The Jewel Thief

A Boat and Molly

In two days it is time to board the boat that shall take us to America. It is called the Queen Mary, apparently. We get a train to Southampton with the Earl, which was very interesting. We go right out of London, and rode all the way through the suburbs. Then there was countryside and plains. The Earl sits there giving us dirty looks whenever we made eye-contact, which Maddie and I don't mind in the least, because we read books the whole way. The fare was two pounds per person, and the Earl had to provide this money, which I know he was not happy about.

When the train arrives in Southampton, we see the boat. It is absolutely enormous. I can't see how so many people would want to travel to New York in one week. There are so many windows, and smoke billows out of the top. There is a deck, where early boarders are mingling, waving to the people on the dock. A big United States flag flutters in the wind. Maddie and I exchange a glance. Apart from the big buildings in central London, I don't think either of us had ever seen something so big. I can see the captain's cabin up top, and below deck were clearly the cabins we were to be living in. People's heads stuck out of the little windows. There are two masts at the front and back, but they looked pathetic compared to the size of the boat. It honked and emitted smoke and steam, and I cough. It looked a bit like an enormous washbasin. Emblazoned on the side was QUEEN MARY. The Earl had tried to frighten us beforehand by warning us that it had history of being haunted, but he didn't even know the tales, so it didn't scare me. It was a bit ominous, and it cast a huge shadow over the dock. It smelled like rancid fish, which was not a pleasant smell.

The Earl leaves without even a goodbye, although I don't know why I was expecting it. I bet he's really upset that he has nobody to wait on him anymore. I hastily try to muffle my laugh at the thought of this, coming out with a strange snort that gets a raised eyebrow from Maddie.

At the dock our names get called:

"Murgatroyd, Elizabeth," calls the captain.
"Present," I answer.
"Murgatroyd, Madeleine," he calls again.
"Present," replies Maddie.
And the list goes on.
We get on the great rocking ship and I prepare to never see England again. I am happy to leave the smoggy Thames and dirty streets but I have lived here my whole life. It is terribly sad.

Maddie says we shall return to England, but I am not so sure. Not if there are any more World Wars. Sometimes I think about the whole prospect of World War III. It scares me, but I don't think about it long.

It takes about an hour for everyone to board. We have loaded all our things, and settled into our miniature cabin, with a marvelous bunk bed in the corner. I have the top bunk! It is quite a squeeze and the toilets are on deck, very far away, but I am sure I will enjoy myself. At least, I think. When Dad left for the war, I remember him making me promise to keep my chin up and look on the bright side, but I have never been on a ship before. And it really does smell like fish gone off. The floorboards creak underneath my feet, and I wonder how I'm possibly going to sleep on this thing with the constant tossing of the waves. No matter how big the boat, you're always tossed about by the ever-powerful monster of the ocean.

Everyone shares a room with one other person, and if you were in a group of three or more, you got separated. Normally adults were with adults, and children were with children. There are mostly children on this ship. I know this because when the captain was reading the rooming statistics on the dock I was bored so I listened to everything he was saying.

The ship is setting sail! We steal a chance to go on deck and see our last glimpse of England. I blink back tears, hugging my sister. The dock is full of parents and relatives waving goodbye. Of course, none of them are ours.

"We will be back – I'm sure of it." Maddie comforts me again, but I can hear her voice breaking – she's near tears. The Southampton dock is becoming a small blob. The parents are getting smaller and smaller... gone.

We head back downstairs. I sit down on my bed hugging my knees together, and Mr. Bearface, my old teddy, at the same time. I know it's a bit of a ridiculous name for a teddy, and I'm really a bit old for teddies, but I was three when I named him, and besides, he's the only memory I have of Mum. He is dark brown, and he is wearing a faded dark green-and-red colored jumper with a bonnet to match. I smile at his fuzzy face. I have had him since I can remember because apparently he was given to Mum before I was born. Maddie says I am too old for teddies but that is only because she is jealous since she does not have one herself. At least, that's what Mum told me when I came to her crying eight years ago that Maddie was teasing me about him. I sigh. I miss Mum so much.

I lie on my bed with Mr. Bearface for the next half-hour, trying to remember everything I can about London. I end up remembering how sad I felt when I learned that Mum had died and later that Dad was gone. I sigh. The memories that I had thought of definitely failed to make me feel better about leaving here.

My mind returns to the present day, in our little cabin, where Maddie is tidying her clothes neater than necessary in the tiny cabinet. I grin. She is such a perfectionist. I fidget awhile and then decide to go explore. I tell Maddie where I am going and climb down off the bed. I walk around a bit but then I hear weeping. I see a little girl no more than nine crying on her bed. I walk up to her.

'What's wrong?" I ask.

"I-I miss my Daddy. H-He died in the L-Lynmouth Flood. V-Very recently. My M-Mummy got hit by a b-bomb during t-the w-war when I was just a-a little baby. Now I have to go live with my gr-granddad in A-America." She sniffs. "My – my name is Molly Ashburne," she tells me, gaining confidence. "I'm nine and a half. What's your name?"

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Annabella Murgatroyd. I'm twelve and two months, thirteen in June next year. And I'm really sorry about your parents. Mine are dead too, you're not alone." I smile at her. It used to be difficult to think of Mum and Dad. But now I'm so used to being an orphan that I don't really mind bluntly bringing it up.

Molly Ashburne wipes away her tears, beaming at me. "I'm sorry too. Oh, and this is William, my roommate. His parents died in a car accident recently." Molly said casually as if William had been none other than a schoolmate.

I go up to a boy around seven, also crying and much harder, and put my hand on his back. "Are you all right?" But he doesn't reply. Maybe he prefers talking to a nine-year-old girl than a twelve year old one, as he appears to have told Molly about his backstory. I offer to take him and Molly along on my explorations of the boat. Molly says yes but William declines.

We decide to explore the deck and the ship's front. We wander around up top, sighting the toilets and securing its location in our brain. We are to live here for a week, at the least. We find ourselves up front and look at the view. We are sailing around the bottom of England, so we can reach the wide Atlantic to get to America.

I stand next to her, looking out at the distant blob of land that the captain says is France. I want to go to France, but I don't know any French. Languages interest me, though. I was about to take up Spanish with Charlotte right before she died, but there was no time.

"Annabella's a pretty middle name," Molly suddenly comments. "My middle name is Ariana. After my great-grandmother."

"Molly Ariana Ashburne is a nice name. And Ashburne's a nice last name. I don't really like Murgatroyd. People spell it wrong a lot. My sister, Maddie, is Madeleine Emily Murgatroyd, which I find to be much nicer."

"You have a pretty name," she says again. We look back out at the sea. France is fading into the distance. I sigh.

I leave Molly back in her room, and I head back to my room to talk to Maddie.
I go down to sit next to her on her bed and we have a long conversation about London and our memories. This was not a very uplifting conversation, since all of the happy things in my life ended abruptly at some point and when I thought about them, it made me sad to think that that life was gone. I do not mention the memory of Mum going out and never returning, or any other bad memories of the war. Neither does Maddie.

After this, it is time for supper. They have us all sit at this incredibly long table. There are the tiniest portions of canned beans and bread with margarine. It might sound rather awful to you, but believe it or not, this is better than what we normally got at the Earl's. We finish this off and then the captain gives us a speech about our trip. He talks about how excited he is to have us on this journey and he hopes we enjoy it also. He's a bit too cheery for my liking. We walk back to our bedrooms around nine-thirty, yawning.

I take a trip to the bathroom to brush my teeth but there is a long line so I don't bother. Maddie doesn't either. I pull on my thin nightgown and clamber into my high bed. "Goodnight," whispers Maddie from below. "Sleep well, Elizabeth."

"Goodnight," I lean down and whisper back, switching off my lamp. But sleep doesn't come fast. The power of the ocean keeps me awake for at least an hour, tossing me about and tangling me up in the paper-thin sheets.

It was going to be a tough journey to America.