Liverpool, 27 March 1912

Second morning of new life. I thought I would wake up and everything would melt away like a bad dream. Nothing has disappeared. The same bedroom. I'm hardly get out of a warm bed. Adaptation is a terrible thing. You understand that you will never go back, but your heart refuses to believe, asking to go home, where the iPhone alarm in the morning and the familiar view from the window, coffee in your favorite cup.

Weakness in the body is much less than yesterday, but has not completely disappeared. Why I'm here? Why didn't the soul go to the afterlife? Why did I end up in a strange family? Someone above thinks that I should save Titanic? That's silly. Nobody will believe me. Alone, I can't do anything. If I talk about the disaster, they will consider me crazy and lock me up in a pantry until the end of the voyage. Then I'll be fired. The best is simply not to go on board, pretending to be sick. I can live without being posthumously recognized as a hero.

10 am on the clock. No longer morning.

After the shower it became easier. Washed, shaved - handsome. Well, I definitely got a nice face. Or Henry…doesn't matter.

There were few clothes in a massive wooden wardrobe with intricate decorations. That showed me that owner is not a fashionista and is used to wearing a uniform, of which there were four types: a short jacket of dark blue, almost black; a long jacket in the same color, something similar to a tailcoat with galloons on the sleeves, a summer white uniform with a short jacket, several pairs of uniform trousers, shirts, three vests, ties - everything is uniform. Surprised by a white warm sweatshirt with the inscription Royal Navy Reserve. Stylish thing.

Mr. Wilde kept his usual everyday clothes in the right half of the closet. Again vests, shirts, a pair of ties, three pairs of trousers, сoarse knit sweaters and even a short black pea jacket. The last one is very strange to see in an officer's wardrobe. In the lower compartment there was a drawer where underwear was stored. Very unusual for a person from the 21st century.

As I was about to change for breakfast, I saw a real gem in Wilde's wardrobe, the full-dress uniform of the Royal Naval Reserve. It hung separately from everything in a garment bag. Amazing bicorne… Wow! Epaulettes on the shoulders, insignia in the form of chains are sewn on the sleeves. Not the same as on the uniform of merchant fleet. There were white gloves and a saber. The leather waist belt was with an intricate round buckle, easily fastened with a latch. Belt design was quite interesting: Crowned anchor framed with laurel leaves and three letters RNR. Having dressed up in such beauty, you can immediately go to Buckingham Palace for the order.

I have never had anything equal to the RNR uniform in terms of splendor and beauty. Carefully stroking the form with love, I carefully hung it in its place. I wish I could dress in it, put a picture on Instagram ... a lot of likes are guaranteed.

I chose a simple shirt, without fastening the collar, rolled up the sleeves to the elbows. Trousers with suspenders, and warm home slippers on the feet. Seems to be good.

Not ostentatious and at the same time not frivolous look. In 1912, somewhat different rules for wearing clothes.

The older children Jenny and Harry were at school, the younger ones Arnold and Nancy played with the nanny in the living room, building a tower out of cubes. Warmth, comfort.

"Good morning, Mrs. Beckner," I greeted the nanny, hugging the children who joyfully rushed towards me. Oh, this family tenderness.

- Good morning, daddy! - the children squeaked in unison.

- Hello, my golden.

- Dad, you're not going to die now? Arnold asked seriously.

- No, of course not, honey. I was just really tired yesterday.

The housekeeper came out of the kitchen.

- Good morning, Mr. Wilde, will you have breakfast?

Oh…it's not life, it's an endless celebration. Breakfast is served, children are looked after. Yes! I almost like it here! Thank you, Henry, for giving away your place.

Yes, pleas serve, Miss Martindale.

In the dining room, I sat down at a table with an elegant tablecloth. Don't want to read today's newspaper. I know all the news with a lead of one hundred and ten years.

While housekeeper prepared a tea for me, I decided to find out the latest local news:

- So, Jane, is anything heard about the gas? Do you know are they going to visit us on Gray Road soon? We live like in a cave with those coal.

- A month ago, were two people from gas company. You just went to sea. Measurements were made and where to dig a trench under the pipes and how many pipes to bring.

- A month has passed, and they are still walking somewhere, - I burst out laughing while drinking tea, - I think, we won't see gas until next year.

Miss Martindale also laughed at my joke and went to the kitchen for food. Humor on every day and housing and communal topics is a win-win in any era.

English breakfast not that bad. Oatmeal, scrambled eggs with sausages and beans in tomato sauce, fried bread appeared on the table.

After breakfast, I lit the fireplace in the living room. getting ready to read the book about sea navigation. There is nothing else to read anyway.

Outside the window, endless Liverpool rain. It seems to me that rains in England are especially dull and taking out the soul, smearing it in low gray clouds.

The nanny went to put things in order in the nursery. The children, taking advantage of her absence, sat on my lap. Embracing them, I looked at the fire for a long time. A little boy in a sailor suit and a girl with pigtails in a pink dress.

I'm all they have.