Free Touched by Fire by Irene N.Watts Page B

months. I have seven younger brothers and sisters, so I’ve got lots of experience.”
    We are busy trying to accommodate not only ourselves, but our luggage. For once, I’m glad I’m not very tall. Itmeans there is room at the end of the bunk for my suitcase. Kolya’s feet would hang over the edge!
    Oh, how I miss everyone and wonder what they are doing at this moment.
Are Mama and Yuri still on the train or waiting at the station to catch one in the morning?
If Yuri had come with us, he would have had to sleep in a dormitory with the men, and Mama would have been worrying about him every single minute. Sometimes things do happen for the best. Who knows, in a year, with me helping to earn money and Devora older and stronger, we might all be together again.
    We try to squeeze our belongings under and on our bunks, leaving the passageway clear between the bunks. Once the single overhead bulb goes out, it would be easy to fall over anything left in the way.
    How lucky I am. There is a nail, hammered loosely in the wooden partition that separates our cabin from the one next door. I can hear every sound through the thin wall. I hang up my shawl and spare skirt. Rosie is desperately looking for a nail too, but hasn’t found one, so I offer to hang up her skirt over mine. I spread my shawl over my feet.
    A large figure looms in the doorway. A woman enters. I recognize her immediately. Her presence and demanding voice seem to take up whatever small space there is.
    “Good, you’ve got room in here. I need a bottom bunk. Do you mind taking the middle one opposite, so I can have yours?” the woman asks Anna.
What nerve!
    Eva answers quickly, “I’m afraid that is not possible. My sister is going to have a baby. This is the easiest bunk for her to climb in and out of. Please take your case off her bed.”
    The woman turns to Essie’s mother. “What about you then, missus?” Fanny hesitates.
Will she refuse?
I hope she does.
    Fanny searches for the right words. “Well, I would, but I’ve just settled the child,” she says. “I’m sure there is room farther on. I’m sorry.” Without another word, the woman leaves. I’m just telling the others how she treated me on the stairs and what a lucky escape we’ve had, when the last berth is taken. A woman, who reminds me of a school teacher I had when I was a little girl in Kiev, has come in. She terrified me, rapping my knuckles for the smallest fault.
    She is tall, thin, and stern looking. She says her name is Pearl Kurtz, and she is from Minsk, in Russia, where she kept house for her brother, with whom she is traveling.
Does she ever smile?
    “Where is the porthole?” she asks.
    Porthole – is there is a hole in the ship?
I don’t know what she’s talking about.
    She stares at our blank faces. “The window. I must have fresh air,” she says.
    “The windows are in second class, ma’am, this is steerage. Are you sure your ticket is for steerage?” Riva says, barely able to keep from laughing.
    Pearl takes no notice of her, picks up her pillow, sniffs, turns, and examines the mattress. Grudgingly, she says, “Better than nothing, I suppose. My idiot of a brother is going to work on a chicken farm in the Catskills. I’m forced to accompany him; there is no one else. I had better get used to hardship. This is a fool’s journey, I’m sure.” She starts to unpack, merely nodding her head in acknowledgment when we introduce ourselves. “I hope no one snores, I’m a poor sleeper,” Pearl announces. No one says anything.
    Rosie whispers, “Come outside. Let’s look for the washroom before the crowds gather.”
    Mama had reminded me that no towel would be provided. Mine is at the top of my bundle. We find the washroom along the corridor. There are only six toilets between hundreds of women, and each one is in the narrowest of cubicles. Rosie and I are so disgusted, we can barely look at each other.
    “An open trough and that high iron step – I’ve never used