My Beloved Son

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Joe?’ Lizzie’s face took on a brightness and she made an effort to pull herself up, saying, ‘Joe, here?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Lizzie. But listen. Will you do something for me?’

  ‘Anything, lass, anything in the world, you know that.’

  ‘Well now, listen to me, please. I don’t want him to know that Charles is his.’

  ‘You don’t want him…?’

  ‘Aunt Lizzie, he…he was shocked when he saw the child, and I don’t know if he’s really better or not. I don’t know if he’s just out for a time; I know nothing yet; and I’ve no idea what his reactions would be if he knew Charles was his. It might even knock him back to where he was before. You never know with Joe.’

  ‘But, girl, he should know he’s the…’

  ‘Aunt Lizzie.’ She took hold of the wrinkled hands. ‘I implore you; please do this for me, will you?’

  They looked deep into each other’s eyes for a moment; then Lizzie said, ‘It’ll be as you wish, girl; but I think you’re depriving him of something.’

  Maggie straightened her back, saying sadly now, ‘Perhaps you’re right, Aunt Lizzie. But he has no memory of what happened, and if he could recall any part of it he wouldn’t see me as the woman who lay beside him; in fact, I think now it would do more harm than good if he ever knew.’

  ‘Oh Maggie, my dear.’ Lizzie was stroking Maggie’s hand now. ‘You shouldn’t have to put up with all this. You’ve had enough on your plate all your life; you deserve some love and comfort.’

  ‘I’ve had love and comfort in you, all I ever wanted, and now I’ve got it in the child. I’m satisfied…I’m lucky. Now, now, now, now, don’t cry or you’ll have me at it. I’ll…I’ll send him up. But take things quietly. You will, won’t you?’

  Take things quietly. Lizzie smiled to herself. She’d soon be taking things quietly for a long, long time. She was surprised she hadn’t started on her journey before now, but she was glad she was to see Joe again before she went, because she liked the boy; in fact, she could say she loved him. If she’d had a son she would have wished for one like him …

  She hardly recognised him when he came into the room. She looked up at him as he held her hands and she said, ‘Why lad, you’re nothing but skin and bone. What have they been doing to you?’

  And Joe answering in the same vein said, ‘Keeping me on bare rations. I told them what you would say when you saw me.’

  ‘It’s good to see you, Joe.’

  ‘And you, Lizzie.’

  ‘Sit down, lad.’

  He pulled a chair up to the bedside and again took hold of her hands, and when she said, ‘How are you now?’ he answered, ‘Fine. Fine.’

  ‘All the tangles straightened out?’

  ‘Most of them.’

  ‘Well, you know, if you had confided in me when I told you to, you wouldn’t have had any more trouble.’

  ‘You’re likely right, Lizzie. Yes, you’re likely right.’ He smiled at her. Then leaning his face close towards hers, he said, ‘Do you know something, Lizzie? If I had confided in you the exact truth, you would have had me put away even before they did.’

  ‘As bad as that, lad?’

  ‘As bad as that.’

  ‘Well, they sorted it out for you, anyway.’

  ‘No, they didn’t, Lizzie.’ He gave a shaky laugh now. ‘When I was telling them the truth they thought it was my worst time; they put it down to delusions, traced it back to my childhood, even said I was afraid of being in the war; yet, you know, most of my time, all I’ve wanted to do was to get to the front line with a gun and shoot somebody.’

  ‘Oh—’ Lizzie turned her head away, the old quirk in her voice now as she said, ‘Don’t you tell me that; you want to get in the front line and shoot somebody. Never believe it.’

  ‘It’s true, Lizzie.’

  She brought her face to his fully again, saying, ‘It is, lad?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, the source must have been pretty bad.’

  ‘It was.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘Yes; yes, I do, but perhaps later on, that’s if you’re strong enough.’

  ‘I’m strong enough for anything. I lie here doing nothing, waited on hand and foot. By, if anybody deserves medals in this war, it’s that little one downstairs…What d’you think of the baby, Joe?’

  He paused and looked away before saying, ‘He seems a very bright little fellow. But…but I was surprised to see him there, Lizzie.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you were. But, you know, Maggie’s a very human human being. Perhaps you’ve never noticed that?’

  ‘Oh yes; yes, I have, Lizzie. But…but you see I never knew there was…anyone else.’ As the thought came into his mind he bent over her and wetted his lips before he spoke the next words softly, saying, ‘She…she wasn’t, well, I mean, she wasn’t ra…?’

  ‘Raped? No, no, Joe; nothing like that. As far as I can understand she did it off her own bat, very much off her own bat.’

  ‘Oh. Do…do you know who it was? I mean the father?’

  ‘Yes, Joe; yes I do.’

  ‘Corporal Billings?’

  ‘Corporal Billings? Him! Oh no, Joe. What in the name of God made you think of Billings? I haven’t met the bloke, but by what she says she hated his guts. No, it wasn’t Billings.’

  ‘But you do know who the father was?’

  ‘Yes, Joe; yes, I do know.’

  ‘Is…well, is he a decent fellow?’

  ‘One of the best, Joe. One of the best.’

  He rose from the chair now and, a stiffness in his voice, he said, ‘Then why doesn’t he marry her?’

  ‘Perhaps…perhaps he can’t, Joe. There’s a war on, as you know, and lots of things…’

  ‘Is he dead?’ The words were a whisper.

  Lizzie was about to say, ‘No, no; very much alive, Joe,’ but she changed her mind and what she said was after a moment’s hesitation: ‘There’s a doubt, and because of it, Joe, I want to ask you something. I would like you to promise me something.’

  As Maggie had extracted a promise from her a few minutes ago, she now waited for her answer, the answer from Joe, and it came as hers had done. ‘Anything, anything, Lizzie,’ he said.

  ‘Will you look after them both for a time until she finds her feet? When I’m gone they are going to need someone. She hasn’t anyone in the wide world: her father’s as dead to her as if he was in his grave; she has no-one to turn to; life’s going to be pretty lonely for her, pretty rough. Although she won’t be in need, money-wise, and she’ll have a roof over her head, that’s small compensation when you’re devoid of human company. And she’ll have the child to bring up. She’ll need someone, Joe. And somehow or other I was under the impression that you liked her a bit.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Lizzie, I like her. I like Maggie very much, in fact since…since my cousins went, and…and I was very fond of them, no-one has filled the gap but your two selves.’

  ‘So, you’ll do what I ask, Joe? Will you?’

  What could he say but, ‘Yes, yes, Lizzie. Don’t worry! I’ll do what you ask.’

  ‘Thanks Joe.’ Then on a gentle laugh she said, ‘She called the child Charles after my third husband, because Charlie was a good man. Charles Joseph LeMan; nice sound, hasn’t it?’

  ‘She’s named him Joseph?’

  ‘Yes. We thought about it, talked it over and asked ourselves, was there anyone we’d like him to be called after, and we thought of you.’

  ‘What about the father’s name?’

  ‘Oh.’ Lizzie, looking down towards the eiderdown, started picking at an imaginary thread as she said, ‘You had better ask her that yourself; but I’d leave it for a time, she’s touchy about these things. Now get yourself down and have something to eat, and tell her I could do with a nice strong cup of tea…laced.’

  ‘Oh, Lizzie.’ He put his fingers on her brow and stroked the white hair to the side now; and leaning over her, he
placed his lips on her cheek, then stood up and went slowly from the room.

  It was three nights later and Maggie was sitting close to Lizzie’s bedside. She knew that her heart was nearing the end of its long day’s work and at the thought her own heart was full to bursting, and she had a desire to give vent to it in a long lamenting cry like the fabled banshee’s. Yet Lizzie seemed calm, utterly at peace and still able to talk quietly, and she was talking now, softly between gasps for breath: ‘I’m going to tell you something and I want you to believe it as I believe it. He told me the cause of all his trouble: his mother. Last night, he talked and talked.’

  ‘Well…well, we guessed that, didn’t we? But rest now, Aunt Lizzie, rest now.’

  ‘No, no; I’m all right, girl, I’m all right. But I must tell you this: his mother is a murderess; she murdered three men and a woman all to gain a house and a title for him.’

  As Lizzie felt Maggie’s fingers tighten on hers she said, ‘It’s the truth, girl; that fellow’s as sane as me or you, and he told me the whole story from the beginning.’ And gradually Lizzie related to Maggie all that Joe had told her: about the affair of his mother and his uncle; of the manner in which the uncle and his fiancée were killed; of the violent deaths of his elder cousin and the groom. And she finished: ‘He told me how he found out. But now he seems a bit…well, a bit obsessed with where the gun is…I mean, where she hid it, somewhere in her room. And…and I believe him, Maggie, every word.’

  ‘Oh, Aunt Lizzie, no wonder…no wonder he went off his head.’

  ‘No wonder…And you believe him?’

  ‘Yes; yes, I saw his mother. Remember? She was terrified at the sight of him. Oh, how awful.’

  ‘Take care of him, Maggie, he needs looking after; I think in a way he’ll always need looking after. He’ll need a mother as much as he will a wife. And…and don’t worry, girl, it’ll all come right, you’ll see; it’ll all come right.’

  Never in this world, Aunt Lizzie, never in this world. Her mind said the words loudly but her lips remained unmoving.

  Five

  They buried Lizzie a fortnight later, and three weeks after this, Joe was finally discharged from the Air Force. Sitting in the kitchen facing Maggie, he said, ‘I’d like to stay, but…but there’s your reputation to think of.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Maggie closed her eyes, and he came back at her swiftly, saying, ‘Don’t say it like that; there was Lizzie before, the three of us made…’

  ‘Well, there’s three of us now.’ She pointed to the child strapped in his high chair. ‘And who cares anyway? If you are worried about those down at the camp…’

  ‘I’m not worried about those down at the camp.’ He had risen to his feet and, his voice harsh and strong now, belying his pale, thin features which were emphasised by the blackness of his hair, he said, ‘To hell with the camp and all in it!’

  ‘I second that, so what have you got to worry about? There’s only the Cuthberts at the farm; and as for them in Blakemere, why, they don’t know we’re alive up here. Even if they did, would it matter so much to you?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter to me at all what people say. And don’t twist my words. It’s you I’m thinking about; you don’t want any more—’ He stopped; he had been about to say scandal. But it did not constitute a scandal today to have an illegitimate child. Or did it? What did he really know about it? He was aware that the war had turned the morality issue topsy-turvy: what had been mainly the rich man’s prerogative and the licence of the soldier at war was now every man’s…and woman’s choice, if they wished to indulge themselves. He recalled Florrie Smith being sent away from the cottage. The fact that she was going to have a child had been a scandal, yet the scandal was created merely by the term ‘unfortunate’. And this set his mind recalling scenes, faint now as wisps of cloud, of entwined couples in the hayfield in the summer, of grunts and orders of ‘Get yourself away!’ from the stable loft in the winter, and of how fortunate many had been: Helen and Janet Smith…Janet Smith. He hadn’t thought of her in a long time. Thinking of her brought a curl to his lip; he couldn’t at the moment think why he disliked her; so much of the past had sunk deep into his mind. All he knew now was he didn’t want people to think badly of Maggie, and if he stayed here that’s what would happen. But he wanted to stay here; this had become home to him. And there was a way he would stay here, a legal way.

  But his whole body jerked with rejection at the idea.

  Noticing his agitation, Maggie said softly, ‘Don’t worry, Joe, please. I would like you to stay but if you don’t want to stay, well, that’s up to you.’

  ‘I want to stay, Maggie.’

  ‘You could go home and pick up the threads,’ she said. Yet even as she spoke her mind screamed at her: ‘Don’t push him.’ But when, instantly, he replied, ‘I couldn’t, Maggie, not yet, anyway,’ she drew in a deep breath, and, getting to her feet, said briskly, ‘Well, let’s say it’s settled.’ And she rose from the table, adding, ‘I’ll be glad of another pair of hands; that plot in the field is getting me down. I don’t know how the grass ever grew on it; it seems like solid rock. And then there’s him.’ She pointed to the child. ‘The little beggar’s one person’s work, and more…And stop grinning at me. Yes, I’m talking about you.’ She was leaning towards the child, and for answer he banged his spoon on the table.

  ‘Talk about cheek,’ she said, turning to Joe; ‘he knows every word I say and he doesn’t take a blind bit of notice.’ And now she turned back to the child again and, saying, ‘Oohoooh!’ cupped his small chin in her hands as if intent on squeezing it; then lifting him out of the chair, she said, ‘Come on, I’ll wash that mucky face of yours.’

  As Joe watched her carrying the child into the back kitchen he thought, she loves him, and again he wondered who the father might be. And he also wondered why he didn’t like the child. In a way he saw it as an intruder and this made him feel out of place. When there had been only Lizzie and Maggie and himself he had never felt like that; in fact, he had imagined that he, in some way, was Maggie’s main concern. How far could one delude oneself?

  His gaze fixed on the kitchen door, he told himself he’d better face up to the fact that she was letting him stay because she needed his help and in a way felt sorry for him, but that her main concern now was that child, and always would be.

  Six

  ‘At six twenty-five this evening, five German plenipotentiaries in the presence of Field Marshal Montgomery put their signatures to the surrender of the German Armies in the North.’

  ‘It’s over! Oh, Joe, it’s over.’ They were standing in front of the wireless, and they joined hands; then for a moment they fell against each other, laughing; at least, Maggie was, almost hysterically.

  ‘Oh, let’s drink to it. I’m going to get drunk tonight. I am, I am.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘Who’s being silly? Didn’t you hear? It’s over.’

  ‘Not quite; there’s still the Japanese to be sorted out.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll soon finish those off…Where’s that bottle? I said I was going to get drunk, but I doubt if there’s enough left in it to make me tiddly. By’—she turned round now and looked at Joe again—‘if Aunt Lizzie had been here, she would have had that cupboard stocked. It’s a pity I didn’t keep up her contacts. But still, there’s enough for a couple each.’

  She bent over now, arms outstretched towards her son, who had toddled into the room and, lifting him up, she held him above her head. He gurgled; then when she brought him to her breast, his arms about her neck, he looked over her shoulder and said, ‘Joe…Joe.’ And Joe, coming towards him, tickled his chin, which caused the child to wriggle in her arms. And she said, ‘Go on then. Go on,’ and she pushed him now towards Joe.

  Joe’s feelings towards the child had altered somewhat over the past months, because from the day he had settled in permanently the baby had insisted on holding his attention, even at times crying when he left the room. At fir
st Joe had found this embarrassing: the very fact that he had never held a child in his arms before made him awkward, and his attitude towards this particular child, which had made itself evident in the first weeks he was in the house, had one day brought the forthright enquiry from Maggie, ‘Don’t you like him?’

  Of course he liked him, he had lied; it was just that he wasn’t used to babies.

  And he had thought this explanation satisfied Maggie, but Maggie knew why he apparently didn’t like the child, and a tiny section of her mind gathered hope from it, even though, as her honesty told her, it was a weak hope.

  It would appear in the months following that the pattern of her life was set, and the residents of the two villages down below seemed to have accepted them without having to condone a scandal, having decided that the young man suffered from shellshock and had been sent to Madley camp for a rest. But it hadn’t worked and he had gone off his head for a while; now…well, he was still a sick young fellow.

  So did the kindly distort the truth in order to provide a moral excuse for the association of the couple living in what had been Mrs Robson’s cottage.

  But one morning, like an overcasting cloud penetrating a sunny sky, the postman brought two letters: one addressed to Maggie and one to Joe. Maggie read hers and looked at Joe. He was still reading his. Maggie said simply, ‘Mary says she’s going to be married,’ and Joe, raising his head here, said, ‘Yes, they are telling me that, too, and they are coming here.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My solicitors. They quote that if Mohammed won’t go to the mountain, then…’

  ‘Oh!’ She got to her feet. ‘When are they coming?’

  He looked at the letter again, then said, ‘This was written last Thursday, so it’ll be tomorrow, Wednesday. And there’s only Holden coming, as far as I can gather. He’s the younger partner.’

  ‘How young?’

  ‘Oh, in his fifties.’