“I’m Miriam.”
“I’m Lucy. I hope we can become good friends. I get awfully sea sick you know.”
“The only time I’ve been on a boat is when I go back to Ireland.”
“I don’t think the Med is meant to be as rough as the Irish Sea, but who knows?”
They walked down the ship until they reached some water tight doors with a sign saying “Crew” above it. To the right was the access corridor to the crew pub the “Pig and Whistle”. To the left you could feel a continuous blast of hot air from the permanently open door at the top of the companionway down to the engine room. They walked down a corridor marked “Ladies Accommodation” with rooms either side with two beds in.
“I say we bags this one on the left.”
They threw their luggage on the beds and sat down opposite each other. There was a little porthole to the right with a window looking out to sea. In the corner was a small wash basin and vanity unit. No one had briefed them as to what the schedule was. There was a letter of welcome which they read on the side.
“Looks as if tonight they just want us to get to know everybody. The real training starts tomorrow. I know some first class passengers are boarding with their own staff, but the majority don’t come on board until we set sail for Italy on Friday.”
That evening they all congregated in the crew pub and met the other crew. The officers right down to the porters were there all exchanging their experiences. It was a transient crowd of people, some who had met before, others who hadn’t. It was like bringing together the cast of a theatre. Probably each of them had their own stories that they were running away from. This transience suited Miriam for now. She had not sorted out any plans for her own future. Her parents knew she was anxious to see a bit more of the world and her father had been very supportive. He was a travel writer and had asked her to promise to give him some reviews of the cruise for his publisher. She couldn’t stop thinking about Rosie, the baby she never got to hold. Hopefully this time on the ocean would help her to come to terms with her loss.
Over the following weeks they set sail. The mood was buoyant on that cruise liner. The work was hard, but the passengers were polite and undemanding. They gave them the very best in service. The company motto at the time was.
“A kind of pride typifies a Frederic worker, pride in a job well done, pride and over a century of experience.”
Lucy was pretty sea sick on the crossing over to Italy. The seas were rough and even though the ship was large it didn’t stop them being tossed and turned on those corridors. Even the waiters had to abandon serving trolleys as the crockery was smashing all over the place. For some reason, maybe it was because she’d experienced pregnancy, she didn’t feel so sea sick. She nursed her new friend on that crossing. Some of the other crew members said that it would get better with time when she finally got her sea legs.
“You’d make a good mum you know.” She said.
Miriam’s heart ached when she said that. Little did she know that she was a mum, albeit a bereaved mum. She wondered how Rosie was doing now with her new mum and dad? She daren’t contact her for fear of upsetting their new relationship. She had been told that they had to have time to bond. Any interference with that bonding would damage their relationship. Yet she wanted to bond too. The only way to obliterate her memory was when she was in an Irish drunken stupor at night time. She would always end up crying herself to sleep on those evenings.
There was a lot of flirting going on in the crew pub on those evenings, but Miriam wasn’t prepared for a relationship with anyone right now. In any event, to form a relationship on the boat seemed too complicated for her. If you ended up falling out, how could you avoid each other? Lucy formed a relationship with one of the officers, which didn’t work out.
“Men, I hate them. He promised me the world, then I wouldn’t sleep with him and he dumped me.”
“Just as well you didn’t.” Miriam said.
She couldn’t tell her about Rosie. They weren’t quite close enough yet and she didn’t want someone to tell her how stupid she had been or tell her to contact her. She wanted to so much. Being off shore made it easier not to.
One day Lucy came bursting in to their cabin screaming excitedly.
“You’ll never guess who is on board!”
“Who?”
“Freddie Laker. Just embarked at Italy to go to Monaco.”
Freddie Laker had just founded Laker Airways. He had been in the news a lot recently and was proposing to offer a brand new revolutionary concept of economic air travel, requiring passengers to purchase their tickets on the day of travel as well as buy their own food. He was divorced and in his forties. Miriam could not work out what Lucy was so excited about apart from the fact that he was a man of power.
“My parents would be so impressed!”
“Lucy, I doubt we’ll get to meet the guy. It depends whether we get deployed to first class or not. That depends on Tony.”
“Can you ask him Miriam? Please.”
That evening in the Pig and Whistle, Miriam asked Tony the Chief Officer if they could be deployed in first class, when they set sail for Monaco.
“That depends if there is something in it for me.”
“Don’t tease me Tony, I’m not in to men any more.”
“I’ve noticed, more’s the pity. He must have been some tough nut to let you go.”
“Will you let us go then?”
“Let me see what I can do with the shift schedules. I can probably shift you to the cocktail bar on the top deck for a week.”
“Thanks Tony, you’re a star.”
There was quite a bit of press interest when Freddie Laker disembarked for the day in Naples. There were flash photographers everywhere and a few TV cameras. Airline travel was starting to pick up in a big way and would soon eclipse the cruise liners as the main form of travel. Whilst Miriam wasn’t interested in Freddie Laker she was keen to be an air stewardess one day. The job looked glamorous and you got to see the world. Anything to take her mind off losing Rosie. There were a lot of hushed whispers amongst the staff that day.
“Have you seen Freddie Laker. I’m sure he smiled at me.” Lucy remarked.
That evening Miriam put on her first class uniform, which was smarter than the crew’s. It was a black evening cocktail dress with a black, white and gold scarf tied around her neck and draped down her back. To match, she wore some black stockings and some black patent court shoes. Lucy was donning the same, whilst she applied some black khol eyeliner and some red lipstick.
“Wow ! You look amazing.” Lucy cried.
“I’ve told you Lucy, I’m not into men. I’m doing this for you.”
They walked in tandem, past some of the officers, to the sound of wolf whistles. When they entered the cocktail bar, the lights were low. The huge glass windows gave an unparalleled view of the ocean at night. The moon was flickering on the waves of the sea. A pianist was playing soft jazz music in the corner. The chief cocktail waiter was shaking cocktails in his cocktail mixer. The silver bar seemed to reach forever along the starboard side of the liner. The bar was beginning to fill up with the evening diners in their cocktail attire. The chief cocktail waiter showed them the ropes and how to address the guests.
When Freddie Laker did walk into the room later that evening there was a certain hush in the room as he entered. He was with an entourage of men. People were trying to get a glimpse of him whilst pretending not to notice him. He came straight up to the bar and approached Miriam, his eyes engaging her.
“Why do people always pretend they don’t know you, when they know exactly who you are? Could I have a gin and tonic please, gentleman what can I get you, the same?”
She grabbed the glasses and with the silver ladles nursed the ice cubes in to the heavy crystal glasses. She splashed them with a few large shots of gin and poured the tonics in allowing them to settle in the glass.
“I’m not pretending.” She smiled
“
Interesting.”
He had quite a presence in that room, his voice bellowing out with laughter. Here was a man that clearly liked to party. Miriam could see that Lucy was disappointed that he hadn’t approached her first. He kept looking in Miriam’s direction to see if she was eavesdropping the conversation.
“I’m going to take the skies by storm. There will be no more cruise liners in the next decade, you mark my words. Everyone will want to travel by air. We’ll make sure we have the prettiest stewardesses like this one.” He caught Miriam’s eye as he dropped this comment.
“Would you come and work for my airline young lady?”
“That would depend on the terms.”
“I can see you’re a tough negotiator. When do you get shore leave?”
“Not so fast sir. I haven’t said I’m interested.”
He picked up the piece of paper on the silver tray and scribbled his number on it.
“Give me a call when we dock in Monaco. I’ll show you the sights. Bring a friend if you like.”
With that they left to go to dinner. They didn’t see him again that evening, but they were to see him every night in the bar before he went to dinner. He was an affable bloke. He certainly knew how to have fun and how to not take life too seriously. That sort of fitted with Miriam’s life right now. She couldn’t bear the thought of commitment. She couldn’t bear to talk about the child she had lost, all those miles away. The sea was her comfort now, ebbing away in the night time.
When they docked at Monaco, they were entitled to shore leave for a couple of days. She decided to call him and he invited her and her friend Lucy to his boat for the day in the harbour. The sun was beating down that day on the little Principality dubbed by Somerset Maugham “A sunny place for shady people”. They got very drunk, drinking his champagne and downing a mixture of lobster and caviar. They sunbathed in their bikinis on the decks and after getting rosy from the sun and champagne, hit the night clubs until the early hours.
“That was one of the best days of my life.” Said Lucy.
The weeks, turned into months on that cruise ship. Freddie Laker agreed to stay in touch, should they dock again and he could see them on their offshore leave. They had many such get togethers, but they were harmless fun. Miriam thought Lucy would have liked something more with one of his colleagues. She kept in touch by writing long letters. Lucy and Miriam became close friends on that cruise ship. On the 4th September 1968, a year after Rosie was born, she was drinking with Lucy in the crew pub. Everyone was having far too much to drink.
“Don’t you ever think of settling down and having children?” Lucy asked.
Her question hit Miriam like a bombshell. Her baby’s birthday was today, the day she had given birth. Was she walking now? Was she saying her first words? She so wanted to shower her with kisses, tell her she loved her with all her heart. Tears started to trickle down her face.
“Oh Miriam, I’m sorry. Is it something I said?”
“Do you mind if we go outside for a bit. I need some fresh air and a cigarette?”
“Sure.”
They grabbed their coats and hit the night air. The liner was picking up speed now, crashing through the waves. The sky was illuminated by millions of little stars. Miriam stared at those stars for a very long time.
“I often think of her, you know. I often wish on those stars to wonder where she is right now.”
“What do you mean Miriam?”
“I have a little baby. She is one today, but I can’t be with her because I had to give her away. There is not a day that does not go by, when I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Oh Miriam, I’m sorry. What happened to the father?”
“Oh he didn’t want to know. I loved him you know. I loved him with all my heart, but he broke it.”
“Do you think you will ever love again?”
“No, not in this lifetime.”
“Can’t you get in contact with her, your baby I mean?”
“They tell you not to. They say it is in the best interests of the child. That doesn’t stop me aching for her though. It is like a constant bereavement.”
After telling Lucy, coming to terms with Miriam’s loss seemed easier somehow. Now she had someone to confide in. Christmas came and went and was just as traumatic for her. Unfortunately she was to receive the tragic news that her brother James had died of a road accident in Ireland. That together with losing Rosie was a double tragedy. Nevertheless they continued to sail the Mediterranean, lapping up the European culture. Over the months they visited Malta, Cyprus, Jerusalem, Turkey, Yugoslavia and Greece. They never tired of these destinations. She never stopped thinking about Rosie though.
MARJORIE 1968
LONDON
NOTHING HAD PREPARED Marjorie for the death of Arthur. For days she stayed locked up in her house trying to make sense of it all. Jacqueline kindly took possession of Rosie, whilst she handled all the necessary funeral arrangements and dealt with the wealth of correspondence that came in from friends and relatives. On the 3rd February she wrote.
“Why do people say that time will heal? I don’t want to be healed of the pain of losing my love. No I don’t. I want to feel he is still part of my life. I don’t just want to feel it, I want it to be so. If real love doesn’t die why should this be wrong?
I don’t know how long this can go on because conditions change, and new situations arise. Rosie will grow bigger and not remember him. How enormously different people are from one another. I feel as though there is something I should be doing, but don’t know what it is? Or as though there is something just round the corner. Life goes steadily on, then suddenly there’s an immense surge, like a tidal wave, or a whirlwind, and one is buffeted and tossed and things are never the same again. I’m not sure this particular whirlwind is over yet. It seems more and more to me that the world lacks substance. So much is pretense, false reasons, sham enthusiasms. Only true love is real and when that is snatched away, what is there? Just duty and trivialities and waiting to die.
I can’t believe Arthur won’t come back, I keep expecting him. When Jacqueline said the other day “Where’s Uncle Ronson?” I said “Oh hell he will be coming back soon” and it came out just like that because part of me thinks that he will. I just can’t believe we won’t hug and cuddle one another again. He’s so real to me. But I must believe it. But can’t we go on together, even though I’m in this world and he is not? Can’t love bridge the gaps? It’s something not soluble by thought, thinking distorts it. It is something to be discovered by living it, just as love is.
What I want to know is this. Is this love lost when someone dies, is it just cut off, like a flower is severed for ever from the plant it grew on ? Father Ryan said there was no male or female in the after life and of course it says so in the New Testament. I just can’t imagine that, it must be awful.
So much joy was denied Arthur, he had such a miserable bleak life most of the time, then just as he’d found such joy in Rosie, he said so often “Darling I’m so happy with you and Rosie” he dies. I used to think that people died from purely physical causes, but I’m not at all sure now. Many people go on with bad hearts for years and years and he’d not had heart trouble before. I think he was taken and I don’t know why.
We are surrounded by mysteries. We accumulate a lot of knowledge, but the important things elude us. We don’t really know what happens to our loved ones, when they die. We are left with the pain of knowing we will never hear the voice of a loved one again, or be able to touch him or feel his touch. When I die how shall I find him? How will I know him? Worst of all will it matter any more? I love to think he will be waiting for me, like he used to wait at the ticket collector’s box at the station, patiently waiting, never cross if I was late, always with a hug and a kiss and we’d drive back here in a bubble.
Why can’t we know? Is it so terrible? Or is it so beautiful? Or is it, something which requires faculties which we haven’t got in this life? If so are we
developing these faculties in this life without knowing it?
The thing that remains with me is the unfairness of it to Arthur. All our married life, I longed for a baby, and he was so patient about it. Then we got Rosalie and he loved her and delighted in her so much. His joy in her was like a wonderful bonus to having her at all. Then when we’d only had her eight weeks, he was taken from us and died. All the love and joy they could have had were cut off forever, and she’ll have no memory of him.
And it was so in other ways. All those dreary years after his first marriage broke up. When he was alone, he spent so little on himself, just went quietly on doing the best he could for the boys.
I decanted the wine we made together the other day and it was beautiful, sparkling, clear and strong, but he’s not here to enjoy it. He had so little of the wine of life. His sons thanked me for making his last years happy. I suppose I did to some extent, but I was enriched beyond reckoning by his love and I wish I’d been more loving, and on many occasions I can think of, more understanding and kind.”
Marjorie couldn’t carry on like this she had to get on and live her life for Rosie. Now that she had lost Arthur, she couldn’t possibly lose Rosie as well. There was still a real danger that she could be taken away from her too. All she had was Miriam’s letter which just confirmed that she was happy for her to look after her. There was nothing in that letter that confirmed she could legally adopt her. Rosie was all she had left.
On 22nd March 1968, two months after Arthur died, she went to see her lawyer about Rosie.
“I must say Mrs Ronson, that these are tragic circumstances indeed. I would think that if the matter were to go to Court today, the real mother would have a strong argument to have her back if she wanted.” He said twiddling his fountain pen between his fingers.
“But I can’t lose her now, Mr Maitland. Rosie is all I have left! The mother did say I could look after her.”
Abandoned Love Page 14