Women and Children First: Bravery, love and fate: the untold story of the doomed Titanic. Gill Paul

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      Annie McGeown sat on the edge of a bunk and watched her four children breathing. They were so peaceful now, like little angels. Shame it hadn’t been that way earlier. They’d only been on the ship for twelve hours since boarding at Queenstown, but the eldest boys were running riot, feeling cooped up in the limited space. Back home she could kick them out into the fields between meals, but here there was just the third-class outdoor deck and the long corridors where they bashed into other passengers and got told off for making a racket. Her oldest, Finbarr, had already kicked his ball over the railings into the Atlantic and they had nothing left to occupy them except a set of quoits provided by a friendly deck steward.

      Oh, but they were lucky, though. Look at this place! They had a cabin of their own with six bunk beds, two of which were empty since the baby shared with her. There were real spring mattresses and clean pillows and blankets. There was a tiny porthole and even a washbasin crammed in between the beds. And the food! It was the best she’d eaten in her life, no question. She’d felt so grand, sitting with her brood in the restaurant, each in their own places and a highchair for the baby, and waiters serving them with three courses at dinner. A lovely soup and bread, roast meat and potatoes and then a plum pudding for afters. She was stuffed to the gills. And the menu for the next day had been pinned on a notice board, promising ham and eggs for breakfast. Any more than a week of eating like that and she’d be the size of a house when she got to America and met up with Seamus again.

      It was a year and a half since she’d seen her husband, and even that was only for a month when he’d managed to wangle a cheap passage and come back to Cork for a visit. He’d never met his youngest, didn’t know any of the children well, because he’d been out in New York for five years, working on the railways and saving enough money to afford a good home there. And now at last he was ready for them to be reunited. He’d written that he had leased a three-room apartment in a place called Kingsbridge, a suburb of New York City where there were lots of other Irish. There was a Roman Catholic church and good Catholic schools, and the people were friendly and welcoming. The local priest was helping him to find some furniture so it would be all homely when they arrived. In that last letter, he’d sent the money for their tickets: thirty-five pounds and five shillings, a vast sum. But in America, Seamus earned two pounds a week, which was unthinkable back home in Ireland. Annie didn’t even know anyone who got two pounds a month!

      It was a new life for all of them. Their children would better themselves and get good jobs one day. The only bitter-sweet edge was the sadness Annie felt for the relatives she’d left behind: her elderly mam, her brothers and sisters and cousins. Would she ever see them again? Or would they just write letters once a month with mundane news about marriages and jobs and mutual friends and never be able to put into words how they really felt? Her mother couldn’t write, but one of her sisters had said she’d take dictation.

      Look on the bright side, Annie, she urged herself. Here you are on the most luxurious ship in the world having a rare old time of it, and in five days you’ll be with yer man again. She felt excited at the thought. Married thirteen years and she still felt as much passion for him as the day they were wed. She hugged herself, thinking of the moment they’d walk down the gangplank with all their bags and there he’d be, grinning from ear to ear with his arms stretched wide.

      The people in third class were friendly as well. Earlier that evening, after dinner, there had been a quick knock on the door of her cabin. She’d opened it to find three women about her age grouped outside.

      ‘I’m Eileen Dooley,’ one said. ‘This is Kathleen and Mary. We noticed you earlier with your brood. Aw, will you look at them all peaceful now, God bless them.’ The other women poked their heads round the cabin door for a peek. ‘Anyway, we’re going for a cup of tea and a chat while our menfolk are in the smoking room and we thought you might want to come along for a bit of adult company.’

      Annie had been planning to spend the evening embroidering a blouse for her daughter while she had a bit of peace with them all asleep, but she was tempted. ‘That’s neighbourly of you, but I’m worried about leaving the little ones in a strange place. What if they wake up?’

      ‘Your eldest looks old enough to cope. What age is he?’

      ‘Ten.’

      ‘Sure and they’ll be fine. Turn the key in the door so they can’t run off and get up to shenanigans.’

      Still Annie hesitated. ‘Am I dressed all right? Some folks looked so smart at dinner time. Maybe I should wear a hat?’ The woman called Kathleen had a hat on but the others didn’t.

      ‘You’re fine, love. Keep your hat for Sunday best.’

      ‘If you’re positive,’ she said, picking up her bag and searching through it till she found the cabin key. ‘They’re all out for the count here, so I’ll just come for a quick brew.’

      They’d led her to the third-class general room, where there were polished tables and chairs, teak wall panels and white ceramic fittings. Kathleen turned out to be an old hand at transatlantic travel, and she kept exclaiming how much better the Titanic was than any other ship she’d been on.

      ‘Some of these ships just pack you in like cargo,’ she said. ‘And you have to take your own food along, so by the end of a week’s voyage everything is stale and the bread’s mouldy. This place is a palace compared to them.’

      ‘Aren’t you the brave wan travelling on your own with the children like that?’ Eileen told Annie. ‘We’re a big group. Fourteen of us, all from Mayo, so we’re company for each other. You’ll have to sit with us for your meals or those childrun will drive you to the demon drink by the time we reach America.’

      ‘I’d love to,’ Annie said. She’d been feeling a bit shy on the ship, not sure about the correct etiquette. Was there a dress code? Could she ask the stewards to heat a bottle for the baby? He liked his milk warm. Which bits of the ship were they allowed to wander in and which were off limits? Now there were some people she could ask, who had crossed on these ships before and could tell her what to do. They seemed a lovely bunch.

      When she got back to her cabin, the children were still sound asleep, without a clue that she’d been gone a while. She climbed into bed, shifting the baby over beside the wall so he couldn’t fall out. Strange to think that on the other side of that wall were thousands and thousands of miles of ocean, all the way from the Arctic to the Antarctic, and up above them only stars. She said her prayers in her head, before dropping off to sleep.

      Chapter Four