She rushed into Charlotte’s room. “What’s happened?”
“I got a letter,” Charlotte sniffed, her face bright red and wet with tears.
“Who is it from?”
“Barnardo’s.” She took a shaky breath then held out the paper. It trembled like a blade of grass in the breeze. “Winny, my mother isn’t dead.”
thirty-three JACK
It had taken Jack a week to build the floor of Jeffrey’s shed. He’d been taking it easy because of his wound, which still oozed with too much effort, and because he’d been spending a lot of time either at school or with Winny. Now, with frustration seething through his veins, most of the walls had gone up in a day, complete with the door and window frames. Jeffrey had come out to watch, bringing him a cold beer and offering conversation, but Jack drank it in three gulps then got back to work. Jeffrey, he assumed, would be well versed in everything going on in the girls’ apartment right now, and Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it.
Jeffrey took the hint and turned back to the house. “I’ll pick up the shingles tomorrow.”
Fallen leaves whipped through the unfinished wall and littered the floor, and the icy wind bit at Jack’s face. His fingers felt frozen to the hammer, but he kept pounding, finding escape in the task. When it got dark, Jeffrey came out and suggested Jack pick it up again tomorrow.
“You know, you don’t have to look after me,” Jack snapped.
“If you want to talk about it…”
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Okay. I left some soup in the kitchen for you, and I brought home bread if you’re hungry.”
“Do me a favour,” Jack said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve done just fine on my own for a long time.”
When he climbed the stairs to his bedroom later that night, he heard the wind buffeting the walls of the house, and he thought of Winny, whirling into his life like a storm, sweeping him off his feet. He’d never felt that way before, never known something with all his heart before, and he didn’t entirely understand what was happening. He knew without a doubt that he and Winny were meant to be together. He knew she did too. He knew she did. Then why had she kept such a big secret from him?
And it wasn’t just that. Who was he kidding? The fact was, Winny had had a baby. He didn’t mind that in itself: he could love any child of hers. The trouble was that he couldn’t stop thinking about what the presence of the child meant. She had gotten pregnant, and the idea of another man holding her felt like a physical stab to his heart. Who was the father? Jack hadn’t really looked at the boy, but at first glance he’d looked like he was about five or six, which meant Winny had still been at the farm when it happened. Had she fallen in love while she was there? Why were she and Charlotte raising that boy alone?
He reached toward his desk and opened the drawer, pulling out pen and paper, and began to write.
Dear Edward,
The thing about writing letters to you is I’m never sure if I’m writing to anyone at all. So write me back, won’t you? Tell me you’re alive, mate. You don’t need to say anything else if you don’t want. Just tell me that and I’ll leave you alone about it.
Whether you’re out there or not, I need to write some things down.
I told you I found Winny, and I told you we’re meant to be together. We’re in love. I’ve never known anything so fully in my life. So all that’s great, right? But then I found something out, and I don’t know what to do…
He finished the letter, addressed it to the battalion, and mailed it the next day. For so many reasons, he hoped it would eventually reach his friend.
* * *
Days blended together. Every morning, Jack put in his hours at school, and on his way home he stopped in a local bar and threw back some drinks with strangers. Eventually he was going there often enough that he recognized a few of the regulars. A couple were vets like him, sent home early for some kind of wound. Usually talk turned to the war, and tonight they were toasting Italy.
“You were there, weren’t you, Jack?” one of them said, holding up a beer.
“I was. Me and the boys.” Jack took a long drink. He still dreamed of Sicily sometimes, still saw Cecil’s blood pulsing through his brother’s fingers.
“The Italians changed teams today. Did you see the news? Their new premier just declared war on Hitler.”
“That’s a step in the right direction.” He wasn’t in the mood tonight. He didn’t want to talk about Italy or war or auto mechanics or anything. He’d rather be alone. Except that wasn’t true. He’d rather be with Winny. He finished his beer then stepped out into a snowstorm toward Jeffrey’s.
“You got a letter,” Jeffrey told him as he walked into the kitchen.
Jack nearly tripped over a chair to grab the envelope in Jeffrey’s hand. He ripped it open and stared at the top two lines, his heart in his throat.
Jack,
I’m alive. There you go.
Thank God, he kept thinking. Thank God. He took a deep breath and read the rest of Edward’s words as he climbed the stairs to his room.
You want to know why I didn’t write back? A couple of reasons. First, yeah. It’s rough out here. Damn Nazis everywhere. I did get your letters, and I meant to write back. But then you wrote to me about Mary. I’ll tell you, I had to be held back from running into the field toward the enemy and all their guns. That’s God’s truth, Jack. How could I write back to you about her? Of course I’m sorry for you, mate, but I needed to deal with my grief on my own. The thing is, if I was back there right now and Mary was still alive, I’d be with her. I know I would.
As for Winny, she’s always loved you, Jack. I guess you just didn’t see it. Sure, we were kids, but we all saw the way she looked at you. That’s where you belong. You had Winny, I had Mary. And all our kids had good old Uncle Cecil. That’s how I always thought it would go.
So I’m living with that now. There’s nothing I can do about any of it.
Listen. If you don’t fix this with Winny, I’ll come back and kill you myself. You didn’t ask her what happened. You didn’t ask who the father is or where he was. She’s raising the boy on her own, which is a hell of a lot of work. And she’s got a career, too.
You’re a good man, Jack, and I’ve always looked up to you, but I have to say it. What kind of man runs out on a girl in trouble? Especially the girl he loves? Obviously, it’s not your kid, but it’s Winny. She’s always meant something to you. Does she still? Does judging her past matter as much as looking after her future? After all this time, after everything we’ve survived, shouldn’t we keep the ones we love close?
That’s my two pence. You asked for it.
I’m working on getting a nice clean belly shot like you did so I can come home. Maybe we can have a drink together soon. Take care of yourself out there in the big city, Jack.
Your brother always,
Edward
“What have I done?” Jack whispered. Even from the other side of the ocean, Edward could see what was happening before Jack’s eyes better than he could.
He had no idea what time it was, but Jack pulled on his coat and was out the door in seconds, sprinting through the snow to Winny’s apartment. When he reached the grocery store, he saw the girls’ curtains were drawn, but the light was still on behind them. No one answered the door when he knocked, so he tried again and waited. Maybe they just hadn’t heard. Then the thump of feet came from within, the lock clicked, and Winny peered through a crack in the door. When she saw him, she opened the door fully and stared at him like he was a ghost.
He took off his hat, folded it nervously between his hands. “Winny, I’m sorry to drop in unannounced.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve made an ass of myself.”
She nodded slowly. “You have. But what are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to apologize. To beg for your forgiveness, maybe even ask for a second chance.”
The wariness in her express
ion melted away. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
She glanced behind her then back at him. “I’m ready too, but I’m sorry, Jack. This is a really bad time.”
“I can come back later,” he suggested.
“No, no.” She regarded him a moment. “Come in out of the cold.”
He stepped in and stomped the snow off his boots.
“Actually, maybe you can help,” she said. “If you’d like.”
“Sure.” He followed her up the stairs, more than willing to do whatever she asked.
At the top of the stairs, she paused outside the second door. “It’s Charlotte,” she told him. “I’ve been thinking in circles trying to figure out what to do. I know it’s a strange thing I’m asking, but maybe you’re the outside perspective we need right now.” The question in her eyes was so familiar. “You were always so good at thinking clearly.”
“Lead the way.”
She led him into one of the bedrooms where Charlotte sat on her bed, looking distraught. “You remember Charlotte.”
“Of course. Good to see you again.”
Charlotte flashed him a nervous smile. “I knew you’d come back.”
That surprised him, but he let it go. “How can I help?”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Winny said to her friend. “I thought maybe he could help.”
“Of course I don’t mind.”
Winny turned to Jack. “It’s about Barnardo’s.”
He stiffened. Of all the things she might say, that was one he hadn’t expected.
“The thing is,” Winny continued, “Charlotte was never supposed to come to Canada. When we were at Barkingside, Barnardo’s wanted to send her to a family to be adopted, but she told them she already had a mum. She was just waiting for her to get back on her feet then take her home again.” She took a breath. “But all of a sudden, she showed up in my school, right here in Canada. Barnardo’s had told her that her mother had died. That’s when Charlotte came over and was adopted by the Carpenters. The family was wonderful to her.” She held her hands out. “They even got us this apartment.”
Jack ran his hand through his hair, wondering how on earth anyone could be unhappy with that kind of story. Then Charlotte held out a piece of paper.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“A letter from Barnardo’s,” Charlotte said, her voice cracking. “I got it a couple of weeks ago. My mother’s not dead after all. She has been looking for me ever since I was shipped out. She wants me to go home. Winny and I have been talking about it ever since, and I just can’t figure out what to do.”
Jack sucked in a breath. Now he understood, but he wasn’t particularly surprised that Barnardo’s had done something so hurtful, telling a deliberate lie to get the children over here. The whole scheme had been a lie, hadn’t it?
“What’s happening?” A small voice came from behind Jack.
He turned toward the boy as Winny rushed past and knelt in front of him. “It’s all right, Billy. Aunt Charlotte got a letter, and we’re just talking about it.”
The boy’s brow drew tight under the short black fringe of his hair, and for a split second, Jack had the uncanny feeling he could almost hear the thoughts racing behind his blue eyes.
“There’s nothing to be sad about, Aunt Charlotte,” Billy said. “If you got a letter, that means somebody is thinking about you. You should be happy.”
The boy has a heart of gold, Jack thought. He wanted to make everything right even though he had no idea what was wrong. Something about that felt so… familiar.
“You’re right, Billy,” Charlotte said, her eyes brimming with tears. “It’s a very nice letter, and I’m ever so happy they decided to mail it to me, even though it is a few years too late.”
“You’ll go, won’t you?” Jack asked her.
Billy spun around, eyes flashing. “Hey! It’s you again. Are you going to make my mummy cry again?”
“I will try very hard not to.”
“Yes. I’ll have to go,” Charlotte told Jack, “but travel right now is impossible. This darn war. It’s just that my mother—”
“You have a mother!” Billy exclaimed. “Is she coming to meet me?”
“Oh, Billy, I wish she could. But she lives far, far away from here, and she’s sick. I shall have to go to her.”
“The trouble is,” Winny said to Jack, “Charlotte is afraid of how the Carpenters will feel if she tells them. They’ve been so good to her, and really, they’ve been wonderful parents.”
“My mummy’s wonderful too,” Billy said, wrapping his arms possessively around Winny’s leg and glaring defiantly up at Jack.
Jack was smitten. “Listen, little man, how about you and I go talk about boy stuff in the other room?”
Billy puffed out his chest and considered the invitation. “Okay. I’ll go get my trains.”
When Jack looked up, both women were watching him intently. “What?”
As one, they blinked and said, “Nothing.”
“The Carpenters sound like good people,” he said.
“They are,” Charlotte said. “And I love them like a mum and dad. But I’ve never forgotten my real mum.”
“Of course not.”
“The best way to do things is always the honest way, innit?” he said gently, keeping his gaze averted from Winny. “If you don’t tell them about this because you’re afraid, there’s bound to be a misunderstanding along the way, and that’s when people get hurt. I bet if you talk to them about this—rather than going without telling them—that will actually mean a lot to them.”
Winny reached for Charlotte’s hand. “He’s right, you know.”
“I just don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
Billy peered around the door. “I got my trains!”
“If you don’t mind, I think someone’s waiting for me out there,” Jack said to the girls.
Winny looked like she wanted to say something, and he knew it was about Billy. She was finally going to open up to him, but their conversation would have to happen later on. There was a train waiting for him. Again. He nodded. We can talk later. I’m not going anywhere.
“You see?” Winny said after a pause. “Jack always knows what to do.”
Chuckling to himself at the irony of what she’d said, Jack headed to the living room, but he stopped short in the doorway. Billy stood waiting for him, his hands on his waist, his head cocked to the side just right. And all Jack saw was Mary.
thirty-four WINNY
Jack and Billy were bent over a train engine when Winny came into the living room. For a moment, she saw father and son, and her heart ached with love.
“It’s way past your bedtime, Billy,” she said, tapping him on the head. “Go and put your pyjamas on, and I’ll be right there to help you brush your teeth.”
“Can I stay up a little longer?”
“Not tonight.” She glanced at Jack. “Maybe Jack can come back another time.”
“Tomorrow,” Jack said.
Charlotte came out of her bedroom. “I’ll put him to bed,” she offered. “You two need some time together. Give your mummy a hug and kiss, Billy.”
Winny hugged her little boy tight, and over his shoulder, she noticed Jack watching. “Would you like to give Jack a hug and kiss?”
When the little boy wrapped his arms around his neck, Jack’s eyes closed tight and Winny had to turn away to hide her tears.
“Maybe tomorrow I can show you the airplane Aunt Charlotte gave me for my birthday,” Billy said.
“I’d like that,” Jack replied.
“Come on,” Charlotte said. “You can pick a story for me to read.”
Once they were gone, Winny turned to Jack, suddenly nervous. “Would you like some tea?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll be right back.” In the kitchen she set the water to boil. As it heated, she added teacups to the tray then picked furiously at her fingernails. �
�I’m so glad you came when you did,” she said, carrying the full tray into the living room. The china clinked as she placed it on the table. “Charlotte already feels better about talking with the Carpenters.”
He was watching her, his expression unreadable. He lifted his chin toward the bedroom. “That boy—”
Panic coursed through her, and she leapt to her feet. “I forgot to turn off the stove. I’ll be right back.”
In the kitchen, she braced herself against the counter and forced herself to breathe, trying not to give in to the hysteria bubbling in her chest. He knows. What am I supposed to do, Mary? Lie to him? Tell him something he wouldn’t believe just to keep a five-year-old promise, then lose him forever? Ever since Mary had died, Winny had lived every day of her life keeping that promise, raising Billy as her own, loving him more every minute. But the secret was crumbling, the truth obvious to anyone who cared to look at the growing boy’s face.
Jack stood in the doorway. “Winny?”
She swallowed. “I’d just left the water on, and I—”
“Don’t lie to me, Winny. No more lies.”
“I’m… I’m not lying.”
“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” he said, “and we’ve all had things done to us. We’re not to blame for any of it.”
He took a step closer, and she gripped the counter’s edge.
“Everyone has secrets. But this is you and me. Whatever this one is, it’s coming between us. I can’t lose you again. Please, Winny. You know you can trust me.”
“I made a promise to Mary,” she said quietly. “The last time I saw her, she made me swear never to tell you the truth.”
He set his jaw. In the silence, they could hear Charlotte’s quiet voice reading to Billy.
She was trapped. She could feel it in the nerves pulsing through her. But she was also so close to being free. She took a deep breath and started taking bricks off the top of the dam. Not all of them yet. One at a time.
The Forgotten Home Child Page 25
