Chapter 55

Chapter 55

Violet

Lilac

She pulls her suitcase from under her bed and starts to pack. After her shoes and clothes are arranged (‘roll, don't fold'), she pauses before adding the three magazines that one of her American passengers gave her. She believes she has earned every one of the colourful pages.

The American languished her way to New York, calling for her favourite stewardess to bear her company. She explained it was not seasickness she was suffering from– goodness, hadn't they sailed every summer in Maine since she was a girl?– no, it was neglect of the cruellest kind that was draining her spirit. She could not say more.

But she insisted her favourite stewardess return for each instalment, sometimes requiring her to sit with her late into the night. She was charming in her requests and tearful in her thanks, a handkerchief scented with lilac pressed to her lips. Her tears traced pale lines in the powder on her exquisite face. She begged her friend to visit her in New York and personally put into her hands the magazines she had no use for.

Finding herself near to the American's home one afternoon during shore leave in New York, she decided to visit. Curiosity and sentiment stifled her mother's voice whispering in her ear: ‘No good wlll come of it.'

As usual, her mother was right.

She was ushered into a room filled with guests, the pale, thick carpets softening the sound of conversation and laughter like a fresh fall of snow. The American was as charming as ever and moved forward with the graceful gestures she remembered from the hours they had spent together. Her voice rose in gentle enquiry, and as she turned to introduce her dear friend to the others, her favourite stewardess knew for certain that she had no idea who she was.

She would like to throw away the magazines that smell of lilac, but she knows her mother and sister would like to look at them and will enjoy seeing how much she is valued by her passengers.

Finally, she places the bundle of well-read letters from home into her case. It is good to think she will soon be returning to the address written on the top right-hand corner of each. She frowns, thinking of the last letter. Her mother wrote to urge her to take up the new post she has been offered, and she is not sure whether to follow her advice. She likes the Olympic ; she is used to it. Still, at least she would not be alone. Friends here with her on the Olympic are to change to the new ship, and they say they would like to sail with her again.

She packs the last of her belongings and reflects that her reluctance is unlikely to tip the scales when weighed against a mother who is always right. Perhaps, as her mother says, it will be an opportunity.

And, at the very least, it would mean serving on the most splendid ship the world has ever seen: the Titanic .