April 10th, 1912. (10:15 AM)

Nicholas sat on a bench in a peaceful green park away from the crowded Southampton streets, his eyes wide with anticipation as his trip on the Titanic loomed before him, a giant of steel about to carry dreams across the ocean. He nervously tapped his foot on the grass beneath him. Nicholas Goodwin was born in 1895, just five years before the turn of the century, during a time of consistent change and development.  When he was just six years old, President McKinley was assassinated in america in an event which would change america. Yet, here in England, they felt no actual ripple; for the young six-year-old, Nicholas was more bothered about his books than he was about the goings on in the world around him. Now, he was seventeen and paid more attention to the world. For example, it seemed that man would soon conquer the skies as they had the seas, for only nine years ago, the first flight had taken to the skies. So much was changing, and it was hard for the young teen to keep up.

Nichola’s father was Arthur Goodwin, born in 1863 in a growing Yorkshire town called Wakefield that the second Industrial Revolution would soon grip. From a young age, Nicholas’s father had worked as a shopkeeper. A job he would keep for many years. His mother was Mary Sinclair, who was descended from an Irish family. Her grandfather had moved to Yorkshire when he was 24. She was born in 1869. Her future was uncertain, but she eventually took up work as a school tutor. She met Nichola’s father in 1888, and he married just one year later. Soon after came the children. Mary, Edward, George, Elizabeth and then Nicholas himself. He was the youngest of the Goodwin family and the most protected. He always had his brothers to protect him when he was younger, especially since he felt more introverted than the rest. Rumours that dared to surface about him were always squashed rather quickly.

Growing up, Nicholas appeared closed off, struggling to find friends or connect with many people. His family feared for his future. Yet, growing from childhood to teenagehood, he became more outgoing in certain areas. He became rather fond of politics and history, often stealing his father's newspapers to read, which usually led to discipline, though deep down, he did not mind the scolding, for he still got to read the newspaper. One thing was sure: Nicholas never felt distant from his family, nor did he feel pressure from his parents, though his claims that he would become a Lawyer amused the family immensely. As he entered school, Nicholas soon found he was expected to help his father in the family shop. Something he endeavoured to do with great effort.

Ever since he was born, he had lived in the same town in the same home. He remembered the house vividly. It had a facade of red brick accented by lighter sandstone around the windows and doors. Inside, the family had three decent-sized bedrooms, which, because of the size of the family, always gave off a warm, inviting ambience, with bay windows letting in the morning sun that rose across the dales. The heart of the home, however, was the parlour, which featured a brick fireplace where the family would gather in the evening. Adjacent to the pallor was the kitchen, which always seemed alive with some activity; recently, they installed a gas stove, so long gone were the days of cutting wood to feed the flames. Out the back was his mother's pride and joy; the garden was surrounded by fragrant flowers and a small vegetable patch. Nicholas loved this home and hoped to live in it forever, but that was not the case.

An opportunity arose in America, a distant land Nicholas knew very little about. His father had been offered a job in a larger company by a man Nicholas only knew as Hershey. Nicholas, however, was not as thrilled as the rest of his family. The thought of leaving behind everything he knew for a new foreign land so far away filled him with a mix of anxiety and uncertainty. The family would move, and that move was brought forward when it was discovered his mother was once more pregnant with another child.  Faced with the reality of bringing up a child in a home that was losing space, the choice was made for them. Their time spent sitting by the fire at night reading in England was soon over. It was not all doom and gloom for the young Nicholas, though, as essential exams loomed for him. After much debate, his father agreed to let him stay behind with his aunt to attend his exams and join them in New York afterwards. So, when the family departed on Lusitania, Nicholas was not with them. Instead, he was with his aunt.

And that’s where Nicholas sat with his aunt, watching others in the park scuttle about; a woman even had a pet pig. He loved his aunt dearly, a plump middle-aged woman vastly different from his mother. She was an out and proud suffragette and a stay-at-home mother of two. She had done her best to accommodate Nicholas during his exams and had even taken the time to travel down to Southampton with him to see him off. “Don’t worry yourself, Nicholas”, she said with that warm smile, her cheeks as red as the pies she would typically make. The weather was not bitterly cold, but it was not warm either. He wondered if she could sense how he felt or if maybe it was the foot tapping, but he could not quite tell. “What if something goes wrong or I do something wrong?” he asked, genuinely worried that he might mess something up on such a grand ship. She reached over and rubbed his hair as she responded, “Don’t worry, Nicholas, you will be perfectly fine; she’s the safest ship ever to sail”. Maybe she was right, but he still felt a deep, unsettling fear.

He took a deep breath before glancing at the park; its evergreen grass was refreshing. He took it all in as he realised it would be the last time he would see grass for some time. As if she had once again peered into his mind, his aunt said, "Well, Nicholas, we should head to the dockside; we don't want you to be late now, do we?". Nicholas nodded, having no words to use to respond. Instead, he stood up, grabbed his bags with one hand, and used his other to help his aunt. As they departed the park, he looked at the trees that swayed in the breeze one last time before they departed. The walk down to the dockside was uneventful; small talk was exchanged, but Nicholas felt a pit opening in his stomach, making him think profoundly sick. They saw all sorts of sights as they walked through the port town. Bakers laying out fresh goods, kids kissing their parents goodbye as they headed off, and here and their passengers were scattered, slowly drifting towards the ship. The scents and sounds keeping Nicholas calm were indeed a sight to behold.

The pair of them stopped on the dockside as Nicholas looked up. And there she was. Titanic, looming like a mountain of iron and steel before him. He felt the pit opening wider, his heart beating faster with excitement and awe. The sheer size of the magnificent vessel dwarfed everyone on the dockside. "It's like a floating palace," he exclaimed as his eyes peered toward the funnels that seemed to touch the clouds above them. "It's a palace that will be your home for the next few days", his aunt pointed out as he gulped. The ship's black and white Hull stretched almost beyond the limits of his visions. The Hull was lined with countless portholes that sparkled like Jewells in the morning sun. Decks were stacked high, one upon the other, grand and imposing like one Giant Cake. The air was thick with the smell of the sea, coal, and excitement as his aunt turned to him. "Well, Nicholas, this is where I will leave you. Stay safe," his aunt said as she fixed his bowtie. He smiled at her and nodded before responding. "I promise I will try". He turned and headed toward the dock.

He stopped just before checking in, turned and waved goodbye to his aunt. He then fumbled for the ticket in his pocket. Panic flashed through him for a second as he struggled to find it. Fears of not getting onto the ship raged in his mind. Had he dropped it in the park? Maybe he left it back in Yorkshire; had it been stolen? The moment he found it, a wave of relief washed over him, so immense that it threatened to engulf him. He could not fathom the consequences if he had misplaced it and not made it onto the ship.   Nicholas clutched the handle of his worn suitcase tightly as he slowly approached the check-in line. All Around him, the air was alive with chatter of goodbyes and promises of seeing each other soon.  It would be the last time Nicholas would see his dearest England. The looming figure of the Titanic stood majestically in the background, its grandeur shining in the glow of the morning sun.

"Ticket, please," a uniformed officer requested, his voice booming over the area. Nicholas fumbled slightly as he handed over the crisp paper that served as his ticket to a new beginning and a return to his home. The officer scrutinised it briefly, his gaze lingering on the details. A fear returned in Nicholas, his heart skipping a beat before the man stamped it and returned it with a nod. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Goodwin. The second class is up the gangway, then to your left. Enjoy your voyage." Nicholas breathed a deep sigh of relief, his tense shoulders relaxing as he nodded and stepped forward.  Heart pounding, Nicholas followed the officer's directions, moving toward the gangway that bridged the gap between solid ground and the ship. He looked at Southampton, England and dry land before stepping onto the ship.  Soon after stepping onto the Titanic, he was overwhelmed by its luxury. Every surface gleamed with a polished sheen, and the air was filled with the scent of luxury. Polished brass rails shone under the soft light of electric bulbs, and the air was filled with fresh paint and varnished wood.

Once inside his modest but comfortable room, Nicholas set down his suitcase and let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. He was here now; he had made it through the docking process and had yet to do anything stupid. He sat down on his bed and took deep breaths. The soft hum of the ship's engines began to stir, a gentle reminder that his journey was about to begin. As the Titanic prepared to pull away from the harbour and head for France, Nicholas felt a finality in his decision, a weight that settled on his shoulders. There was no going back now.