January 2012 and Ioana’s parents were tired arrived they had arrived. It was a long journey from Romania to Belfast, but finally they had made it after two days on a bus, two journeys across water, and two days finding a place to stay.
The house may not have been much, but it was big enough and comfortable enough for two parents and an eight-year-old child. There was even a small yard at the back where the family could sit out if there was ever a day good enough to sit out in.
Ioana’s bedroom was just upstairs, on the left after the bathroom. This was the first time she had her own room. That it was small and what local people may have called poky, didn’t bother her at all.
Over the next few weeks Ioana’s room became a special place to her. It was the place she could go to be alone. The place where she could be herself and not be teased by the young boys and girls of the area. It was the place where she could be in her own world.
Ioana needed her own world. The world outside the front door was strange and unusual to her. The people spoke English, or so she had been told, but it didn’t seem to be the English she had learned back home. The streets were decorated with colourful murals that gave some colour to the otherwise dull world of the industrial city, but when she tried to find what they were about, she was either ignored, or worse, spoken to with words of such hatred that she realised she should never speak again unless spoken to.
It was easier for Ioana’s parents, her mother, Monica, got a job at a local hairdresser’s while her father, Razvan, was able to get plenty of work as a handyman repairing all kinds of things from cars to plumbing.
It was in this atmosphere that Ioana met Billy. Billy was a boy of around ten years old. He was a local lad, but unlike the others, he was friendly. Ioana first met Billy when she was walking home from school one day. Normally she was met by one of her parents, but on this particular day there had been a mix up and neither had met her.
Billy had appeared to her as if from nowhere. ‘Do you want to be friends?,’ he asked. ‘You and me, we can be friends, but don’t tell anyone.’
Ioana didn’t know what to say. She’d been told not to talk to strangers, and anyway, all the strangers that she had met had been awfully unfriendly, so she hadn’t really wanted to talk to them. But this one seemed all right.
‘I’m Billy. You’re not from round here, are you? What’s your name?’
Ioana was silent, still trying to work out the situation.
‘It’s all right, I won’t bite. Just want to be friends. You look like you need a friend.’
That was true. She did need a friend.
‘Ioana.’
‘That’s a strange name. Where are you from?’
Ioana introduced herself, explained the family story, how they had travelled from Romania looking for a better life, and had settled down here in Belfast.
‘That’s funny,’ said Billy, ‘people coming to Belfast for a better life. We’re always trying to move elsewhere to find a step up the ladder. That’s why we’re building that ship.’
Ioana’s parents were beginning to get worried about her. She had developed the habit of talking to herself and whenever they asked who she was speaking to, she would clam up and say nothing. Still it was not unusual for a girl if her age to have an imaginary friend, and that’s what they supposed it was.
After a few weeks Billy asked Ioana if he could introduce her to another friend of his. Ioana was reluctant, but finally agreed. His name was Tim, and was another local lad.
Billy made it clear that while it was important that no-one knew about Billy and Ioana, it was absolutely essential that having Tim around was known to not a soul, cross your heart and hope to die. Ioana said, ‘OK,’ but she couldn’t quite understand it.
Billy and Tim tried to explain.
‘We’re different, you see. We’re from different parts. Different sides of the street. We go to different schools, we attend different churches on Sunday.’
‘But I still don’t get it. Why does that mean you can’t be friends?’
‘Don’t worry Ioana, we don’t get it too. But in these parts the only thing that seems to matter is history and tradition and a lot of people seem to think we have a lot of reasons to hate each other. We just don’t get it.’
‘That’s why when the ship is ready we have plans, we’re going to be stowaways and make it to America.” explained Tim.
Ioana wasn’t sure about this plan. It didn’t seem too sensible to hide away on a ship for such a long voyage, it was bad enough when they had travelled by coach from across the continent, and then they weren’t hiding.
What was worse she didn’t want to lose the two friends she had. Yet she also understood that friendship wasn’t about standing in people’s way. She kept quiet, except to ask one thing.
‘What is the ship, anyway? When does it sail?’
When Ioana went home that night she decided that while she had promised not to tell anyone about Billy and Tim, her parents weren’t anyone.
‘Mum can I talk to you?,’ she asked.
Ioana explained everything to her mum and how the boys were going to leave on the Titanic the next day, April 2.
‘Ioana, is this some kind of April Fool’s Day joke?’
‘No mum, what are you talking about?’
‘The Titanic was built 100 years ago, it sailed from Belfast on April 2, 1912.’
Ioana and her mum studied the history of the Titanic that night. No-one by the name of Billy and Tim were listed anywhere as passengers, nor were any bodies matching their description identified.
