He Called Me Son (The Blountmere Street Series Book 1)

by Barbara Arnold

  I gave up my attempts at sucking and held the bowl of the pipe in my palm, tapping it as I’d seen Mr Munn do. I tried to imagine stick-creature Mrs Munn as an irresistible young woman and failed.

  ‘Linda wants me to go home with her for Christmas.’

  ‘And don’t you want to?’

  ‘It’s not that. It’s just that the Millards and Joe will be really disappointed if I don’t go back. And I know Jack can do with some help on the farm at this time of year.’

  ‘And your young lady’s using all her feminine wiles on you, is that it?’

  ‘You could say that.’ If cajoling, wheedling and pouting were classified as feminine wiles.

  ‘What do you think I should do? I’ve tried writing to Peg and Joe explaining I won’t be coming this year, but I give up after the first few sentences. They’ve been so good to me. I wouldn’t be here without them, nor Miss Jervlin, or even Uncle Rewi and Auntie Aroha. And old Murray looks forward to seeing me, especially now Fergus has gone.’

  ‘Can’t your girl come with you?’

  ‘She doesn’t want to.’ I hadn’t been very insistent. Taking a girl “home” meant you were serious about the relationship, and I wasn’t sure I was. Look at what had happened to Joe once Ann Epsley’s parents got hold of him.

  ‘It’ll only be for a few weeks. You’ll both be back at varsity next year. Be a test for the pair of you, like Mrs Munn and me. She went to her brother’s for a month or two when we were courting, but I couldn’t get the ravishing creature out of my mind. Married her four months afterwards. It was nearly as exciting as a win at housie.’

  Linda pouted and actually looked as if she was going to cry when I told her of my final decision to spend Christmas with Peg and Jack.

  ‘Can’t we at least meet up after Christmas? I’ll be in Christchurch, then. We can get together sometime in the holidays, surely.’ She took hold of one of my curls and wound it round her finger. I hated her doing it. It reminded me of the things Downston used to say about my hair and brought his cruel features too easily into my mind.

  ‘I’ve promised Peg I’ll take her down south to her son after Christmas. I might even stay on and help him with his business. It all depends when his business partner gets back.’

  ‘Sod his business partner. What about me?’

  I hated Linda swearing almost as much as I hated her curling my hair around her finger. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see what happens,’ I said. ‘We’ll find a way to spend some of the holidays together.’ My irritation of a few seconds earlier evaporated when Linda looked down at her feet and her shoulders slumped.

  ‘How about I stop in Christchurch on my way to taking Peg to her son down south? Peg can have a rest and a cup of tea with Mrs Munn, while we meet for half an hour. That’s the best I can do for the next few weeks.’

  ‘If that’s the best you can do, then I’ll have to settle for it, won’t I?’ She replied with a touch of petulance.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Christmas at the Millards was the same as it always was. Peg had invited practically the whole township for tea, and although she produced plate after platter piled with home baking, she fretted there wouldn’t be enough. This year, neither Neville nor Roger and their families had been able to come.

  ‘Thank heaven at least you’re here, Tony.’ Peg squeezed my arm. I responded with a weak smile. I’d come close to giving in to Linda and going to her parents in the North Island.

  Miss Jervlin disengaged herself from a conversation with Noeline Stott and made her way towards me. ‘Now forget about being modest and tell me what marks you’ve been getting at university?’ She looked directly at me.

  ‘I got a fairly good average.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’

  ‘Well … ’

  ‘Spit it out. What was your average mark?’

  ‘Actually, I averaged an A.’

  ‘Well done! You’ve obviously studied hard.’

  Until I met Linda and the others, I spent most of my time studying. I’d enjoyed being shut up in my bedroom buried in books, abandoning myself to words, letting them crowd my mind.

  Searching for Fred and Lori, protesting about nuclear weapons, and my involvement with Linda had left me struggling to concentrate on my university work, and I’d stared at one page after another and scarcely noticed a word. I had barely finished essays on time, and swotting for exams had become a matter of incredible willpower. My reasonably good marks were a matter of luck. Miss Jervlin’s admiration caused me to avert my eyes to the ground.

  ‘And you’re still keen to train as a teacher?’

  ‘With a degree in English literature, what else can I do?’

  ‘You could write. Your letters are wonderful.’

  ‘One day, perhaps.’ It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought about it. I would write my story, but not now. If I wrote it now, it would seem final as if all the events had been packaged and dispatched. I wasn’t ready to relinquish them yet.

  ‘One day perhaps you’ll do what?’ Joe joined us.

  ‘Write a book,’ Miss Jervlin volunteered.

  ‘I halways said you was a brain box. Personally, I’m too taken hup with the business.’ Joe hoisted the baby he was carrying further over his shoulder and resumed patting her back.

  ‘I’m not writing a book, at least not yet.’

  ‘Not even one of those science fiction things?’

  ‘And definitely not a science fiction one. I wouldn’t know where to begin.’

  ‘I s’ppose it’s like ‘aving a baby. You start off, then learn has you go along. Anyhow I reckon babies haren’t much different from hanimals; feed ‘em at one hend and it comes out the hother.’

  ‘Well you certainly seem to have learnt quickly. You make a wonderful father, Joseph.’ Miss Jervlin fondled one of the baby’s feet.

  ‘Her toes aren’t as long as matchsticks. Aren’t you frightened of hurting her?’ I asked.

  ‘These babies are ‘ardy things, much more ‘ardy than some plants.’ Joe thrust the baby towards me. ‘’ere, go on, ‘ave a ‘old.’

  Gingerly, I took the baby and held her against my shoulder as I’d seen Joe do.

  ‘That’s hit, you’ve got hit.’ Joe straightened his yellow and blue striped shirt. One of Old Man Witchery’s, I guessed. The baby stirred then settled against me.

  ‘Joanne - her name is very apt,’ Miss Jervlin continued.

  ‘Yeah. I s‘ppose hit is very … what d’yer say … hapt. I wanted to call her ‘ariett hafter my dear, departed gran but Ann said ‘arriett didn’t ‘ave the right ring when I said hit.’

  Joanne squeaked and sighed.

  ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘Course she’s hall right. Got a touch of wind, or ‘aving a dream, that’s hall. Dreaming her daddy’s a millionaire. It won’t be long. Got some very himportant deals in the pipeline.’

  How could Joe be a father? Joe, who not so long ago had declared girls and everything about them soppy. Joe who, apart from a bit of extra weight, looked no different from when he had been fifteen. If I’d seen more of him over the last years, it might not have seemed so bizarre. I would have got used to the changes gradually. As it was, I couldn’t equate this bloke who knew how to cradle a baby over his shoulder, and detect when it had wind, with someone who had trembled at the mere sound of the word, “baby”.

  I couldn’t ever imagine myself with a child. I couldn’t see myself married, and especially not to Linda. Our relationship, like our protests, didn’t belong anywhere outside Christchurch and the university environs. Linda and I were made solely for moonlight on the beach and starlight in the hills. We were for now, not the future.

  Peg seemed to take up even more room in the Morrie than ever, making it difficult for me to change gear without my hand brushing her thigh. Jack had told me she hadn’t been so well of late, a bit of breathlessness and the odd dizzy spell. Nothing much, he had hurried to assure me. He had, however, confided that Doc M
arthwaite had urged her to lose a bit of weight. “But you know my good lady,” Jack had said. “Told Old Doc a good helping of wholesome food never hurt anyone, and that this nonsense of wanting to be thin was ridiculous.” Jack had smiled, although I thought I detected some concern in his voice.

  ‘It’s good of you to take me all the way to Roger’s place this time,’ Peg said. ‘He’s really been busy, especially with his partner, Ron, taking his parents on holiday at what’s a hectic time of the year for them. Not that I’ve seen much of Ron’s parents. His father helps out from time to time, but I’ve only seen his mother from a distance when she’s been sitting in the car. ‘Roger and Ron, knew what they were doing when they went into agricultural machinery all those years ago.’ The pride in Peg’s voice was obvious.

  ‘I thought you’d like to pop into the Munns’ place for a freshen up and a cup of tea before we travel further south,’ I suggested to Peg as we approached Christchurch.

  ‘Personally, I’d rather go straight there, but I suppose there’s sense in taking a bit of a break.’

  I smiled at her, relieved. ‘And while you’re having a bit of a gossip with Mrs Munn, there’s someone I’ve just got to pop and see,’ I said, trying to sound casual. Peg wasn’t fooled. ‘You’ve got a girl in Christchurch! I should have known.’ She paused. ‘Pity it isn’t Merrin Bensdyke.’

  No sooner had Peg disappeared inside with Mrs Munn than Linda was standing by the Munn’s garden gate as if she’d flown there. She pulled me to her and kissed me. I looked around to see if anyone was spying on us through their curtains.

  ‘Jump in the car,’ I said, opening the door and practically pushing her in, anxious to get away from prying eyes.

  We drove to a nearby park. Almost before I had time to turn off the engine she was in my arms. It was several minutes before we spoke.

  ‘I’ve got this wonderful idea,’ she murmured.

  ‘Have you?’ I murmured back.

  ‘You could put Peg and her luggage on the bus down south. There’s a spare seat, I’ve already checked with the bus company.’

  ‘And what would happen to Peg at the other end of the journey.’

  ‘We could ring her son and tell him something urgent had happened here and could he collect her from the bus station.’

  ‘I couldn’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I promised to take her.’

  ‘You’ve taken her a good part of the way.’

  ‘But her son might need me to help him.’

  ‘Don’t I need you? Just think we could spend our days on the beach and our nights …’

  If I stayed in Christchurch, I could get Linda to help me look for Fred and Lori. The search would be quicker if we did it between us. If Fred and Lori were living in Christchurch, driving Peg down south would only take me farther away from them.

  ‘I suppose I … ’

  ‘Of course you could. This way, you’ll be able to please everyone. Peg will get to her son and you and I can have time together.’

  I started the engine. It wasn’t as if Peg wouldn’t understand, now she knew I had a girlfriend in Christchurch.

  Peg was coming out of Mrs Munn’s door as we pulled up. I jumped out of the Morrie, and ran up the path with Linda following.

  ‘This is Linda,’ I introduced her first to Peg, then to Mrs Munn.

  ‘Nice to meet you.’ Mrs Munn extended her hand but to my surprise, Peg merely inclined her head. Still feeling peeved about Merrin Bensdyke, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  ‘Look, I was wondering if you’d mind …’ I began addressing Peg. Suddenly I stopped. How could I let Peg down for a few extra days with Linda. I could see Linda when I came back. My search for Fred and Lori would have to wait. Somewhere inside, I felt a sudden certainty that I was about to make the right choice. It caused the heaviness I hadn’t realised had been there to dissipate.

  ‘I wonder if you wouldn’t mind if we gave Linda a lift back to her lodgings, before I take you to Roger’s.’

  ‘You mean, you’re not …’ Linda stammered.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’ll see you when I get back.’ But Linda was halfway along the path.

  ‘You won’t see me then, or ever, you creep,’ she shouted over her shoulder.

  I smiled in embarrassment and Peg said, ‘She doesn’t seem too happy, that young lady of yours. Personally, and, of course, it’s nothing to do with me, I think you could do far better.’

  The lightness in me persisted as we continued heading south, even though I’d just lost a girlfriend and missed several days in my search for Fred and Lori.

  Everywhere lay indolent in the midday heat. The grizzled landscape craved moisture, and the road ahead dissolved into a shimmering mirage.

  Peg produced a large handkerchief and dabbed at her face. ‘What I wouldn’t do for a nice bath. This time of year’s a bit too hot for travelling. When I get this far, I usually start counting down the townships, not that there are many. Just the odd one or two. At any rate, it helps the last leg of the journey to pass quicker.’

  ‘I don’t know the names of that many places, especially not the smaller ones.’

  ‘You’ve done well to know the ones you do, shut away on that awful farm for so long. But, then, you were always a clever young bloke.’

  ‘Not always. When I lived in London, I had difficulty reading. The girl downstairs gave me lessons. We had them at her place and we kept it a secret in case everyone laughed at me.’

  ‘Is that who you wrote to when your letter was returned?’

  ‘She and her family must have moved.’

  ‘I’ve never liked to ask; didn’t want to pry into your past. I know you like to keep it to yourself, but isn’t there anyone else you can contact? Surely, the authorities should be able to tell you where your sister is and … ’ she hesitated. ‘ … where your Mum’s buried.’

  I thought of all those in authority I’d come into contact with. Not one of them had helped me. If they weren’t downright bullies, they were weak and ineffective, like the Man from the Agency who had come to Downston’s to check on us.

  I wasn’t sure how the conversation had come to this, and I ignored what Peg had just said. Instead I replied, ‘Everyone I knew has moved. Even our godparents went to live overseas.’ I didn’t know why I hadn’t come straight out with it and said, “Their names are Fred and Lori. They emigrated to New Zealand, and now I’m trying with all the strength I have to find them.” But I hadn’t said their names out loud for a long time. I was relieved Peg hadn’t asked.

  Not all of what I’d said was true, anyway. I didn’t really know if everyone I knew had moved. The Gang might still be around. Perhaps they worked at Hendersons, the leather factory. It was where a lot of kids from Blountmere Street worked after they’d left school. But what if they didn’t remember me? I could hear Herbie’s mother saying, “Isn’t that the boy who used to come round here, the one whose mother died? Had a sister somewhere. The authorities took them away. Put in an orphanage, weren’t they?”

  ‘I’m sorry, Tony, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ Peg directed the conversation elsewhere. ‘I think they’ll have to prise me from this car when we get there. I’m so hot, I’m stuck to the seat. Thank heavens it’s not far now.’

  In spite of Peg’s assurance, the road was sinuous and seemed interminable. I was glad we’d filled the car with petrol just outside Christchurch and that I carried spare water and fuel in tins in the boot. Petrol pumps, like cities, were a long way apart in New Zealand. Here there was space to take the deepest of breaths and stretch without touching someone; where even the sky had room to touch the earth.

  ‘There’s the sign. It’s only a mile or two up the road from here.’ Peg’s voice carried a note of relief.

  ‘Our Roger’s business is up here, just off the main road. He, Jenny and the kids have a house at the back.’

  ‘What about Roger’s partner?’

  ‘He lives a bit further u
p the road. He needed a bigger house, what with his family and his parents living with them, as well. They’re from London, I believe - his parents, that is. Perhaps you’ll be able to have a chat with them.’

  I’d seek them out as soon as I could. Even if they were really old, perhaps we could talk about red double-decker buses and bombsites, Dick Barton, Special Agent and Saturday Morning Picture Club. I would look forward to that.

  The premises of R & R Agricultural Machinery and Repairs, together with Roger Millard’s house, were set back from the road. They looked as if they’d been dropped there amid the endless paddocks by mistake.

  At the sound of the Morrie pulling onto the forecourt, Roger emerged from the side of the building, wiping his hands on a piece of rag. It was certainly different from Joe’s velvet-waistcoated welcome bestowed on visitors to Epsley & Fisher’s. As if reading my thoughts, Peg said, ‘Roger always did like getting his hands oily.’ She waved as enthusiastically as the heat and the restricted space would allow. Nevertheless, the flesh under her upper arm flapped like a wing.

  ‘Happy New Year,’ she called.

  ‘Jenny’s got the jug boiling,’ Roger helped extract his mother from the Morrie.

  ‘That’s what I’ve been wanting to hear. It’s never too hot for a cup of tea. There’s a tin of baking in the car, chocolate and cherry slices. They’ll go down a treat, that’s if they haven’t melted.’ Peg hung on to Roger’s arm. ‘And what about those lovely grandchildren of mine? What’re they up to?’

  ‘Gone eeling, but it won’t be long before they come to check you’ve arrived. They’ve been talking about you coming to visit since Christmas.’

  ‘It was good of you to bring Mum down,’ Roger addressed me. ‘December and January are our busiest months. Thank the Lord, Ron’s back today. We’re expecting to see him and the family any time now. I hope there wasn’t too much traffic.