‘Good luck getting the job,’ Violet said to Emma as she stood up. ‘Hope to see you when Olympic sails.’ She went through the door the man had left open and closed it behind her. Emma felt a little alone now, with nothing to do other than sit quietly, back straight, knees pressed together, observing all that was happening around her. Some of the men seemed to know each other – she guessed from previous voyages. These people seemed to only need sign some sort of form and have an entry made in a book they each carried. But they weren’t leaving immediately, and Emma overheard two men wishing ‘they’d hurry up and read out the Articles so’s we can go home for our tea’.
At last Violet emerged from the inner room once more, and nodded to Emma. ‘In you go. Chin up, look confident.’
Emma swallowed her nerves and tried to do as Violet had said. The inner office was a plain room with wooden wall panelling, a battered desk and two chairs. The man behind the desk was of middle age, with an impressive set of grey whiskers.
‘Miss Higgins? Your discharge book, if you please.’ He held out a hand.
‘Yes, sir. I mean, yes, I’m Miss Higgins but please, what is a discharge book? I don’t have one …’
‘Ah, a first timer.’ The man leaned back in his chair and looked appraisingly at Emma. ‘Tell me about your experiences and background, if you would.’
Emma launched into the little speech she’d prepared to introduce herself and talk about her years of hotel work. ‘And I have always wanted to work on a ship,’ she finished, ‘ever since I was very little and sailed over to the Isle of Wight.’
The man threw back his head and laughed at this. ‘Well, being on board the world’s finest liner is a little different from the steam packet over to Cowes. But if you can supply references and pass the medical check I think you will do very nicely, Miss Higgins. Now then, through there to see the doctor, bring me your references tomorrow and then we’ll have you sign the Articles and be issued with your very own Seaman’s Discharge Book. It’s used to log all your voyages, and rate your work on each one,’ he explained.
‘Sir, I have references with me already,’ Emma said, pleased with herself for organising that beforehand, even though it had meant admitting to her employer that she was thinking of leaving them. She took the papers out of her pocket and handed them over.
‘Excellent. Then see the doctor, come back straight after and we’ll sort you out.’ He smiled at her and gestured to another door. She thanked him, went through the door, and found herself in a room with a kindly doctor who carried out what she thought was a rather cursory health check.
A few minutes later she was issued with her discharge book, signed a paper called the ‘Ship’s Articles’ and was told to wait with the other successful applicants. There she found Violet talking to the man who’d recognised her.
‘Well?’ Violet said, smiling. Emma guessed Violet must know she’d been successful, as she had joined all the other people being taken on.
‘I’m in!’ Emma said, and was delighted when Violet gave her a quick, spontaneous hug.
‘I’m so glad. There won’t be many women on board, and so us girls have to stick together. Now, in a little while they will read out the Articles of Agreement – that’s what we’ve all signed – so they know we’ve heard them. Just rules and regulations, really. We’ll be issued with uniforms when we go aboard. All new for a new ship! So pleased you’re on board, Emma. It’s a hard life but an exciting and rewarding one. You won’t regret this.’
At that moment, with a grin threatening to split her face in two, Emma felt Violet was absolutely right. She would never regret her decision to go to sea. This was the start of a new and wonderful life.
Chapter 3
Harriet
Harriet moved over to peer into the trunk. It was packed with clothes – grey uniforms, white aprons and caps, knitted stockings. All moth-eaten and mildewed. A hairbrush was tucked down one side. And two framed photos lay face down on top of the clothes. She reached in and picked up the first one.
‘Look, it’s my gran and grandpa. They look very young here – must be when they’d just become engaged.’
‘They look so happy,’ Sally said, taking the photo from her and inspecting it. ‘I’m guessing you’ll want to keep this, then. What’s the other picture?’
Harriet picked it up and turned it over. The frame was a pretty one in carved wood with a black edging that might be badly tarnished silver. And the picture was a sepia image of three girls, the youngest wearing a smock with her hair tied loosely in a ribbon, the older two wearing plain dark dresses, their hair pinned up. The three had similar faces with long noses and gentle smiles, though there was something about one girl’s expression – defiant, as though she was issuing a challenge to the photographer – that made Harriet think she’d be trouble.
‘Who are they, Mum?’ Sally asked, taking the picture from Harriet to look more closely at it.
‘Well, that’s Gran again,’ Harriet said, pointing at one of the girls. ‘And I assume one of these other girls must be her sister. But I have no idea who the third one is.’
‘They look like they are all sisters.’
‘Gran only ever spoke of one sister. She was very fond of her when they were young.’
‘Only when they were young? Don’t tell me, it’s like me and Davina, is it? Great friends till adolescence then that’s it. And you and your brother who you hardly ever see, too,’ Sally said, shaking her head. ‘Does falling
