"Don't go too far, Izzy! Stay where we can see you!" Father called from the beach.

"I know!"

I ventured a little closer to the water, my bare feet sinking into the sand and the remnants of the wave washing over my toes. Mother had decided it was far too cold for me to go swimming but after countless minutes of begging, she had relented into letting me dip my toes in the water. My boots and stockings had been deposited on the blanket that Mother and Father sat on and I was itching to get my feet wet.

Despite it being April, and still too cold to do much of anything at the seaside, Mother and Father had decided that we were to take a spontaneous trip south for a few days. We had been to the funfair, had several ice-creams and even managed to visit a travelling circus. Our days at the seaside were coming to an end and none of us wanted to leave without at least one trip to the beach itself. Trips to the seaside weren't the same without them.

The water lapped at my ankles as I walked a little further down the sand, holding the hem of my dress up a little so it wouldn't be splashed. I curled my toes against the sand and tried to ignore the icy-cold feeling of the water on my legs. Mother had been right about it being far too cold for swimming. When the water reached my calf, I stopped walking and just stood there, letting the waves knock against my bare legs as the sun beat down from above.

"Isabel! We need to go if we're going to make the train." Father's voice carried on the wind.

"Five more minutes?" I turned around to face them.

"I'm afraid not. You need to dry off."

"Your father's right, Izzy, we need to get going."

I huffed and slowly waded out of the water, kicking it up as I went and ignoring the spray that covered the bottom of my dress. Small stones and shells dug into my bottom of my feet as I made my way back up the beach to the blanket. Father handed me a small, white towel, gesturing for me to sit on the edge of the blanket to dry my legs and feet so I could put my stockings back on.

Once my legs and feet were dry, I slipped back into my stockings and put on my boots, lacing them as tight as I dare. I could still feel grains of sand rubbing the bottom of my feet and I knew I would be finding sand in shoes for weeks to come. Still, an impromptu trip to the seaside wasn't something to complain about.

When Mother was my age, it had been years since she had last even stepped foot outside of London, although she had never told me the reason why. Since then, she often decided that we were going on a train ride south even if it was the dead of winter and far too cold to be so close to the water. I once heard Father say that it was her way of reclaiming her lost child, but I never really understood what that meant. Mother never spoke much of her childhood.

Once I had laced my boots on, I helped Mother and Father pack up the blanket before we walked up the sand-covered slope to the walkway that led to the ice-cream shop and the fair. I stood on the edge of the walkway and looked down at the white sand on the beach and the waves as they crashed into the shoreline. The sunlight danced off the water in a way that mesmerized me and had since the first time I saw it. I could never get bored of that sight.

"Come on you," Father said. He placed a light hand on my shoulder and steered me away from the edge of the walkway.

"Do we have to go back now? I don't go back to school until next week and it's only Wednesday. We could stay here longer."

"I'm afraid not. I still have patients to see, both at the practice and the hospital."

"You know, you remind me of your cousin," Mother said, "he used to complain about leaving places. Mind you, he was three."

I frowned. "I am not acting like a three-year-old."

"Just a little."

"I'm old enough to get married," I countered.

"That is hardly a counter-argument, my dear." Father sighed. "Come now, we need to pack or we'll miss our train.

Father placed a light hand between my shoulder blades and gave me a slight push forward so I would move away from the edge of the walkway and back towards the Inn we were staying in. Even though we spent an awful lot of time near the seaside, Father hadn't wanted to purchase a property since we rarely visited the same beach twice and if we did, there could as long as a three-year gap in between the visits. Instead, we stayed in various Inn's and got to know the local people and those on holiday.

We reached the Inn and headed up the rickety, wooden stairs to our room. Since the Inn was relatively small with very few rooms, I had to share one with Mother and Father. They slept in the large bed in the centre of the room and I had a small cot off to one side that made me feel like a child. I grabbed my small leather suitcase from inside the wardrobe and started to fill it with the clothes and items I had not only bought with me but had gathered throughout our time away.

I started by folding up my dresses and my unmentionables, tucking them into the bottom of the suitcase so they wouldn't get crinkled. On top, I placed my copy of Frankenstein which I had bought with me along with the shells I had gathered from the sand. Father looked at me and pulled a face, no doubt concerned about the amount of sand I would be bringing back with me. He once suggested I was taking the beach back to London very slowly. He may not have been wrong, we'll be finding sand everywhere for weeks.

"Do you have everything?" Mother asked when I closed the latch on my suitcase and stood it up on its end.

"I think so," I said.

"The postcard?"

"Ah." I held up a finger and jogged over to the writing desk against the wall, just below the window. On top sat the postcard we bought when we first arrived. I like to buy one from wherever we visited. "Got it!"

"Are we ready to go?" Father holds onto his own suitcase in the doorway and does a glance around the room to make sure he hasn't left anything.

"Yes, I think we have everything."

"Excellent. The train will be leaving soon and I asked Marsh to meet us at the station before we left so he should be waiting for us.

The lady who ran the Inn bid us farewell when we passed her, with Father handing over the small key that allowed us to lock all our belongings away. We left the Inn and walked the short journey to the train station which was hidden amongst a collection of trees but the track ran along the seafront and would allow us to get one last look at the sea before we left for the city. On the way to the station, Father paused at a vendor to buy me a stick of rock to nibble on the train ride home.

We reached the station as the train pulled in, Father breathing a sigh of relief that we hadn't missed it and Mother tutting at his terrible timekeeping. She often had to remind him of appointments and the occasional meeting so he wouldn't be late for them. I found a rather detailed notebook in one of the drawers at her writing desk where she kept track of every important date. At least I knew where I got my forgetfulness from.

I gnawed on the end of the stick of rock after we settled into our compartment on the train. Train rides were always the dull part of travelling and Father would often give me something to do to keep me occupied so I didn't drive him up the wall. Sticks of rock were a rather common distraction; I couldn't talk if I was eating.

When the train pulled out of the station, I paused momentarily to look out the window and watch the countryside pull away. The green leaves merged as we picked up speed and I could feel the bumps underneath from the wheels hitting the track. I stared out of the window, watching the landscape change from the green trees and bushes to the ocean as it rolled by. People were standing on the beach, children running around in the water and building sandcastles. I wished we could have stayed forever.

"Did you have to do anything for school?" Father asked.

I shook my head. "Not as far as I can remember. I think Miss Reid wanted me to work on my needlepoint."

"Any ideas as to what you may stitch?" Mother looked up from her drawing.

"I thought I might do one of the frogs at the pond."

"Why a frog?"

"It would make a great cushion."

Mother laughed and turned her attention back to her drawing. I craned my neck to try and get a better look at it, but she kept it at such an angle that I could only see the edge of the paper. Many of the paintings in our house had been painted by her over the years including one of a butterfly that I have in my bedroom. I had even seen drawings she had done of Father but they were old now. Father, on the other hand, had no drawing skills whilst I sat somewhere in between them with one of my few skills being drawing frogs.

For the remainder of the train ride, I tried to see just what Mother had been drawing whilst gnawing on my stick of rock to try and make a dent but I hadn't even made it a quarter of the way through by the time the train had pulled into the station. I expected to be spending the next week or so trying to finish it, or at least until Mother forced me to get rid of it but I wanted to finish it before that happened.

We disembarked the train at the station and I followed Mother and Father through the station and out of the archway. Outside, Father managed to find Marsh standing amongst the crowd of people, his cap pulled over his eyes and he stood straight-backed beside the motor vehicle. Father had been unsure about owning a motor car until he discovered it was a far quicker mode of transportation which meant he could leave later for his trips to the hospital.

"Have you seen the news recently, sir?" Marsh asked as we trundled away from the station.

"Not quite. I decided to avoid the papers whilst we were away, I did overhear some discussions on the train, mind. Anything of note?"

"You might want to see for yourself, sir. It won't make for easy reading, mind."

Father turned around from the front seat to look at Mother who shook her head and gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. There had always been a rule for our trips away whereby neither Mother nor Father would so much as glance at the paper. Neither of them wanted the current events to ruin an otherwise happy family occasion. He never missed much when we were away, but this time it sounded as though he had missed something rather dramatic.

I continued to try and make some headway on my stick of rock for the entire ride home, noticing how Marsh drove a little faster than usual. We followed the road up to my Grandfather's house where we had been staying for the past two weeks. Grandfather had taken a White Star Liner to America just a few days ago. We had said goodbye to him when he left for Ireland and it had been the next day that Mother decided we were to go to the seaside. Father said we were to stay in the house until Grandfather returned.

When we reached the house, Father almost leapt from the car and made his way up the gravel to find out just what Marsh had been talking about. I followed him in, smiling at Mrs Smith, our housekeeper, who stood in the doorway; Grandfather had always kept a modest household.

"The paper is on the writing desk, sir," Mrs Smith said.

"Thank you."

"Perhaps we could have some tea, Esther? It has been a long journey," Mother said.

"Of course, I'll have one of the girls bring it up."

Mother smiled towards Mr Smith and we both followed Father into the parlour with Marsh bringing out suitcases from the car. Father had already sat on the wooden chair that sat in front of the desk. He had a paper on his lap, his eyes darting across the page and his lips pressed into a thin line. On the front page, I could see a photograph of a ship.

"What is it, Robert?" Mother asked, crossing the room to stand behind him.

"The White Star Liner that left Ireland the other day, the one Father was on, sunk, just off Canada. It hit an iceberg."

"I thought it was supposed to be unsinkable," I said.

Mother looked at me and then glanced back to Father. "Did you manage to get everyone off? For such a large ship, it must have had lifeboats."

"Not enough. According to this, there weren't enough boats to accommodate all the passengers. There are reports that the women and children were the priority for the boats."

"What does that mean? What of your father?" She placed a light hand on Father's shoulder.

"I don't know, Rosie. I really don't know." Father shook his head and gripped her hand back, lowering the paper onto his lap.

The stick of rock fell from my hand and hit the floor with a light thud. 

~~~

A/N - And we are back! I bet you guys thought you saw the last of me and this series when I wrapped up The Apprentice Girl all those months ago. To be honest so did I, but when inspiration struck, I couldn't help myself!

First chapter in and I want to hear all your thoughts! Predictions on future chapters and events? Thoughts on Isabel as a character? How do you feel about Robert and Rosie making a return?

Let me know, I'm so excited to hear from you all again!

Dedication - This chapter is dedicated to violetlilac10 who posted some really nice messages on my message board after they read the original series! Thank you so much!

First Published - May 11th, 2021