The Deserter's Daughter

by Susanna Bavin

  A sharp rat-tat on the knocker had her at the bedroom door in an instant.

  ‘I’ll get it.’

  She ran partway downstairs, then stopped to gather herself, straightening her shoulders inside her cotton blouse, embellished today with a shawl collar. She had a stash of detachable collars. It was important to look crisp and smart, important to look a cut above her fellow teachers, though there was no need to make any special effort where Wilton Lane was concerned. Her natural superiority here was precisely that – natural, and always had been.

  After the drawn curtains upstairs and the always-dim light on the stairs and in the hall, the evening sunshine flooded her eyes as she opened the front door. She expected to see a neighbour but found herself face-to-face with Father Kelly, and face-to-face was exactly the right expression. He stood right in front of her, as if he had been trying to meld with the door. Even before she opened it fully, he was inside the house, and down the hall before she could close it.

  ‘Do come in,’ she murmured, following him to the kitchen.

  He swung round to face her. ‘Where’s your mammy?’ His pudgy cheeks were flushed, his voice loud. It was a demand, not a civil enquiry.

  Evadne’s heart pattered. What was going on? ‘Upstairs.’

  ‘Well, fetch her down.’

  She quelled her heart and looked levelly at him. Wilton Lane might kowtow to this man, but she wasn’t Wilton Lane and never had been, even when she lived here. She knew how to make the most of her social superiority. She was tall and slender. All she had to do was lift her chin a fraction and, so long as the other person didn’t tower over her, it gave the impression of her looking down on them.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, lifting one eyebrow.

  ‘Oh aye, very wrong, and has been for a long time – but you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She felt a flutter of unease.

  His face changed. The pudginess hardened and his eyes glinted. ‘Don’t you? Well now, we’ll see. Fetch your mammy down.’

  She felt a powerful urge to protect Mother from this, to demand an explanation and deal with it, whatever it was; but Father Kelly produced his black rosary beads and shut his eyes. What a cop-out.

  She nodded curtly. ‘I’ll see if my mother is available.’

  She stalked along the narrow hall and up the stairs. There were times when she was heartily pleased not to be Catholic any more. Mother had turned RC when she married Pa and she had made Evadne turn too, much to the horror of Grandfather and Grandmother Baxter. Foolish child that she had been, Evadne had enjoyed feeling that the grown-ups were fighting over her. Looking back, she could see how that would have been the perfect moment for her grandparents to insist upon adopting her, but all Grandmother had done was make her swear to say the extra words at the end of the Our Father, even if she only did it inside her head. Evadne had shed Catholicism the moment she was old enough, for which Father Kelly had never forgiven her, but she didn’t give a fig about that. She could look forward to a better class of husband if she was C of E.

  She opened the bedroom door. Mother had drawn the veil over Carrie’s face and was gazing at her as though she were a priceless work of art. Carrie was gazing at herself in the looking-glass in much the same way. A little corner of Evadne’s heart chipped off.

  ‘Who was it?’ Mother asked, but her attention was locked on Carrie.

  ‘Father Kelly. He’s in the kitchen.’

  Mother’s face swung round, her mouth and eyes circles of shock. ‘You put Father Kelly in the kitchen? Evadne! You don’t put priests in the kitchen.’

  ‘I didn’t put him anywhere. He put himself.’

  Carrie was still looking in the mirror. ‘Has he come about the wedding?’

  The girl was becoming a prize bore. ‘I don’t know what brought him here, but it seems serious. He insists upon seeing you, Mother.’

  ‘I’ll come down.’

  ‘You too, Carrie,’ said Evadne. Anything to stop that ridiculous preening.

  ‘I’ll get changed.’

  ‘No time for that.’ Mother patted her faded mousy hair and checked the position of the cameo she wore between the rounded corners of her Peter Pan collar. ‘You can’t keep a priest waiting. Just tek off the veil – here, let me.’

  Evadne wanted to give her sister a clip round the ear. Honestly! Someone should tell her this dratted wedding wasn’t the be-all and end-all.

  She led the way down, aware of Mother fluttering behind, willing her to hurry, and Carrie bringing up the rear, presumably imagining herself as the Queen of Sheba descending the royal staircase. At the foot of the stairs, Mother nipped in front and hastened to the kitchen. She opened the door only to stop dead. Evadne cannoned into her and they stumbled forwards. Righting herself, Evadne stepped back, and if she had inadvertently trodden on the hem of Carrie’s dress, which she couldn’t because it was ankle-length, but if she had, it wouldn’t have done Carrie any harm. It might have brought her down to earth.

  Father Kelly stood sideways to them, little black beads dripping between meaty fingers. He was murmuring as they entered, but now he spoke clearly and, even though he gave no other indication of being aware of their presence, the volume itself was an order to spring to attention.

  ‘… Holy Mary, Mother of God …’

  He paused, the moment quivering around them. You had to hand it to him, he knew how to work his audience. Mother and Carrie bowed their heads and took up the chant in quiet, respectful voices that offered no competition to his practised rumble.

  ‘… pray for us sinners …’

  Evadne waited politely for the prayer to end. Please don’t let there be another. She tried to see the beads. Was he going to drone his way through an entire decade?

  He slipped the rosary into his pocket and turned to face them. Mother stepped forward.

  ‘Good evening, Father. Sorry to keep you. We’ve been trying on Carrie’s wedding dress.’

  She moved aside, revealing Carrie behind her. Carrie gave a half-smile, modestly dropping her gaze. For someone who hadn’t wanted to be seen in her finery, she had overcome her reservations pretty quickly.

  But Father Kelly offered no compliments. He looked squarely at Mother.

  ‘Won’t you tek a seat, Father?’ Having presented Carrie to him, Mother now presented the armchairs that snuggled beside the blue-and-white-tiled hearth.

  ‘No, thank you. I’ll not sit and be cosy in this house of sin.’

  ‘House of – what?’ Evadne exclaimed. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Mother froze like a terrified animal.

  ‘You never told them, then?’ he said. ‘You never told your girls the sordid truth?’

  ‘Told us what?’ Evadne demanded. Her voice sounded strong but her mouth had gone dry. She told herself it was anger at his shilly-shallying, but it wasn’t.

  ‘So it’s just yourself who’s living the lie, is it, Mrs Jenkins?’

  Evadne had never seen it before; she might not have believed it possible, but the colour vanished, simply vanished, from Mother’s face. Her skin was white – no, not white. Grey.

  ‘Mam?’ Carrie whispered, but Mother didn’t utter a sound.

  ‘And I said a requiem Mass for you and I sat in your parlour, dispensing comfort, and you let me, and all along you knew.’

  Mother swallowed. Her throat convulsed as though she was about to splutter, but no sound emerged. The creamy smooth surface of her cameo brooch shimmered as her rigid body vibrated with tension. What the hallelujah was going on?

  Evadne tried to break in. ‘Knew what?’

  ‘The parish has a visitor, Mrs Jenkins, a fellow priest who served as an army chaplain in the war, the very priest who spent the night alongside your husband before he … died.’

  There was a delighted ripple of pretend silk. ‘He met Pa?’ said Carrie. ‘Can we see him? It would mean so much.’

  But Mother
and Father Kelly didn’t acknowledge her, and her little burst of pleasure faded into frowning confusion.

  ‘What say you, Mrs Jenkins?’ boomed Father Kelly. ‘Do you want your daughters, poor innocent doves that they are, to meet the priest who prayed for their daddy’s immortal soul the night before—’

  Mother erupted into life. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t do this, Father, I beg you.’

  ‘What’s this? You’re asking me to live the lie for you, to perpetuate your own sin? Because a sin is what it is, make no mistake about that. You preferred to sin against your heavenly Father sooner than speak the truth to your fellow man.’

  ‘I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t.’

  ‘And all this time you’ve been receiving the Blessed Sacrament.’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘You defied God himself rather than face the shame of your husband being shot at dawn for desertion.’

  A wave of shock reverberated through Evadne’s frame, turning her cold to the centre of her being. Her gaze flew to the priest. He was all puffed up and righteous.

  ‘Mother—’

  But Mother was silent. She stood there and let Father Kelly make this appalling accusation and didn’t say a word. Evadne’s insides liquefied.

  In a flash of white, Carrie darted forwards. ‘Get out!’ Her hands were raised, crammed into fists as if she was going to batter the living daylights out of him. ‘Get out, get out, get out!’

  ‘Carrie!’ Evadne wanted time to think, to understand, but here she was, having to reprimand her sister. ‘Stop caterwauling. Do you want the neighbours to hear?’ She glared at Father Kelly, hating him for the foul suggestion he had brought into their house. ‘Please leave. If there’s any more to be said, we’d prefer to hear it from our mother, not from you.’

  ‘What I want to hear is her prayers as she falls to her knees and begs for forgiveness from God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost.’

  He wasn’t about to whip out his rosary beads again, was he? Evadne stood aside, clearing the path to the front door. He brushed past, radiating displeasure.

  She followed him down the hall. He threw open the door and turned round.

  ‘Behold your sins will find you out.’

  Away he marched. A couple of neighbours, chatting in the street, stopped to watch him. Before they could ask questions, Evadne shut the door. She had to lean her back against it. Anguish welled up. The cords inside her neck were so taut she couldn’t swallow. Placing the flats of her hands against the door, she pushed herself away and plodded along the hall. She didn’t want to reach the kitchen, but her feet were taking her there, taking her towards a truth she couldn’t bear to hear.

  She halted in the doorway.

  ‘Well, Mother?’

  And Mother dropped like a stone. Had she fainted? No, she was still conscious, still upright, only down on her knees, sitting propped up on her heels.

  ‘Oh my goodness … oh my goodness …’ she whispered, eyes wide and unfocused.

  Carrie slumped down beside her, trying to pull her into her arms, but Mother didn’t lean into her embrace. Her breathing was shallow and ragged.

  Carrie looked up. ‘Help me get her into the chair.’

  Evadne grasped one of Mother’s arms and together they pulled her to her feet, the three of them almost swooping down in a heap when she swayed heavily. It was on the tip of Evadne’s tongue to say, ‘Pull yourself together,’ but she bit it back. They more or less dropped her into the chair. She sagged over the arm like a queasy passenger leaning over the side of a boat.

  Evadne couldn’t hold back any longer. ‘Is it true? What Father Kelly said, is it true?’

  ‘Leave her alone.’ Carrie placed a protective hand on Mother’s shoulder.

  Evadne barely let her get the words out. ‘I can’t believe it. I simply can’t believe it. And you’ve known all along.’

  It felt as if her head was full of angry wasps. It couldn’t possibly be true – yet Mother’s response declared it was. This would destroy them. What would Grandfather say? And Pa – imagine Pa being … that sort of person. Nausea rolled in her stomach and she tasted bile.

  Mother moaned, a long, wavering sound; then she was in floods of tears, her mouth wide and drooping, candles of snot streaming from her nose. Evadne felt revolted, but Carrie, heedless of her precious dress, crouched in front of the chair, trying to draw Mother to her.

  ‘She needs to lie down,’ she said.

  ‘She needs to tell us the truth.’

  Carrie rose to her feet, holding Mother’s limp hand in both her own. ‘Come on, Mam. Let me tek you upstairs. Help me, Evadne. She’s ill.’

  ‘Whereas you and I are right as rain. Oh, very well.’

  Each with an arm looped around Mother’s waist, they struggled up the stairs with her wailing and shuddering all the way and Carrie crooning and encouraging. God, what a mess. This was no time to collapse in a heap. Mother had kept her secret for four whole years. Surely she could have hung on to her self-control for ten minutes more to tell them what they needed to know.

  Carrie probably intended to assist Mother tenderly onto the bed, but Evadne was having none of that. She got Mother to the edge of the bed and let go. Mother slumped and Carrie followed her down. Flinging an accusing look over her shoulder, Carrie scooped Mother’s legs onto the bed and generally played nursemaid.

  Evadne left them to it. She moved away, feeling restless and unclean. All the neighbours in Wilton Lane, all the housewives at the shops. How had Mother done it? How had she lived her life in such an ordinary way, all the while knowing what she knew? Were she and Carrie now doomed to lead the same kind of life? She rubbed the back of her neck.

  Parting the curtains, she glanced out, her heart beating rapidly, as though an angry crowd might have gathered outside. It was an ordinary evening. Two or three lads were kicking a football around and across the road a queue of girls awaited their turn at the chalked-up hopscotch grid. Windows were open – as though anything could make a house cooler on a day like today. Some front doors were open too. A few neighbours sat outside on wooden chairs, enjoying a chinwag. It was only a matter of time before someone knocked to ask if everything was all right, ‘only we saw Father Kelly …’

  How loud was Mother’s sobbing? Evadne pulled down the sash, leaning forward as she did so because it was stiff, and saw Billy coming their way along Wilton Lane.

  She turned to Carrie. ‘Billy’s coming. Send him away.’

  ‘I can’t go down like this, not in my dress. You go. Tell him I’ll be down in a minute.’

  Evadne shut her eyes and breathed in sharply through her nose. That girl. Their world was collapsing around them and all she could think about was her dress. On a wave of irritation, Evadne ran down and opened the door just as Billy knocked. He blinked at having it opened so promptly.

  ‘It’s not a good time, Billy,’ she said, even before he touched the brim of his bowler to her.

  He shoved a finger inside his collar, easing the tightness. It was an attached collar, which was fair enough, really. He was only a clerk. His studs and good collar were kept for work. At home he wore a collar-attached shirt. Carrie didn’t mind, but then she was only a shop girl.

  ‘I shan’t stop a minute. Is Carrie in?’

  ‘She can’t come down. We’ve … we’ve had a shock. Excuse me.’ She backed away, about to shut the door.

  ‘I know.’

  She froze. Surely not.

  ‘Father Kelly were in’t pub earlier with another priest and—’

  She sucked in a huge breath. It was the only thing that kept her upright. She stared at Billy. Her face felt prickly. Was she losing her colour the way Mother had earlier? Her mind went blank. It had been bad enough when she thought only the two priests knew, but if the revelation had happened in public …

  ‘I say, are you all right?’

  All right? Dolt! How could she ever be all right again? Some of the hatred she h
ad felt for Father Kelly welled up and spilt over in Billy’s direction. Carrie thought him the last word in good-looking, but he was nothing special. Just an ordinary boy who had clawed his way into a town hall job, but didn’t have the good sense to spend years saving up before he got married.

  ‘They were in the pub?’

  ‘It wasn’t Father Kelly’s fault. This other priest started talking about it, knowing that this was where Mr Jenkins came from. He didn’t know …’ Billy’s voice trailed off.

  ‘He thought it was the talk of the wash house, I suppose?’

  ‘Look, I must speak to Carrie.’

  ‘Well, you can’t. Go away, Billy.’

  He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. Was that relief? Evadne shot him a direct look, then shrugged inwardly. Not her problem.

  He leant forward. ‘Can you give her a message for me?’

  Chapter Three

  ‘I shall change my name back to Baxter forthwith,’ Evadne declared. ‘God forbid that anyone should mistake me for a Jenkins after this.’

  From her perch beside the kitchen table, Carrie, watching in a distant kind of way, saw Evadne’s slender fingers grasp the arms of the chair, saw her perfect almond-shaped nails dig into the homey chintz. She wanted to tell her to shut up and stop being so selfish, but she couldn’t rouse herself. She was numb. There was so much to take in. Not just Pa, but Billy as well. She looked down. Her hands – square, capable little paws – lay fisted on the skirt of her wedding dress. Had Billy really and truly abandoned her? And Mam – imagine her keeping such a frightful secret all this time.

  ‘My father was a hero,’ said Evadne, as if he had relieved Mafeking single-handed.

  Carrie stirred herself; she wasn’t having that. ‘Pa was your father.’

  ‘Not my real father. My real father died doing his duty. A father to be proud of.’

  A father to be proud of: that’s what they had thought about Pa until today, she and Evadne, the neighbours, everyone who came in the shop, the parents of Evadne’s pupils … everyone. Not Mam, though. Mam had known different all along. No wonder she had fainted clean away at the end of the two-minute silence last November. She was upstairs now, refusing to see them, though the sobbing had stopped at last, thank heaven. Carrie’s throat clogged with guilt: she hadn’t shed a single tear. By rights she should be weeping buckets, yet here she was, sitting rigidly on a spindle-backed chair in the centre of a cold and frightening calm.