Another Day in Winter

by Shari Low

  Twenty

  George

  Here they are then, like the bad bloody pennies. Vultures back to feed on the carcass.

  I don’t know what I expected, but nothing has changed. Not a damn thing. If this body of mine was working, it would be showing all the signs of mighty irritation just now, but of course it isn’t. I can’t even open my eyes and right now I’m fairly convinced that’s not a bad thing, because I don’t have to look at those smug faces.

  It’s not a kind thing to think about your own son. I know that and I’ll have to be judged on it when I move on to the next life. But just to hear Norry there, asking, ‘What’s the point of just sitting here?’ breaks my heart. I tried my best with him, I really did. My Betty was the most kind and caring woman, but he got none of that. Maybe we spoiled him. Or maybe there’s no outrunning genes and they catch up sooner or later, because that boy is my da all over.

  I can sense that Tom is struggling, finding it difficult to deal with him. I still don’t understand why they’ve come. It has to be for the money. Of course, Norry’s ego will have stopped him considering the possibility that it won’t go to him. He’ll be thinking they’ll get the house, and they can flog it and add another few quid to their stash, but they’ll be sorely disappointed when they find out it’s all going to Tom. He’s been more of a son to me than Norry ever was and it’s only what he deserves after what I did to him.

  ‘It’s snowing, Grandad,’ I hear Tom say and, my God, my heart breaks. The memories of sledging, of snowballs fights, of Tom’s excitement every time flakes fell. Out we’d go, desperate not to miss a moment of it. Betty loved it too – except when she was having to trudge through it on the way to work. Oh Betty.

  That’s what I’m looking forward to most about getting to the other side. I’m not scared, because I know Betty will be there waiting for me. Living without her these last few years hasn’t been easy and, I’ll not lie, there have been many times when I wished I’d been taken at the same time. I’m glad now that I’ve had the extra years to spend with Tom, though. It would have been great to see him married, with children of his own, but it’s not to be and I accept that. Wherever I go, I just hope I’ll be able to watch over him every day of his life.

  I hear Tom speaking to Rosemary and the tension in his voice is palpable. ‘I just realised I never asked you the same thing,’ he says. They must be going back to a conversation they had in the car on the way here.

  ‘What?’ she says. The voice hasn’t changed. It almost amuses me that she’s been forced to come, because God knows, it’s not as if she’s here out of love. She’s barely spoken a word to me in ten years. Not that I minded. To be honest, I had no desire to keep in touch with her anyway.

  The boy speaks again, trying to get some information out of her. ‘You asked me if I’d seen Chrissie,’ he says. ‘Have you seen or heard from her?’

  The nerves on the outside of my skin begin to tingle as I wait to hear her answer. That poor girl.

  ‘No,’ Rosemary replies, as if she is being asked if she has a bloody umbrella on a rainy day. ‘We lost touch when we moved away. Her choice. She decided to stop writing and, last time I spoke to her, she said she wouldn’t be back in touch.’

  Norry’s voice butts in. ‘Terrible, the way she spoke to you.’

  Our Tom is right in there. ‘You two are…’

  I can feel my heart speed up again, and it only takes a few seconds before Liv pops in, calm as ever. ‘How are we all doing in here?’ she asks, her voice steady, but it gets louder as she speaks, so I know she’s coming closer to me. I feel her hand on my wrist as she checks my pulse, then she listens to my chest.

  ‘What’s wrong? Is something happening?’ Norry asks. It isn’t concern I hear in his voice though. More like anticipation.

  ‘Everything is fine,’ Liv answers, as I take deep breaths to slow my heart back down.

  I wish I could tell them that it isn’t a physical problem that’s causing this. It’s guilt. Pure and simple.

  I’m right back there again, with my other regret in life.

  That young lass was standing at our door.

  ‘Chrissie! Come on in, lass,’ I said. I could see that she was chilly and I wanted her in out of the cold. It was only September, but someone forgot to tell the weather gods. It was bloody freezing that week – some cold snap from the East, the weatherman on the six o’clock news said. We had the central heating back on and the winter coats out.

  ‘No, it’s… er… fine. I… I… won’t thanks, Mr Butler.’ Back then, I knew Tom and Chrissie had been courting of course, but I’d no idea how close they’d been or how broken-hearted Tom was to leave her.

  My Betty came at my back and peered over my shoulder. ‘Nonsense, Chrissie. Come on in. You’ll catch your death out there.’

  Betty shooed her on in to the kitchen and put the kettle on. ‘Sit yourself down, pet, and I’ll make you a cup of tea. My goodness, your lips are near blue,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Butler. That would be nice.’

  ‘So tell me,’ Betty asked, ‘have you heard from your mum? Ah, you’ll be missing her.’

  You have to understand, we had no idea of the extent of the problem between the lass and her mother. We knew they didn’t always get on, but then, that’s not an unusual thing at that age. We only found that out much later, when Tom came back after a year over there, and told us all about it, that the mother hadn’t even wanted the girl to go to Australia. That’s when we realised what the poor soul had been going through when she came to us that night.

  ‘Yes… I’ve spoken to her on the phone once and I’ve been writing,’ she said. ‘It’s too expensive to call regularly. Costs a fortune.’

  ‘It’s an outrage,’ Betty agreed. ‘I’ve told my George, once a month. That’s it. Otherwise he’d be on the phone to Tom once a week, wouldn’t you, you soppy old bugger?’ I can hear her laugh now. There was no other sound like it. It soothes my soul that I’ll be hearing it again soon enough.

  Betty continued to chat as she poured the drinks and put out a plate of biscuits.

  ‘Such a shame you didn’t want to go over too,’ I said. ‘Are you still staying at your mum’s house?’

  The girl was a bit awkward as she answered, but I assumed that was because this was the first time she’d been here without Tom. Teenagers could be that way – a bit daunted and shy when they were with folk they didn’t know so well.

  ‘I couldn’t go because I’ve…’ I definitely remember her pausing, being a bit stuck for words. ‘I’ve been accepted for university. I’ll be starting next week.’

  ‘Oh, that’s smashing,’ Betty said. ‘What’ll you be studying?’

  ‘Business,’ Chrissie replied. ‘And yes, I’m still staying at my mum’s, but I’ll be moving out of there in a couple of months. I’m not sure where I’ll be going to yet, though.’

  ‘Well, you know our Tom’s always had a bedroom in this house and you’d be very welcome to stay here.’

  The lass looked like she could have a good weep when Betty said that.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Butler. That’s so kind of you.’

  ‘It’s no bother at all, pet. You’d be most welcome.’ Everything sorted, Betty had finally sat down at the kitchen table and was sipping at her tea. ‘So, what brings you here tonight, then?’

  The lass fished into her bag and pulled out a letter, then placed it on the table. It was in one of those airmail envelopes and already addressed.

  ‘I just wanted to ask… I’ve got a letter here for Tom. I wonder if you could make sure it gets to him? I need to get in touch with him. I’ve written, but I’m not sure my letters are getting through. My mother didn’t really approve of me and Tom going out together, so I don’t think she’s giving him my mail.’

  ‘Och, I’m sure that’s not the case,’ I said, puzzled as to why Rosemary would do such a thing. I’d never liked the woman, but surely no one would be so duplicitous as to do something that went
against their own daughter.

  ‘Perhaps I’m wrong. I hope I am,’ Chrissie said. ‘But I thought, maybe if you sent it to him? Or if you told him on the phone that I need to speak to him?’ I could see she was holding back the tears now and I felt right sorry for her. Even though she hadn’t been for going along with them, it must be hard being on her own. I really hoped she took us up on Betty’s offer to come and stay here. Would be good for us, too, to have another teenager around the house again. It was way too quiet without our Tom popping in every day. Monthly calls just weren’t enough.

  ‘Of course we will,’ Betty said, ‘Don’t you worry, pet, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. Or maybe a problem with the mail. It’ll all get sorted out in no time.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Butler. And thanks very much for the tea.’ She took her bag strap and put it over her shoulder, then stood up. ‘I’d better be off now before it gets dark.’

  Betty and I saw her to the door and Betty gave her a hug. ‘Don’t you be a stranger now,’ she said.

  ‘I won’t, Mrs Butler. Thanks again.’

  We stood at the doorway for a few moments, until she’d walked on down to the end of the street and turned the corner, then went back into the kitchen.

  Betty sat at the table and picked her mug of tea back up. ‘Well, what do you make of that then?’ she asked, frowning.

  ‘Aye, these postal services can be right unreliable. Terrible that the lass’s letters aren’t reaching them,’ I said.

  ‘Och, George, what are you like? It’s not what the girl said, you have to read between the lines. I think something’s far wrong there.’

  Betty was so much better than me at sensing undertones and emotional stuff. As always, I’d just taken everything at face value.

  ‘Oh, aye, Betty Poirot,’ I’d jested with her. ‘And what exactly do you think is going on then?’

  She was pensive for a moment. ‘I’m not sure. I just hope it’s nothing that will cause problems for our Tom. I know we didn’t want him to leave, but it’s a smashing opportunity he’s got to go over there and make a great life for himself.’

  ‘I’m sure it won’t be anything dramatic. I’ll send the letter on and…’ I caught the expression on her face. ‘What?’ I asked.

  She shrugged. ‘You’ve got to wonder what the problem is. I don’t think for a minute that her mother isn’t passing her letters on unless there’s good reason. I just get the feeling that we don’t understand what’s going on here, George. And much as I feel heart-sorry for the girl, and you know we’ll help her in any way we can, I just think we need to be careful about interfering. You know as well as I do the consequences that can bring.’

  How could I forget? The one time I’d interfered in my kinfolk’s lives had brought the sky falling down on us. I’d never seen our Flora or Annie again, never spoke to my ma and da before they were taken from us in 1960 by an outbreak of influenza. The thing that haunted me most though, was that bairn. If I hadn’t got involved, hadn’t scared that scum Declan off, would Flora have managed to persuade him to stay, even long enough to marry her and let her have the baby? Was I the reason that child never made it into this world and the reason that Flora wasn’t able to have children afterwards? I’d do anything to go back and change what happened and I’d have kept my nose well out of their business.

  I picked up the letter and went through into the living room, where I sat in my chair and thought about it for a while longer. I’d no way of telling what was in it, without invading the lass’s privacy, and that was something that went against every ounce of decency I possessed. However that also meant I had no way to know if interfering in this would have consequences for my boy. And, God knows, that was something I’d go to the ends of the earth to avoid.

  I sat there, troubled, thinking about the options, until my Betty appeared in the doorway some time later.

  ‘Tell me your thoughts, my love,’ she said.

  ‘I just can’t shake what you said earlier. I interfered once and look where that got us. Who’s to know what is in this and whether Norry and that woman are keeping the two kids apart for a good reason. I just don’t know.’

  ‘Would it make you feel better if you knew what was in the letter?’ she asked, her voice as understanding and gentle as ever.

  ‘Aye,’ I said honestly.

  She sighed, knowing how much I wouldn’t want to do what she was about to suggest.

  ‘Then maybe you need to open it, my love.’

  6 p.m. – 8 p.m.

  Twenty-one

  Shauna

  Flora wiped some imaginary crumbs from her chic claret skirt. ‘Before I tell you that story, I’ll just get those photographs,’ she said, and Shauna had a real sense that Flora needed a break from recounting her history.

  As soon as she was out of the room, Lulu leaned in. ‘Is it wrong that I love her, even with the whole “shagging her sister’s boyfriend thing”?’

  Shauna shook her head. ‘No. I’m having the same thoughts. It was one mistake and it defined her whole life. Although, if I were you, I’d sit a bit further away from me because you know Annie could bear a grudge forever and there’s every chance a bolt of lightning will come through that roof any second.’

  ‘Good point,’ Lulu agreed, leaning the other way.

  Flora returned with a dark wood chest about the size of a large shoebox, and opened it on the table, before taking out an old black and white photograph and holding it up. ‘This was my mother.’

  ‘Oh my effing God,’ Lulu exclaimed, then, ‘Excuse my language,’ to Flora, who laughed heartily. ‘That could be you!’ she said to Shauna.

  ‘This is making me an emotional wreck,’ Shauna sniffed, taking in the image. Lulu was right. The young woman staring back at her, wearing a crisp lemon shift dress, her hair in a conservative bun, was her double.

  Flora removed a pile of photographs and passed them to Shauna and Lulu one by one. At one point, Shauna pulled a picture of Beth out of her bag to compare it to one of a young Annie. The resemblance in their eyes was uncanny.

  ‘She’s called Beth. For Bethany,’ Shauna said, quoting her grandmother’s full name.

  Flora’s eyes glistened as she put her hand over Shauna’s and squeezed. ‘I think Annie would have liked that very much.’

  They had to stop for another emotionally stabilising cup of tea before they went on. Photo after photo, the images followed the lives of Annie, Flora and…

  ‘And this is your brother, George?’

  Flora looked startled. ‘Ah, so you’ve met George?’ Flora asked.

  The question took Shauna aback. ‘No, but I found a letter from him, too.’ Shauna was very aware of the correspondence in her handbag, but the time didn’t seem right to share it with Flora. If there was some secret between Annie and George, as the letter suggested, then she didn’t want to cause Flora more upset when she was clearly feeling nostalgic about the photographs.

  ‘Is he still alive?’ Flora asked.

  ‘I don’t know. All I had to go on were the two addresses – one was on your letter and the other was on a note from George. They were both from back in the late fifties. You lost contact with him, too?’

  ‘It all seems so silly now. So unnecessary.’ Flora’s voice broke and she was still for a moment, before going on. ‘You see, George told Declan that I was pregnant, probably threatened him or battered him senseless, and he disappeared off the face of the earth. When my parents found out I was pregnant with Declan’s child, they forced me to… to… terminate the pregnancy. That caused a complication that left me unable to have children. I never forgave any of them. I stayed until I found somewhere else to go, then I broke off all contact with them, got a new job and a room in a bedsit. I started seeing Arthur again, the lovely man I’d been seeing before the affair, and he was gracious enough to overlook my transgression. I only went back to live in the house you visited earlier when my parents passed. They didn’t make it past fifty. Both died of influenza
at the end of 1960. George had already moved out and cut off all contact with my parents. He was so furious with them for what they’d put me through. Didn’t come to the funeral. I suppose I could have tried to make amends, but you have to understand I was so hurt and so angry for a long, long time. And then, it seemed like too much time had passed, so I just… moved on. Arthur and I married, just the two of us in a registry office, and we’ve been together for almost sixty years now. We’ve had a good life and he accepted that I couldn’t have children right from the start.’

  ‘I think Annie would have been glad about that,’ Shauna said. ‘She could be stubborn as a mule and, yes, she could hold a grudge, but she wouldn’t wish unhappiness on anyone. Except that bloke that harassed me outside the nightclub.’ That made Flora and Lulu laugh.

  ‘I’m sorry Arthur’s not here to meet you. He’s in hospital at the moment. He had a fall at the weekend and broke his hip. Old age. That’s what happens to us. I’d only just got back from visiting him when you buzzed my door.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. We’re only here for one night and head back home tomorrow, but perhaps when we come back again we’ll meet him then.’

  Flora’s face brightened. ‘I’m sure he’d like that.’

  Shauna took a deep breath and went on, as gently as possible. ‘So, you said that you saw my gran in 1959?’

  Flora nodded. ‘Yes. It was after I left hospital where I’d been treated for complications arising from the termination, and before I moved into my little bedsit and began to see Arthur again. I felt so ashamed about what I’d done to Annie, and so suffocated by life up here. She wouldn’t return my letters and no one had heard from her. I knew that she’d gone to stay with a work friend who’d moved to London, so I got the address from another of her friends at work and got the bus down there myself. Didn’t tell my parents I was going, of course, but by that time we weren’t on speaking terms. Living at home with them was intolerable. They were so disgusted by me. Anyway, I left them a note and got the bus down to London, planning to beg Annie to forgive me and let me stay with her. It was the most excited I’d ever been. The people. The crowds. The sheer size of it. I found my way to the flat she was living in near Earl’s Court – bit of a dump if I’m being honest – and she nearly died when she opened the door and saw me.’