Forget Me Not
Authors: Sue Lawson
Wednesday, April 10, 1912: Day One
Thursday, April 11, 1912: Day Two
Friday, April 12, 1912: Day Three
Saturday, April 13, 1912: Day Four
Sunday, April 14, 1912: Day Five
Monday, April 15, 1912: Day Six
Wednesday, April 17, 1912: Day Eight
“I am filled with the worst feeling. Everyone says it is the safest, most luxurious ship in the world, but something about it is extremely unsettling.”
Evelyn Gilmore does not share her brother Thomas’s excitement about travelling on the maiden voyage of the
Titanic
.
For Evelyn, the ship is taking her away from everything she knows and loves. For Thomas, it is taking him to his new life.
How could they know what the trip would bring?
Wednesday, April 10, 1912
DAY ONE
THOMAS GILMORE
“Thomas, it’s time to leave.” Father’s voice echoed up the stairs of the empty house.
Thomas took a last look around his room. Gone was the furniture, his books, cricket bat and model ship. He wondered if he should have talked Father into letting him keep his cricket bat. After all, cricket might be played in America.
A ship’s whistle blasted in the distance and excitement chased away any other thoughts. After weeks of packing and selling almost everything they owned, the day had arrived. Thomas and his family would be crossing the ocean in the world’s largest and finest ship, RMS
Titanic
. And what a stroke of luck that was. The Gilmores had been booked to travel on the
Oceanic
, but because of the coal strike, they had been transferred to the
Titanic
for her maiden voyage.
Thomas ran out the front door to where his family waited, ready to take the short walk to the Southampton docks.
On the footpath, Father helped their remaining servant, Alfred, secure the luggage on the trolley with ropes. Mother fussed over Thomas’s youngest sister Bea, as usual, while his other sister, Eve, stood with her back against the iron fence.
Thomas knew better than to try to speak to Eve. Not long after Father announced the family would be relocating to America, Eve had developed a foul humour. She was best avoided.
Thomas didn’t understand his sister’s anger. He couldn’t wait to arrive in America, especially as he would be working with both Father and Uncle Hubert, who’d moved to America several years ago. The thought of travelling across the ocean aboard the
Titanic
was thrilling.
Father stepped back from tying a knot and spied Thomas. “There you are.” His smile was broad. “The
Titanic
awaits, Thomas.”
EVE GILMORE
By hook or by crook, I’ll be first in this book
.
Your friend, Clara, Southampton, 8/04/1912
Head high, Mother sailed through the jostling crowd. I trailed behind, fighting the sorrow engulfing my heart. Even though the Southampton dock was crowded with passengers and spectators, I felt alone. The excited chatter, clop of horses’ hooves and blast of automobile horns mingled as a mournful drone in my head.
What was there to be joyful about? I was being dragged away from my friends and my dear terrier, Dash, and forced to board a monstrous ship to travel to America, all because of Bea. I glared up at my younger sister in Father’s arms.
“Evelyn Gilmore, for heaven’s sake, stop dawdling,” snapped Mother.
I bit my bottom lip and blinked back tears, but did not increase my speed. I felt rather than saw my older brother, Thomas, swaggering beside me.
“Stop moping, Eve,” he hissed. “We are very lucky to be travelling on the
Titanic
’s maiden voyage. You are ruining this for everyone.”
In the past I’d have fired back a smart reply, but today I hung my head and watched my new button-up boots lead me away from Southampton. If we were indeed lucky, why did I feel so wretched? And why did I keep having dreams that left me panicked and covered in sweat.
A hand rested on my shoulder. “It’ll be all right, Evie, you’ll see.”
I know Father intended his words to be calming, but they only made me feel worse. I nodded in answer, the tears in my eyes made the wooden planks beneath my feet appear to sparkle.
“This way, Alfred.” Mother’s barked order made me jump.
Alfred had been in our employ for as long as I could remember. Tomorrow he began work for Walter Williamson’s family. Poor Alfred! I could not think of a worse family to work for. I shuddered. Ahead of me, Alfred pushed the trolley laden with trunks and bags – all that was left of our belongings after Father had insisted on selling all but necessities, much to Mother’s horror. Strange as it may seem, I didn’t care that my bed, bookshelves and most of my books were sold, but having to leave darling Dash behind broke my heart.
As we rounded the buildings to the pier proper, Bea gasped.
“Look!” said Bea.
Mother and Thomas stopped, their mouths agape.
Like the rest of Southampton’s population, I’d seen the RMS
Titanic
glide into port days ago. Since her arrival, an endless stream of fully loaded trains had pulled into the dock. Lines of people had trailed to the pier to sign on as ship’s crew. But none of that activity had prepared me for the sight of the ship looming over us, enormous and bustling with life.
The people closest to her hull seemed to be the size of ants. Ant-men scurried along gangplanks carrying luggage and boxes. Ant-people gathered in groups on the pier, their luggage heaped on carts and trolleys. And elegant ant-ladies alighted from motor cars assisted by gentlemen in fine hats and coats. Horses pulled wagons to the loading cranes and faces peered down from the ship’s deck, specks compared with the vessel. So many faces. And not one of them familiar.
I pressed a hand to my stomach to stop it from churning like the ocean.
“The
Titanic
is magnificent,” said Father. “Don’t you think, Eve?”
“It’s large,” I whispered.
“Finest ocean liner ever built,” said Thomas. “Unsinkable.”
“I didn’t realise you were a boat expert,” I snarled.
“Ship, Evelyn, and unlike you, I read the newspaper.”
I snorted.
“Now, now, you two,” said Father, hitching Bea a little higher in his arms. “Miss Bea, what does Teddy think of the ship?”
“He said it’s big,” said Bea, cuddling her bear.
“And luxurious by all accounts,” said Mother.
My family might have been filled with awe, but I wasn’t. What stood before me was a grey and white monster waiting to take me far from home.
A voice pierced the noise on the dock. “Eve. Evie. Wait.”
As I turned, two girls burst from the crowd, startling several ladies.
My dear friends, Mary-Jane Bigmore and Clara Johnston.
I hugged them both.
“Girls, that’s most unseemly behaviour,” said Mother.
“Good morning, Mr Gilmore. Mrs Gilmore,” said Mary-Jane.
“What brings you two among the crowds?” asked Father.
“We wanted to see Eve before she left,” said Clara.
Father nodded. Mother looked back to the ship.
“Oh, say you’ve come to kidnap me,” I whispered.
“I wish we could,” said Mary-Jane. Her eyes filled with tears. She grasped both my hands in hers. “We were terrified you’d board before we could find you.”
The ever-practical Clara stepped forwards. “We brought a farewell gift. For you to remember us by.”
“But I’ll never forget you,” I said.
“We know, but …” Clara held out a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
I slipped my hands out of Mary-Jane’s and unwrapped the gift. “Oh, my,” I whispered, turning over the leather book which was printed with swirls of leaves and garlands. On the front cover, encircled by sprigs of golden leaves, was a black-and-white picture of a girl with apple blossom in her hair. Written beneath her in gold script was “Autographs”. I clutched the book to my chest. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“Clara and I thought the girl on the cover resembled you.” Mary-Jane dabbed her nose and eyes with a handkerchief.
“Look inside,” said Clara.
On the first page printed with green and cream flowers, Mary-Jane had written in her best writing:
To Our Dear Friend Evelyn
,
We shall never forget you. Best wishes for your new life
.
With love, Clara Johnston & Mary-Jane Bigmore. April, 1912
.
“Thank you.” I forced the words through the lump lodged in my throat.
“There’s more,” said Clara.
I turned the page.
By hook or by crook, I’ll be first in this book
.
Your friend, Clara. 8/04/1912
.
I leafed through the book, marvelling at the signatures.
“We asked as many people as we could from school and around our neighbourhood,” said Mary-Jane.
“Except for that horrid Walter Williamson,” added Clara, screwing up her nose.
Even though I ached with sorrow, Clara’s face made me laugh.
“And there’s still plenty of room for your new friends’ signatures, the ones you will make on the
Titanic
and in America.” Mary-Jane pointed out the blank pages sprinkled throughout.
“Evelyn, we need to board,” said Mother.
A small choking sound escaped me. “I shall miss you.” I rushed forwards and hugged first Clara, then Mary-Jane. “I will never make new friends as true as you, not as long as I live.”
“Evelyn. Enough public displays of emotion.” Mother smoothed her woollen coat with her gloved hand. “Come along now.”
I clutched the autograph book to my chest. “Take care of Dash, Clara.”
“Of course I will. Make sure your write.”
“Of course. Promise not to forget me.”
“Never!” Mary-Jane blew a kiss.
Heart about to burst with sorrow, I backed away from my friends and turned to follow my family.
THOMAS GILMORE
Mother glided through the crowds onto the gangplank that led to the second class passengers’ entrance. Thomas had to take long strides to keep up with her. “We really ought to be travelling first-class,” he said, glancing across to the first-class entrance.
Father spoke before Mother could respond. “Thomas, we have discussed this. It is prudent to spend less on fares and save our funds to set up the business in America.”
“Even so,” said Thomas. He looked to Eve for support. She followed a few steps behind, hand trailing along the railing that prevented passengers from falling to the dock below. Thomas decided against asking her opinion.