Authors Note: Sorry for the first few chapters, nothing really Titanic related yet, just a bit of background information, setting the scene and stuff. Hope you enjoy, more to follow. Please rate and review, any feedback appreciated. First Titanic fanfic. Robyn x
When my father died, I knew it wouldn't be long before my mother followed. Her world was ripped apart when he passed away, not to mention our wealthy lifestyle was suddenly stumped. My father had earned a great deal, and we lived in a luxurious lifestyle, my parents, myself and my younger brother, Freddie. Whatever we wanted, we got; fine clothes, good food, large house and garden.
Now that he was gone, there was no money, for he had left it all to his sister, who lived in New York. I was fourteen at the time, old enough to understand that our lives were now going to change dramatically. Freddie, only four, didn't understand, and couldn't contemplate why we were only eating meat twice a week, as opposed to the four or five times we would have had it before.
I could see my mother crumbling. She put on a brave face, but underneath, I knew she was struggling to keep going. Therefore it came as no surprise to me when, after refusing to get out of bed for three days, our local doctor, Doctor Constantine, diagnosed her with serious depression. Such a thing was so unheard of in those days, that there was no medical treatment, and my mother refused to let Doctor Constantine proscribe her any therapy, stating "I am no crazy woman!" But she looked like a crazy women, with her hair untamed, and wearing the same clothes for days on end. She refused to eat, and she became almost skeletal.
Although Freddie was too young to understand what was wrong with our mother, he knew enough to stay away from her, and became very subdued. I remember looking at him one evening, after a supper of leek soup and a measly slice of bread, and promising to myself, that whatever happened, I would look after him, and that I would never let anything happen to him.
After two weeks of my mother's ill health, Doctor Constantine took me into a quiet room, and told me that she didn't have long to live. I wasn't as upset by this as I thought I would be. I think it was because I had been expecting it for so long, and also that I didn't really see this crazy women in my mother's bed, her clothes, as my mother. To me, she was different, and it almost felt as if I had already lost my mother, weeks ago.
I was told to take Freddie in, to let him say goodbye, but he refused. I didn't blame him. The women lying in the bed, her hair and skin greying, her skin pale and her bones sticking out was not our mother. I, however, stayed with her right up until she died. When she gave her last breath, I felt almost relieved. At least now she could be reunited with my father.
Next day, however, mine and Freddie's life came crashing down around us. A man in a smart suit came to our house, whisked round with a notebook, and then spoke to another man, who put the house on sale. All of our fine things, our clothes and shoes were taken, the furniture stripped, and by dusk the following day, Freddie and I were declared homeless.
It had all happened so quickly, one minute I was sipping lemon tea in the garden with mother, watching Freddie run around the lawn, next I was struggling to carry Freddie, along with two small cases, out to a carriage, which would be taking us to our new home, an orphanage.
"Let me help you there miss" said the voice of the young porter. My first impression was to refuse, the man had very dirty hands, and looked what my father would have called, "riff-raff". But then I remembered, that we were all the same now. Me and Freddie and not a penny between us, and we were probably poorer than this man, and I felt suddenly guilty that he was calling me "miss".
I smiled at him gratefully, trying to convey all the warmth and feelings I had just run over in my head, into one smile. I passed him over the cases, juggling Freddie back onto my hip.
"Thank you, sir" I added, saying the "sir" to try and show him that she was no more a miss, as he was a sir. She wasn't sure he got the message.
"Aw, miss, I ain't no sir, just one of those common folk doing my duty for you fine people" I winced, thinking dreadfully of what my father would have said about his speech, she could hear him now; "And that, Scarlett dear is what separates us good people, from the bad people. If there's one way to tell a man's pocket, it's to listen to his speech!" And then he would roll off in laughter, and my mother would join in. Doubt suddenly crept into my head. Were my parents stuck up? Yes, was probably the answer to that. And they had no qualms about voicing their opinions at the top of their voices. Were her parents not the perfect image that all children are meant to see as their parents? I stopped my thoughts in their tracks, what did it matter now, what my parents were like, they are dead now.
I shook my head, clearing it of any further bad thoughts of my parents, gave the scruffy porter one last smile, and climbed into the carriage.