by Sarah Hope
Before I can say anything Charlie runs up to him, giving him a huge hug.
‘I knew you’d come back Dad.’
Ste takes a step back and a split second later returns Charlie’s embrace by picking him up in his arms.
‘Yes Charlie. Of course I’ve come back to see you and I will come back to visit again. Maybe next time we could go out and go bowling or something. What do you think?’
‘What do you mean visit? Don’t be silly Dad. You don’t need to visit. You’ll be here. Here with us. You’ve come back to live with us again. I knew you hadn’t gone really.’
Ste sits down on the sofa pulling Charlie onto his lap.
‘No Charlie, I don’t live here anymore. I live somewhere else now. But I’ll come and visit you and take you and Mandy out places.’
‘Huh. I won’t be going out anywhere with you.’ Mandy retaliates, crossing her arms in front of her.
‘I don’t understand Dad. Why won’t you be living here with us?’
‘He’s got a fancy woman Charlie. He doesn’t love Mum anymore. He’s a creep.’
‘Now Mandy that’s not true.’
‘What part Dad?’ The sarcasm slips so easily off of Mandy’s tongue and I know I shouldn’t let her talk to her father this way, not in front of Charlie at least, but I’m too shocked by his presence to reprimand her tone. ‘The bit about you not loving Mum or the bit about you having a fancy woman?’
‘She is not my fancy woman Mandy. Whatever your mother has told you it’s not like that. There are always two sides to each story.’
‘I’ve not told her anything.’
‘And what’s your side then, huh? Have you got a big old sob story you’re going to tell to explain why you’ve walked out on us?’
‘Mandy, I’ve not walked out on you or Charlie. I love you both very much and always will. It’s just that things haven’t been working out between your mother and I.’
‘Oh I wonder why that is? The fact you’ve got another woman on the go maybe?’
‘Look, I’m not getting into this Mandy.’ He turns his gaze towards me. ‘Can I take the kids to McDonalds and then maybe we can talk? We’ve got a lot to sort out.’
It takes all my human strength not to break down in tears again so I just shrug. He stands up, puts Charlie down and tells him to go and get his shoes.
‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ Mandy shouts and runs upstairs to her room.
I’m left standing in the middle of the living room listening to Charlie jabbering on excitedly to his father as he gets his shoes and coat on. The front door shuts and there’s silence until I hear Mandy stomping back downstairs.
‘Why didn’t you say anything Mum? Why didn’t you stick up for yourself?’
‘There’s nothing to say. What can I say that’s going to change things? He’s made up his mind.’ Sitting down on the sofa next to her I wrap my arms around her tightly.
‘It’s not right, him leaving you. Him seeing someone else already.’
You only know the half of it my love.
‘You should have gone with them. He’s still your dad. He still loves you.’
‘Well I don’t love him. He can rot in hell for all I care.’
‘Don’t think like that Mandy. Whatever’s going on between me and him, he’s still your father and whatever you think he does still care about you.’
‘He’s got a funny way of showing it.’
Drawing her deeper into my grasp she leans her head on my shoulder and cries for the first time in ages.
It’s not until nearly eight o’clock that Ste returns with Charlie. He sends him straight up to bed and asks me where Mandy is.
‘She’s doing homework in her room,’ I lie. I don’t tell him she ran upstairs as soon she heard his car pull up.
‘I’ll go up and talk to her then.’ He heads towards the stairs.
‘No, it’s best you leave her. Let her get her head around things before you try talking to her.’
‘Oh,’ reluctantly he retreats.
It almost makes me laugh the ways he thinks he can waltz in here and pick his relationship back up with his daughter as if nothing has happened. Has he forgotten how he ignored her phone calls and didn’t bother coming round to see them after he had gone? Charlie may be too young to hold a grudge but Mandy is old enough to know what’s going on and not be fooled by hamburgers and false promises to go bowling.
‘I’ll give her a bit of time then. Look, we need to talk Lynette.’
‘Not tonight.’ All I want to do is down a bottle of wine or two and cry. My body and mind still feel numb from the shock earlier. I don’t need to hear anything else he says, not tonight, I don’t think I could cope.
I hold the front door open for him. He looks around and then is forced to leave.
Chapter Eleven
Enid
Meet me in the park at lunchtime.
Xxx
I read the note Betty gave me again and again under my desk before carefully folding it and returning it to my pocket and forcing myself to focus on what Mr Tews is asking me.
Struggling to keep my attention on the lesson I fidget so much that Mr Tews asks if I need to go to the ladies. Ducking my head with embarrassment I wait until my classmates have stopped sniggering and tell him that, no, I do not.
After what feels like an eternity, the bell finally rings and we all file out onto the playground. Hastily looking around I check to see no teachers are nearby. No, good. Running towards the fence I slip through an opening usually used by the boys who truant.
Out on the path I quickly run towards the park, tugging my tie from my neck and hitching my skirt up to a more fashionable length. Hearing someone behind me I look back fearing Mr Tews has seen me escape the school grounds but luckily I cannot see anyone. It must have been my imagination or else someone in one of the gardens nearby. Just as I turn back and continue towards the park I run straight into the arms of Albert.
‘Hey there Enid what’s the hurry?’ Immediately I’m lost in his beautiful smile.
‘Albert, I’ve missed you so much. I’m so so sorry about my father.’
‘It’s you I’m worried about. Betty told me how he’s punishing you, keeping you locked up in your room.’
‘Let’s not waste our time together talking about him.’ I shake any thoughts of my father from of my head.
Albert takes me by the hand and leads me into the park, past the fairground being set up. We weave in and out of brightly coloured rides, a blue and white helter skelter and a beautifully decorated carousel.
‘When I return from conscription, and we no longer have to keep our relationship a secret, I’ll take you to the biggest and best fair around and we’ll ride on a carousel, just like that one, together.
He pulls me towards the edge of the park, beyond the fountain, to a secluded spot behind the trees. As we round a hedge I gasp and fall to my knees. Before me is a picnic all laid out on a red and blue checked blanket. Fancy plates hold sandwiches, apples and cupcakes.
‘Do you like it?’
‘I can’t believe it. No one has ever done anything so nice for me before. I love it.’
Feeling Albert’s strong arms as he pulls me up reiterates how much I feel for him. I let him lead me over to the picnic.
Eating our lunch we talk about little details of our lives, such as our favourite colours and whether we prefer cough candies or liquorice; things that would appear meaningless and trivial to anyone else but are suddenly hugely important as we relish trying to find everything out about each other. I now know that his favourite colour is purple not the usual boys’ favourite of blue; that he prefers cough candies and that he used to keep a diary listing everything his family had done whilst his father was fighting on the frontline. I also know that when he gave it to his father on his return they both ended up crying. That’s just one of the things I love about him; he’s sensitive and not afraid to show his feelings, and above all he thinks of others.
He’s the opposite of my father, who as soon as he gets a drop of alcohol in him only thinks of himself and seems to enjoy making those around him suffer.
As we finish our cupcakes his face becomes serious as if a dark cloud has passed over it.
‘What’s the matter? You look sad.’
Sitting in front of me he takes my hands in his.
‘My conscription has come through. I leave for training tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to get the message to you.’
‘Don’t go. Pretend to be too ill to go. Become a conscientious objector?’
‘No, we’ve been through this. I’ve got to go.’ Bringing my hands up to his lips he gently kisses my fingers. ‘Wait for me?’
‘Yes,’ I manage through the lump that has appeared in my throat.
Pulling a small box from the picnic basket he offers it to me. Inside, wrapped in dark blue tissue paper is a small gold locket on a chain. He takes the oval locket from me, unclasps the delicate chain and secures it around my neck.
‘I haven’t got any pictures to put in. Sorry. But when I come back on leave we can get some.’
‘It’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say.’
‘Say nothing. Knowing you’ll be wearing it will be all the thanks I need,’ pausing he looks intently at me for a few moments. ‘When I get back we’ll marry,’ gently he kisses me on my lips, ‘Get a house together,’ another kiss, ‘Have children,’ he gently lowers me onto the blanket ‘And live happily ever after.’
I know it’s wrong. I know we’re meant to be married. But it just feels so right. So natural. I love him and he loves me.
Afterwards I pull my skirt back down and we lay in each other’s’ arms.
We must have drifted off because we are suddenly awoken by the noise of some young lads playing football nearby. Turning to face Albert, still warm from earlier, I smile at him. And then it hits me that if these young boys are playing football then they are not at school. School must have finished.
‘Oh no, Albert I must go. My mum will have come to collect me from school and I won’t be there. If my father finds out...’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise what the time was.’ Standing he pulls me up, into his arms, ‘I meant what I said. I do love you. You will wait for me won’t you?’
‘Yes of course I will. I love you and it’s breaking my heart you going away. Just knowing you won’t be here...’ Albert gently wipes away the tears that I hadn’t even felt running down my cheeks and pulls me in for a tender, strong kiss.
‘I’ll walk you back.’
‘No, no please. I’ll go by myself. We can’t afford to be seen.’ Releasing me from his grasp I take a few tentative steps away. It feels as though I am breaking a part of myself off. I can’t do this. I run back to his embrace.
‘You must go Enid. Before your mum suspects anything.’
Turning again this time I force myself to run and not turn back, for I fear if I do I will only be pulled back to him.
Slipping back through the fence into the school grounds I run to the gate to look for Mum. I hope she’s still here. If she’s already gone she will guess where I have been and even though I know she would never mean to tell my father, if he suspects anything and he may well beat her into admitting she couldn’t pick me up from school. A shiver runs down my spine as I think what Father would do to me if he ever found out.
‘Mum, Mum,’ I catch a glimpse of her dark coat as she rounds the corner at the end of the road. I hear the shrillness in my voice as I call her. Please hear me Mum. Please stop. I run as fast as I possibly can to try and catch her up. ‘Mum.’
‘Enid, where have you been? Why are you so late coming out of school? I thought I must have missed you.’
‘Sorry,’ panting I lean against a garden wall to catch my breath. ‘What’s for dinner?’
‘Potatoes with a little pork.’ By the curious look on her face I know she knows where I have been but I know she also realises I don’t want to lie to her so she doesn’t ask me again. Smiling my thanks I give her peck on the cheek.
After dinner Father leads me back up to my room. He goes to shut my door but then seems to change his mind and throws it open again. Placing his foot inside my room he grins.
‘I heard some exciting news today. It seems that your fancy boy is leaving for conscription tomorrow.’ He leers and I’m certain his eyes sparkle with enjoyment.
Trying not to let my face crumble in front of him it takes all the strength I have to keep my eyes fixed on a stain on the wall behind him.
He stares at me for what feels like forever and then finally slams the door with such a force my water jug wobbles on top of my dresser, almost falling to the floor.
Sinking to my knees I let the tears I have tried so hard to keep inside me spill out. I hug my knees and picture Alberts face, his kind smile. I try to remember how safe I felt being enveloped in his strong arms. I still can’t imagine what life will be like without him. I know today was the first time in what feels like ages that I managed to actually see him, but I knew he was always on the other side of town and that gave me comfort, great comfort.
What if he gets sent to the Seux Canal or one of the places that there is still fighting? What if I never see him again? How can I possibly get on with life and pretend everything is normal when I feel as though the one good thing in my life has been wrenched away from me? Bringing my hand up to my neck I gently pull the locket out from where I had hidden it, tucked beneath the collar of my school blouse. Holding on to it so tightly while I fall asleep still dressed and curled up that in the morning I am left with an oval imprint on the palm of my hand.
Waking up it doesn’t surprise to find that in the middle of my dreams I have reached up to cling onto my locket. It feels such a dreadfully long time ago that I was that small girl being prised from the love of my life and yet at the same time I can still feel Albert’s safe, strong arms wrapped around me. Wiping the tears I have cried in my sleep away from my eyes I know what I must do today.
I kick an obliviously purring Freda off the bed, pull on my dressing gown, and go into the lounge. Pulling the footstool across the room to the bookcase I heave myself up onto it. Unsteadily I reach to the top shelf and pull down another old shoe box. Settling myself into my chair I lift the lid. As soon as I do this I almost get a physical whiff of nostalgia bringing all the love, happiness and heartache to the surface again in an uncomfortable mix. I pull out the contents one by one and place them carefully onto the coffee table in front of me; Albert’s note asking me to meet him at the park; the box and tissue paper my locket had been in and a crusty cake case that I had found in my skirt pocket the morning after our wonderful picnic. Not much at all, not much to represent the happiest moments of my life. But all I have to remind me. All I possess that has anything to do with Albert.
I look at these objects, hold them to my nose and smell them before replacing them back in the safety of the shoe box.
I dress in my darkest clothes but wrap my favourite purple scarf around my neck. If he’s looking down on me I want him to know I am thinking of him.
Half an hour later at the war memorial in the local park I am suddenly propelled back to that awful day when my father, blind drunk, threw the front door open and strode over to me where I sat at the kitchen table. I can still remember the shock I felt when I couldn’t smell stale ale on his breath; that he was, for once, sober and still acting this way. I can still picture the dirt beneath his finger nails as he grabbed hold of my arms pulling me out of my seat.
‘I have some good news Enid. Some good news I said. Won’t you ask me what it is?’
The lopsided smirk on his face terrified me and I knew instinctively that this news would not be good at all.
‘It’s that fancy boy of yours. Albert, is it? Well, we won’t be needing to worry about him again. He’s gone. Gone for good. As dead as a... what do they say? Oh, I don’t know bu
t gone. A freak training accident apparently.’
I remember my body collapsing on me, not being able to breathe. I remember screaming but knowing that no sound was coming out. Instantly I knew that life would never be the same again, that my heart had died along with him. This obviously wasn’t the reaction my father had been looking for. I remember him laughing, his eyes glinting as he beat me. Beat me for feeling I think. Beat me for loving Albert.
It hadn’t been until the next day that the physical pain from my father throwing me across the room and thrashing me began to hurt, and even then it was nothing like the pain I was feeling inside.
Things changed after that. I no longer thought of my father as a man who got violent after drinking. I no longer longed for him to come home sober. Instead I longed for him not to come home at all. I saw him for what he really was. Wicked.
Trying to block the image of my father out of my mind I try to focus on the memories I have of Albert. Of the good times we spent together. Of the memories we made. That’s what they tell you to do. Don’t they? All the people who seem to have an opinion about blocking the bad things from your past. About moving on. As if they had ever had anything bad happen in their lives. They certainly wouldn’t be spouting their rubbish if they had. That’s for sure.
Kneeling down I lay the bunch of lavender I had cut from the garden against the memorial.
‘For you Albert. Purple, your favourite colour.’
Still, even after all these years it hurts. It hurts knowing that I lost him. It hurts thinking about all the years we would have had, should have had, together. Happy years. Things would have been so different if he had been alive. I just know it. He would have taken me away from my life with my father. We would have run away together. We would have been able to keep Peter.
I feel as though I have lived my life and yet not lived at all. All my life I have been living in the past. Searching for my dear boy and trying to reclaim a piece of the life I should have led. All my friends had married and had children. I had already loved and lost before they had even met their life partners. I had already had and lost my dear baby boy before they had even thought of having children. I have never married because I would have been living a lie. Leading a man to believe I loved him when truly my heart had already been taken. I have never had any more children. How could I even have tried to replace the most precious thing in this world to me?
