by Mark Seaman
He took another step forward. “Indeed they are, Ruth, at least for now, but who knows where they might appear next?” He stared at me for a moment, a look of frustration descending over his face. “Look, I’m getting a little tired of this game we appear to be playing, you know full well what I am suggesting. But, just in case I haven’t made myself entirely clear let me spell it out for you one more time.”
A genuine sense of fear and panic gripped me.
“We both know that my wife is heavily pregnant at the moment and unfortunately unable to fulfil some of the more intimate duties that I might reasonably and traditionally expect from her, that much I have already made clear, yes?” I stood motionless not knowing how to respond. “I’ll presume from your silence that we understand each other thus far. Now, bearing in mind both our apparent desires to make life easier for Helen at this difficult time what I am proposing is that, for now at least, you take on those particular duties. Further, and as I intimated yesterday should you refuse to accede to this request then I am not sure your services here would continue to be viewed either as necessary or as vital as both you and Helen might perceive them to be. This of course would prove especially true should my wife’s earrings go missing and then you be found responsible for their disappearance. Sadly, this would result in us having little or no choice but to dispense with your services and allow the full weight of the law and associated authorities to deal with you.”
I stood motionless in utter disbelief as the detail of what he had just outlined sunk in. I was beyond anger, and spoke without thinking. “But as you said yourself what about the evidence? He moved towards me. I looked into his piercing dark brown eyes but could find no trace of reason or compassion within his gaze.
“The evidence, my dear young Ruth,” his words and delivery both rigid and deliberate, “and you can trust me on this, would be found amongst your personal belongings along with the monies you had already received from selling other valuable items missing from our home.”
I could hardly take in what I was hearing as tears of hate and despair began to run down my cheeks. Mr Taylor watched me cry for a moment assuming from my reaction he had made his point, then moving away slightly he took another cigarette from the box on his table. He turned to face me again, his voice and body language changing once more, almost chameleon like, becoming much softer and gentler in tone.
“Listen, my dear, I don’t particularly want to unleash such malice or unpleasantness on this house or its occupants. The resultant publicity for us as a family would be somewhat embarrassing I have to admit, but for you of course it would prove utterly devastating.” He paused to light his cigarette. “Even if Helen and I agreed not to press charges because of our deeply held sympathies for all you have experienced in the past and not wanting to see you go through further pain or, worse perhaps, serve a prison sentence, the truth would still remain that you would have to leave our employ. Sadly, neither of us would feel able to trust you any longer either with our belongings or, more especially, with the care of our beautiful daughter. Indeed, think for a moment of the effect such an outcome would have on young Elizabeth herself. It could possibly destroy her ability to trust anybody outside of her immediate family ever again, even at the most basic of levels. And I cannot even begin to imagine the heartbreak she would experience in seeing someone she had thought of so highly fail her in such a way.”
He drew on his cigarette allowing the nightmare scenario he had painted to take root in my mind. “Would you really want to carry the responsibility for such sadness on your shoulders, my dear, knowing you had scarred our daughter so badly?” He paused again. “Of course, no matter how painful a prospect that might appear to be, the truth is it can all still be avoided by you reconsidering your earlier outburst and offering one simple word of agreement in its place, yes.”
I stood there totally dumbstruck, unable to move and not knowing what to say or how to respond. Within those few short sentences he had threatened, not only, the future happiness of his own family, but had also failed me on every level as well. In an instant he had destroyed all the goodwill and trust established between us in the time I had been in working there. My mind raced as he moved towards his desk. I watched as he sat down and crossed his legs, leaning back in his chair and waiting to see how I would respond.
My thoughts went back to Birkenau and how we had been forced to face very real life and death decisions every day. Even though my life wasn’t being threatened in the same way now the scenario and outcome, whichever choice I made, was no less devastating. After a few moments he broke the silence.
“Your appetite for confrontation appears to have dissipated a little, Ruth. Am I to assume you are willing to put Elizabeth and my wife’s happiness and well being above your own?” His words, whilst wholly offensive in their delivery and intent, made me realise that I had little, if any choice. My earlier objective of denying him his victory lay in ruins on the study floor. If I said no I would lose my job and potentially the ability to find any similar work for some period of time, if ever. I could even face criminal proceedings, with the chances of success in any legal appeal I might try to initiate against a man of such standing in the community as Mr Taylor being limited in the extreme. But above all of that my real concern was in knowing the greatest misery experienced in this whole sorry affair would not be that intended to harm me but more the pain levied upon the two people I cared most about, and had even come to love in a way. I asked myself again, how could a man so readily threaten the future happiness of an entire family for the sake of his own selfish desires?
The ultimate question for me became not so much about the physical act of agreeing to Mr Taylor’s demands but more about my ability to live with the self loathing that I knew would accompany such a decision. I stood in silent prayer for a moment asking for some form of divine guidance, but my mind was so confused I could barely remember my own name let alone absorb any spiritual wisdom that might have been extended to me. I suddenly remembered what Sarah had said to during some of the darkest days we spent together in Birkenau. “Do what you need to do to survive.” Whilst I recognised the circumstances she had been alluding to where very different from those facing me now, the awful consequences of my agreeing to such degradation appeared no less threatening as I stood watching my tormentor smile knowingly at me from behind his desk. Suddenly his voice interrupted my thoughts and I was jolted back to the present.
“Well my dear?”
I tried to muster as much dignity and defiance into my limp reply as I could. “It appears you leave me little choice.”
“There is always a choice, Ruth, it’s just a matter of making the right one.” He put out his cigarette and leant forward placing his hands on the desk in front of him. “Can I assume therefore that you have made that right choice, for all concerned?”
My eyes filled again as I nodded meekly towards him, the fight suddenly draining from me.
“Well done, I’m sure in the longer term you won’t regret it.” He rose from his chair and approached me, his voice and manner more relaxed. “You can think of the small rise in your pay that we spoke of yesterday as part payment for additional services rendered if you like. Although, for the reasons I have already outlined that particular detail must remain between the two of us.”
I felt a tear run down my cheek as he spoke.
“Now you run along and wipe those tears from your pretty face. After all we don’t want anyone to think there is any animosity between us do we, especially as we are about to become even closer, so to speak.” He lifted a finger to my face as if to halt my tears. I felt my body shudder and recoil in disgust at his touch and glanced up as he smiled at me again. It was a smile of self satisfied control and dominance and one I had seen many times before in Birkenau after a German guard had inflicted some unwarranted pain or punishment on one of the prisoners. Mr Taylor appeared completely unmoved or fazed by what had just
taken place between us. It was as though he had just completed another successful trade agreement at the bank and I had become simply one more business acquisition.
“I’ll talk to you later about when we might get together, Ruth, but for now you can go back to your other duties.” I felt my head drop in defeat as I berated myself internally over what I had just agreed to. But what choice did I have, especially if I wanted to retain a roof over my head, have food in my stomach and continue to care for the little girl I was employed to watch over and protect. Elizabeth and her safe-keeping had always been my priority, but from now on my desire to protect her would be driven by a fresh zeal and single-minded determination burning within me; from now on I would be protecting her from her own father. My feet, like my entire body, felt leaden as I trudged slowly out of the room. I closed the study door and as I did so I became aware of a new one opening before me, but where would it lead? All I knew for certain was that whatever the destination it would not prove to be a happy one.
Nineteen
I spent some time alone today thinking about the questions Ruth might ask me questions about Jenny and myself growing up with James and Carol. How much was I prepared to tell her; how much was I willing to reveal about the life I had come to know and love without her?
I got some old photo albums out to remind me of certain times and events in Jenny’s life; ones that had proved to be those landmark occasions that stay with you over the years as you watch your children grow. I laughed as I remembered how many times I had told Dad off in the past for taking so many pictures of Jenny when she was younger, but was now suddenly grateful for. I think if I’m honest, my real reason for looking through those albums was to be able to taunt Ruth.
“See what you missed out on, these are the special times in your granddaughter’s life that you weren’t a part of. And that’s your fault, you have no-one to blame but yourself because you didn’t want me or love me enough to keep me.” I know that sounds spiteful, but sometimes that’s the way I feel about how she treated me, although I would never verbalise any of those thoughts to Jenny of course. Like most parents I do the exact opposite and encourage her to be nice to the people who have hurt her, to turn the other cheek so to speak. It’s different of course when it affects you personally, but I am trying to be more positive in how I think about Ruth. That said I still don’t find it easy to be generous in my attitude towards her. I suppose a psychologist would tell me I’m only hurting myself by holding onto the anger and resentment built up over the years about how I feel she treated me. They would no doubt say she had moved on with her life and rarely, if ever, thought about me or what had happened, although I can’t really believe that. If it were true though, then far from letting my pain and resentment go, I would hold it all the more tightly, asking what sort of woman could have a baby and then not only give it away but choose to forget about it altogether. At other times I accept these are just my own irrational thoughts, and perhaps like me she has spent these past twenty eight years wondering how different life might have been for both of us had she kept me and brought me up as her own daughter?
As I looked through the pictures in the album I came across some from the first holiday the three of us took Jenny on as a family. She was nearly two and we went to a fishing village in Cornwall called Gorran Haven. It had a small sandy beach where we rented a house overlooking the harbour. We spent a lovely week there and Dad especially enjoyed looking in the rock pools with Jenny for crabs, shrimps and the like. I well remember the first discovery they made together. Jenny came running across the sand back to Mum and I utterly beside herself with excitement.
“Cab cab,” she yelled as Dad dutifully followed behind carrying Jenny’s little yellow bucket containing their precious find.
“I don’t remember ordering a taxi,” Mum said as Dad arrived panting and out of breath, trying not to spill the contents of the bucket on the ground, as he chased Jenny across the beach.
“She’s telling you we’ve found a crab, you silly woman,” he spluttered.
“Really,” Mum replied, the two of us laughing. “We would never have guessed.” By this time Jenny was jumping up and down in elated animation, her arms and legs flailing about in similar fashion to the poor crab as it made a vain attempt to escape its yellow prison. Jenny squealed with delight as she pointed excitedly at their find. “Mummy cab.” As Dad placed the bucket on the blanket Jenny decided to prove to us the crab was still alive by kicking the bright yellow container with her little foot in an effort to make the terrified creature move away from the piece of seaweed it was currently seeking shelter beneath. As she did so the entire contents spilled out, causing Mum and I to jump up and scream as the crab raced sideways across the blanket towards us. Poor Jenny became immediately distraught at the apparent loss of her beloved “cab” with her squeals of delight turning in an instant to tears and distress.
“Mummy cab, get cab,” she cried as the small animal dashed from side to side on the blanket in its efforts to find somewhere to hide.
“Mummy loves you very much, Jenny, but not quite enough to pick that up.” I pointed at the now seemingly demented crab as it ran towards my sun hat. Mum, keeping a watchful eye on the tiny crustacean reached out to comfort Jenny with one hand and gripped Dad’s arm with the other.
“Granny feels the same way as Mummy I’m afraid, darling. This is a job for Granddad.” Dad, wondering what all the fuss was about, reached down and picked up the crab and placed it back in the now empty bucket.
“Come on, Jenny, let’s go and put some more water in here for the crab to play in while silly Mummy and Granny tidy up the mess they’ve made.”
“The mess we’ve made?”
“Oh so now as well as upsetting my granddaughter with your hysterics the two of you are going to blame her for this little accident as well are you?” He folded his arms in mock disgust at our protest and looked down at Jenny.
“I think when we get back we will both need an ice cream by way of an apology as well if that’s all right with you, Granny?” Dad winked at Mum and taking the bucket in one hand and Jenny in the other turned away and headed back towards the sea.
Mum and I laughed as we watched the two of them walk away blissfully happy in each other’s company and with their precious find safely ensconced once more in its brightly coloured temporary home.
It was a wonderful holiday and one that only served to cement the love and devotion already established between us.
As I sorted through the photographs of the four of us I realised how much I had come to depend on Mum and Dad over the years. This was born out, not only, through the love and care they had shown me personally but also in the support and concern they had displayed towards Jenny as her grandparents. Now, as a mother myself I could truly appreciate the cost of parenthood and not only in financial terms. To be accountable for the nurture and upbringing of another human being is a truly life-changing responsibility for any parent and for James and Carol it must have placed even greater demands on them at times. They had already experienced the trauma of being told they couldn’t have children of their own and, having battled through that terrible period of sadness together, then decided bravely to adopt me as their daughter. When two people choose to create a new life they have traditionally thought about it long and hard before they actually come together as a couple, and once that baby makes its entrance into the world there is an instant bond of love that manifests itself between the parent and child. I know that to be true because from the moment Jenny left my body we became as one all over again. A chord of affection formed between us a thousand times stronger than the physical one that had connected the two of us in the previous nine months she had spent growing inside of me. When I thought about the actual process Mum and Dad had gone through in choosing me to be their daughter, especially after losing a little girl of their own, I realised how deep their feelings towards me must have been and how mu
ch I had come to mean to them across the years we had been together. Theirs had truly proved to be a sacrificial love in every sense of the word. They had fought against every possible human emotion when laying aside their absolute and unspeakable grief in not being able to bring a child of their own into the world and then going on to choose someone else’s baby to pour out their hearts and love into accepting as they must, that no matter how close they might become to this child, it would never, and could never, be of their own flesh.
As I pondered this gift of unconditional love and security that had been poured out so freely on me by these two wonderful people I wondered again if I was doing the right thing in agreeing, at least in principle, to meet with Ruth? She may have given birth to me but for all intents and purposes had, in letting me go, lost me forever just as Mum and Dad had their own baby girl. The difference being of course that Carol and James had lost their child because of an unfair act of nature and through no fault of their own, whilst Ruth had, in all likelihood, made the conscious decision to remove me from her life.
What had happened all those years ago that had caused her to let me go, presumably in the knowledge that we might never see each other again? No matter how often I wrestled with my thoughts I knew ultimately I did need to talk to her if only to lay to rest once and for all these seemingly endless scenarios that forever tormented my mind. At least I was secure now in the knowledge that Dad and Mum were happy for me to meet with her. The only question now remaining was could I actually go through with it? Did I really want to know this truth, a truth that might throw my life into turmoil all over again or, just perhaps, quiet my heart and its doubts forever?
Dad put it best one day when I was struggling with these reservations yet again. “You’ll never know if you don’t talk to her, Mary, and ask her what happened. And if you don’t then I think, in the years ahead, that the not knowing will prove to be the greater regret to you.” I knew he was right.
