‘Anyway, they ended up near relatives in London, and that’s when Violet’s mum went to sea.’
‘She was a stewardess?’ Emma feels somehow vindicated– family following family.
‘That’s right. She went off and Violet was left at home in charge of her sister. Her little brothers went into an orphanage.’
‘Oh, now that must have been tough,’ Betty says.
Alistair nods. ‘But not uncommon, sadly. In the end, her mum wasn’t up to the work, and that’s when Violet went to sea.’
‘And the brothers?’ Betty asks, looking worried.
Alistair smiles at her. ‘Yes, Betty, the boys came home to mum.’
‘Oh, love, that is good.’
Emma smiles, too, but she can’t help thinking of Violet and her sister– that must have been a terrible parting.
They pause while Alistair gets up to refill his wine glass.
As he sits back down, Emma says, ‘It’s great of you Alistair to do all this.’
‘Are you kidding? I’m really thinking of writing a module around this. It’s fantastic stuff. You wouldn’t mind, would you?’
Emma shakes her head.
‘Were you serious about writing a book?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You should. Would you make it non-fiction or weave it into a novel?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure. I just think there’s a story in there … something about the stories that flowers have to tell. And,’ she adds, slowly, ‘something about family. How we follow our parents, and grandparents.’ She smiles thinking of Alistair’s tea-drinking Grandad.
‘What is it, Em? There’s something you’re not saying.’
‘I can’t help wondering: why theTitanic? And more particularly, why I felt so drawn to Violet.’
‘Kindred spirits?’
When she doesn’t answer, Alistair continues, ‘So, back to your kindred spirit. She went to sea and worked on a number of different ships, including theOlympicand then theTitanic. Oh, and another great part of the story– you remember thedoctorwho got her bed put out into the garden? Well, this doctor had a bit of a thing for one of the nurses and Violet was a go-between for their love letters. They left the hospital before she got better, but years later, they bumped into Violet on board ship and were amazed to find she had survived and was then working as a stewardess. As I said, she didn’t write that much about her work, so what shedidwrite has special significance.’
‘And?’
Alistair pauses, his expression impossible to read.
Chapter 63
Violet
Crimson Roses
She wraps the skirt of her new uniform tightly round her legs to slide through a small alleyway formed by wine cases. There is no point in collecting more dust, more work. She moves like the crab she once saw in the West Indies– a crab following a scent. And then she finds them: box upon box of flowers.
On the top, wrapped in muslin, are the lily of the valley. Beside them, dark and pungent, are bunches of violets tied with ribbon and lying in a basket. Beneath these are the boxes she must lift and sort.
First, she tweaks the corner of the top one. She tells herself this is just to check, but really it is because she cannot resist looking. Inside, she glimpses perfect rose heads, lying like crimson silk against the straw.
The steward with the large arms has returned, and she cajoles him into helping her. He is busy: he has his own work to do; The Purser will be after him. But she knows she has him at the first smile. Sometimes, it is like offering a kitten a piece of wool; they cannot resist it. She knows that with his help, she will be able to move the flowers to the pantry in one trip.
