‘You mustn’t worry, Kitty. I have your father, Aylsa and your sisters with me. I will send you a telegram as soon as he or she has made their appearance in the world. Kitty, please don’t cry.’ Adele brushed a tear from her daughter’s cheek. ‘Just think of the stories you’ll have to tell us when you arrive home. It’s only nine months, the same time it takes for a little one to be born.’
‘Forgive me, it is simply that I will miss you so very much,’ Kitty sobbed onto her mother’s comforting shoulder.
Shortly afterwards, standing at the front door with her trunk being loaded onto Mrs McCrombie’s carriage, Kitty proceeded to hug her sisters. Miriam in particular was crying inconsolably.
‘My dearest Katherine, how I will miss you.’
Then Ralph took her into his arms. She stood, tense and taut, inside them. ‘Remember to say your prayers every day, and may the Lord be with you.’
‘Goodbye, Father,’ she managed. Then, pulling herself free of him and with one last wave at her beloved family, she climbed into the carriage, and the driver shut the door behind her.
*
As the RMS Orient hooted and began to make her way out to sea, Kitty stood on the deck watching her fellow shipmates screaming goodbyes to their relatives below them. The quay was packed with well-wishers waving Union Jacks and the occasional Australian flag. There was no one to wave her off, but at least, unlike many of the people around her, she knew she would be returning to England’s shores.
As the well-wishers became indistinguishable figures and the ship steamed down the Thames Estuary, a silence fell on those around her as each of the passengers realised the enormity of the decision they had made. As they dispersed, she heard the odd sob – and knew they were wondering if they would ever see their loved ones again.
Although she had seen the big vessels that docked in Leith harbour many times, it now seemed a daunting task for this steamship to carry them across the seas safely to the other side of the world, despite the impressive height of the two funnels and the masts that held swathes of sails.
Walking down the narrow stairs to the second-class corridor that contained her berth, Kitty felt rather like this entire experience was happening to someone else. Opening the door and wondering how she would ever sleep with the rumble of the huge engines below her, she made a forty-five-degree turn in order to close the door behind her. The room – if one could call it that, its dimensions being akin to a short, thin corridor – contained two coffin-like bunks and a small storage cupboard in which to put clothes. A washbasin sat in the corner and Kitty noticed that it and all the other fittings were bolted to the floor.
‘’Ello. You me new roommate?’
A pair of bright hazel eyes framed by a shock of dark curly hair appeared over the wooden rail of the top bunk.
‘Yes.’
‘My name’s Clara Dugan. ’Ow d’you do?’
‘Very well, thank you. I’m Kitty McBride.’
‘From Scotland, eh?’
‘Yes.’
‘Me, I’m from the good ol’ East End o’ London. Where you ’eaded?’
‘To Adelaide.’
‘Never ’eard of it. I’m going to Sydney meself. You’re dressed smart. You a lady’s maid?’
‘No. I mean . . . I’m a companion.’
‘Ooo! Get you,’ said Clara, but not unkindly. ‘Well, if I knows anything about the gentry, unless your lady ’as brought a maid as well, it’s you who’ll do all the fetching and carrying on board. And who’ll mop up ’er puke when we’re on rough seas. Me brother Alfie told me the ’ole ship stank for days when there was a storm. ’E’s there already, making a right good life for ’imself, ’e says. ’E told me to save up me money so I wouldn’t have to go steerage. Five souls died on ’is crossing,’ Clara added for good measure. ‘I worked night and day for two years in a factory to pay for me berth. It’ll be worth it, though, if we get there.’
‘Goodness! Then let’s hope our journey goes more smoothly.’
‘I can be anyone I want to be when I get there. I’ll be free! Ain’t that just the best?’ Clara’s bright eyes danced with happiness.
There was a sudden rap on the door and Kitty went to open it. A young steward was grinning at her.
‘Are you Miss McBride?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mrs McCrombie has requested you go to her cabin. She needs help unpacking her trunk.’
‘Of course.’
As Kitty followed the steward out of the cabin, Clara lay back with a wry smile.
‘Well, at least some of us are free,’ she shouted after Kitty.
*
After an initial night tossing and turning in her bunk, enduring feverish half-dreams of storms, shipwrecks and being eaten alive by natives, all punctuated by loud snores from the bunk above her, Kitty’s days soon fell into a routine and passed quickly. While Clara slept on, Kitty was up at seven to wash, dress and tidy her hair. Then she’d walk along the gently rolling corridor and take the stairs to the first-class section on the deck above her.
She’d found her sea legs almost immediately, and even though both Clara and Mrs McCrombie had taken to their beds as they’d encountered what the crew had called a ‘gentle swell’, Kitty was surprised to find herself feeling very well indeed. This had earned her much praise from the crew, especially from George, Mrs McCrombie’s personal steward, who Clara said had the ‘eye’ for her.
Compared to the sparse decor of the second-class berths, the first-class accommodation was positively sumptuous. Underfoot were plush carpets with intricate William Morris designs, the brass furnishings were polished to a high shine and exquisitely carved wooden panelling adorned the walls. Mrs McCrombie was in her element, dressing every evening for dinner in an array of extravagant gowns.
Kitty spent most of her mornings attending to Mrs McCrombie’s personal needs, which included an awful lot of mending. She sighed at the torn seams of corsets and bodices, eventually surmising that Mrs McCrombie must have refused to reveal her true size to her seamstress out of vanity. At lunchtime Kitty would go to the second-class dining room and eat with Clara. She was amazed at how fresh the food was and by the dexterity of the waiters as they carried trays of drinks and plates across the sometimes heaving floors. In the afternoons, she would take a bracing walk on the promenade deck, then retire with Mrs McCrombie to the first-class saloon to play bezique or cribbage.
As the steamer progressed south through the Mediterranean, stopping briefly in Naples before continuing to Port Said and then easing through the Suez Canal, the weather became warmer. Even though Mrs McCrombie refused to leave the ship when it docked, citing how they might pick up some ‘deadly plague from one of the natives’, looking out onto these impossibly exotic foreign shores, Kitty began to feel the feverish grip of adventure.