Elly fingered a shell in her jacket pocket as she laid out her argument. She had realized that it would take some convincing, but she hadn’t expected to fail. The same woman who’d told her what a fine mind she had for the sciences was now refusing to give her a recommendation. Elly squeezed the shell so hard between her fingers that it snapped.
Her advisor reminded her that the national healthcare system offered ample opportunities to promising young islanders with her training. Perhaps, her advisor said, she could recommend Elly for an advanced nursing course? But Elly was already walking out of the matron’s office. Elly had a dream to realize.
Walking home that evening, Elly told Covey about her plan.
“I need to go where they won’t force me to remain a nurse. I need to go back across the Atlantic, Covey. They’d take me in Canada.”
“Canada?” Covey said. “But how?”
“Maybe I don’t even need Canada. But I do need to leave here, if they won’t help me, and I need to find better wages or pay less money for lodgings. I need to save money and figure out how to get into another university.”
“But you’re supposed to stay. It’s part of our training agreement.”
“Yes. Which is why we need to get far away from here, and as quickly as possible.”
“We?”
“Yes, Coventina. We.” Elly stopped walking, blocked Covey’s path. “What are you doing here? Half the time, you don’t even sleep at night. You think I haven’t noticed? Why would you stay? We could change cities. It could be nice.”
There was a train they could take to another city, another cold city, yes, but on the sea, and Elly knew someone who knew someone else who could get them both clerical positions in a wealthy trading company.
“They trade with the islands,” Elly said. “There are people from the Caribbean there.” Her eyes were gleaming now. “You might meet a nice lad,” she said.
Covey was tired. She felt as though she’d had enough change for a while. But Elly was ready to go and where would Covey be without her? Elly was Covey’s friend. And because Elly was determined to take her true place in the world, Covey let herself be caught up in her dream. The two of them packed their bags and set out for Edinburgh. The train sped through an impossibly green countryside that lightened Covey’s mood. Covey told herself that it was the way to survive, to keep putting distance between her and her life before. To stop looking back, to think about Gibbs a little less every day.
Becoming Elly
At first, Covey remembered very little. The blare of a horn, the cry of metal wheels against the tracks, the tumbling, tumbling, tumbling.
When she came to, she grabbed the strap of her friend’s handbag, the first thing she was able to recognize through the cloud of dust and smoke. Much later, she would remember the screams, the smells, her body hurting everywhere, the burn of hot metal against her knees as she crawled, calling for Elly. Covey caught a glimpse of Elly’s arm and the watch that she had proudly purchased at the emporium. She grabbed hold of her friend’s arm. Elly, Elly! she cried. Then she saw the rest of Elly and the sight of her friend caused Covey to faint.
When Covey woke up, she was in the hospital with a tube in her arm and a pounding in her head. She could smell her own hair on the pillow, burnt oil and smoke mingling with the scents of cotton sheets and rubbing alcohol and the faint whiff of a bedpan. She saw Elly’s handbag, sitting on the chair near her hospital bed. Where was her own purse? Where was her hat?
She looked under her blanket. She was wearing a cotton gown. Where were her clothes? She had been carrying her mother’s wooden box in her jacket. She had stuffed it with pound notes and pushed it into a pocket that she’d sewn onto the lining of the jacket for the trip, touching the area around her waist periodically to feel for the bulk of the box. Covey swiveled her head further, despite the pain. There it was. The jacket was gone but someone had removed the box and placed it on a wheeled tray. She stretched out her hands, trying to reach it.
A nurse, seeing what she was doing, picked up the box and handed it to her. Covey put the box on her stomach and held it there, arms trembling.
“How are you doing there, Eleanor?” a nurse said.
“Covey,” said Covey.
The nurse frowned. “Pardon me?”
“Coventina,” Covey said. The nurse hurried away, then came back with a second woman.
“Coventina Brown?” they asked. Covey nodded. “Was Coventina your friend?” Covey opened her mouth to speak. “We’re so sorry, Eleanor.” They were shaking their heads. “Coventina didn’t make it. She didn’t survive the accident.” They meant Elly, didn’t they? Covey closed her mouth, its parched corners stung by the salt of her tears. She thought of her friend’s limp hand. Poor Elly. She felt a wave of nausea and leaned toward the edge of the bed.