Women and Children First (22 page)

The apartment that Seamus had found for Annie and his children was at the top of a flight of a hundred and twenty stone steps. The whole suburb of Kingsbridge was built on a hillside and apartment buildings were separated by ‘step streets’ that led to further buildings on the upper levels. When they came out of Pier 54 the night the
Carpathia
docked, a kind woman ushered them into an automobile, which drove them all the way to Kingsbridge and stopped on the street below. They had to climb the steps by the light of the gas street lamps to get to their new home. Seamus lifted Roisin while Annie took baby Ciaran and Patrick walked by himself.

At least we don’t have our luggage,
Annie thought.
We’d never have managed.
But then she remembered that Finbarr would have been there to help. He could have carried the baby while she took a case. Everything would have been exciting. Patrick would have loved his first-ever ride in an automobile, bouncing around full of questions instead of staring glumly out the window. They would all have raced up the steps for a first glimpse of the new place. Instead, they trudged slowly, wearily, and Annie’s legs were aching by the time she reached the top.

There was a communal hallway to the building. Seamus took out a key and unlocked the first doorway they came to, and as he swung the door open and lit a candle, she watched his face and knew how much he would have been looking forward to this moment. He must have been so proud to find such a smart place for his family. She should try to show some enthusiasm.

The apartment seemed nice. The room at the front had a tall window with a view right down the step street and across their neighbours’ rooftops. It was a good size, and what’s more, it was clean. She could smell its cleanness.

‘Some women from the church cleaned it for us,’ Seamus said, reading her mind. ‘It’s a lovely community.’

‘Isn’t that nice of them?’ Annie looked around the room, then lit another candle and wandered through the next doorway, which led into a big kitchen. It had an oven and a grate and a rack for drying laundry.
Pretend,
she told herself.
You have to learn to pretend
.

‘Isn’t this grand?’ she said. ‘Much better than my kitchen back home.’ The two bedrooms already had single beds in them and she nearly broke down when she saw the one for Finbarr. The one he would never sleep in. ‘It’s lovely,’ she told Seamus. ‘You’ve done well.’

‘I said I would take you down to meet the priest, Father Kelly, just as soon as we’ve settled in. I was thinking … Maybe he could say a mass for Finbarr.’ Annie could see it was hard for him to say his boy’s name. Everything was going to be hard now.

‘I’d like that, but we need to buy some clothes first. We’ve only got the ones we’re standing up in and I can’t meet my new priest looking like this.’

‘Father Kelly said if we need anything to help us get set up, just to ask. The church helped me to get the beds, and the chairs in the front room.’

‘We all need a good wash before we meet him. And I’ll have to get some food in.’

‘Yes, of course.’ They were tiptoeing round each other, scared of saying an insensitive word that might cause any additional grief.

Just look after the practicalities
, Annie thought.
That’s all I can do.
They fell into bed and once she was in Seamus’s arms the tears came to her eyes for the first time, but she fought them back because she didn’t want to upset him. Possibly he was doing the same thing, because they lay there without words, listening to each other breathing and feeling the warm familiarity of each other’s bodies.

The next morning, Seamus had to go to work. He might just have heard about the death of his eldest son, but the railways would deduct a day’s pay and possibly even sack him if he didn’t show up. Half an hour after he left, there was a knock on the door and Annie opened it to find a priest standing there. He looked around fifty, with wispy silver hair and kind blue eyes, and she knew at first glance that he was a good man, someone she could trust. You came across some sly priests back in the home country, but this one had compassion written all over him.

‘Mrs McGeown, I’m Father Kelly. I’ve come to say how sorry I am for the loss of your boy,’ he said, holding out his hand, and she felt a huge lump form in her throat. ‘Your husband looked in to tell me and I came straight away.’

‘Please come in, Father.’

She ushered him into the front room and sent the children to play in the kitchen.

‘Shall we say a prayer for Finbarr?’ he asked, and she nodded, unable to speak. Before he had managed much more than an ‘Our Father’, the tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Father Kelly carried on with his solemn words, asking God to look after her boy, and at last Annie could see it, she could feel as though Finbarr was in God’s hands and that he was safe.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief after the prayer came to an end. ‘What a sight I must be.’

‘All I see is a remarkably brave woman. My heart goes out to you.’

‘Father, I must come down to your church and say confession. So much has happened, and I’ve done a terrible thing. I saved my three younger children and left my eldest boy behind and I don’t know how I will ever learn to live with that.’

‘Tell me about it,’ he said, and so she did. Step by step she described what had happened on the ship and the decisions she had made, and he listened carefully, asking questions to make sure he got the facts straight.

When she finished, he reached out to take her hand. ‘You did what any loving mother would have done: you protected the youngest of your children, the ones who most needed protection, and you sent two kind men to look for your eldest. It seems to me that you made all the right decisions, Annie, but the Man above has decided to take Finbarr and nothing could have changed that.’

Annie was still crying, but the weight of her guilt felt slightly less. If only she could fully believe his words then she could grieve without that complication. Maybe the time would come. They discussed the mass Father Kelly would say for Finbarr, when all the family could be present.

‘If only his body would be found,’ she wept. ‘If only I could give him a proper funeral.’

‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Father Kelly told her, ‘but I hear they have sent out ships from Halifax to recover any bodies that can be found. I will make enquiries for you. And even if we don’t find Finbarr, we’ll keep remembering him in our services. Everyone in our congregation will be praying for him.’

As soon as Seamus got home from work later, Annie mentioned to him what Father Kelly had told her, that it might be possible to get Finbarr’s body back.

‘He was wearing a life preserver,’ she explained. ‘He should have floated. There are ships looking for all those floating on the surface so they should find him.’

‘He won’t be in a fit state for his mother to see after a week in the ocean,’ Seamus cautioned. ‘He may not be recognisable.’

‘I don’t care what state he is in,’ Annie declared. ‘I want my boy back and I know I will recognise him.’

On the 22nd of April, a week after the sinking, Father Kelly told her that a ship called the
Mackay-Bennett
had radioed that twenty-two bodies had been found; the next day there were a further seventy-seven. By the 25th, there were a hundred and ninety bodies in the hold and the
Mackay-Bennett
was heading back to port.

‘We have to go up there!’ Annie insisted to Seamus. ‘It’s the last thing we can do for our son. I will not have his bones thrown into an unmarked grave.’

Seamus was hesitant, feeling it would be a harrowing experience and could put terrible images into their heads that would be hard to forget. He was also worried about the expense of the journey, but when he enquired he found that he’d get discounted tickets because he worked on the railways. If he and Annie travelled up on an overnight train and back the same way, without incurring hotel bills, it would be just about affordable. Father Kelly agreed to have the children to stay in his house, where they would be looked after by his housekeeper. And so Annie prevailed.

The seats in third class were rock-hard and the carriage was crowded, so Seamus and Annie only managed to snatch odd moments of sleep on the train. She looked around and wondered if anyone else was travelling for the same reason as them, but most passengers got off at different stops and, besides, they seemed too cheerful as they chatted to each other and handed round drinks and food.

They arrived in Halifax at eight-thirty in the morning and asked directions to the curling rink, which had been turned into a temporary morgue. It was a long walk, but they had no money for a hansom cab. Father Kelly had made an appointment for them at twelve, and they arrived early and sat on the steps outside until it was time, not talking, just looking around at the town that sloped down to the sea in the distance. Two women came out and hurried into a waiting automobile with handkerchiefs held to their faces and Annie’s heart went out to them.

Suddenly, she got a strong feeling she wasn’t going to find Finbarr here. This was not where his body lay. She didn’t say anything to Seamus but she tucked her disappointment inside her.
Wait and see, Annie. Wait and see.

At the appointed time, they walked into the vestibule of the building and an official came out to meet them. After offering his sympathies, he explained that bodies were laid out in individual cubicles, and he would show them all the ones they had that were male and child-sized.

‘Are there many children here?’ Annie asked, surprised. ‘Surely not many children died? I thought it was mostly grown men.’

‘I believe that around half the children on board perished, ma’am. The lists indicate that over fifty children were lost, among them your son.’

‘But it was supposed to be women and children first! That’s what they said.’

The official consulted a sheet of paper. ‘Well, we have nineteen here who could be your boy. I warn you that many of them have deteriorated due to exposure to the elements, while others seem to have remained in rather better condition. There are no guarantees.’

‘Of course,’ Seamus said. ‘Thank you for warning us.’ He looked at Annie and she nodded. ‘We’re ready now.’

Her heart was thumping so hard she felt faint as they walked towards the main room, Seamus’s arm around her.
I pray for the strength to do this without collapsing
, she thought.
I pray for any other mothers who have to go through this
.

The official pulled back the curtain on the first cubicle and they saw a canvas body bag lying on a table. He lifted a corner of it, and inside there was a tiny face with a huge dark bruise on the forehead. Blood had congealed under the nose, but the boy had blond hair and would have been perfectly recognisable to his parents. Annie’s hopes rose. If Finbarr looked like this, it would be all right. She made the sign of the cross, as did Seamus.

The next body wasn’t in such good shape, with the face severely swollen and black and purple in colour, but Seamus and Annie knew it wasn’t their son. Despite the disfigurement you could see the type of boy he must have been.

Some of the bodies they were shown were too big, or too small; others were the right size, but had the wrong face. Each time the official pulled back the curtain on another cubicle, Annie’s heart was in her mouth and she was whispering to herself:
Please God, please.
But deep inside, she knew Finbarr wasn’t going to be there. After all this, their journey was going to be a waste.

‘I’m sorry but this is the last child that fits your son’s age and description,’ the official told them.

‘But there must be more,’ Annie cried in despair. ‘Are you sure some haven’t been mistaken for adults? You said fifty were lost. Where have they all gone?’

‘If a body was badly decomposed when they found it, then it was given a sea burial. It seems that may be what happened to your son. I’m so sorry.’

‘Please, can I look one more time?’ Annie begged.

‘He’s not here,’ Seamus told her, squeezing her hand. ‘We’d have known straight away.’

‘But we’ve come all this distance,’ Annie wailed, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. ‘It can’t be for nothing.’

‘Ma’am, you can still have a headstone for your son at the cemetery here, even without a body. Many people are choosing to do so. You’ll find it’s a beautiful spot. I can give you directions.’

‘Are you sure there’s no mistake?’ she begged him. ‘Couldn’t we just look again? Could I check all the adults as well?’

‘Annie, no,’ Seamus told her firmly. ‘He’s not here.’

The official was a kind man, though. ‘There are still a few more boats bringing in bodies. If you give me a full description of your son Finbarr, I will make it my personal responsibility to check each one. I’ll get in touch with you in the event that any seems as though it could be him. But in the meantime, I think you may find it a comfort to get a headstone for him.’

‘We’ll do that,’ Seamus agreed, and wrote down their address.

The sun had come out when they emerged from the ice rink and a fresh breeze was blowing. As they walked down the road to the beautiful grassy cemetery with wide views over the Atlantic, Annie asked, ‘How can we live without knowing where he is? How can we just carry on?’

‘Because we have no choice. Because that’s all we
can
do.’

And she knew Seamus was right. Finbarr was in heaven and that’s what mattered. She prayed that all the poor souls in that grim makeshift mortuary would be identified and claimed by their families. She would have hated to think that maybe Finbarr was lying there on his own and she hadn’t gone to find him. But she had done what she could, they both had.

The headstones were expensive but Seamus made a down payment and it was agreed that he would send more money when he could afford it. They were very accommodating.