Other passengers hurried into the lounge to get out of the wind. A tall, thin man with steel-grey hair, identifying himself as Mr. Mason, said, “I have the latest weather report. Captain Haines said our departure will be stormy, but fair weather will arrive when we clear England and be with us for the rest of the journey. I’m off to Canada to check on my daughter who’s married a Canadian soldier.” He spoke the last sentence proudly and had the look of a man who laughed often. The lounge was filled with British, English, and French-Canadian accents. Everyone seemed eager to tell his story.
A soldier in his mid-twenties stood in a corner of the lounge, observing the happy commotion. Noticing his medical insignia cap badge, Clara asked if he was a doctor.
“I am the doctor on the Scotian, a post that offers the benefit of free passage.” He held up his right stump and a thumbless left hand. “Let’s hope we don’t have a surgical emergency.” His grey-green eyes crinkled with amusement while his mop of straight auburn hair gave him a boyish look “You’re Sister Durling! Do you remember me from Maidenhead Hospital?”
“My goodness, I do! You’re Dr. James Barnaby, a protégé of Francis Newbury’s. You were part of the Second Canadian Division from Nova Scotia if my memory serves me.”
Dr. Barnaby laughed. “I recall waiting outside Dr. Newbury’s operating room, watching you march around the ward as though you were in charge of a battalion.” Dr. Barnaby’s eyes brightened at the memory, and they both chuckled.
“After losing my right hand and left thumb, being a surgeon was no longer an option. Learning of my dashed hopes, Dr. Newbury arranged for me to finish my medical studies in Scotland with an emphasis on neuropsychiatry. I did my practicum at Craiglockhart Psychiatric Hospital treating shell shock. That was worse than accepting my change in plans. I was on the committee that decided when a soldier was ready to go back to the front. I felt I was letting a soldier commit suicide with my blessing each time I signed a Return to Front order.”
“Dr. Newbury is head of the department of surgery in Edmonton now. Are you going to join him?’
“Yes.” Dr. Barnaby’s eyes were serious but happy.
“Such a coincidence,” Clara said. “I’m also off to Alberta to assume a position, thanks to Dr. Newbury.
“What will you be doing?” he asked.
“I will be the lady superintendent of the Galt Hospital in Lethbridge.”
“That makes two of us owing our second chance to Dr. Newbury.”
Clara excused herself as Ivy tugged on her arm to go and explore the ship. “I hope we won’t be needing your services,” she said with a broad smile.
Chapter 6
Glace Bay, 1914
Beth didn’t abort, but spent the following few days tended by Signora Bumbacco. Unable to face the procedure again, she decided to travel back to Sydney with Lily. Upon their return, Lily left it to her parents to sort out what to do with Beth and the future baby and moved to Glace Bay, resigned to Barnaby’s ambition and hoping Ed Parsons had grown up.
She scouted out the possible boarding houses, and, after checking out several landladies, she settled on Mrs. O’Dea, whose house was on the side of town closest to the school where she would teach. Mrs. O’Dea was a childless widow who had always rented out a room in her house. She was pleased to show Lily a large room overlooking the street — the only problem being light from the streetlamp.
Lily moved in with her belongings, and, as was her custom, set out to discover her surroundings on foot. She settled into a local restaurant for a cup of coffee and to get her bearings. The waitress, a chatty girl, mentioned that on Saturday evenings young people go to the Dew Drop Inn. “I wonder if an old classmate of mine is still in Glace Bay,” Lily said. “We were both at Sydney Academy.”
The waitress screwed up her face as if to say “aren’t you grand?” She volunteered that Ed, who was no schooler, now worked in the Caledonia mine.
Lily thought back on the conversation when he had said, “Us Parsons are miners through and through.” Still blushing from the “look,” Lily thanked the waitress for sharing local news.
Lily tentatively set out for the Dew Drop Inn the following Saturday evening and was pleased when Ed turned up at the dance. Cleaned up and smelling of cologne, he stood out from the other miners. Tall and heavily muscled from the mine work, he looked incredibly handsome. He seemed livelier and more confident than at high school. He wore the top two buttons of his shirt open to expose thick tufts of chest hair. “Is my tutor going to dance with me?” He smiled down at her.
Lily, remembering the chalk down her dress, retorted, “I see you’re still irritating, Ed Parsons.” He ignored the remark, pulled her onto the dance floor, and drew her close. His firm hand on her back made it easy for her to follow him. Lily smirked, recalling how Barnaby had apologized to her during a college dance. He had drawn her into the waltz position, then turned scarlet as he uttered, “Oops, I’m sorry.” There was no apology from Ed.
“Nice rhythm,” Ed whispered. Goosebumps erupted on her arms as his breath brushed her face. After the dance, he threw his jacket over her shoulders and led her outside. Avoiding the bootlegger pocketing cash, they made a quick about face and walked off. Ed spread his jacket on the ground so Lily could sit down. She pulled up her knees and leaned against a tree.
“I like coming to Dewdrop,” Ed said. Lily compared his happy face to the worried look he always had at school.
“I see you like dancing,” Lily said. “I took lessons when I was at teachers’ college.”
Ed frowned. “Who’d you dance with?”
“The teacher designated our partners.” Lily giggled. “Sometimes it was a girl. I always wanted to dance like my parents. They would push back the living-room furniture and roll up the rug, creating a makeshift dance floor, thinking my sister and I were asleep. They didn’t have a gramophone, so my dad would whistle a tune as though he were whirling my mother in front of a live orchestra. I would sit unnoticed on the stairs peeking through the bannister. It was in that darkened room with nothing but moonlight where I realized how much my parents were in love. It was beautiful watching them dance.”
Ed raised Lily’s chin and kissed her. Tears were trickling down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Ed asked, pulling away.
“I get emotional when I talk about my dad.”
Ed stood up brusquely, walking away impatiently. “I hate emotions,” he said. He brushed aside the bootleggers pressing him to buy alcohol. Lily followed him back into the inn and squeezed into the booth where his friends were sitting. They were debating whether a square dance should be the next request. A man with pockmarked skin slid out and crossed the floor to ask the caller if he would oblige. He reported the caller would start once he’d downed his drink. “Don’t imagine he’s drinking water,” he said, snickering.
Once on the dance floor, the group arranged themselves into four couples with Ed claiming Lily as his partner. The fiddle started playing, and they joined other foursomes as they began stomping their feet and clapping to the music. People on the side whooped at their friends. The girls wove in and out under the arms of the boys, skipped forward and back to “do-si-do,”