The docks of Southampton were flooded with people boarding the grand ship, their families, and their friends. I, Emma Andrews, stepped out of my father's T Ford. My uncle Mr. Thomas Andrews, the builder of the ship, helped me out onto the pavement. "Is father joining us?" I asked. My Uncle gave me a sympathetic look and said, "No, Emma. I'm sorry. You're father still has business to attend to here," My uncle replied. I frowned.
I knew his "business" was with his new nineteen-year-old fiancé, Miss Hailey Amelia. I, personally, wasn't her biggest fan. She could never replace my mother. I never talked about my mother, and always came up with the perfect excuse when my father or uncle tried to bring her up. Her death happened only two months ago, and my father was already replacing her. She only wanted my father's fortune. My parents' marriage, much like mine is, was arranged. I was to marry James Holte. He was a rich, selfish, abusive bastard. My father didn't believe me, but my uncle tried to keep an eye out for his actions, but he was never around when they took place. I was quite good at covering up the real reason to my bruises and scars—not that I wanted to hide the truth, nor did I want anyone to know. My father would call it a cry for attention—a way to call off the arranged wedding.
My wedding would take place a few days after the Rose Dewitt-Bukater, Hockley wedding. I was to attend that one with my fiancé and uncle. Ten days till I arrive in America.
After my Uncle and I had passed inspection, my uncle and I were off to meet the crew members. Ten days till I see my fiancé in America, twelve until the Hockley wedding, fifteen until my wedding (which my father would be attending), and sixteen days until the next voyage back to Southampton, which I would not be attending but my uncle would. I didn't care how many minutes, seconds, hours or whatnot. It only made time slower. I wanted to be off this ship. It wasn't that I hated it, no. I feared boats however. I loved learning, and I had heard of so many ship wrecks. As much as my uncle had assured me the RMS Titanic was unsinkable, I could not bring myself to fully believe him, as much as I wanted to.
"Come Emma. We don't want to be late meeting Captain Smith, do we?" my Uncle asked. I could see the excitement in his eyes. He couldn't wait for Titanic to start moving. Neither could I, but I still dreaded the days ahead. "No," I answered, feigning the same excitement. I kept a smile, I had practiced forever to make it look convincing, which it did, and walked down the long, off-white hallways until we reached the Captain's quarters. My uncle held the door open for me, and followed after. "Good evening, Mr. Andrews," the Captain called. My uncle shook the man's hand in reply. "And who is this young woman?" Captain Smith asked, shaking my hand. I took his hand and replied, "I am Emma Andrews, daughter of the Blacksmith Jonathan Andrews, niece of Mr. Andrews," smiling. He returned my smile and engaged in the conversation my uncle brought forth. I didn't say anything, mostly because I hadn't the slightest idea of what they were talking about. "Emma?" my uncle asked. I turned my attention from the many steering wheels and said, "Yes?"
"Would you care to join the Captain and me on a tour of the ship?" he asked. "Don't you think we should wait for Mrs. Bukater, Mr. Hockley and his fiancé to arrive?" I asked. I fiddled with the light yellow fabric of my evening dress. I was used to the corset under my dress, unless I took a deep breath. I was usually rewarded with a sharp pain in my lungs, which I happened to do because I had not taken a breath before talking. My uncle laughed slightly and replied, "Oh, Emma. So polite. They won't be here for another few moments. They can join us after tea for the second one." I nodded, taking my uncle's arm and walked out of the large cabin, onto the deck.
During the tour, we were now in the "E" Deck, two men came rushing past my uncle, the Captain and me. "We're the luckiest sons of bitches in the world!" cried the blonde man. I looked at him with disgust. So rude! My uncle and the Captain pretended as if nothing had happened and continued on with the tour. "Uncle Thomas? Do you believe the Dewitt-Bukater's and Mr. Hockley are ready for us?" I asked. My Uncle just smiled at me. "We won't be seeing them until tomorrow at tea and after," he said. I frowned.
My Uncle continued his conversation with the Captain. "Well, Mr. Andrews, Miss. I must be going. It's just about time to set sail," the Captain said, smiling. My Uncle's smile grew wider (if that was possible). "Ah, yes! Well, my niece and I will be at tea. Feel free to join us if you get the chance," my Uncle said. I entwined my arm with his, and we headed off for the tea room.
Once there, my Uncle engaged in conversation with John Jacob Astor, the richest man on the ship, and his wife, who was my age, Madeline. Almost everyone, in First Class, knew of her "delicate" 'condition. It was a pretty big scandal. It wasn't that hard to see. The corset couldn't fix it. I couldn't wait for my Uncle to sit down with me so we could enjoy some tea before we went back to our room. The tea room wasn't very full, then again, the passengers had just boarded the Titanic, so they were just settling… I suppose.
I decided after tea, that I was going to the Sky Deck for a little air. I wanted to be with someone I know. I was hoping my Uncle was going to take me to see Mrs. Dewitt-Bukater and her daughter. They were like my family. Ruth, Mrs. Dewitt-Bukater, was just like… She was just like my mother. I felt tears prickle my eyes at the thought of the laughter coming from the tea room every day when I was young. When Rose and I used play in the gardens, and get in trouble after. Our mothers scolded us saying it was "unlady-like to play in dirt."
Rose and I never gave a care. We would do the same thing the next time we saw each other. Then when we got older, it was false tea parties, to real tea parties with our mothers, to becoming fiancés on a grand ship.
This was First Class. I was First Class. This was real life. It was as real as it was going to get.