The Bells of Bournville Green

by Annie Murray

  He faced the front again. He wanted to lean round and look at Greta. There was barely a second when he wasn’t aware of her sitting there the other side of Edie. She was so upset at Anatoli’s death, and he longed to comfort her but didn’t know how without making a mess of it and hurting her even more.

  At last the ceremony began and he was grateful to stand and struggle through a hymn, ‘Lead Us Heavenly Father Lead Us’, which he barely knew. As the service progressed, Edie and Greta were both weeping beside him and he fought the need to break down himself. What he most wanted was to be alone with Greta, to be in her arms, to hold her and be held himself.

  After the simple funeral they left the church, he and Greta supporting Edie each side, and everyone milled around outside in the cool, sunny morning. David felt a tap on his arm and broke away to speak to Martin Ferris.

  ‘All right, old chap?’ Martin asked.

  ‘Not bad,’ David said. ‘He’s such a loss though.’

  ‘He is,’ Martin agreed, looking up at the basilica-style church. Martin wasn’t a man to discuss emotions. ‘Fine church this.’

  ‘Yes – very simple,’ David said. ‘I like it. It’s not gloomy and cluttered like so many.’

  Martin frowned. ‘I thought old Anatoli was Orthodox – or a Quaker or something.’

  ‘No, he gave up the Orthodox Church years ago,’ David said. ‘I think he went to the Friends to be with Edie – he was very open like that. But so far as I gather he went into the Church of England when he was young – tried to embrace all things English.’

  ‘Except motor cars,’ Martin chuckled. ‘He was still driving that American box of tricks! It was one of the last things he said to me, with that little twinkle of his: “I never did get an English car. I think I might have left it a bit late in the day!” ’

  David laughed, fondly. He was just about to say, ‘I must tell Greta that – she’ll like it . . .’ But he kept his mouth shut.

  ‘You getting anywhere with your decisions about your training?’ Martin asked. ‘You know they’ll have you here, at the medical school, soon as you like.’

  David looked down for a moment, at his formal black shoes which made him look like a respectable English man.

  ‘Yes—’ He felt stronger saying it. ‘I’ve decided. I’m going to go to New York.’

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  He had gone now, really gone.

  After all the weeks of waiting for and dreading Ana-toli’s death, when it came it was more desolating even than Greta expected. Each night she lay curled up in bed, at last able to weep and weep, knowing that never again would she come home to Anatoli’s presence in the house and the lovely sound of his voice saying, ‘Come here, my dear. Come sit and read to me!’

  What made everything infinitely worse was that David had announced soon after the funeral that he was going to leave for the USA. Edie was more prepared for this than Greta, and although she was grieved about it, knew that she had to let David go his own way. She had lived with him settled abroad before after all, and she would have to cope with it again.

  But for Greta the fact that he was really going was devastating. After that night when she and David kissed she had stopped pretending to herself. Here was the man she had waited for all her life, whom she loved as no one before and whom she had thought loved her – he too was to be snatched away. The sound of his voice around the house, that lovely, deep, well-modulated tone which before had made her heart skip with happiness, was a cause of pain now. She was terribly hurt by him. Surely she had seen the force of love and passion in his eyes – she had not been mistaken? And now he was snatching that away from her. It was far more cruel than if he had never said anything in the first place!

  ‘Why does everyone I love get taken away?’ she sobbed, night after night. It all brought back the wound of not ever knowing her father, Wally Sorenson, of death claiming him before he could ever meet his child. And death had taken her beloved Anatoli too young, too fast . . . But it was not death which was claiming David. What made it agonizingly worse was that David was choosing to leave her behind.

  Pat could see how unhappy she was, but Greta didn’t feel she could say anything and let Pat believe that she was simply mourning Anatoli. She could not talk about David. It brought out all her insecurities: she felt rejected, ashamed. How could she have ever thought she would be good enough for someone like that? She had only a basic education, while he was a doctor. He had travelled and experienced so much and here was she, what had she ever done? And here was David, having so recently been bereaved after losing his little son, by his wife’s breakdown and her leaving him. How dare she expect anything of him when he was so hurt and confused? No wonder he wanted to fly halfway across the world to get away!

  At times when she was feeling stronger she stopped feeling sorry for herself and tried to understand. And then she saw his grief and confusion and tried to stop expecting anything from him. All she could do to save her own feelings, she saw, was to keep away from him. She had to make a life of her own that did not include David, however much she loved him.

  She did not really want to see John Foreman again, but he was persistent. As soon as the funeral was over, he asked her out, repeatedly, and after a while she agreed. She had to do something, after all. And John was a nice man. Most of the dates she had with him were quite enjoyable and she liked the Banana Boys and being included with him and his friends. She had also discovered how much she liked dancing, and it was fun to go out to hops in various halls, put on some trendy clothes, like her miniskirt, all the rage now, and leap about to the Rolling Stones and Marvin Gaye, to Neil Diamond and the Beatles. And sometimes they went to the cinema. It was all right most of the time, just having fun, until the slow numbers came up on the dance floor, or they were going home, and these were the times she dreaded. That was when John wanted more than just a nice friendly time. He wanted kisses, wanted her to declare far more about what she felt for him than she ever could.

  ‘I’m sorry, John,’ she said one night when she had failed to respond to his overtures again. ‘It’s not you – you’re a lovely fella. I s’pose I’m just feeling a bit sore and bereaved at the moment. I’m not really myself.’

  John, who was basically a decent bloke, tried to understand and Greta felt she owed it to him to explain about Anatoli, what he had meant to her, especially as she had never had anyone else to call a Dad. About David, the other cause of her heartache, of course she said nothing. And in a way she felt badly about stringing John along. She just hoped she could spend time with him, get used to him, and that in the end it would all come right.

  But all the time, David was now preparing to leave, full speed, as if he could not get away fast enough.

  With Martin Ferris’s help, he had secured a place to continue his training at a Jewish hospital in New York, and flights were being booked and dates talked about for his departure. The flight was arranged for the fifteenth of April.

  ‘It’s so soon,’ Edie said, reeling from all the changes. ‘But I know I’ve got to let him go.’

  ‘I think now he might be best finishing and getting qualified,’ Greta heard Martin saying to her. ‘He’s been through a hell of a time. You never know, it might not be for long in the end. Once he’s qualified, who knows? Being over there might help him get things in perspective.’

  Greta, heartbrokenly, realized she was one of the ‘things’ that needed getting into perspective, and she suffered in silence. Even Edie had no idea of her feelings. What made the situation even more poignant for Greta was that Anatoli had left David some money for his future, which had enabled him to finance his journey and his fresh start in America. Anatoli could never have guessed the pain he was causing her by giving David the means to go!

  She came to wish that he would go straight away. His presence was an agony to her, while all the time she was trying to behave as if there was nothing wrong. She avoided him as he avoided her, pretending that anything she might have
felt was over and done with. She went about with a brisk, cheerful air while her heart was as heavy as lead. And David was very busy making arrangements, having to buy clothes and organize accommodation for his new life.

  ‘Oh, I’m going to miss him so much,’ Edie said. ‘But I suppose I’ll have to let go of him again. The poor boy has had such an awful time – but selfishly, I so much wished he’d settle down and stay here!’

  The day of his departure sped closer. Greta was both dreading it and longing for it to be over at the same time. And then one evening she heard a tap at her bedroom door. Somehow knowing it would be him, she went to answer. She opened the door with a closed, cautious expression on her face.

  David seemed lost for words for a moment, then managed to say, ‘Look – this is really difficult. The thing is, you probably know, I’ve only got a couple of days left here. I don’t want us to part as strangers when I go. Could we . . . I wondered . . . Might I take you out for a meal?’

  Greta was still recovering from the words you probably know! Probably know! As if she could think about anything else!

  ‘Well,’ she said lightly, ‘that’s a nice thought, David. I’m not sure why you’d want to do that though.’

  She was sure she saw him blush, but he remained in command.

  ‘I’ve been in a bit of a state and I don’t think I behaved very well towards you sometimes. But we . . . Well, we go back a long way and we could be friends. Would you like to come – tonight? Or do you have something else to do?’

  ‘No,’ she said truthfully. Her heart was beating like a drum. Did she trust herself to go out with David and ‘just be friends’? But the idea of going anywhere with him at all was more than she could resist.

  ‘That’d be nice,’ she said. ‘Thanks, David.’

  ‘D’you like curry?’ he asked as they set off. ‘There’s a place I know on the Alcester Road which is good, I think.’

  ‘I think I do,’ Greta said. ‘I haven’t had a lot of it.’

  But she agreed that she would like to give it a try, thinking, this would have been what life with David was like, new experiences, learning things from him, the sort of things she longed for and which Trevor had found so baffling. But it was not to be.

  The restaurant was dark inside, and rather scruffy. She wasn’t in the mood to take in her surroundings as she was too affected by being with David, but she had the impression of dark walls and little tables, the air full of the scents of spice and a sweet smell which David told her was incense.

  ‘Have you not seen joss sticks?’ he asked. ‘Sort of tapers – you light them with a match and they burn with a lovely smell?’

  No, she had not seen joss sticks. She had had a sheltered life, she thought, shutting herself away while everyone was talking about the ‘Swinging Sixties’.

  David helped her order from a bafflingly detailed menu, something with chicken, and rice and vegetables. The waiter was a small man who seemed to be doing his best to remain invisible. Between them on the Fablon-covered table were thick tumblers of water, a brass ashtray and a little plastic flower in a brass pot.

  ‘You would like lassi?’ the waiter asked in a rare moment of obtrusiveness.

  ‘It’s a drink made of yoghurt,’ David said. How did he know everything? He picked everything up quickly.

  They agreed that no, they did not want lassi.

  And then they were alone, and after the bus ride, the discussion of food, there was nothing else to hide behind.

  Greta knew she could not stand a heavy silence falling so she said, ‘So – is everything arranged? Have you got somewhere to live?’

  She already knew he had, Edie had told her, but it was somewhere to start.

  ‘Yes, the hospital will put me up to begin with,’ he said, taking a sip of water. ‘They’ve been ever so helpful. They say Americans are very hospitable and I must say it’s been a good example of that so far. It feels as if they can’t do enough for me.’

  ‘Oh,’ Greta said, ‘that’s good.’ She couldn’t think what else to say and felt foolish, but David started talking then, about where he was going and what he had to do to complete his training. He talked and talked as if he was afraid to stop, but it was a relief just to let him. She found herself half listening, the other part of her mind drinking in the sight of his face, the sound of him, allowing herself to pretend they had a future together, that she might sit opposite him and hear this beautiful voice for years to come.

  The food came, steaming and aromatic, and there was a pause while spoons were arranged and rice and chicken laid on her plate. She liked the smell which came from it and knew she would enjoy the meal.

  ‘I’d like to go to India,’ David said, once the waiter had gone. ‘Actually these people are from Pakistan, I think.’

  Another thing he just seemed to know.

  They began eating and she forced herself to say, ‘Have you heard from Gila? Do you know how she is?’

  David put his fork down, shaking his head. ‘Not a word. I haven’t contacted her either – she seemed to need to be away from me completely. Whatever happens, if there is ever contact between us, it’s going to take a very long time.’

  There was a second then, a silence in which a choice was made about whether the conversation could be allowed to run deep, to touch on feelings about past and present, and both of them pulled back from it. Instead they talked about Edie, about good memories they shared of childhood, of films they had seen and about New York. They finished the meal with warm, sweet tea and walked out into the dark evening to the bus stop with an air of being casual friends. Between them, they carried the weight of things unsaid. Words sat in Greta’s chest like stones which grew heavier and more unbearable as the evening passed.

  They sat on the bus side by side and things felt truly awkward then. They could not think of anything more to say and sat staring ahead of them. Greta was very glad of the other people on the bus and the lurching and squeaking of brakes which kept dragging her mind back from any desperate thoughts. She was acutely conscious of David beside her, of his brown jacket, the upper part of his arm pressing against hers. He was here, now, beside her and soon he would be gone for ever, that was all she could think.

  When they got off the bus on Oak Tree Lane she was close to tears, after holding back her feelings all evening.

  ‘Would you like to get the other bus, or walk down?’ David asked.

  Greta shrugged, not trusting herself to speak. Then she forced out the words, ‘We might as well walk. It’s not far.’

  The silence went on and on as they went down the Bristol Road, as if both of them had lost the will to keep talking brightly and making light conversation. When they were almost home, it had become so unbearable that Greta could stand it no more.

  ‘Why did you invite me out tonight, David?’

  The words burst out of her, and David looked round, startled.

  ‘I suppose . . . I wanted to make things right. To . . . like I said, to make sure we were friends.’

  ‘Well, why would you want to be friends?’ Suddenly all her hurt streamed out, raw and angry. ‘What’s the point in being friends with someone who’s not on your level, who you’re never going to see in your brand new life and who you obviously don’t care about anyway?’

  He stopped abruptly, saying furiously, ‘What on earth are you talking about? Not on my level? Don’t care about? What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘Well, it’s true isn’t it? You’re a doctor and I work in a factory! And you just . . . just . . .’ To her huge annoyance she started to cry and could only speak in sputtering outbursts. ‘You just played with me . . . You don’t realize, do you? . . . Just because I’m not educated like you and I don’t know things . . . It doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything. And now you’re going away after taking my heart away and I can’t bear it because I love you so much . . .’

  The last came out in a rush and she put her hands over her face and sobbed, all the pent-up
feelings finding release.

  ‘Oh God,’ she heard David say, and she assumed it was scorn or impatience in his voice, and that lack of sympathy stemmed the flow of her tears. Angrily she wiped her eyes, wondering if she had mascara all down her cheeks just to make things worse. She looked up at him defiantly.

  ‘That’s it – I’m stupid aren’t I? A silly little factory girl falling for a doctor and thinking she has a chance!’

  ‘For God’s sake, will you stop it!’ David roared at her so loudly that people turned to look, and he lowered his voice again and took her arm, forcing her to walk. In a moment they reached the Gruschovs’ drive and stepped inside. ‘What’s all this rubbish – factory girl, doctor? It’s nothing to do with that!’ He seemed on the point of exploding himself. ‘Don’t you understand that the reason I’ve got to go away is that I’m afraid of myself? I’m no good to anyone! For God’s sake, you’re a lovely girl. Don’t waste your feelings on me. You’re too good for me, Greta, and I mean that. I may be a doctor and everyone thinks that’s such a good thing and makes you a noble person, but I’m not good or noble. I’m a mess! I just go about doing damage. I’ve just got to get away from here to be able to see clearly. And then, who knows?’

  Here he seemed to run out of steam. For a moment he took her by the shoulders and looked down at her with such tenderness that tears sprang into her eyes again. David shook his head. Almost as a groan, he said, ‘God you’re lovely.’