in my heart, through my thoughts and in my prayers. When I close my eyes over the long hours to come, I’ll see you with your shoulders straight and holding your head high.” She paused to brush a tear from her cheek and said softly, “We’ll all be with you in spirit, lass. Know that you are loved, and no miles, no distance, absolutely nothing can change that.”
“Oh Mum.” Ethel sighed. “What will I do without you and your words of wisdom? Is there anything that will make this easier?”
“Nothing is going to help, my dear, unless you decide to bring your luggage back from the train station, unpack your clothes and stay put here in Enfield.” Mum attempted a weak smile while wiping her eyes. “And that’s not going to happen. So we just have to get through this.”
Mum stood and linked her fingers around Horace’s elbow. “In the meantime, Horace will look after you until you board the ship.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “That’ll settle my mind, some.”
Elsie squirmed in Ethel’s arms, and Ethel tightened her grip as she listened to Mum.
“Once you get on the boat, you’ll start thinking of the immediate and of Tom, you’ll see. I’ve heard others say the same thing. It’s just getting you to the dock and onto that ship.” She bent over and placed her hand on Ethel’s face. “And keep the faith, lass. Remember the Scripture you were raised with.”
“I will, Mum. I’ll always remember that.”
Reluctantly, Ethel let Elsie down. She stood and leaned over to embrace Mum, resting her head on Mum’s shoulder as she did when a child. She knew to which Scripture Mum alluded. There’d be no problem loving her neighbour as herself, but she didn’t know if she could love God today with all her heart and soul and might. She’d prayed so much about Elsie’s health, and it had only worsened. Indeed, she would have to talk to God more about that.
Ethel turned to Elsie, knelt and lowered her face into her little girl’s neck. She recalled the long and difficult struggle of giving birth and then holding Elsie’s sweet stirring body, bundled up in soft flannelette.
She drank in the sight and familiar scent of her little girl and looked into her pleading eyes. Cupping Elsie’s face in her hand, she kissed her forehead with a long, lingering touch. “Goodbye, my dearest, for now.”
Nurse Rankin’s words about good things coming from labour pains flashed through her mind. What could possibly come out of this pain except more of the same?
With that, Ethel kissed Elsie again and turned her toward Mum. She picked up her purse and said, “Let’s go, Horace. You and me, we’ll make good use of our extra time together. You can tell Mum all about it when you return.” She grabbed her satchel by the handles, pushed the kitchen door with her free hand and walked out into the sunshine. Glancing back for one more look, Ethel saw Mum in the doorway holding Elsie, who was eagerly waving a white handkerchief. “I’m wavin’ it like they do on boats, Mummy.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Ethel said as she swallowed her tears. “I’ll think of this when I board the ship.”
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
