Thanks for reviews again! This is my first child-narrated chapter, there will be more to come though! As will there be Officer-narrated chapters. I have changed the title as I thought since its no longer just the women narrating, the title is now inappropriate.

Hope you enjoy reading!

Andrew Lightoller

Chapter Three

9th April 1912

Dad had shown us the Titanic last night, I have to admit, I was a bit upset that he'd been knocked down again. It was the third time it had happened to him, and the third time Wilde had been the one to do it.

But that hadn't distracted me from the beauty of the Ship of Dreams. I could imagine it, myself, tall, sun-bronzed, with my father's strong jaw and my dark hair combed neatly underneath my cap as I stood at the bridge of the world's greatest ocean liner, Captain Andrew Charles Lightoller.

I jumped out of my skin as a sharp wooden stick came down on my wooden desk, narrowly missing my nose. Above me, Mrs. Headley, my hated teacher, said in a shrill voice "Mr. Lightoller, I understand that tomorrow you are travelling of the Titanic's maiden voyage, but that is tomorrow, today you must continue with your studies".

I muttered something under my breath as she continued to watch over us all like a hawk, her beady eyes focusing on anyone misbehaving.

I continued to write, Arithmetic, I hated it. Richard was better at it than I was. To be quite frank, Richard was better than me at most things, still is today. He was amazing at chess. Regularly beat Dad.

I was better at one thing though, learning about ships, I had the head of a seaman apparently, according to Davy Blair. Even Dad said it was inevitable that I'd end up working on a boat.

I couldn't wait to get home, I had already packed my clothes, that horrid tuxedo that Mum had insisted I take was right at the bottom of my luggage. All I needed to pack now was my football.

That was another thing I beat Richard at, sports.

The lessons dragged until the final bell w as rung and I could safely stay away from the bloody place for a week or so.

I was nearly skipping home I was so happy.

Richard caught up with me as I turned into our road.

"It's finally over" he said, being his paranoid self and avoiding cracks in the road for fear of doing something to Dad.

"Yup" I shook my head "Now, it's just me and the ocean"

"It's not your glory days, not yet, it's still yet to be Dads" Richard reminded me

"But I feel every time I go on a ship I'm that little bit closer to achieving my dream" I told him.

He rolled his eyes as we reached the front door.

We walked in to see our luggage piled high in the hall.

Dad then made his entrance dressed in a navy blue jumper and dark trousers, he looked happier than he had when we left this morning, but was obviously still narked off with the reshuffle as he was muttering under his breath, only stopping to add another case to the luggage collection.

He had his sleeves rolled up, and for the first time, I noticed long scars on his lower arms. What were they?

As he passed me and Richard, who were now standing by the entrance to the lounge, it also looked like he had red rings around his eyes. Had he been crying again?

"Dad" I approached him "Is anything up?"

"No" he shook his head "What made you say that?"

"You seem upset"

"Do I?" he sniffed "Well, I'm not, Andrew. No need to worry about me"

And, for the first time yet again, I saw what looked like an old, reignited fear in his icy blue eyes.

Charles Lightoller

Why did he have to pry? Couldn't he have just left me be?

I looked down before approaching Andrew and placing my hands on his shoulders.

Out of my pocket I passed him two pounds.

He looked at me as if I'd given him a diamond.

"Go on, you and Richard go and buy some sweets, you can stop by your friends back if you like" I said, patting his arm.

Andrew looked at me quizzically, "Why are you being so nice?".

"I just…I don't know….it's a father thing" I sighed "Come on, off you go!".

I watched them go before shutting the door behind them. I sighed and ran a hand down my face, I pulled it away to see myself in the mirror.

I'd lost myself

Where had the real Charles gone?

I looked old.

I knew I was no spring chicken. But I wasn't exactly old, either. I was 36. That wasn't old.

Was it?

For God's Sake! I'd been a father twice over at 36 and the likes of that man…what was his name again….John Jacob Whatshisface, they were all becoming fathers in their late 30's early 40's.

I had nothing to worry about.

I did though.

But what was I worrying about?

It was him.

No, no, not Henry Wilde.

Someone else.

Uncle Lightoller.

Just thinking about him sent a shiver down my spine, it still does today, not that much time has elapsed between April the Ninth and now.

But the amount of time that has elapsed between the time of Uncle Lightoller and now has spanned nearly three decades, and I am still prone to quivering at his name.

What had I ever done to him?

I ran a hand up my arms, feeling the long scars wrapping themselves round my skin, refusing to go away, if only they would go, if only, then I could finally have let go of the past.

I closed my eyes and was taken right back to the screams of pain, to the blood soaked cloth against my arms day in day out, and to the cold, heartless stare of Uncle Lightoller.

If only I could pay him back for what he done, I would have.

But I can't.

Can I?

Hope you enjoyed!