No Moon Page 8

  “Did you see what happened, Gardener?”

  “No, Mrs. Ransom. I heard Nanny fall and came to see if I could help.”

  “Nanny Mackintosh will be looked after. Return to your duties, please,” she says.

  I go back up, reluctantly, wishing I could stay to find out what the doctor says. This mishap will not improve Nanny’s temper, I’m afraid. I hope she is not in too great discomfort.

  As soon as we reach the park, the nannies ask me to sit down, curious to find out why Nanny Mackintosh is not here to learn about Nanny Gilbert’s new knitting stitch. They manage to pry the story of the accident out of me. Their conjectures, sympathy, advice, and tut-tutting last until a spring shower sends us all on our way.

  Dean is waiting. She says I am wanted in the drawing room and she will take the girls back upstairs. “I hope Lady Milton won’t keep you long, Gardener. Mrs. Porter is in a state, all behind with her dinner. Croft and I are trying to be in three places at once, what with the doctor requiring tea, prescriptions to be collected, and a bed to be made up for Nanny downstairs.” I hurry away, patting my hair in place as I go.

  “You wish to see me, Lady Milton?” I ask, as I enter the room. Mrs. Ransom stands next to her ladyship, and both look gravely at me. I can’t think what I may have done wrong!

  Lady Milton says, “You will be sorry to hear that Nanny Mackintosh has broken both her wrist and her ankle. She will be unable to use the stairs for some time and will be staying downstairs with Mrs. Ransom. As we sail in five days, this comes at a most inconvenient time. I am reluctant to hire anyone new to take Nanny’s place at such short notice.” She looks at Mrs. Ransom for confirmation, and the housekeeper murmurs something to Lady Milton, who nods. I wait, growing more nervous by the second.

  “The children are accustomed to you, Gardener. You have made an excellent impression both on my husband and my mother…and so, despite your youth, we have decided that you will accompany us in Nanny’s stead.”

  I am too shocked and horrified to manage more than a few stuttered words. “But, ma’am, I mean, Lady Milton…” How can I explain that I would do anything for the children, except to go on an ocean voyage? “Please don’t make me go!” I try to speak the words, but they go unheeded, unheard. Did I actually voice them?

  “Very well, Gardener, I will leave the details for Mrs. Ransom to explain.” She sweeps out, and I just have enough presence of mind to remember to open the door for her.

  “I hope you appreciate what an exceptional opportunity you have been offered, Gardener. You will be the envy of the servants’ hall,” the housekeeper says.

  I would welcome any one of them to go instead of me. I must try and explain to Mrs. Ransom before it is too late!

  “Please, Mrs. Ransom, I would much prefer to stay and spring-clean the nurseries.”

  “That will do, Gardener. Your preferences are of no consequence. You have my permission to take tomorrow afternoon and evening off to see your family. You will return at nine o’clock, as usual. Your annual holiday will be postponed.

  “I am informed by her ladyship that you will share a suite with Hart and the young ladies. Nanny Mackintosh’s misfortune has placed you in a position beyond anything a girl of your station and age could ever hope for. No wonder you are tongue-tied. Let us hope you do not let us down! That will be all for the present; you may go.”

  I do not sleep a wink the whole night. If only I can find a way out! I almost wish I had the courage to run away. Could I tell Mother and Father that I want to stay home after all?

  10

  Saying Good-bye

  When I arrive home next day, Mother takes one look at my face and sends Emily upstairs to play with George. She pours us both cups of tea and sits down facing me.

  “It is not your day off and I can see you are upset. There’s no need to be afraid, Lou. Tell me the truth, and I’ll stand by you if you’re in some kind of trouble. Have they dismissed you? Without a character reference, is that it?” I can’t help it, my eyes fill with tears.

  “If it was only that, Mother…” I take a deep breath, and my words pour out in a rush. “I am to go to America, to sail on the maiden voyage of the Titanic. Nanny Mackintosh has had an accident, and I’m to take her place. Mother, I can’t–don’t make me go!”

  Mother understands, doesn’t she? She must–nothing escapes her about any of us!

  Mother lifts her tea to her lips, sips, and puts it down again. She wraps her hands around the mug as if to warm them. Then she looks up and our eyes meet. In that instant, I know she is thinking of another day, when no amount of tea could bring comfort. She does understand. I knew she would!

  “If you can’t go, it is only fair to let Lady Milton know at once, Lou, so that she may hire someone else. But is that what you really want? I thought you had settled down nicely. I’m sure there’s no end of girls who would jump at the chance of taking your place. Are you going to come running home like this forever because of what happened? It was an accident, Lou. There isn’t a day goes by that I’m not reminded of Johnny. I’ve had to get on with life; we all have. If I thought there was any danger, I’d do my best to stop you going so far away. But you’ll be home safe and sound in less than a month. You have to make up your own mind, Louisa, I can’t do it for you. Here’s Father. Let’s see what he thinks about your going.”

  My father walks into the kitchen. “Now that’s a nice surprise. Not your day off, is it, Lou?” Mother tells him about the maiden voyage. I’ve a lump in my throat.

  “Upon my word, they must think a lot of you! Going to America, where the streets are paved with gold; and on the finest, safest ship ever to come out of Belfast? Aren’t you a lucky girl!” Father beams at me, his face shining with pride.

  All at once, I make my decision. I have been given an opportunity to go farther than anyone in our family has ever been and to the other side of the world. Isn’t that what I always dreamed of doing? To see what’s out there? To discover what I can do and be? Me, Louisa Gardener, the one in the middle, who thought she’d never get her chance? I’ve got to stop being so scared of everything new that comes my way!

  “Very well, I’ll go,” I say.

  “Of course you will. Isn’t that what you came home to tell us? Or were you planning to tell her ladyship that the idea is not to your liking?” If only Father knew how close he is to the truth! He chuckles, as if at some great joke. Mother doesn’t join in. Her rough, work-worn hand covers mine.

  “It’s natural to feel a bit nervous, Lou. And you, too, Flo,” Father says. “But that ship is a wonder. Close to a thousand feet she is, big enough to hold over three thousand people. They say she is a floating lifeboat, she’s that safe! Over three thousand rivets holding her together. I should know; aren’t I down at the docks every week? And the food that is going on board–thirty-six thousand oranges and seven thousand heads of lettuce, Flo!” Father carries on as if he were supplying the food personally.

  When Kathleen comes home, the story has to be told all over again. After supper, Father suggests that Kathleen walk part of the way back with me.

  “Good-bye, my girl, mind you keep safe and sound,” he says, and Mother kisses my cheek. She smiles so lovingly that I almost change my mind about going! As Kathleen and I walk away from the house, I look back and Mother is standing outside the door, watching us. She waves for a long time.

  “I know what you are thinking, Lou,” Kathleen says, “but it is not going to be like those nightmares you used to have. The little girls will not fall into the water, and no one will drown, least of all you! Patrick says this ship is unsinkable. He’d not be down in the boiler room shoveling coal into the furnaces if there was any danger. He wants to come home safely, back to me!”

  She unbuttons her coat, takes it off, and holds it out. “This will keep you warm. April evenings can get cold. Go on, Lou, take it.”

  “No, thanks, Kath, this is your new spring coat. You saved up so long for it!”

&n
bsp; “It’s a loan–you’ll bring it back looking as good as new, I am sure. I want to think of my little sister strolling on the deck in the moonlight…sailing on the same ship as Patrick and wearing my new spring coat.”

  “And suppose there is no moon?”

  “No moon? There is always a moon. I wish I was going with you!”

  “So do I. And thanks, Kath, I’ll be proud to borrow your coat.” I hang it carefully over my arm. My sister shivers and squeezes my arm before she hurries home, away from me.

  I’m worn out from running up and down stairs, summoned by Nanny, to listen to endless instructions, reproofs, and warnings! With every word, she makes clear how much she disapproves of my youth, my inexperience, and the imprudence of letting me take her place on the voyage.

  If Nanny does not permit me to finish all I’ve yet to do, I have a mind to suggest that she let Phipps carry her back upstairs, so that she may personally fold each garment with her one good hand. And if I’m becoming waspish, it is her fault! Nanny means well, believing it her duty to instruct me, so I try to hide my impatience. Lady Milton has taken the children out, accompanied by Hart, to purchase new shoes for Miss Portia and Miss Alexandra. I had hoped to finish the ironing while they were absent.

  Nanny goes on and on: “Routine, Gardener, establish your routine the moment you get on board ship, to the best of your ability.” Her lips tighten. “When you reach New York, discipline must be maintained. I have it on good authority that Americans are far more lax with their children than we are. We must uphold our standards as best we can, trying circumstances or not.

  “Lady Milton has arranged for you and the children to partake of your meals in your stateroom on board ship–a most appropriate decision. Let us hope the chef will see the children are not given rich food. I do not wish to have to deal with overindulged and spoiled girls on your return.”

  Nanny lowers her voice as though fearing to be overheard. “I shall have my hands full as it is, what with another baby due later this year.”

  I know better than to comment, but I had suspected from one or two remarks that I’d overheard Mrs. Porter smilingly make to Hart about untouched breakfast trays! I remember how Mother could never face anything more than a biscuit and a cup of tea before noon, when George was on the way.

  “Yes, Nanny,” I say and turn to leave, hoping she’s finished. I’ve a dozen tasks waiting for me to do.

  “One more thing, Gardener–remember your place!” Now why does she think she has to tell me that? Does she think I am going to run off with a sailor? “Passengers on board ship are inclined to be rather too friendly and sometimes do not make sufficient distinctions between…what I am endeavoring to say is, you are a servant. Conduct yourself accordingly and discourage familiarity of any kind!”

  “I shall be far too occupied, Nanny Mackintosh, making sure that Miss Alexandra does not try to climb over the ship’s railings, to have time to encourage any familiarity.” And this time I do go upstairs. One can only remain meek and silent so long!

  On Tuesday morning, our last day before we are to leave, I go down to collect new cream-colored sailor frocks from Mrs. Wilson. She holds up the perfect small garments to show me before carefully draping them over my arm.

  “I don’t hold with maiden voyages, myself. You would never catch me leaving dry land!”

  I don’t reply, not having had a say in the matter and wishing only that I were not subjected to everyone’s opinions and warnings about the voyage. Lord Milton dotes on her ladyship and worships his daughters. He would never put them into danger.

  “The dresses are beautiful, Mrs. Wilson. However did you manage all those pleats? Thank you very much for getting them finished in time,” I say.

  “Turn round, Gardener. Those hems will need lengthening when you get back. It won’t take me a minute on the machine, not like the old days when we did everything by hand. It doesn’t do to show too much ankle.” She looks at me sharply.

  What is the matter with everyone? It must be Spring putting ideas into everyone’s head. No one is going to take any notice of me.

  Croft pokes her head around the door. “I’ve made you a nice bacon sandwich, Mrs. Wilson. Mrs. Porter says not to let it get cold and would you come into the servants’ hall, if you please.” She holds the door open for the old woman and motions me to wait.

  “I’ve got something for you, Gardener,” Croft whispers. She hands me an envelope from her apron pocket. “I found it this morning, pushed under the back door. Got a young man writing to you, have you? I don’t know what a certain Mr. Phipps would say to that!” she says.

  “Mr. Phipps? Whatever gave you that idea? And when would I have any time for a young man?” I say, knowing she’s only teasing me. “This is my sister’s handwriting. But thanks, Croft. I’ve got to go and finish my packing.” I hurry back upstairs.

  Kathleen must have got up very early to get this to me before going to work. I glance at it quickly.

  Dear Lou,

  Please give the enclosed to Patrick when you get on board ship. Try to keep an eye on him. I don’t trust all those rich ladies! Thanks.

  Your loving sister,

  Kathleen

  I do not mean to pry, but I can’t help seeing the few words written on the back of one of Madame Claudine’s cards: I will be waiting for you when you come back in a fortnight’s time. Fondly, Kathleen.

  How hard can it be to find a member of the crew called Patrick O’ Connor? I shall give him Kathleen’s note as soon as I am able. That’s the least I can do, when she was generous enough to lend me her smart new coat!

  It seems I have hardly put my head down on the pillow when it is time to get up. The great dreaded day–Wednesday, April 10–has arrived!

  I dress the sleepy children, coax them to eat a very early breakfast, and bundle them into their warm coats. Mr. Harris waits by the Daimler, ready to drive us all to Southampton, where we are to board the ship. The luggage was carried down last night. Lord Milton wishes to arrive at the dock before the arrival of the boat train, bringing most of the second-and third-class passengers. Croft helps Dean to stow the picnic hamper away. The household staff–all except for Nanny–waits outside to bid us bon voyage. Lady Milton is the last one to come down. Hart carries her furs and yet another hatbox.

  I try to enjoy the beautiful spring countryside that greets us as we leave London behind. But not even the comfort of the dark blue leather upholstery nor the excitement of the journey is sufficient for me to overcome my feeling of dread.

  “It’s to test you, Lou,” Kath said. What kind of test? That’s what I’d like to know. Everyone made anxious–Lady Milton, Nanny Mackintosh–and for what?

  I am fourteen years old, not a five-year-old making sand castles and losing myself in playing with sea-shells. As long as I have sufficient breath in my body, Miss Portia and Miss Alexandra will come to no harm!

  I’ll get to know every inch of the ship, every nook and corner, and teach Miss Alexandra and Miss Portia to stop where they are if we should ever get separated. That way, I’ll be able to find them should they ever get lost, though I can’t think how that would happen as they are never left unattended! I’ll make sure that the girls are as safe and happy as if we were in our own nurseries at home…happier, because I am not going to find fault with them the second they look as if they are enjoying themselves. I am determined that this will be my last mean thought about poor Nanny Mackintosh.

  Southampton, England

  1912

  11

  Titanic

  We have arrived. Mr. Harris opens the door for us to alight. And there is the ship, about which I have heard so much! It is as tall as a mountain, with its shining black hull and its long white decks–rising higher and higher, like the tiers on a wedding cake–looming up against the sky. Then, higher still, so that I must crane my neck to see the top, four tall black funnels. How did they ever build anything so large? And how can something so huge sail across the ocean in
only one week? I think of Patrick shoveling coal, helping the vessel to reach America.

  I am dazzled at the sight of the Titanic. The great crowd of people, gazing up from the dockside, seem as much in awe as I am, all of us dwarfed by the vast ship. I never imagined it would be so overwhelming.

  The wonder and the mystery frighten me, more so when I realize we are embarking on the ship’s maiden voyage.

  The children, impatient to board, tug at my hands. We follow their parents, past the third-and second-class gangways to our first-class one, up and onto the ship. A white uniformed officer stands at the top. He checks his lordship’s boarding pass, hands it back, and says, “Welcome to the Titanic.” He points out the lift that will carry us up to our deck. I have never been inside a lift before. Lord Milton requests B deck, a button is pressed, and miraculously we are carried up.

  The smartly uniformed lift boy, who does not look a day older than fifteen, informs us, “Captain Smith has given permission for second-class passengers to explore the ship before sailing.” He goes on to reassure Lady Milton and the other occupants of the lift: “Once we get underway, all classes will return to their own quarters, and it will be nice and quiet. We pick up our last passengers at Cherbourg today and from Queenstown tomorrow. In all, there will be three hundred first-class passengers aboard!” The lift stops, the door glides open as if by magic, and the children are as enchanted as I am by the smooth ride.

  “Again, Papa, please,” Miss Alexandra says, but Lord Milton picks her up and carries her out of the lift and along a carpeted corridor to a door marked 70–72.

  “These are the staterooms reserved for Hart, Gardener, and the girls,” Lady Milton says. “My husband and I are nearby, in parlor suite 74–76. Hart will fetch you and the children presently, Gardener, to join us on deck to watch the departure of the ship.”

  Hart, still carrying the hatbox, follows her and Lord Milton into their suite, further along the corridor.