by June Gadsby
The first thing that struck Billy, like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his head, was the light. It blinded him the second the huge iron portals of the prison swung open as silently as they had closed some seven years previously. Most of those years had been spent in a special hospital for the criminally insane. And he had been insane for a while, he told himself.
He must have been, because he had virtually no memory of what had gone before his imprisonment, and only snatches of lucid moments afterwards. What he knew was simply the facts as handed to him by the prison officials and the young barrister who had tirelessly fought his case and finally achieved his release, though it was late enough in coming.
He had been transported back to Durham pending his release. In his pocket he carried a doctor’s certificate giving him a clean bill of health, except for some pockets of memory loss, which could remain with him for the rest of his life. A part of Billy wished he had no memory at all. Another part wasn’t at all sure that he was ready to rejoin the real world. A lot had happened in the world, as well as in his life, since his incarceration. Most of it, he preferred not to dwell on.
‘Right, Flynn!’ He jumped as the guard at the gate scraped his feet and spoke loudly in his ear. ‘Off you go, lad, and good luck to you. We don’t want to see you back here, understand?’
Billy squinted up at the uniformed figure and gave a brief nod. Words were still not easily formed in his head and his mouth couldn’t cope with them either. To all intents and purposes, he was still suffering from post-traumatic hysteria. That was how the doctors had called it. Something like that, anyway. His experiences in prison, the beating, the coma - whatever it was, it had caused amnesia, wiping out everything he knew for a while. It had been a long time before things started coming back, and then only in flashes and he would wake up bathed in his own sweat, wondering if it had been real.
He might never get total recall, they told him. There would always be gaps. The likelihood of the nightmares continuing was pretty certain. He tried not to think about it too much. The more he tried to remember, the more it hurt his head.
The prison officer was shaking his hand and patting him amicably on the shoulder then Billy heard the doors shut behind him and the bolts grate back into place. He was alone in an alien world. Just for an instant the silence of the morning seemed overwhelming then a chorus of birdsong from across the street awakened his senses. It seemed abnormally loud to him, and yet it was so ordinary. Sparrows bickering over a crust of bread on a piece of waste ground. There had been a building there the day he had entered the prison, but German bombers flattened it. He remembered the day the bomb fell. Prisoners, who had been told to stay in their cells during the air raids, had been shaken out of their bunks by the blast.
Billy stopped himself thinking further. It might be too much to take if things came flooding back suddenly. The constant nightmares were vivid enough. If he was to survive, he had to learn to forget many things, block them from his mind. He had to reinvent himself, be a new and different person. The only trouble was, he didn’t know how to start, didn’t even know where to go.
He gazed down blankly at the address scribbled almost illegibly on a piece of crumpled paper. The governor had given it to him only half an hour ago, but he had held onto it so tightly that it had formed itself into a ball in his clammy palm, the blue ink smudging. The governor had been a good enough type. He had been supportive, kind even, but he didn’t always have any real knowledge of what went on among the inmates, or even the wardens, some of which were just as bad as the criminals they guarded.
With a shudder, despite the warmth of the June sun, Billy took his first steps back down the road of freedom.
‘Give it time, Billy,’ the governor had told him, placing two fatherly hands on Billy’s shoulders. ‘It won’t be easy. Not at first. And it’s a different place out there. We’ve had a war. People are picking themselves up, trying to go on with their lives, sometimes in the greatest of difficulties. But if anybody can make it, you can. Try not to let bitterness ruin the rest of your life. There’s still a lot of goodness out there in the world. God knows, I hope you find some of it, because you deserve it.’
Remembering the man’s sympathetic words now, Billy stood in the middle of a deserted crossroads, listening to the day waking up. The sparrows had been replaced by a couple of barking dogs and somewhere close there were the high-pitched voices of children playing. An engine throbbed and murmured from the distance, getting closer, until he could see where it came from. A small black motorcar was chugging down the road towards him, the sun glinting on the windshield. He stood transfixed, like a rabbit in headlights, willing his legs to carry him out of its path. But he couldn’t move. He just stood there and waited.
The car drew to a halt a few feet from him. The driver got out and strode towards him, hand outstretched. He recognized the man immediately and felt relieved.
‘Welcome back to the world, Billy!’ Andrew Graham, the young barrister, who had fought tirelessly in Billy’s corner, grabbed hold of him and hugged him like a brother. ‘Come on, I’ve got a surprise for you.’
‘Surprise? Wh-what is it?’ Billy’s voice was shaky. He wasn’t sure that he liked surprises. He might not be able to cope with this one.
‘You’ll see!’ As he spoke, he pointed back toward the car. ‘Look.’
Someone was stepping down onto the road. It was a woman with a well-rounded figure and the brightest copper-gold hair he had ever seen. He squinted at her pretty face, felt the warmth of her smile as she came forward, arms outstretched. Something tweaked at his heart.
‘Oh, Billy!’
It was as if all the years started rushing backwards, sending his brain in a dizzy whirl. He was young again, young and fit and full of hope for the future. He was back with the lads, supporting them, helping where he could as they crusaded from Jarrow to London, demanding work, fighting against poverty and the authorities in order to survive.
And she had been there with him, with her red hair and her smile and her eyes so green and sincere that they sometimes made you want to weep. It had taken Billy a long time to realize he loved her.
‘Bridget,’ he whispered softly, tasting the salt of his own tears as emotion welled up and threatened to choke him if he could not let it out. ‘Bridget, is it really you?’
‘Silly sod,’ she said, her voice cracking as she pulled him against her and hugged him so tightly that it took his breath away. ‘Who else would it be?’
They clung together for a long time. The barrister stood aside, averting his gaze to give them some privacy.
‘I didn’t think that anybody...that you...’ Billy heaved a shuddering sigh. ‘Oh, Bridget...!’
He waved his hands in the air to demonstrate that he could not find the words that were bursting inside his heart. During his stay in prison and the long admissions to hospital, he had been virtually silent. Even when he had been able to speak he preferred to keep his own counsel. It wasn’t easy to converse with strangers, especially when there were chunks of your life missing from your memory.
‘I was so scared you wouldn’t remember me, Billy,’ Bridget said. ‘They told me...you know...about you being in a coma and...and then you were moved and...’
‘You visited me, didn’t you?’ There were shadowy memories of people coming and going over the years, but Bridget’s face was the only one that made any sense.
‘Yes, I did, in the beginning...but it wasn’t always possible. And then you sent me away...refused to see me. I kept on coming, but they moved you away. It was too far to travel in a day and then there was the war and... Oh, Billy, love, I thought this day would never come!’
‘Shall we move on?’ Andrew Graham suggested with an anxious glance at his watch. ‘I’m sure you’re wanting to get home, Billy.’
‘Home?’ There was a lump the size of a baked potato in Billy’s throat and he couldn’t seem to swallow it back. Home, he thought. Now there was a grand word. But he c
ouldn’t bring the place to mind. Flashes of his mother’s house came to him, and his mother too, but that was useless. He knew that Maggie was long dead, and didn’t somebody say the house had been condemned and pulled down?
They all looked around when a second car approached slowly and parked. Two uniformed figures got out. Not the law, but soldiers of Christ. The Salvation Army captain and his wife had kept in constant touch, having discovered him on their regular visits to comfort and counsel the prisoners. They had been good to him and now, as promised, they were there to take him into their flock of lost souls. It was the address of the Salvation Army Hostel the governor had given him.
‘Billy!’ Captain Harry Jones extended his hand and gave Billy a firm handshake. His wife gave him a brief, but genuine hug. ‘I see you have some friends to greet you. That’s good, son. Will you be going with them?’
Billy licked his lips, swallowed audibly and kept his eyes fixed on the captain’s top button.
‘No,’ he said in a whisper and heard a gasp of surprise from Bridget. ‘No, I’m coming with you, as we agreed...if that’s all right?’
‘Billy, why? You can come home with me.’ Bridget said quickly. ‘We can...’
‘Bridget...leave it.’ The barrister had hold of Bridget’s arm and was pulling her back. ‘It’s Billy’s decision, for whatever reason. You have to respect that.’
Billy could see them out of the corner of his eye. There was something possessive about the way the man looked at Bridget, the way he put his hands on her. They were a couple and, God knew, they made a better couple than he and Bridget would ever have made. Bridget deserved the best and they didn’t come any better than Andrew Graham.
‘Can we go now, please?’ Billy muttered to the Salvation Army captain.
Captain Jones hesitated, throwing a sympathetic glance in Bridget’s and Andrew Graham’s direction then he nodded and headed for the car. The captain’s wife looked as if she were struggling to subdue her emotions. There was the glisten of a tear in her eye and a quiver in her lips. She pressed her fingers into Billy’s forearm as she walked with him in her husband’s wake, telling him things that he didn’t really hear. He just wanted to get away from that place. Away from Bridget’s sad, pleading eyes.
Billy sank down gratefully on the soft leather upholstered back seat of the captain’s car. One hand clutched his bag with all his worldly goods. The car coughed into life and did a U-turn before driving back down the road away from the prison. Billy fixed his eyes on the road ahead and never once looked back.
* * *
‘I don’t understand, Mr Graham,’ Bridget gazed at the tail end of the other car whisking Billy away from her. ‘Billy’s home is with me. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.’
Andrew Graham massaged his jaw and looked reflective. ‘I think I understand, Miss Maguire,’ he said, and when he looked at her there was remorse in his kindly eyes. ‘He told me he didn’t want you to come. I’m afraid I didn’t believe him. After all, what man in his right mind would turn down the opportunity of being with you?’
‘What...?’ Bridget blinked and the barrister looked surprised at his own words.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. This is not the time to...’ He stopped and indicated the waiting car. ‘Shall we...er...?’
He opened the front passenger door for her and helped her into the car as carefully as if he were handling precious cargo. Bridget had always been struck by his politeness and his sincerity, but it had never occurred to her he might be even remotely attracted to her. The thought crossed her mind now then she dismissed it and sat clutching her hands in her lap all the way back home. During the thirty minute journey the conversation was restricted to such mundane things as the traffic and the weather. Neither of them mentioned Billy.
When they arrived at Bridget’s house, the barrister seemed suddenly embarrassed and she sensed his reluctance to leave her.
‘It’s early days, Bridget,’ he said, using her first name for the first time. ‘Maybe he needs time to adjust...you know? Think things over.’
Bridget shook her head. ‘I wanted things to be so right for him, Mr Graham. I could understand him for not wanting me to visit him. He was trying to protect me. He’s like that, is Billy. But not wanting to come home with me. This is where he lived. We were happy together here and I thought...’
‘It’s not always easy to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off.’ Andrew Graham looked from Bridget to her front door and back again. ‘Is it all right if I come in? Just for a moment?’
She didn’t reply to his question, but took out her key and opened the door, leaving him to follow her into the house. The kitchen table was laid for a dinner for two. There were candles and a posy bowl of red anemones. And over the fireplace Bridget had strung a line of cardboard letters that spelled out “Welcome home, Billy!”.
‘You think I’m an idiot, don’t you, Mr Graham?’ she said, her arm sweeping the room in an arc. ‘I even planned his favourite dinner and lashed out on a bottle of sherry. Not that Billy touches alcohol, and I’ve never tasted the stuff, but I thought it was a nice idea and...’
She sniffed and searched for her handkerchief, but couldn’t find it and had to use the back of her hand to wipe away her silent tears. Suddenly she found the barrister’s arm around her shoulders and he was giving her the kind of hug she had dreamed of receiving from Billy that day. Only Billy wasn’t there.
‘Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. What you’ve done...it’s really quite touching. You must love Billy very much.’
‘I always have,’ Bridget nodded and then gulped on a sob that seemed to get stuck in her windpipe. ‘And I always will.’
‘Give him time, Bridget.’ She flinched as the barrister planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. ‘Things will work out, one way or another. You’re a very strong person. You’ll be all right.’
‘Will I? Oh, Mr Graham, I hope you’re right.’
‘Look...’ There was a long hesitation. ‘Do you think you could call me by my first name? My friends call me Andrew.’
She blinked up at him wetly, not sure how to react, but feeling the need for this new friend in her life. He was from the other side of the tracks, completely, and one day he might even be an important judge. But she liked him. He spoke better than she did, but there was no edge to him. And he was kind and had tremendous understanding. Bridget had a feeling that he would always be on her side, no matter what happened in the future.
‘All right, Mr ... Andrew,’ she said, accepting his pristine white handkerchief and mopping up her face with it. ‘But only as a friend, mind you. Oh, God, I hope you weren’t suggesting anything else, because...’
Had there been a slight flash of disappointment there? No matter. He had soon covered it over with a bright smile and a forefinger held to her lips to stop her rabbiting on at him.
‘Just friends,’ he said, though his eyes were saying something else and Bridget felt bad about that. ‘No ties, Bridget. That is, not unless you want there to be.’
‘And then what?’
‘Then you’ll find me very receptive,’ he told her, taking both her hands in his and squeezing them tightly. ‘When, or if, that ever happens I shall be very grateful.’
He was still holding her hands and staring into her astonished eyes when the door burst open and an exuberant Laura entered the room.
‘Bridget, I’m going to be Mrs Edward Harvey! Look!’ Laura thrust out her left hand, exhibiting the three diamonds that glittered there. Then she saw the barrister. ‘Oh!’
Andrew dropped Bridget’s hands and his cheeks coloured as he backed away a step and allowed Laura to enter into the small room.
‘I...er...was just leaving,’ he said, nodding politely to Laura and smiling bashfully at Bridget. ‘Don’t hesitate to get in touch with me if there’s anything you need, Bridget. Anything at all.’
‘Yes, I will. Thank you.’
‘Don’t forget.’
‘No...No, I won’t.’
‘Yes...well, I’ll get off. Perhaps...’
‘I’ll see you to the door.’
‘Thank you.’
At the door, and with a curious Laura shut in the kitchen, Andrew seemed to get back some of the courage he needed to speak further to Bridget.
‘I sometimes go to the theatre or to a concert in Newcastle,’ he said. ‘It’s not much fun on my own. Would you consider going with me? Of course, if you’d rather not...?’
‘That’s very kind, but...’
‘Not straight away, of course.’ He was anxious not to seem too insistent, she could tell. ‘It was just a thought. We do seem to get on well. Anyway, you think about it. I’ll be in touch.’
‘Yes, thank you.’
He stared at her for a long time, then gave a brief nod, touched the brim of his trilby hat and hurried to his car. Bridget did not wait for him to drive off, but returned to the kitchen where Laura was getting impatient.
‘What was all that about?’ she asked of Bridget, her eyes darting about expectantly.
‘It was just Andrew...Mr Graham...being kind,’ Bridget said. ‘He drove me all the way back from Durham.’
‘Oh, I’d forgotten. But where’s Billy?’
Bridget shook her head and willed herself not to weep bitterly in front of Laura. ‘He decided that it was best not to come back here.’
‘Oh!’ It was difficult to tell whether Laura was disappointed or pleased at the news. ‘How odd. Did he say...?’
‘I’m sorry, Laura, but I don’t want to talk about it right now.’
‘All right.’ Again the hand came up showing the engagement ring. ‘Didn’t you see what Edward gave me last night? We’re finally going to be married, Bridget! Isn’t it wonderful?’
‘Wonderful, Laura. I’m pleased for you.’
‘You don’t look it. What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I’m tired.’
‘I think I’ll invite my mother to the wedding. What do you think? I mean, I am marrying somebody they can respect, after all, even if he is old enough to be my father. They can’t not speak to me forever, can they?’
