost feel his weathered, labourer’s hands brushing against hers, feel his breath on her neck. She shivered and continued reading.

January 1912

Your aunt came for Christmas Maggie. She is all talk of America and I’m sure she’ll be fillin that pretty head of yours with tales of skyscrapers and fancy hats and shoes. She’ll have you sailing away from me on a steam ship before the New Year is out, I just know it. I know she doesn’t mind me being around the house sometimes though – I’m pleased to be of some use to her by fixin things or bringing supplies from the market when she can’t travel herself. I like to try to impress her you see Maggie. I want her to know that I’m a good, reliable man who will always love you and protect you. Da’s coughing is worse and worse with the hard winter we’re having. The doctor says it’s something called emphazeemer (I’m not sure if that’s the right spellin at all) – and that I should be praying for an early spring. The warmer weather will help him, he says. There’s not much else that can be done for him now.

April 1912

Maggie, you are leaving. My worst fears are come true and you are going off to America with all the others. I know you wish I could come with you, and I hope you know how quickly I’d jump on board that ship with you if I could, but Da is too sick to travel and too sick for me to leave him here. There’s been some amount of crying and wailing in Ballysheen - sometimes it feels to me that ye have all already died what with these ‘American Wakes’ they are holding and all the drinking and praying and passing around of the Holy Water. It frightens me Maggie, so it does – I’m not ashamed to tell ye. I sat by Da’s bedside all day and night today – afraid to do anything else in case I saw you and hid you in our cellar until they’ve all gone off in the carts. I thought a terrible thing while I sat there. I wished my own Da dead, so that I might come with you Maggie. Isn’t that the worst thing you ever did hear – a son wishing his own father dead so he can be free of the burden of looking after him and sail off to a better future? I said twenty Hail Mary’s after thinking such a dark thought and am sure I could feel Ma frowning at me from up above, God rest her.