Of course, people had warned her about the dangers of marrying a black GI. But Samuel had said that it would be different after the war. They had fought alongside each other, black and white together – as comrades. People would treat them as equals now – as heroes maybe.
But she was unprepared for the squalor and poverty of the township in Mississippi that was Samuel’s home. A wooden shack shared with three other members of his family. No running water. A filthy shed for a toilet and no privacy. Their relationship never stood a chance.
And people were wary of her – both black and white. The blacks felt that she was an intruder, scornful of their way of life. The whites didn’t know how to treat her – with the disdain they reserved for blacks or with the hatred intended for a turncoat.
Samuel couldn’t find regular work and took to drug dealing. Emma and he drifted further apart. Finally, he was shot by rival dealers and died in Emma’s arms.
Emma couldn’t stay in the township – that was made clear to her. She managed to get work as a maid and it had taken her a year to save up for this return trip. She had thought about it endlessly. She didn’t belong in America. She had no roots. When Evie’s letter arrived, her mind was made up.
She pulled the crumpled letter from her pocket and read the last few lines again.
… but if fate does ever bring you back to these shores, please visit Peter and Michael to make sure they are well.
You are a strong person Emma and I believe you have a bright future. If you could share a little of that strength with Peter and Michael, it would bring me great comfort.
I wish you every happiness.
Yours forever,
Evie
Emma pushed the letter back into her pocket and pulled her coat tight. She had come to realise that her destiny lay not in America but back in the small town in England from which she had fled. But she would not be a victim – not like her mother. Her past and her future were intricately bound up with this family and she would find her roots there.
She remembered what Alice had told Evie in her letters, that when she married Jed, it was not for love but for ambition. It was a way out of the poverty and abuse she had known as a child. There was nothing wrong with ambition. It was what created success.
Spray from the cold ocean burst over the ship forcing Emma back into the cramped quarters which she would have to endure for another five days.
Peter stood in the front garden of Hope Cottage some distance from the house. Around him were the long abandoned vegetable plots that Alice and Jed had begun to cultivate and that he and Evie had inherited. It was a sunny day but a chill wind was blowing in from the North Sea.
His thoughts drifted back to the time when Jed was building the house, full of hope and ambition for Alice and himself. Within those walls, fate had dealt an uncompromising hand, one that had brought with it anger, recrimination and loss.
The machine’s engine started up and Peter felt a shiver run down his spine. There was a deafening roar as the driver accelerated and the crane came slowly into view round the side of the house, a large demolition ball hanging from its boom. The crane positioned itself close to the front door and, with a deft swing of the boom, sent the wrecking ball thundering into the wall of the front bedroom. Glass from the windows shattered and masonry tumbled into a dusty pile on the front porch.
It seemed to Peter that within those crumbling walls ambition and passion had created a toxic energy that had bred deceit and betrayal, contaminating each new generation with its venomous tentacles. Destroying the house, symbolically, put an end to the physical embodiment of this evil, though the psychological scars remained.
The wrecking ball came crashing into the roof, sending splinters of wood and tile cascading to the ground.
“Daddy, I can’t see from here. What’s happening?”
“I’m sorry, Michael. I got carried away with my own thoughts. Let me bring you over here,” replied Peter as he took hold of Michael’s wheelchair and brought him closer to where he was standing.
“Do you want to stand up? You can use your sticks if you want.”
“Can you hold me up, Daddy?”
“I’ll be beside you in case you fall,” replied Peter, taking care as he helped Michael to his feet.
“Is this where I used to live, Daddy, when I was first born?”
And here was Michael, tangible evidence of that inherited curse.
A shattering explosion brought him back to the present. The steel wrecking ball had delivered a terminal blow to the end gable which had now crashed to the ground leaving a gaping hole in what had once been Evie’s room.
“Daddy, how old was I when Mummy died? Daddy, you’re not listening to me. How old was I when Mummy died?”
“I’m sorry, Michael. It was seven years ago. You were just five. Mummy was there for your fifth birthday.”
“I think I can remember. Didn’t you give me a car that I could sit in and pedal? Was that my fifth birthday?”
“Yes, I think you’re right. I remember now, Mummy came downstairs and sat with us in the sitting room. Do you remember that, Michael?”
“Did she have reddish hair, long, down her back.”
“That’s right. We called it auburn. But it was sort of reddish.”
The immediate months after Evie’s death had been a dark time. Peter and Michael retreated into an isolated world, relying on each other for company and rejecting offers of help. People would say that Michael was wise beyond his young years. Together, Peter and Michael would visit exhibitions, museums and even art galleries, never tiring of being together. Jed and Flora would often be called upon to lend support, especially as Carters Construction was growing at a rapid pace. Post war reconstruction was well under way and Carters was involved in projects across the whole east of England. Jed had now relinquished control of the business to Peter so that he could spend more time with Flora.
But at home, behind closed doors, Peter and Michael became self sufficient, liking nothing better than to shut out the external world and bury themselves in a fantasy land of Meccano or model trains, cars and planes. People soon came to know that unannounced visits were received with cold disdain.
“Daddy, can we come and join you and Michael? We’re fed up in the car. You said just to wait a few minutes.”
Peter turned to see the twins, Robert and Julia, standing by the gate.
“Come on then, over here. But don’t go any nearer. It’s dangerous.”
The twins ran over to where Peter and Michael were standing, prompting a broad grin from Michael. Peter smiled to see how they gathered round him, part protecting him and part looking up to him. The twins were five – bright, mischievous and brimming with energy.
“Daddy, what’s that ball thing?” asked Julia, pointing excitedly at the wrecking ball.
“It’s for knocking down the house. The crane swings the ball and it bashes down the walls.”
“Why are you knocking the house down, Daddy?” demanded Robert.
“Because we’re going to build something else there.”
There was a resounding crash as the remaining roof plunged into the gaping void below. Demolishing the house had not been an easy decision. Jed had decided not to witness the final ignominy of his beloved house being brutally destroyed but for Peter it represented the end of a sequence of events that were now buried in the past. There were too many ghosts in the house – too many memories. It was 1960 now. There was a sense of a new age beginning, new music, new fashions and new wealth. It was time to look forward.
“Daddy, Mummy wants to come and look too. Tell her to join us.”
It had been a cold and wet Sunday night seven years ago in November 1953. Peter and Michael were sitting by a roaring fire in the sitting room at Hope Cottage. The remnants of tea were spread across the table and light music drifted from a radio on the sideboard. Rain lashed at the windows and Peter pulled the curtains tight to shut out the elements. There was a knock at the do
or. Peter and Michael looked at each other in disbelief. No one was expected. The knock came again, this time a bit louder.
Reluctantly, Peter rose from his chair and went to the front door. He opened it to reveal a rain soaked woman standing on the porch.
“Hello. I’m Emma. You don’t remember me, do you? Evie’s friend. Well, actually I’m your cousin too. Can I come in and talk?”
Peter brought her into the sitting room and helped her remove her soaking outer clothes. He sat her by the fire with a fresh cup of tea.
“What do you mean, you’re my cousin?”
“I thought you knew. I’m Flora’s daughter. Jack was my father although I didn’t know that till I was much older. I’ve been in America. I married a GI after the war.”
Peter had known that Jack had also fathered Flora’s child but in the emotional turmoil of discovering Evie’s true parentage, this matter had been pushed to a remote corner of his mind.
“So why are you here? What’s brought you back?” enquired Peter.
“It didn’t work out. He was black. I was naive. We went to live in Mississippi. He said it would be fine after the war. He said that blacks would be treated like heroes and be given houses and jobs. Were they, like hell? They were given nothing. Same old discrimination as before. And it was the same for me. A white woman being married to a black man – well it didn’t go down well over there. Then my Samuel, well he got involved in some drugs to help make ends meet and he ends up getting shot. He died in my arms in the free hospital. Well, there’s nothing to keep me there in America so I worked for a year to buy a passage home. I got back to Tilbury early this morning.”
“Why not go straight to your mother’s?”
“First, I don’t know where she lives. We kinda fell out after I learnt about my father. Second, I know she’s married to Jed now and I wasn’t sure how popular I’d be just turning up out of the blue. And third, I heard about Evie. She was my friend remember. We had a lot in common – even shared the same father. I felt I wanted to come here and talk to you – find out a bit about what happened – meet Michael. Evie wrote to me before she died. Will you let me read you what she said?”
“Yes, of course,” said Peter.
Dear Emma,
I’ve got some tragic news. I’m going to die. Like my mother before me, I’ve been diagnosed with breast cancer and I’ve only got a few more months left. I know I won’t see you again because you’re living in America but I just wanted to thank you for your friendship when we were younger. You were always there when I needed you and I want you to know how much that meant to me.
Of course, we have something else very special in common. We share the same father. I only learned that Jack was my father a few years ago and, as you can imagine, it caused me great unhappiness knowing that I had been lied to for all those years. I understand that you learned the truth after you’d gone to America. It makes us half sisters and explains why we always felt so close.
My biggest regret is not for me, it’s for Peter and Michael. I think it’s going to be a struggle for them, especially having to cope with Mike’s disability and the operations he’s going to need. I know there’s not much you can do about that in America but if fate does ever bring you back to these shores, please visit Peter and Michael to make sure they are well.
You are a strong person, Emma, and I believe you have a bright future. If you could share a little of that strength with Peter and Michael, it would bring me great comfort.
I wish you every happiness.
Yours forever,
Evie
“As I couldn’t go to my mother’s, I came here. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course I don’t mind,” replied Peter, trying to disguise his annoyance. You’d better stay the night. You can’t go anywhere in this weather.”
“Mummy, over here.” shouted Julia.
Peter turned to see Emma standing by the gate – no longer the drowned soul who had turned up at Hope Cottage that stormy night seven years ago but now an elegant woman, slim, dark haired and striking. She had stayed the night. The next morning she helped Peter cook breakfast and then played with Michael. Then she stayed the following night and after that she never really left. They married in late spring of 1954 and the twins were born in early 1955 – strong healthy children who brought laughter and joy into their lives. There were difficult times with Michael, innumerable operations and long stays in hospital. But in the summer of 1959 he stood for the first time and took his first steps.
“Is it safe over there?” called out Emma.
“As long as we go no nearer than here we’ll be OK,” shouted back Peter.
Emma joined them, putting her arms around Michael to steady him and fending off a tirade of questions from the twins. Peter put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.
“Are you sad?” she said to Peter. “Seeing the house demolished like this?”
“No, not really. This is the past. I’d rather live in the future. You and the children are the future. I want to let the past die in the rubble.”
As they spoke, a large bulldozer rumbled onto the site. Emblazoned across the yellow paintwork in bright red lettering was the name ‘CARTERS’.
“Is that one of yours, Daddy?” exclaimed Michael excitedly.
“It is, Mike. We’ve got four of those now. We use them for clearing sites.”
“What are you going to build here, Daddy, when the house has gone?”
“It’s going to be a very large shop called a supermarket – all part of the redevelopment.”
“What’s a supermarket?” demanded Julia.
“They’ve got them in America,” answered Emma. “They’re very large shops where you can buy all your food and all the things you need for your house. You just take what you want and put them into a large basket on wheels.”
“Don’t you even have to pay for them?” asked Robert incredulously.
“Yes, you’ve got to pay,” laughed Emma, “but you don’t pay till you’ve filled your basket. Then you pay for everything together at what they call ‘the check out’.”
Further conversation was drowned out by the sound of the bulldozer caving in the ground floor walls. They fell like matchsticks to join the pile of rubble that had formed in what had once been the parlour. Nothing was recognisable now of what had once been Hope Cottage.
“Come on, you lot,” said Peter. That’s all for now. Granny Flora and Grandpa Jed have got tea waiting for us. Let’s be on our way.”
Michael and the twins made their way back to the road, leaving Peter and Emma to take one last look at the remains of Hope Cottage.
“There’s a lot of demons buried under that rubble,” remarked Peter.
“Then leave them there,” replied Emma “Let’s go and explore that future you were on about.” They kissed and ran to join the children. As Peter’s Alvis pulled away from the place that had once been Hope Cottage, the radio was broadcasting the number one hit for that week, 20th October, 1960 – Roy Orbinson’s ‘Only the Lonely’.
About the Author:
Roger Penfound worked for the BBC for twenty-five years producing a variety of educational TV and radio programmes. He then set up his own TV production business which flourished for ten years. As the recession of 2010 took its toll he turned to writing and published his first novel in 2012 – The Guest Who Stayed. That was followed in 2014 by The Voice Within and in 2016 by Devious Affairs, the sequel to The Guest Who Stayed.
If you enjoyed The Guest Who Stayed, you may also enjoy reading
Devious Affairs.
Synopsis:
When Former GI Bride, Emma Fulton, is forced to flee penniless From the United States in 1954, she seeks out the husband and child of her recently deceased friend and half-sister. Seamlessly, she is absorbed into their lives as both wife and mother. But when her new husband dies, she suddenly finds herself inheriting the family construction business which is winning contracts in London’s Eas
t End as it emerges from the ravages of war. As a woman in a testosterone-driven male environment, Emma finds herself thrust into a brutal world of corruption, politics and power. Faced with a crippling strike, she allows herself to be helped by a local crime syndicate boss and is soon drawn into a torrid affair which blurs her judgement and threatens to destroy her family.
Devious Affairs is available as an e book from Amazon.
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01N6B5SRC
US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N6B5SRC
The Voice Within is the first book in a new series following the trials and tribulations of Doug Penhallam, a newspaper reporter who has been sacked for phone hacking. As he searches for a new identity outside the unrelenting world of journalism, he is forced to reshape his rigid views of the world as new experiences challenge his preconceived ideas.
Synopsis
A journalist, researching a triple murder that took place in his ancestral home during the English Civil War, discovers that events which occurred there nearly four hundred years ago are mirrored by his son’s friendship with a Muslim girl whose father has forbidden her to marry outside of their faith.
The journalist finds himself assailed by memories of the Civil War tragedy which are brought alive by his presence in the house. When his son’s girlfriend is abducted and forced to appear before a sham Sharia court for offending Islamic values, the memories in the house take on a more tangible form, revealing evidence from long ago which has dramatic implications for the present day.
The Voice Within is available as an e’ book from:
UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00QU8C0EU
US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00QU8C0EU
You can download a free copy of The Voice Within by joining Roger Penfound’s mailing list for background features and news of latest book launches.
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