The Sugar Men

by Ray Kingfisher

  The next day Susannah gathered her possessions and left for the airport. She bought the ticket and considered phoning David or Judy to tell one of them what her plans were.

  But David would have got himself all upset and she didn’t want that – not now he was at what Archie used to call ‘that high-blood-pressure age’. And Judy might not have got quite so upset, but still would have tried to talk her out of it – to tell her she missed her and wanted her to come home.

  She ummed and aahed for half an hour and eventually decided against telling them. Better to just do it.

  Two hours later she was waiting at yet another of those damned luggage carousels.

  Still, at least now she was starting to get the hang of setting her suitcase up. She turned to leave, but realized she was in a city where nobody knew her and she knew nobody. She found a quiet corner of the airport lounge – because there just might be some shouting – and rang Judy.

  ‘Are you at the airport?’ Judy said.

  ‘Umm . . . kind of.’

  ‘Kind of?’

  ‘I’ve just got off my flight.’

  ‘You’re back? Are you going to get a cab home or do you want me to drive out?’

  ‘Are you sitting down, Judy?’

  There was a short silence, followed by, ‘What? What is it? Tell me, Mom.’

  Susannah spoke the words slowly. ‘I’m still in Europe.’

  ‘Oh really? Whereabouts?’

  ‘Now don’t get upset, Judy.’

  ‘Just tell me exactly where you are.’

  Exactly? Susannah looked up at the sign above her head and said, ‘Heathrow.’

  ‘What the . . . ? You mean Hanover? Is that it?’

  ‘Very good,’ Susannah said. ‘Top marks for geography but Judy must listen more in class.’

  Susannah heard a little heavy breathing down the line before Judy spoke again. ‘Okay. So I’m worried. Mother, tell me where you are – where you really are.’

  ‘Why don’t you listen to me sometimes? My body’s as clapped out as that old Toyota your father wouldn’t get rid of, but my mind’s still working. I told you, I’m in Heathrow.’

  ‘Heathrow? As in London?’

  ‘I sure hope it is.’

  ‘Oh, well, as long you have some vague idea what country you might be in, then I guess everything’s fine and dandy.’

  Susannah aimed a laugh at the mouthpiece. ‘I have no idea where you get your sarcasm from, my girl, but it suits you down to the ground.’

  ‘Mother. I’m serious and I’m worried.’

  ‘That sounds seriously worried.’

  ‘Mother!’

  A shout. A shout from Judy was rare. Perhaps she’d gone too far.

  ‘Listen. Stop with the anxiety attack. I know what I’m doing and I’m fine.’

  ‘So, are you going to tell me what possible reason there could be for visiting London?’

  Susannah took a breath and started to speak, hiding the tremble behind a stronger volume. ‘I’m looking for someone . . . I . . . I’ll tell you about it some other time, all right?’

  There was no answer.

  ‘I thought so. I have to go now. I’ll ring you again when I’ve found a hotel.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  In the library Susannah found the address of the government office she needed to visit, and found a quiet but comfortable hotel just around the corner. As it happened it was a short tube ride from Buckingham Palace, and she read the courtesy tourist information left in her hotel room with a casual lack of interest.

  She had someone much more important to see.

  At the evening meal the waiter studied her face for a moment, then asked whether she was feeling well, and she gave him an indignant, suitably offended expression. However, she made a point of looking at herself in the mirror when she got back to her room.

  And, to be fair, the man had been right; she looked pale and drawn. Was it the illness or the memories she’d hidden away for so long finally taking their toll? She lifted the phone, phrasing, in her mind, a query about the nearest medical facilities, but when the woman answered she politely said she’d made a mistake and put the phone down. She didn’t want to talk herself into illness.

  In spite of her tiredness, sleep didn’t come easily that night. She switched the TV on, read some more tourist information, but eventually simply lay in the darkness resting.

  The next day she walked the short distance to the British Forces War Records Office. The man at the counter said it was all available online, but Susannah said she wanted to talk to a human being, not a pane of glass.

  The man sighed, took the piece of paper Susannah was thrusting towards him, and read it aloud. ‘Teddy Cooper. The 63rd Anti-Tank Regiment.’

  After tapping his keyboard a few times he jerked his head up and a smile appeared on his face as if it had just been stuck on. ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, what?’ Susannah asked.

  ‘Edward Philip Cooper. Yes, he did serve in the 63rd Anti-Tank Regiment.’

  ‘It’s Teddy, not Edward. And I know which regiment he served in. I want to know if he’s still alive.’

  The man harrumphed and took a moment to calm himself. ‘Well, he’s still alive as of the first of this month.’

  ‘So where does he live?’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you that, madam.’

  Susannah opened her arms, drawing attention to her meagre, sagging frame. ‘Why the heck not? What d’you think I’m gonna do, go and beat the guy up?’

  ‘That’s not the point. We can tell you everything about him, where he came from, what outfits he served with, what countries he fought in, any medals he—’

  ‘That’s no use to me,’ Susannah said with the angriest frown she had the energy for. ‘I don’t care about his war records; I just need to meet him.’

  ‘You . . . you can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘We just don’t give that sort of information out.’

  Susannah spent a moment trying to put on a pleading expression but it simply didn’t fit today. ‘Look, mister. I really need to find this man. I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s really important to me.’

  She could tell him she was dying of cancer. That might help, but would it be cruel and manipulative? She swallowed the idea. For now.

  ‘Important?’ the man said.

  ‘Do I sound like I’ve just come here from around the corner?’ She squeezed a tear from her eye and made a meal of wiping it away.

  The man pursed his lips in thought, then said, ‘The best I can do is take your details and pass them on to him.’

  ‘I’m . . . I’m not too well. How long’s that going to take?’

  ‘I don’t know. We have a backlog of requests, and . . .’ His words trailed off as he noticed Susannah opening her purse onto the counter.

  ‘Look here, mister. I’m desperate. You can have everything in here, all of your pounds, every last one I have. I just need to see this old friend, please.’

  ‘Oh no, madam,’ the man said. ‘I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.’ He shoved the money away from him, drawing his head back at the same time as if the crumpled notes were giving off a bad smell.

  ‘Why not?’ she said.

  ‘Well . . .’ The man looked confused for a moment. ‘It just doesn’t. It’s not allowed.’

  ‘Mister, sometimes you absolutely should break the rules – especially when time is short. And I promise you it is for me.’ She grabbed a pen from the counter and scribbled on a nearby leaflet. ‘Please. Give him my name and phone number. Tell him to ring me.’

  ‘Okay,’ the man said, through a sigh. ‘Please take a seat and I’ll see what I can do.’

  She’d been in the seat for no more than two minutes when the man called her back to the counter.

  ‘I’ve called your Edward Cooper.’

  ‘Teddy. Call him Teddy, please.’

  ‘Okay, Teddy. But I’m afraid he doe
sn’t want any war-related visitors.’

  ‘You spoke to him?’

  ‘I spoke to his son.’

  ‘Did you tell him I really wanted to meet Teddy?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Did you tell him I knew Teddy from long ago?’

  ‘Well, no. You didn’t say—’

  ‘Did you tell him I only have a few months to live?’

  The man’s voice stuttered, then coasted an octave higher. ‘Oh, I didn’t . . . umm . . .’

  ‘Now you ring the man again and tell him I need to see his father.’

  The man cleared his throat as if to speak, then clamped his mouth shut and left the counter to go into the small office.

  When he returned he jumped very slightly as he found Susannah still waiting at the counter. She raised her eyebrows expectantly but there was a long pause before he spoke.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘He took your details.’

  ‘He’s going to ring me?’

  ‘That’s out of my control, I’m afraid. But it sounded like he wrote down your phone number.’

  She reached across and grabbed the man’s hand. ‘Thank you, sonny,’ she said with a flash of yellowing teeth.

  The next few hours felt like a week for Susannah.

  As she wandered through the streets around her hotel – merely to keep her mind occupied – she kept checking her phone; first every ten minutes, then every five, then keeping it in her hand as she walked on, eventually returning to the hotel for a rest.

  She spent half an hour in her room, mostly just staring at her phone, willing it to ring.

  When it did go off she nearly exploded into action, struggling to get to her feet and walking to the window for a better signal as she answered it. ‘Yes, yes, hello?’

  ‘Mom?’

  She let out a groan. ‘Oh, David, it’s you.’

  There was a long pause from him. Too long.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked.

  ‘Judy told me you were in London.’

  ‘And?’

  Again, David flustered for a few seconds before replying. ‘What in God’s name are you doing in London?’

  He was worried.

  Of course he was. And he had every right to be. And she had no right to fob him off. She thought about what he’d said for a moment. What, indeed, was she doing on this wild-goose chase while her family were missing her?

  ‘Mom? Are you having . . . problems?’

  And as he said that, her resolve returned. This wasn’t a problem – it was duty. There was no way she was going to get back on a plane just yet.

  ‘No, David. I’m fine. I’ll explain later, but I’m expecting a call from someone. I have to go.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘And David?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s good to hear your voice again. I miss you.’

  There was a long pause before David said, ‘Hurry home, Mom.’

  A few seconds later she closed the call and eased herself onto the armchair. It felt like that explosion of hers when her phone had gone off had pulled a hundred muscles.

  The phone went off again; this time she tried not to race.

  But she couldn’t stop her heart racing – it was him.

  Yes. Teddy’s son had thought fit to call her after all. His name was Dennis, and he sounded guttural, as though angry about something.

  And at first Dennis asked Susannah short, defensive questions. Who was she? What did she want? Susannah didn’t say too much, only that she was eighty years old (she said that three times to stress the unthreatening nature of her enquiry), that she was over from the States (an ally) and that she knew Teddy from a long time ago.

  ‘He’s never mentioned any Susannah,’ Dennis said.

  ‘Oh, he doesn’t actually know my name,’ Susannah said, and then groaned at her own stupidity. Did that sound like they were ‘old friends’?

  ‘So how does he know you if he doesn’t know your name?’

  Susannah sighed. ‘It’s a long story. But we definitely have met, believe me. And we are friends.’

  Then there was a long pause before Dennis said, ‘Are you sure you’re American?’

  Yes, the question, taken literally, was a stupid one, and she had every right to point that out. But she didn’t. And yes, even after all these years there was still a Teutonic cut to her accent, but she was a US citizen and considered herself to be fully American – not half or three-quarters. So she answered in a very confident affirmative.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, now with a nervous tremble to his voice. ‘It’s just that . . . my dad has a problem with Germans. And to be honest I don’t blame him.’

  ‘No,’ Susannah said between bites of her lip. ‘I can understand that.’

  Then she waited, saying nothing.

  ‘Mmm . . .’ he eventually said. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘I think he’d like to meet me,’ Susannah said, trying to sing the words in a bright manner.

  ‘Where are you now?’ he said.

  Susannah told him and to her surprise he said he’d be there within thirty minutes. Apparently he lived in a place called Essex, and took the train into London every day to work. And he was just about to leave the office.

  He made it crystal clear he wanted to check her out. That sounded promising. And if he cared enough about his father to do that, then he would surely be a fair and open-minded man.

  When Susannah put the phone down the room started spinning and only stopped when she lay down on the bed. The dull ache in her belly was making her feel weak and tired, so she took a couple of painkillers and closed her eyes for a few minutes.

  When she opened them she still felt weak and queasy, but also felt that this was no time to let her illness get the better of her. She sat up on the side of the bed and took a few deep breaths.

  She had twenty minutes before he was due, so there was no time for self-pity.

  A quick wash of her face.

  Fifteen minutes left.

  Touch up her make-up.

  Ten minutes left.

  What to wear?

  Five minutes left.

  Where would he meet her? Would he ask for her at the lobby? Would he expect her to be waiting there for him?

  Then those twenty minutes were up.

  And after that another ten minutes flew past while she went down to the lobby, told them she was expecting a visitor, and had a quick look around the area.

  She returned to her room and another fifteen lonely minutes went by.

  She looked at her sagging features in the mirror. Perhaps the man had chickened out. Or he’d been stringing her along to make fun of her, and she’d been a fool to expect anything more.

  And then her phone started ringing.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Susannah was a little disappointed at first.

  She’d had an image at the blurry edges of her mind of what Teddy looked like in his younger days, and hence what his son might look like now.

  But no.

  When she went down to the lobby to meet him there was no bond or magical memory or instant chemistry. He was bald, stout and flushed in the face as though he’d been running.

  However, he was polite, offering her a gentle handshake and a smile that got friendlier as it unfolded, and his face seemed to melt a little as his eyes ran over her frame. Perhaps, Susannah thought, he now realized he’d been stupid to doubt her intentions.

  After stilted introductions they went into the hotel bar and ordered drinks.

  ‘Tell me,’ Susannah said as they sat down together in a quiet corner, ‘how is Teddy?’

  Dennis paused, and looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. ‘You didn’t tell me exactly how you met my father.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. It’s . . . awkward to explain.’

  ‘I’d still like to know. I’m his son after all, and he’s a bit fragile.’

  ‘Dennis, can I be blunt with you?’

  ‘I’d p
refer Mr Cooper,’ he said. ‘And, yeah, be as blunt as you like.’

  Susannah took a long sip of drink and paused. ‘Do you consider yourself a good son, Mr Cooper?’

  ‘What sort of a question’s that?’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes. Then please. Just trust me. Your father and I know each other. I don’t . . . I don’t really want to go into details, but I know he’d like to see me again.’

  The man’s phone went off. He took a moment to check the caller, then switched it off.

  ‘So how is he?’ Susannah said.

  ‘I take it you were in the war with him?’

  Susannah nodded, but kept her mouth shut.

  ‘In that case I’m not sure I want you to meet him.’

  Susannah felt her heart weaken. ‘Why not?’

  ‘It might . . .’

  There was a long pause, as if the words were stuck in Dennis’s mouth and he was having difficulty dragging them out.

  ‘He isn’t ill, is he?’ Susannah said. ‘Please tell me.’

  ‘Mrs Morgan—’

  ‘Call me Susannah. Please.’

  ‘My father was a happy bloke for most of his life. I know he suffered in the war – I mean, he never talked much about it, must have kept it inside. But he was a great dad to me – if he was having problems while he was bringing up me and my brother and sister, then he hid it well.’

  Susannah struggled to keep quiet. She was bursting to say she could understand that a thousand times more than he could. Been there, done that, got the floral blouse, as she said to her grandchildren all the time. But Dennis was opening up and it was best she zipped her mouth.

  ‘But four years ago Mother passed on.’

  ‘Oh, dear. I’m so sorry, Mr Cooper.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, twitching his mouth downwards at the corners like a ten-year-old about to cry.

  ‘My Archie passed on only three years ago – it was heart disease. He was Scottish, with a little of that red hair, and I swear he was the kindest man that ever walked this earth. I’ve got a son and daughter who would do anything for me, but I miss Archie so much it physically hurts. Even now, when I wake up, I think for a second it might all have been a dream and maybe he’s lying right beside me. Then I turn and I’m all alone in bed, even the dip where he slept isn’t there anymore.’