The Forgotten Home Child

by Genevieve Graham

  But what if Jack wanted to come visit her apartment, and he saw Billy? How on earth could she explain her little boy? It wasn’t as if she could hide him away: that would only compound the lies. She let out a quick breath, told herself she had time to figure this out. After all, Jack wasn’t about to come over to her apartment right away.

  Minutes later, he appeared at the end of the hallway. He came toward her with the same long stride she remembered, his uniform coat hanging off one broad shoulder. His hair had been slicked back, but now a thick black fringe hung over his brow.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested.

  They headed outside and turned up University Avenue, walking side by side through the fallen leaves. At first, they both faced straight ahead, not saying anything. Jack lit a cigarette, and Winny glanced sideways at him, wondering how to start the conversation. When she spotted him doing the same to her, they both looked away, and she understood. He was just as nervous as she was.

  “I don’t think I’ve gone a day without thinking of you and Mary,” he finally said.

  “Me neither. In the beginning I used to wake up hoping you’d come and find me,” she admitted. “As if you knew where I was. As if you had anything to say about any of it.”

  He hesitated. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

  “It got better for me eventually,” she told him, hoping to lighten the mood, though neither of them was fooled. She would have to talk about her experiences sooner or later. Just like the professor at her graduation had said: good or bad, they were a part of who she was now. “I love what I do here. And I have a nice apartment with Charlotte.”

  “Do I know Charlotte?”

  “Oh, that’s right. You never met her.” She told him about her friend from Barkingside then about their little place over the shop. She ached to tell him about Billy. About how much she loved the little boy. About how much he resembled his uncle.

  “It sounds like a good life.”

  She didn’t like this, walking and not seeing his expressions. “Can we stop in for a coffee somewhere? Do you have time?”

  “I think we’ll need more than coffee, don’t you, Winny?” His eyes locked on hers. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

  They stopped in at the first diner they saw. The place was small and too bright for Winny’s liking, but it was close and warm, and Jack found them a table at the back where they could talk. The waitress brought water and menus, but Winny was too nervous to think about what she might eat.

  “What’s the special?” Jack asked, setting the menu aside.

  “Meatloaf and mashed potatoes with peas.”

  He looked at Winny, and she nodded. “Okay, we’ll have two plates of that, please.”

  Winny watched as he lit another cigarette then leaned forward, and she swallowed her dread. She knew what was coming.

  “Winny, I need to know about Mary. What happened after they took us boys away that morning?”

  She faced the window, hating herself for what she had to say and even more for what she couldn’t say. “We were put on the train a couple of days after you left. We stood on the platform while people came to get us. Was that how it was for you?”

  “Yeah.” His hand rested on the table between them, a thread of white smoke rising like a ribbon from his cigarette. His eyes were like magnets.

  “A woman came for her.” She pictured Mistress Renfrew on that day, and her heart ached, just as it had when she’d watched Mary ride away. “I’ll never forget the sadness in her eyes when she looked at me from the back of that truck. Like she—”

  “There was nothing you could do, Winny.”

  “I know,” she whispered hoarsely. “I know that, but when I look back now, I still wish I could have done something. Anything. I still see her face.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “A few hours later, Mistress Adams came and took me away.”

  The waitress arrived at that moment and set the meatloaf in front of them. “Anything else?”

  “No, thanks,” Jack said. He stubbed his cigarette out in a heavy brass ashtray at the side of the table and waited for the waitress to leave before he said anything else. “I thought in the beginning that I’d gotten lucky.”

  “Did you? How?”

  “Because I wasn’t alone. I had Cecil and Edward with me. And Quinn. I don’t think you knew Quinn. He was quiet. Not that bright, you know? But a good lad. Worked hard, never lost his patience.”

  She felt an unexpected flare of resentment. “You were all together? At the same place?”

  “We shared a bunkhouse,” he said, cutting into the meatloaf. “Best part of the day was listening to the lads snore.”

  She hesitated. “I slept on the floor of a sheep barn.” The shame she felt was almost too much, as if she still carried the smell of the animals on her.

  He set down his fork. “By yourself? You didn’t have a bed?”

  “In the winter the sheep came in, and they kept me warm. And I got to go to school after a while, which I liked. That’s how I ended up at nursing school.”

  “We never did get to school before we left the farm.”

  “You left? You mean when you turned eighteen?”

  “No. We didn’t make it that long.” A frown touched his brow. “I guess you could say we ran away.”

  The thought baffled Winny. She’d never have found the courage to do that, no matter how many times she’d dreamed of it.

  “We didn’t have a choice.”

  He clenched his jaw against something in his memory. Wherever he had been, she could see the experience had scraped the softness away and left scars in its place.

  He caught her studying him. “What?”

  “Nothing. Go on. Tell me what happened.”

  He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Our master, Warren, he was a bad man. We got beat regularly. Look at him the wrong way and you wouldn’t eat for two days.” Jack picked at his meatloaf, then he told her about one winter night when the farmer’s daughters had come after them, keen on causing trouble. “We told them to get lost, because we knew we was gonna get beat just for them being there. They didn’t like that one bit, us telling them what to do. From the moment the one looked at me, I figured it was me that was gonna get it. But I didn’t.”

  He took a sip of his water then set the glass back down.

  “Who did?”

  “Quinn,” he said, his voice cracking. “Warren beat him and beat him, and—” She reached across the table, laying her hand on his arm. “A couple of days later me and the lads, we carried him away in the middle of the night, thinking maybe we could save him. We got to a house where a nice old couple took us in. We buried him a day later.”

  “Oh, Jack.” Winny ached to wrap her arms around him, to tell him it was all right, that it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing he could have done. As hard as it was to believe it, Winny knew that feeling all too well.

  “Edward and Cecil stayed there, but I couldn’t,” he said coldly. “I was restless and angry and needed to get away. I went looking for work, and for a while, everywhere I went I asked about you and Mary. But no one had seen you, and I reckon I gave up after a while. I couldn’t get a job either, because nobody wanted an Englishman anywhere near them. So I gave up on that, too. I started riding the rails, with nowhere to go and nothing to do. After losing everything, it seemed like a good place to maybe find myself again.”

  “Did it work?” she asked softly.

  “No. Me and the lads went overseas and got lost all over again.”

  She put her hand over her mouth, stunned to see the soft vulnerability of Billy’s eyes shining in Jack’s in that moment—but in a blink it was gone.

  “There’s nothing like it, you know. Killing men like that… it’s not human. I don’t think you can ever be the same after living through that. It’s…” He reached in his coat for a cigarette then held the pack out to her, questioning.

  “No, thanks,” she said, spellbound.
>
  “We didn’t mind the army much,” he said, striking a match. “Not after everything else we’d lived through, you know? Out there it wasn’t us always at the losing end. In the army, I wasn’t standing in front of a master, taking whatever he gave out whenever he felt like it. And I wasn’t that vile, diseased, pathetic Home Boy everyone loved to hate. I was just one of the battalion. I worked hard, and I needed that work to keep me going.”

  “And Cecil and Edward?” Winny asked.

  He shook his head then blew a stream of smoke out the side of his mouth. “Cecil died over there.”

  She caught her breath as Cecil, the funny, tough, near-brother rushed into her mind. How she and Mary had chastised him, laughed at his jokes, pretended to be angry with him. She remembered running through the market after him, trying to keep up as he cut around stalls and people. She tried to imagine Cecil dead and failed.

  What had happened to their little group?

  “Edward’s still out there. As far as I know, anyway.”

  She looked at her plate, but she’d lost her appetite. Even if she was hungry, it would be impossible to eat with so many words jammed in her throat.

  “I’m sorry, Winny,” he said, and she met his gaze. “I was going to wait to tell you, but it didn’t feel right to. It felt like a lie if I didn’t say something, and I’d never lie to you.”

  There it was.

  “I lied to you,” she said faintly.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not as brave as you. I don’t even know if I can tell you now.”

  He watched her through the smoke, his blue eyes sharp. “It’s Mary, isn’t it?”

  She closed her eyes. “I did find her, Jack, but she made me promise not to tell you. She said it would hurt you too much to know the truth.”

  “I need to know.”

  If she said nothing, she would be lying to him. What if she told him some of it, but not all? Just enough? If she kept the worst part to herself, was she still keeping her promise to Mary?

  “She had a terrible master, Jack,” she said slowly, thinking through what she could say. She knew he could see her cheeks burning, but she had to hope he thought that was just from being emotional. “It took me a while to find her, but when I did, I could see she was being beaten real bad. She tried to be tough. She talked about finding you all the time, about all of us running away together. I only got to see her a few times, but she was so happy when I did, and we’d sit for an hour, remembering, talking about better days.”

  “Where is she?”

  She looked up at the ceiling, as if Mary was there, and sent up a plea. She saw her bruised neck, her filthy hair, the exhaustion in her red eyes. She saw the desperation. And she saw Master Renfrew’s strap hanging by the door. She wished she’d never seen any of it. Forgive me, Mary.

  “She’s dead, Jack.”

  All the blood drained from his face. “What did they do to her?” His voice was hoarse.

  “Jack, it’s…” How could she tell him? “Do you really want to know?”

  “Of course!” he shouted, making her jump.

  He had caught everyone’s attention, and Winny felt the eyes of the other patrons on them.

  “Winny.”

  The only way she could tell him the facts was to make a direct statement, try to keep her grief out of it. She took a deep breath and, for better or worse, she decided to tell him only as much as he needed to know. That way it wasn’t truly a lie. She told herself she could live with the slight deception if it saved Jack the worst of the pain.

  “They kept her in a shed,” she said flatly. “During the day, she did her chores and took care of children. Her mistress set scraps out for her in the evening, but she never spoke to her. At night, her master went to her shed.” She hesitated for a heartbeat, then she said, “He beat her. For months, Jack. I don’t think I could have lasted as long as she did.”

  Jack’s stone facade gave way, cracking and crumbling. “Some bastard beat her to death?”

  It was a white lie, but it was easier than the truth. She didn’t say anything more. She didn’t need to.

  Jack shot to his feet, and Winny could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t see her anymore. Grabbing his coat, he whirled toward the exit and Winny watched helplessly through the window as he burst outside and disappeared into the night. Mary had been right. Telling him even part of the truth had torn him apart. And now Winny wondered if she’d ever see him again.

  thirty-one JACK

  Jack cracked his eyes open and shuddered with cold. His head throbbed, and whatever he’d drunk last night after he’d left Winny rolled in his empty stomach. The alley where he had curled into a miserable lump the night before was still dark. Like him, Toronto was only just waking up.

  He’d wondered for years where Mary was. Now he knew, and the truth would haunt him forever. Nothing could change the fact that he’d broken his promise to keep her safe, and now that she was gone, there was no way to make it up to her.

  He sat up slowly, wincing at the burn of his healing wound, and leaned against the cold brick wall. His stomach rumbled with hunger, and his mind returned to the abandoned meatloaf from last night. Bracing his hand against the wall, he eased onto his feet and set off toward the early morning sounds. Light poured onto the sidewalk from a large deli window, so he wandered in. He ordered a coffee and wrapped his hands around the steaming mug, trying to coax his mind out of the fog.

  The waitress arrived, pen and paper at the ready. “Can I get you something else? Bacon and eggs? Pancakes?” she asked. “The cook makes great pancakes.”

  “Bacon and eggs.”

  The food warmed him from the inside, and he started to see a little more clearly, but his fork trembled against the plate as he asked himself the same questions over and over. Who had he been, this monster with the brutal power to destroy his sister? Where was he now? Jack’s fist closed so tightly around his fork the metal bit into his hand. He barely noticed it. All he felt was the need to wrap his fingers around the man’s neck then squeeze without stopping.

  The only person who would know who the man was, was Winny. He finished the meal and paid the bill, then he swept out of the deli, headed toward the hospital. The nurse on duty was curt with him, eyeing his rumpled appearance with disdain, but she’d eventually told him Winny was due in an hour. He waited on the grass outside the front door, soaking in the rays of the rising sun, and as he watched people walk past he thought about the last time he’d seen Mary happy. She’d been with Edward, he remembered, her expression bright after he’d told her he liked her. A lifetime ago. He’d have to write to Edward, he thought, tell him what had happened. If he could even find him. If he was even alive. Jack still hadn’t heard back from him after his first letter. All he could do was hope his friend was just too busy to write.

  “Jack!”

  He jumped to his feet, spotting Winny. She was walking quickly toward him in a belted brown coat and gloves, her hair tamed by a ribbon. She looked like an angel.

  “Are you all right? Did you… where did you sleep?”

  He shrugged. It didn’t matter where he’d slept. “Listen, I’m sorry I walked out on you last night.”

  “I understand. You had a lot to think about.” She peeked at her wristwatch then reached for his hand. “Come with me. I have a little time before work.”

  She led him to a park with brass statues and pigeons, and they sat on a bench. She still held his hand, and he didn’t pull away. When he was with Winny, the fog cleared a little.

  “Are you all right?” she asked again.

  He hesitated. “I don’t reckon I’ll ever be able to say I’m all right again.”

  “Give it time.”

  That reminded him that she’d lived with this awful reality for years, and he was sorry for his tone. “When did it happen?”

  “Six years ago. 1937. Mary and I were sixteen.”

  Where was he in 1937? Somewhere on a train, hundreds of miles awa
y from helping his sister survive.

  “Who was her master?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He scowled. “Of course it matters. I’m going to kill him.”

  She believed him. He could see that. “He’s in jail.”

  It felt like a door had slammed in his face. How could he get vengeance for Mary if the man was already locked up? Jack pulled out his cigarettes, offered her one, then lit his own when she declined.

  “Will you stay, Jack?” Her voice was soft. The girl he’d taken care of, the woman he was just getting to know. One and the same.

  “I got nowhere else to go.”

  “After last night, I was afraid I’d lost you again.”

  He dropped his chin. “I should have stayed.”

  “When I lost you the first time…” She let her breath out slowly. “I was left with such a big hole in my heart. And I guess it was there for so long I forgot about it until yesterday. All of a sudden I felt like it was back, and I—”

  “I felt it too, Winny.” He swallowed. “You’re all I have left.”

  Those captivating eyes creased in their corners, and her smile filled his heart. She was the sunshine after his long, miserable night. He supposed he’d always loved her, but not in the sense that a man loves a woman. When they’d met she’d been a sad little street kid with eyes like a kitten’s, and she’d become a sort of second sister. A lot had happened to both of them since then, and he saw so much of it in the woman before him. She could still break hearts with those eyes of hers, but he saw a new intensity in their depths. She was stronger now. Her cheekbones had been sharp with hunger for so many years, but now their lines looked delicate rather than gaunt, and her skin was flushed with health. She was beautiful.

  She leaned closer, and he didn’t draw away when her gloved hand pressed lightly against his face. “Let me take care of you this time, Jack.”

  It was the simplest of requests and the greatest of gifts. He brought her fingers to his lips, and they held each other’s gaze for a moment.