Читать книгу A Rare Find: Ethel Ayres Bullymore - Donna Mann - Страница 8

4. Grief in Goodbye

The wheels clattered over the uneven railway sleepers on the tracks, changing to the screeching sound of iron on iron—rubbing, dragging, seizing. Ethel and Horace chatted comfortably while bumping along in the passenger coach as it rumbled and swayed on the tracks towards Liverpool. They’d caught the train at Enfield Town Station without problem, and now the occasional mournful call of the train whistle seemed to widen the distance between Ethel and her family. Tiny droplets of rain slid down the window, disappearing out of sight. Ethel watched while thinking that nothing stays forever. During this daylong trip to Liverpool, she’d have a lot of thinking time.

The train slipped through back gardens, towns and industrial settings. She took some sandwiches Mum had made from her satchel and opened two jars of fresh water and handed one to Horace. They lunched while looking at the daily newspaper and commenting on the scenery. After brushing away the crumbs and putting the soiled paper into the waste, Ethel rested her head back on the seat as her muddled thoughts became one with the rumbling sound of the train. Laughing and talking about their childhood filled the hours, and Ethel cherished each one as a gift with Horace.

Wrapping her arms around her body, as if to nurture and strengthen a less than confident spirit to uphold her during the time ahead, she felt the reduced speed of the train. The scenery had changed, and they had entered the heavily populated centre of Liverpool: buildings, smokestacks and multiple train tracks.

“Are we here?” Ethel asked.

“Almost,” Horace replied. “Thanks for this extra time, sis. It’s been good.”

“Yes, it has been.” Ethel began to gather her bags together. “It’s so peaceful just riding along with you.”

“Not like when we were kids and you were always teasing me.” Horace laughed a hearty chuckle.

“Ah, it wasn’t that bad.” Ethel looked at him, soaking in her brother’s jovial facial features. It was so kind of him to make this trip over to Liverpool with her. But then, that was who he was: fun-loving and kindhearted. How she appreciated him.

As the train slowly moved into the station, steam filled the window view. Ethel began to organize her things. “The station porter will help us to get off and pick up the luggage,” Horace said gently to Ethel. “We’ll ask where the closest respectable boarding house is and get ourselves a hot meal. Would you like that?”

“I would indeed,” Ethel replied. “I feel a little like leftover laundry, crumpled and wrinkled.”

“You look just fine to me, sis,” Horace said and winked at her.

They made their way off the train and walked into the station, looking for someone who could give them directions. Indeed, a good meal and a place to sleep were welcome. Ethel knew tomorrow would be filled with a greater challenge. Would she be ready for it?

Ethel’s buttoned boots, newly repaired and perfectly polished, poked out from under the hemline of her lightweight tweed skirt. Her hair was parted enough to the side to allow a few curls to fall around her face under her hat; a delicately ingrained ivory comb firmly held the rest in place. She laid a wool wrap over the sleeve of her favourite high-buttoned cotton blouse, ready for the brisk harbour wind. Pa had told her that even in July she needed to prepare for the dampness in the air.

After she and Horace had followed the directions from the boarding house to the dock, Ethel raised her hand to shade her eyes from the July sunrays that filtered through the grey clouds and danced across the open water. As they walked along the stone pavement, she noticed the hectic pace of the dock.

“Are you surprised how busy these docks are?” Horace asked.

“Not really,” Ethel responded. “I’ve read of the enormous basins and miles of railroads. Liverpool docks are active and noisy.”

“This would be an exciting place to be any other day, Etty, but today, it’s a lot different for you, eh?” Horace said.

“You’re right about that,” Ethel said realizing they were like a gate slowly closing to separate her from loved ones on this side of the Atlantic Ocean.

Massive crates waiting on the dock to be loaded sheltered them from the wind as they walked toward the huge passageway, while the dockworkers yelled orders. The grand ocean liner SS Lake Manitoba gently pushed the water against the wet dockside, leaving ripples in its black reflection. Securely anchored in the murky water and tied to the dock through large steel rings, it stood ready. Several tugboats hung back, prepared to pull it out into the mouth of the River Mersey for its ten-day passage.

The smell of fumes mixed with fish, wet wood and rope made Ethel resist swallowing the phlegm in her throat. It left a foul taste in her mouth. She looked up at this enormous ship, knowing that in minutes she’d go on-board and change her life forever. Although physically prepared to join the other passengers on the ship, throbs of isolation and helplessness suddenly gripped her like a vise.

She didn’t think she had any tears left, but when she turned to Horace, who was usually full of fun and tricks, she saw tears in his eyes. “You have a good heart, brother of mine. I’ll always be grateful to you for bringing me here and seeing me safely onto the ship.” After hugging him, she stepped onto the gangplank and walked towards the upper deck.