The Kicking Tree

by Trevor Stubbs

  “You, OK?” inquired Jalli.

  “Yeah. I don’t know what’s come over me. A month ago it would never have occurred to me to do that. I would have walked past thinking that it was nothing to do with me. I would have thought, if I had thought about it at all, that if they had an old weak case and too much to carry, that was up to them. It was their look out. But today I just went to help without thinking. It’s all to do with you, Jalli.”

  “And the One who brought us together,” added Jalli, “the man called you a ‘Godsend’.”

  “That’s just an expression. He didn’t really mean God sent me!”

  “But he might have done.”

  “Well, if my dad wants to see me, I might begin to believe that! Now, how do we get to Middleton?”

  “They asked a person who was waiting for a bus in City Square outside the station. She pointed in the direction of the Corn Exchange – down Boar Lane and Duncan Street.

  “You’ll need the number 3 or the number 10. I’m sure they both go to Middleton Park Circus.”

  Jalli and Jack went in the direction indicated. It was further than they had thought but after asking someone else to confirm they were going in the right direction, they found the Corn Exchange and a line of bus shelters. They were very soon sitting on a number 10 as it made its way south through Hunslet and Belle Isle. The driver told them when they got to Middleton Park Circus and they got off.

  Jack glanced at his watch. “I think we should find somewhere to stay first,” he said. “This isn’t a place with lots of hotels and things.” They walked back up the road to a parade of shops and checked out some of the ads in the windows. “Here’s a bed and breakfast place advertised. It’s in a street called Lovewell View.”

  “Is it far?” asked Jalli.

  “I don’t know.” He spotted a lady coming along the pavement and called, “Excuse me. Can you direct us to Lovewell View?”

  “Yes. It’s there. Just there on the left.”

  “Thanks. So it seems we’re nearly there,” said Jack. “Come on let’s see if we can find a room.”

  The house wasn’t a big one but the owner didn’t have anyone else staying at the time and she took Jack and Jalli in and showed them two very comfortable rooms, one with a single and one with a double bed. Jack insisted Jalli have the double bed and the bigger room. “You’re so old-fashioned,” smiled Jalli.

  “So! I can’t help it.”

  “Don’t try. I like it.” She kissed him.

  After they had settled themselves the landlady offered them a cup of tea and Jack explained they were looking for someone in Middleton and showed her the address they had.

  “The Throstles,” she sighed, “there are so many of them. Some of them were knocked down years ago. They’re all on the other side of Middleton Park Road, on the old estate, in that direction.” She pointed to the way they had come. “There is Throstle Street, Road, Lane, View and so on. Lots of them. Your best bet is to go down there and ask.”

  After they had finished their tea they set off back towards Middleton Park Circus to make some initial inquiries.

  “The pub,” said Jack, spotting the Middleton Arms, “someone there’ll tell us where to go.”

  They went into the bar. A group of fairly drunk men said something rude to Jalli but she decided just to ignore it. “We’re looking for…” Jack got out the address Marge had written down and showed it to the barmaid.

  “Pretty sure that’s one they knocked down. Hey George, you know the Throstles.”

  A middle-aged man with a kind face got up and came across with a smile. “Yeah. Let me look.” He took the paper. “No, that’s still there. I know this house. Who’re you looking for?”

  “Shaun Smith.”

  “Shaun! You are just like him. You have just his whole look. You aren’t his son are you?”

  Jack nodded. “You walk like him too. (When he’s sober that is, and that hasn’t been that often.) He’s moved though. Only tempor’y like, had to leave. But actually ‘e’s in Jimmy’s now.”

  “Jimmy’s?”

  “Yes. St James’ Hospital. ’e’s been there for about three weeks now. His liver. It’s pickled. But perhaps I should not have said it like that, you being ’is son. I’m sure they’ll mend him. Trouble was ’e just couldn’t stop. The beer had him by the… sorry lady!” acknowledging Jalli whom he judged looked like a person with some sensitivity to bad language. “Now take me. I’ve been on the wagon for five years. I just come in here for the company and the crisps. That right, Beth?” The barmaid signed her agreement. “When the doc. told me to knock it, I did. But Shaun, ’e just couldn’t do it.”

  “How do we get to St James’ Hospital?” asked Jalli.

  “Well, it’s a bit complicated. You have to go to the city centre and then find a bus… Look, why don’t I just take you? You’ll be late for visiting time if you go on the bus. I have my van outside – and as I told you I’m on the wagon.”

  “The wagon?” queried Jalli.

  “He doesn’t drink alcohol,” explained Jack, “so we’re safe with him driving.”

  “Safe as ’ouses. Ain’t I Beth? And besides Shaun’s my mate. Ought to have popped in meself to see him before now.”

  “Well. Thanks,” said Jack, “we’d be grateful to take you up on your offer.”

  “Where are you staying?” asked George. Jack told him that they had lodgings in Lovewell View.

  “If we go now, we can make the evening visiting. You’ll be back by half past eight. I’ll just ’phone the missus,” George explained that he had to, or she’d worry.

  15

  Jimmy’s turned out to be a huge hospital. Without George it would have taken ages to find the ward. But George headed in the right direction and soon they were at the nurses’ station.

  “Shaun Smith? Bay 6, bed 4,” directed the nurse, “are you friends?”

  “I’m his son.”

  “First I’ve heard of him having any relatives. He hasn’t told us he had a son.”

  “I haven’t seen him for a bit,” explained Jack. “We don’t live in Leeds.”

  Jack and Jalli made their way in the direction the nurse pointed them. They entered Bay 6 just as a weather-beaten man on the left was saying rather loudly, “Take your ruddy religion and get lost!”

  “But it is not too late to turn over a new leaf and face up to your past,” a rather flustered looking young curate was saying, “God will always accept a sinner who repents!”

  “Who says I’m a ruddy sinner? And who says there’s any bloody God anyway?”

  A gentleman in a bed facing him across the bay, perhaps feeling sorry for the young priest, perked up with, “Nice try vicar! But if you manage to convert him you’re doing well!” The curate moved across the ward and began speaking to him.

  Jalli was checking the numbers above the beds, but Jack had already decided his father was the weather-beaten man. There was a resemblance that made him shiver inside. “O God, help me to say the right thing,” he sighed under his breath.

  But it must have been audible because the man in bed 4 came out with, “Oh no! Another blooming member of the God squad!” as he looked directly at Jack and Jalli. “What the hell do you want?” Then he spotted George with them. “George! What the bleeding ’ell you doin’ ’ere? What’s this? A bloody deputation?”

  “Hello, Shaun. These ’ere young people were looking for ya. Dare say you’ll get a bit of shock, but I knew as soon as I saw ’im. He’s the spittin’ image of you.”

  “Of me. What do you mean?” Shaun studied Jack who stood looking a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. “Stone me! Couldn’t be could it? You’d be the right age. What’s your name lad?”

  “Jack, Jack Smith.”

  “Well. I never. So you come looking for your old dad, did you?” he said with a smile. Then added in a troubled tone… “What you come for? What’s up?”

  “I… I just wanted to meet my… my father. I just wanted to s
ee you.”

  “… and so you’ve found ’im,” Shaun said quietly. “Not quite as you expected, I suppose?” Shaun looked down at his feet beneath the covers, averting his eyes.

  “I… I didn’t know what to expect,” answered Jack.

  George, who had fetched some chairs, arranged them around the bed.

  “You sound bloody posh,” observed Shaun looking Jack up and down. “Your mother brought you up right, then?”

  “Yes,” answered Jack positively.

  “How is she? She’s OK ain’t she?” A note of alarm in his voice.

  “Oh, yes. Very well,” assured Jack. “Er… this is my girlfriend, Jalli.”

  “Pleased to meet you. You’re some’ut, ain’t you? Got good taste my lad. Eh?”

  “Pleased to meet you Mr. Smitt.”

  “Foreign too, eh? Where’d you find her then Jack? You left school?”

  “I’ve just finished school. I thought I would work with children.”

  “Good idea.”

  Jack leaned forward and touched his dad’s hand. “Jalli helped me to see that I needed to find you. I missed you without knowing. A boy should know his father… well, I should…”

  “Look lad. I wanted to keep in touch,” broke in Shaun, “… be a father to you and all that… but Matilda was so wild. Told me to disappear, forever… I don’t blame her. I didn’t mean to hurt her… Matilda told you about me drinking, no doubt?”

  “No, she didn’t. She just told me about you and… and… and another woman.”

  “Well. It was that. But the drink were the worst problem. She couldn’t stick it. Daphne took me in – in more than one way. I was proper took in. Then she dumped me. What did Matilda tell you about me?”

  “Nothing. She didn’t talk about you at all. That was the hardest part. I’m glad I’ve found you. I’m glad I came.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “We traced you from Newcastle. Your neighbours had your Middleton address, and then we met George here.”

  “You done a good thing George. Thanks for bringing ’im. You were too bloody right. You said life would bring some’ut worthwhile in the end. And now something good has turned up. Should ’a taken your advice and did what the doctor said!

  “Look lad, yer old dad is sick. I’ve been here three weeks and they can’t do much for me. Liver’s totally wrecked. And there’s too much else that is wrong for them to give me a new one – even if they could find one.” He looked at Jack anxiously and took hold of his hand. “I can tell you there hasn’t been a day gone by I haven’t thought about you. Often said one for you.”

  “You pray?” Jack said surprised.

  “Well, in me own way. Don’t get me wrong I’m not bloody religious! You are, ain’t you?”

  “No. Well, not really. Mum and me have nothing to do with church or anything. But recently…” he looked at Jalli.

  “Oh. I get it now. Should’a known. You look nice.” He turned to Jalli. “You look after him. Nothin’ too holy mind. You can be too ’eavenly to be any earthly good!”

  They spent the next half an hour talking about what Jack had done at school and how things were at home. And now how pleased Jack was to have finally met his father. “Tell your mother you found me,” said Shaun, “And tell her I never stopped lovin ’er… I’m not going to make it out of here, lad. You’ll come back again before… before I go? You will stop with your old dad…”

  “Of course. If you want me to.”

  “Now he’s found you Jack’s not going to leave,” assured Jalli, “he needs you.”

  Then, without warning, Shaun began to cough uncontrollably. A nurse came in.

  “OK, Shaun. Time to rest,” she said taking his pulse. “I won’t take them right away, I promise, but I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day.” Shaun nodded and tried to quiet his coughing.

  “I’ll be back, Dad!” assured Jack, tears in his eyes as the nurse calmed Shaun down and drew the curtains around him. When she emerged she took them to a visitors’ room.

  “He’s very sick,” she explained. “To be honest we do not expect him to live much longer. He’s being kept going on drugs. He never spoke to us about a son. How old are you?”

  “Eighteen. He hasn’t seen me since I was two,” clarified Jack, “I… Jalli… she helped me see that I must look for him.” Jalli put her arm around his shoulder.

  “Well, you’ve found him just in time,” said the nurse.

  Then Jack began to cry floods of tears, tears that had been there, damned up, for sixteen years. George felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t needed for this bit. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he announced.

  “OK,” said Jack, “I think we should all be going. We’ll come back tomorrow.” They inquired when the visiting times were the next day, and asked the nurse to tell Shaun they would be coming.

  *

  George took them back to Lovewell View. “Would you tell us your phone number?” asked Jalli, thinking it would be good to be able to contact George as he had been so helpful.

  “Glad to.” He wrote it down for them, the young people climbed out of the van and he drove off. Jalli remarked at what a kind man he was.

  *

  That evening Jack and Jalli sat and cuddled in silence. Oh, how she loved this boy, thought Jalli. And Jack was so aware of the firm, gentle soft arms around him. He was also conscious of Jalli just talking to her God like she so easily did. He didn’t mind.

  “He heard you praying when you went into the ward,” observed Jalli.

  Jack shook his head. “I didn’t. I never pray. Not like you.”

  “But you did. You asked God to help you say the right thing.”

  “Did I? I can’t remember. I must have done it unconsciously.”

  *

  The next day the ward sister took them aside before they went into the bay. “You see,” she explained, “the doctor has just been. We don’t think your father is going to live more than twenty-four hours. You can sit with him all night if you like.” They found Shaun sleeping. Jack spoke to him but he didn’t wake. He seemed peaceful enough and they just sat beside the bed. After half an hour a nurse came to them and said that a social-worker would like to see them. They went back into the little relatives’ room.

  “I wonder if you could give me a few details about yourselves. We have to check these things through you see.”

  “But he is my father, isn’t he?”

  “Well he is Shaun Smith. Now I do need to know your names, how you got here and where you came from, and some sort of ID if you have any.”

  “Well, of course.” Jack gave her his home address and phone number. “But Mum doesn’t know I’m here, or that I’ve found Dad yet. He wanted me to tell her.”

  “You’d better do that now, then,” advised the social-worker.

  Jack took out his phone. He had turned it off when he came into the hospital. The woman nodded her consent to his turning it on. The phone flashed up a text message.

  “From Mum,” he said. “She’s worried – as usual.” He rang back.

  “Yes, Mum. I’m in a hospital. No! Nothing’s happened to me! It’s Dad. I’ve found him here, in Leeds.”

  The call lasted for several minutes with Jack bringing his mother up to date. In the course of it, Matilda said, “Tell him, tell him, I’ve never really stopped loving him. I just hated the way he went on with the drink and everything. I can’t come. Not after all this time. Let him go in peace. You understand?” Jack assured her that he did. Jack then had to put Jalli on to reassure her she was still with him looking after him.

  The social-worker checked out Jack’s school library card and asked him if he knew his National Insurance number. They needed it for the records. Since he was the next of kin – the only relative if his mother and father were divorced.

  Then she turned to Jalli. She wanted to see her passport. The only ID Jalli had was in Wanulkish of course. How had she got into the country? The social-worker be
came really concerned when she heard that Jalli was only seventeen. The more they both tried to explain, the harder it became. In the end, the well-meaning social-worker explained, “I have to be frank with you miss. If you cannot answer my questions about how you got here, and you have no papers at all to show me you will be regarded as an illegal resident, and Jack here could be charged with harbouring one. In any case, without proper permission you will be forcibly repatriated and, as someone under age, you could be detained in an immigration hostel until that can be done safely. Under the circumstances I can only suggest you claim asylum.”

  “But I am not running away,” protested Jalli.

  “I will see that you get a lawyer, miss. In the meantime I will leave you here, but I must warn you not to go anywhere.”

  “I shall not leave Jack. Not with his father dying!” Jalli was indignant. But Jack saw the risk they were running.

  “Look Jalli. This lady is only doing her job. People are sneaking into Britain all the time. It will not help to argue. We’ll pray about it.” He squeezed her hand, and stopped her saying more. Jalli calmed down.

  “But it’s not right.”

  “No,” said Jack, “and so we needn’t worry about it. My dad’s dying. Can we go back to him now?” The social-worker nodded. As she left she spoke to the ward sister and Jack and Jalli sat quietly with his dad.

  Shaun didn’t say much more. He just held onto his son’s hand and muttered to tell Matilda he still loved her. And that he was sorry. And, “Tell that ruddy vicar I have said sorry to God, and I’ll put a good word in for him when I get there!”

  Jack rang his mum and heard her cry. Jack passed on his mum’s message. “Bloody good woman,” was all that Shaun said. “Yes,” agreed Jack, “better than I ever thought.”