Wednesday, 10th of April, 1912.
Dear Diary,
I am on the Titanic. It is painted blue and white, and has four lean poles that stretch vertically up to the sky. Wires, strings and ropes are everywhere I look and the windows injected into the white walls are tinted black.
The Titanic is a colossal boat. She is at least a mile long, and as for her width, I cannot even guess how wide she is.
My bedroom steward, Jamie Finch, is a nice young man. He wears clean white blouses, black trousers and a threadbare waistcoat. A red neckerchief adds colour to his appearance, which is pleasing, and it contrasts to his wavy brown and stunning delphinium-blue eyes.
Jamie is near perfect, but I am afraid he has a fiancé. I know that Lady Daphne Delacroix, a beautiful millionaire, made eyes at him through her white eyelashes as he served her roast lamb and potatoes two hours ago.
Moving away from Jamie, Colonel Jules is most charming, and Lady Jemima, his wife, is incredibly kind. She baked me an extra scone to go with my tea just because Mrs Chambers poured mint sauce over my supper instead of gravy.
I think the Titanic is better than my house! My bedroom is furnished with oak and white satin, and the bed a four-poster! I have a dresser and a wardrobe, and to polish off my spectacular room, Jamie has to be there all the time (well, at least until I get changed) in case I need assistance!
My supper was admirable; boiled potatoes, roast turkey, carrots and a large silver boat of gravy. I wore my powder-blue dress and slippers, which complimented my eyes, and let my silvery curls loose.
When Jamie complimented me unabashedly, Lady Delacroix scowled, and snapped to poor Colonel Jules about her ‘undercooked’ salmon. It was fried to perfection and stuffed with seafood, but she still got a new salmon, and a refund.
I behaved exceedingly angelically to Jamie, and gave him my sugar-spun candy-cane, of which he thanked me before I slept, and gave me a small nosegay with a bow.
My first night in the Titanic; a success!!!
Love,
Bonnie. xxx
Thursday, 11th of April, 1912.
Dear Diary,
This morning, when I woke up, Jamie handed me a warm flannel and a full fried English breakfast! I was so surprised that I promptly dropped a cup of tea, which split and poured everywhere!
I apologised for over five minutes as I cleared up the mess, even though Jamie was inclined to clean up himself. I slipped over a slippery patch and was about to go flying when Jamie snatched at my waist and held me for a few seconds, and we gazed into each others’ eyes until a knock sounded.
Jamie let go of me, handed the tray to me dazedly as I sank into my mattress and opened the door. It was Lady Delacroix. “Jamie!” she had cried. She seemed to know that we liked each other, as the next thing she did was kiss him. I stared dementedly at her, and Jamie tried to twist out of her grasp but he was trapped in her silk-clad arms. It was such a funny sight that I almost giggled, but then he accomplished getting away from her, I was so shocked that I simply stared, open-mouthed, at Jamie’s flushed face.
The next thing Lady Delacroix did was shriek, her face pink and rage-full. When I told her to keep her wig on, she turned a furious beet-root red and stamped out.
She is still smarting. I see her give me dagger-eyes on the table opposite me as I write on the silk table-clothed oak. She is now aggressively stabbing at her trout and buttered potatoes, trying to catch Jamie’s eye. He is avoiding my table, and hers. I cannot understand it.
My tomato soup and herring siders have arrived. The herring is skinned and boned, brown and slightly speckled. The soup is rich and smooth, with a spiral of cream in the middle and a sprout of parsley floating lazily on the surface of red.
I forget about Jamie and Daphne as I eat my tea, and then ask for a glass of champagne. I remember Jamie, and decide not to like him anymore. It is quite easy, as I caught him drop parsley sauce all down his waistcoat a moment ago.
Now I retire to my cabin. Adieu!
Kindest Regards,
Bonnie. xxx
Saturday, 13th April 1912.
Dear Diary,
I apologise for not writing since two days ago, but I have been exceedingly busy. I have kept Jamie off, and I know he is falling for Daphne. She is so triumphant she forgets to have her ‘revenge’, and sails through the days like a silver cloud.
I must admit, the days are a little more colourless without Jamie. He has swapped stewards with Mary Louise, Lady Delacroix’s former steward. I am sure Jamie does not just help Daphne behind those doors!
Mary Louise is fun to have. She is like a sister, and I have lent her two velvet dresses already. In return, she persuades Lady Jemima to serve me extra eggs and bacon each morning.
The guest have been swirling with rumours of icebergs and currents nearby, but we have got this far, and are almost at America. We have been lucky so far, and we only have ten miles to travel yet.
Surely we will arrive safely at America? Hopefully.
Love,
Bonnie. X
Sunday, 14th April, 1912.
Dear Diary,
Today it is Sunday, and Lady Jemima and the other nineteen cooks are hot on their heels and flustered, cooking nineteen to a dozen roast dinners. The gravy has to be in an intricate silver boat. The Yorkshire puddings have to be at least seven centimetres squared. The gammon and turkey and chicken and steak have to be fried and roasted to the crisp.
I offered to help, and ended up cooking for a couple of hours. I got to know Holly and Janet and Brendan and Natalie and the other kitchen staff. I feel that people should help them more often, and as I was leaving the kitchen with a pocketed ten crowns, Daphne swept over purposely.
I could hardly deny her presence, so I smiled, a little strainedly, as she hurried up. “Lady Delacroix. What may I do for you?” I had asked in the tone of voice that meant ‘I am not prepared for offence or more than ten minutes talking to you!’
Once Daphne had come up, she patted her curls and explained, “I must thank you for making my lunch. You made it most perfectly.” I narrowed my eyes at Daphne suspiciously, as I still do not trust her. When she saw my face, she raised a snobbishly painted gold eyebrow and carried on in a high-and-mighty voice – “I am merely thanking you. But that is not all.”
I restrained myself from rolling my eyes, and pointed out, “I never said I didn’t think that was it. Please continue my Lady.”
“Well. Jamie is saying that there are icebergs ahead, and that we are almost sure to hit them.” Daphne stopped, and I asked, a little impatiently, “and why are you warning me?”
“Because… Well…” Daphne looked a little flummoxed. “Well… I thought I head better alert you of the danger, and to advise you to pack your things to be prepared if… the unexpected happens.” I stared at Daphne in disbelief. The woman I assumed hated my – pardon me – guts, is warning me of possible death! I settled with a soft, “Thank you sincerely, my lady,” and watched Daphne smile as she swept away.
I am now lying in my bed, just about dropping off, so good-night, Diary…
Bonnie. xxx
Monday, 15th April, 1912.
Dear Diary,
I woke up to the sound of several screams and scurrying. Mary Louise came running in and I sat up in a dignified manner. “Mary Louise, what is going on?” Though I had a pretty good idea what was going on, as Daphne warned me yesterday.
“Oh, Miss, pack your things, wear as much as you can, the Titanic is sinking!” Mary Louise carried on frantically – “Women and children are to get into each lifeboat, and only five males per boat are allowed!” Mary Louise burst into tears and hurried out.
True to my word, I put on a thick velvet skirt, silk leggings, a blouse, a leather over-coat, a vest and a coat, as well as jamming on a woollen scarf, mittens and a hat. With my three slightly heavy trunks, I clambered to the boat deck where everyone was gathered. Men and boys were grey-faced, and the women were cradling crying children and pets. There were only two hundred life-boats to hold the two thousand guests, including the men, and were only aloud ten people per boats. That meant that only around five hundred men would survive as all the women did… I did not understand it.
I struggled over to Daphne, who was putting up an admirable fight to stay with Jamie. Tears were streaked down her picturesque face and Jamie’s face had a sad, grey pallor tinting it like the ghost of a dead person.
“I w-w-won’t go without J-Jamie!” screamed poor Daphne. “I won’t! P-p-p-please let him come w-w-with me! Please!” She collapsed on the floor, screaming and sobbing. The distant opposite side of the Titanic was dipped in the sea, but there was enough time for the women and a few men to survive.
“Lady Delacroix,” I murmured. “Lady Delacroix! Listen to me!” I shook the unfortunate woman gently, and looked up at the distressed Colonel Jules. “Colonel, will you please allow Jamie to come on the boat?” The Colonel looked doubtful, but suddenly, Daphne looked up, dragged herself over to the Colonel and cried hoarsely, “Please, Colonel! I-I-I will give you a-all my savings, every one of the crowns I owe! Please!” She broke down into sobs again, and the water was rising slowly. I moved quickly. “Colonel.” I pointed swiftly to the slowly rising water and Colonel Jules’s brow cleared. “Of course. Jamie, get in the boat. Now, quickly! Lady Delacroix, keep your money, as it will be a waste if you leave it with me.”
“Are you not coming?” I had asked.
“No.” There was a sad smile on the Colonel’s face. “If the Titanic goes down, then so do I.” They were sad but noble words, and I pulled the Colonel into a hug before muttering, “You are a waste to go down. But stay if you must, brave Captain.”
Now me, Jamie and Daphne are in a lifeboat. Daphne is sleeping on Jamie, and he is rocking her softly. I cannot help wishing that I have what they do, but perhaps I am better off by myself.
I see the Colonel, and I wave wildly, before he disappears under the waves with the Titanic…
I wipe a tear from my face and yawn. I will part with you, dearest to me, and come back tomorrow.
Bonnie. xxx
Tuesday, 16th April, 1912.
Dear Diary,
Three hours ago, a ship, the Carpathia, came, and all us life-boaters screamed and shrieked until the ship stopped. It is bright red, with yellow poles and rigging; a queer combination.
We all boarded and very-nearly emptied all our purses in thanks. I am sitting in a plain wooden room with a mirror, a wardrobe and a single bed in it, sipping some tea and slurping on soup.
If only the Titanic had made it!
Loving you always,
Bonnie. xxx
Wednesday, 17th April, 1912.
Dear Diary,
This morning I had crumpets for breakfast, pie and mash for lunch and slices of gammon with parsley sauce and boiled potatoes for tea. It was exceedingly nice, but I wish the Titanic was above the waves! I think of the people who died and my heart aches with sorrow, grief and guilt. It could have easily been me…
Daphne and Jamie paid me a visit in the afternoon. Daphne curtsied and murmured, “Thank you, Miss Bonnie, for allowing Jamie to come. He could have easily been the person sinking below the waves…” She shuddered, then handed me a fifty pound note. “Please take it with my thanks.” I had accepted the money with a few complaints, but by the time Daphne and Jamie left I had it stowed in my purse.
I will be forever grateful to Lady Delacroix. I believe she will be a wonderful friend, and I no longer feel a dull throb of anger as I gaze into those eyes as blue as my own.
Did I mention the fact that Lady Jemima, the Colonel’s wife, survived? She is sitting in my room, sipping on tea shakily. I empathize with her. If I had a loved one that died, I would be sobbing nonstop for a whole week. The good Lady Jemima is as brave and noble as her husband, but now she looks like the storm herself, her dark hair straggly, her kind eyes downcast, and her pale skin a ghostly white. Bags are under her eyes, which are only a little red, and I feel such a surge of protectiveness that I fight to keep my arms from being flung around her neck.
Lady Jemima has been switched to my room, and I have been feeding her sandwiches, salad, scones and tea for the past two days. I really feel for her.
My candle burns low, so good-night, Diary.
Love, Bonnie. xxx
Thursday, 18th April, 1912.
Dear Diary,
I succeeded in forcing some beans and bacon down Lady Jemima’s throat at breakfast, and at lunch she ate a considerably large amount of mash and salmon. She even finished a whole bowl of soup this supper! I feel like a mother encouraging her baby to eat these days.
The Carpathia is a lovely ship, though nothing compared to the Titanic, and well fuelled. We should arrive in America in another day or two.
Good-bye for now, dearest, as I feel tired and Lady Jemima is looking a little pale.
Love,
Bonnie. xxx
Friday, 19th April, 1912.
Dear Diary,
After Lady Jemima went to the deck for fresh air, I went to my drawer and pulled out a set of small, elegant hankies. There are six, embroidered with white, red and pink roses for my room-mate, as it is for Lady Jemima’s birthday. I made them myself.
I gave her the hankies and a slice of sponge when she came back. She mumbled, “Thank you, child, Lord bless you!” and pulled me into a hug. She handed me five crowns in return which I hesitatingly put in my purse and retired to my bed as she pulled on a coat and went out of the room again.
I am tired once again, Diary, as I fear I have a cold. It makes me tire at only half past eight, but I do not resist it in fear of the fact it might get worse. I keep wishing that the Titanic, with her navy poles and silvery rigging, had not sunk, but I cannot bring it back.
Goodnight, Diary!
Bonnie. xxx
Saturday, 20th April, 1912.
Dear Diary,
This morning I woke to see Lady Jemima bustling around, dusting the room, rosy-cheeked as bright-eyed. “Why, Lady Jemima!” I had cried, rising from my bed and pulling on a dressing gown. “Why on Earth are you up at this hour? It is half past seven!” And Lady Jemima (oh, my hand is shaking as I write this!) turned round and replied, her voice wobbling, “J-J-Jules survived!” Then she threw herself at me and burst into tears.
Oh, what a joy! It turns out that Colonel Jules had swum a mile after the Carpathia and was dragged on board. He was clutching a money box, a small case and – aww! - the pair of shoes Lady Jemima had once made for him!
He is now sitting on the deck, eating a large quantity of fried meats, melted cheese and fluffy white bread to restore his energy levels. Lady Jemima is baking a large apple pie for him, and I am staring across the Carpathia’s deck to Daphne and Jamie, who are gazing, love-struck, into one another’s eyes.
Why? I do not know what should come next. Just – why? Why me?
Bonnie. xxx
Sunday, 21st April, 1912.
Dear Diary,
We arrived at America this morning after bacon and eggs. We sailed over the deep blue sea like a bird on a hunt and landed next to the pier.
The lads jumped down on the wood and helped the ladies delicately climb down the plain oak steps to the pier. I managed myself, straightened up and gazed around at my surroundings.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” whispered Daphne. She was wearing a cream silk dress and a lacy bonnet, her silver ringlets curling out from underneath it prettily. Jamie was donning a white suit with a smart blue tie as he climbed down himself, a true picture of manliness, holding four trunks, puffing his red cheeks out, clumsily climbing down the stairs. The sight made me want to bark with laughter.
I myself was dressed in a dark green ruffled dress and matching bonnet, holding my cases in a dignified manner. “Indeed.” I nodded coquettishly at Daphne in reply.
We are not parting any time soon. She and Jamie are staying with me for a few years in my marble mansion in New York.
Everyone was swirling around us, so we hurried to a parked limousine (mine) driven by my driver, Ronald.
When we arrived, my Cook, Clara, whipped up sausage starter kebabs, a roast main and suet pudding afters. I showed Jamie and Daphne to their room, a royal red one that cost a pretty penny, and retired into my own powder-blue bedchamber.
My maid, Alyssa, who has now got company in Mary Louise, handed me a new silk nightdress and a fluffy nightgown.
Now I withdraw forever, Diary, as the main purpose for you was to retell my tale of the Great Titanic. It feels sad to let you go, but I feel that someday, when I open the parchment pages of you once again, the story will be of good use to me to remind me of the faithful times that once were.
So good-bye, Dearest, and I will see you later in my life. Maybe you will be passed down in a generation of my family? I hope so!
Loving you forever,
Bonnie Meadows. xxx
Author of Diary of the Titanic
And Survivor to it.
Epilogue
.
Greetings, fair Diary. It is me, Bonnie, and, as I said in my last Diary entry, I have come back. I am now 60 years old and live with Daphne and Jamie in my – hey ho – marble mansion.
I have not married, but Daphne and Jamie are as good companions as a husband. We each have a pet cat: Daphne’s white one is Snowflake, Jamie’s grey one is Silver and mine is a tabby with eyes as blue as my own. It would have been typical for it to be my namesake, Bonnie, but I have called him Dusky. It was the weather when the Titanic sunk; dusky evening.
Anyone who opens this Diary will think it is just memoirs of a teenage girl, fantasizing of being in the famous Titanic, but they are wrong. You hold real memories, real emotions, in your parchment pages that once braved the Titanic. Someday, I hope to get you published so people can experience the true terror and grief of the great ship that sunk.
I wish people to learn about the Titanic, even thought there are no pictures or photos of her. She is as clear as daylight in my mind, with her navy paint and crimson poles.
The loss of this colossal boat pains me, as I am sure it will pain whoever reads my experiences, but I must go properly now, Diary, so farewell.
May you and the Titanic always be in my mind.
Bonnie Juliet Meadows. xxx
194), age 10
Sharmin says: Amazing diary and also very realistic 
View all comments
