Titanic Twelve Tales - A Short Story Anthology RMS Titanic by Lynda Dunwell Page A

they always did and I watched them leave. It was the last time I saw Mama and Papa.
    The stewardess woke me up. “Get dressed, your warmest clothes. It’s very cold outside on the deck. Come on, hurry up.”
    The electric light stung my eyes and I rubbed them. The stewardess didn’t tell me to wear my black boots, so I didn’t. I picked out my brand new fawn leather ones. They were too big for me, but I didn’t tell her. I struggled into my chemise and drawers. She helped me put on my petticoat, long stockings, woollen dress, pinafore and coat. And when she produced a hook out of her pocket and buttoned up my boots, I remembered wriggling my toes around inside them and smiling.
    “You must wear something white,” she said as she threw a silk scarf around my neck, “and your hat and fur muff.”
    “Where’s Mama?”
    “I don’t know. She should have come back for you. But we can’t wait any longer. Everyone has gone from this corridor. You’re coming with me.” She tugged at my hand.
    “I can’t go without Milly .”
    “ Milly ? Who’s Milly ?”
    “My doll.” I took her out of my bed and gave her a big hug.
    “Very well, but you must put this on.”
    The stewardess held out a big white padded tabard and threw it over my head. It reached below my knees. “Here let me tie it together for you.” It felt heavy and bulky around my body. She pushed her head into a similar one with square shaped pouches and marched me out of the stateroom. We hurried up the stairs to the Boat Deck.
    The cold night air pinched my face as I held Milly close. Her clear blue eyes stared up at me and I told her not to worry that we would soon find Mama and Papa. The stewardess grasped my hand tightly. “Stay with me, whatever happens, don’t let go!”
    People scurried by, some were very rude and pushed others out of the way. Screams and cries echoed through the night air. A sudden whoosh and I looked up to the dark sky pin-pricked with bright stars. A firework rocket zoomed upwards and burst with a loud cackle into a cascade of white lights that lit up the black sky. We stopped by the window of the gymnasium. The face of the young man rowing without water and peddling but getting nowhere stared back at me through the window.
    “Women and children only!” an officer shouted.
    “That’s us,” the stewardess said. She made her way along the crowded deck, squeezing between groups of men dragging me behind her. I heard music and wondered if it was the concert where Mama and Papa were waiting. But as the melody got louder, I saw a small group of musicians standing on the deck playing their instruments. Mama and Papa weren’t with them.
    We reached a crowd of people being held back by the crew. “Women and children only,” the officer called, “come along ladies. Are there anymore ladies?”
    People called out, voices shouted, we were jostled. “Edith, I’m going to lift you up. When I do, scream as loud as you can.”
    The ship listed before she could pick me up. The crowd surged and carried us along. Men scrambled towards one of the remaining lifeboats. The shouts and cries grew louder. Bang! The crack of a pistol shot momentarily silenced the mob. “I’ll shoot the next man who tries to rush this boat. Are there anymore ladies?” The officer’s voice was stern and the men backed away. “Don’t panic, get a hold of yourselves,” he called out to them.
    “Eh love, you and the young ‘un best go along to the officer. They’ll be places for you.” The man dressed in workman’s clothes spoke with an accent. He looked down at me. “Don’t worry Miss, the officer ain’t gonna shoot you.”
    Again I felt the stewardess’ hand grip mine tightly. “Come on Edith.” She swept me along to the lifeboat already packed with women and children.
    “Get aboard and I’ll pass the child to you,” the officer said. The stewardess nodded, let go my hand and followed his orders.
    “I want Mama,” I shouted.
    “She’s