Time Passes Time

by Mary Wood

  Four

  Patsy, Theresa Crompton’s Long-lost Daughter

  Breckton, Yorkshire – 1963

  The sun warmed Patsy, and contentment seeped into every part of her as she sat studying papers about the functions of the liver and the diseases it can succumb to – something she had studied early on in her course, but needed to refresh her memory on.

  Richard, a doctor and the man she’d called dad for four years now, sat a few feet away reading through some medical notes. His expression was intent.

  Glancing to her left, she saw Harri, her half-sister, lying back in her deck chair, her notes casually held in her hand, her eyes dreamily following anything that moved in the garden. They were both studying to be doctors, but Harri never had to give her full attention to any subject. Being Richard’s stepdaughter since birth, she’d been around medicine all her life. A little envy entered Patsy at this thought. It wasn’t just the knowledge Harri had picked up over the years, but her having had a stable and settled life surrounded by family and love. It seemed so unfair.

  ‘That were a sigh and a half, love. Having problems?’

  The cushion she threw just missed Harri. Harri’s laughter broke the peace, causing an impatient sigh from Richard. ‘Sorry, Dad. It were Patsy’s fault. She threw a cushion at me.’

  ‘For two young women who are about to start your final year and enter the hospital to do your internship, you still act like children at times!’ This didn’t come over as a reprimand; his accompanying smile belied that. ‘And you, Harri, deserved it from what I heard, as you were being a little smug. You should help your sister rather than tease her. She has done remarkably well and deserves your support.’

  ‘Aye, Dad, I know. I were only funning. Eeh, Patsy, sorry, love. Look, I’ll go through it with you. When we do that, you find you have absorbed more than you thought. I’ll do it as a question and answer session.’

  ‘No, thanks. I don’t feel ready for that. I need to take a bit more of it in.’ Relief entered her as Harri accepted this and got up, saying as she did so, ‘Okay, anyone for a cool drink?’

  Watching Harri walk towards the house was like watching a mirror image of herself. Born on the same day to the same father but to different mothers, it was uncanny how alike they were with their golden-red hair, hazel, slanting eyes and petite figures. People often mistook them for one another, but inside they were different. They’d been shaped by the very different hands dealt them by life, and they sounded different too: Harri, having been brought up in Yorkshire, spoke with an accent very different to Patsy’s own London one.

  It was said that they took their looks from their granny Megan, a woman everyone had loved who had met a tragic end at the hands of her own son, Billy Armitage – hers and Harri’s dad.

  She didn’t let her mind dwell on the rest of it. None of it really touched her, and the bit that did hurt too much to think about. The only way she could cope was to detach herself from it. Yes, it was her father and her granny, but it was like a story from a book about other people. The only attachment she had to it was how the likeness they both had to their granny had led her to find Harri and her family. A family she was now a member of.

  It wasn’t that she had been looking for them, as until four years ago she’d had no idea who she was or if she even had any relatives.

  Brought up in one orphanage after another in and around London and rejected by possible adoptive parents, she’d ended up living in a hostel in the city. When she turned sixteen and was shoved out of care to face life on her own, she had tried desperately to continue the education that she’d been privileged, for someone with her background, to have. An unknown benefactor had seen to that for her – the man who had set up a trust for her had stipulated it must provide for her education. This had meant she’d always been given private lessons after school that had enabled her to pass a scholarship into grammar school.

  There she had met an excellent tutor who’d drummed into her that she was a somebody and not just one of life’s misfits. He’d urged her to carry on her education by going to college, but to do so she’d needed to earn money. An advert for a Girl Friday had seemed the answer. She’d thought it would entail dog-walking or sitting with the elderly, maybe reading to them or some such work. It didn’t turn out to be that, and she should have known by the line in the ad that had said, ‘Girls willing to do anything and earn good money, please apply.’ As it had turned out, it didn’t matter, as meeting Rita, the woman who had placed the advert, changed her life.

  Rita had been astounded on seeing her to learn that she wasn’t Harriet Armitage from Breckton, a girl and a place Patsy had never heard of. But then, after learning she didn’t know who her parents were, Rita had wanted to know her birth-date. She had then come to a conclusion about who Patsy must be and told her about a woman called Theresa Crompton, whom Rita had witnessed having an affair with Billy Armitage. It appeared that soon after, Theresa had gone away for some time and everyone had thought it was to do with war work.

  The shock had been tremendous. Bitterness towards this Theresa, who had callously given her away, had taken root inside her. Rita had nurtured this and had used her for her own ends, with terrible consequences.

  A shudder passed through her, chilling her bones at the memory as Rita’s voice came back to her. ‘I have a score to settle with them bleedin’ Cromptons,’ she’d told Patsy, and had then gone on to stir up and intensify the feelings she’d recognized in her by goading her to exact her own revenge. She’d told her about the Crompton twins and their despicable ways, and how they had framed her. ‘Getting rid of you is typical of them. They’d bleedin’ cast you aside and leave you to fend for yerself without giving it a thought. Well, me and you can see as they get their comeuppance.’

  Rita hadn’t had to persuade her; she’d wanted to do it. Hate had driven her, but she hadn’t been prepared for what her action caused. What her appearance in his life had meant to Terence Crompton, Theresa’s twin brother, she had no idea. He’d promised to meet her in Leeds, but had never turned up. Instead he’d . . . No, she wasn’t to think about it. She mustn’t . . . But unbidden, the thought came into her mind that only compounded her pain: It was only a phone call and a mention of Rita’s name. Why would he kill himself because of that?

  Tears threatened, but she swallowed hard and dispelled them.

  She’d waited for a long time in the cold and then had seen a headline on a newspaper stand that had told her why Terence Crompton, her uncle, hadn’t turned up and never ever would. To escape the icy wind she’d wandered into a shop called Hattie’s Emporium where Hattie, a friend so embedded in Harri’s family that they called her ‘aunt’, had spotted her and once more she had been mistaken for Harri. The same error being made by someone so close to Harri meant there could be no question that they were related; amazingly, it turned out they’d even been born on the same day!

  Meeting a real half-sister, someone who actually belonged to her, was like a miracle. It was as if all her dreams had come true: Harri’s mam, Sarah, her stepdad, Richard – both of whom had insisted she call them Mam and Dad – and Harri’s half-brothers Ian and David had all opened up their hearts and home to her, and she’d lived as one of them ever since.

  She and Harri had become inseparable, and she loved her with a feeling that encompassed many emotions. Jealousy was one of these, and it frightened her at times, as it gave her feelings close to hate when she dwelt on the injustice of how different their lives had been. But there was another side to her jealousy that made her reluctant to share Harri with anyone. She’d even taken up studying to become a doctor on learning that that was Harri’s intention, and now they were in their fourth year.

  Harri’s voice calling out to her dad took her from these thoughts. ‘Dad, Mam’s upset. There’s sommat in the newspaper. She’s crying.’

  ‘What? What is it?’ The love Richard had for Sarah showed in his voice and in the way he jumped up and ran towards the house. Pat
sy followed on his heels.

  Sarah stood at the table staring down at an open newspaper, tears streaming down her face.

  ‘Darling?’

  ‘Oh, Richard, it’s her! After all this time. Oh, Patsy, I – I . . .’

  Patsy stood frozen by the shock of realization that whatever it was Mam was looking at involved her. She felt Harri’s arm come around her. Fear gripped her. She couldn’t think what could be in the paper that could harm her, and yet instinct told her it would.

  As Richard looked down at the paper, Sarah’s plaintive plea of, ‘Please God, don’t let it all begin again,’ deepened the dread in her. What could all begin again?

  ‘Darling, don’t upset yourself. We can deal with this and we can help Patsy to do so. It was always—’

  ‘What? What do you have to help me to deal with?’

  Richard left Sarah’s side and came over to her and Harri. ‘There’s an article in the newspaper about your mother, Patsy. It isn’t pleasant.’

  ‘Is sh-she dead?’

  ‘No. She’s hurt. She’s been mugged. The picture is horrific. You need to prepare yourself, dear.’

  Prepare myself! My God, how can I do that! She’d never seen a picture of her mother. She’d even got over wanting to find her – she’d had to, as the bitterness in her hadn’t left her and nor had her need for revenge.

  ‘I – I’ll look later.’

  ‘Come back out into the garden, love. Dad’ll see to Mam. Eeh, that such a thing should happen, just when you’re nicely settled. And your poor mam.’

  ‘She ain’t poor. It’s no more than she deserves. She—’

  ‘Patsy! Eeh, come on now. That’s no way to talk. She’s hurt. I know as you’re bitter towards her, but you should think on. I mean, you don’t know why she let you go. She might have had good reason.’

  They were back in the garden and had sat down on the wooden bench near to the lawn. A calmer feeling had descended on her. ‘What reason could she have, Harri? She were rich. She could have taken care of me.’

  ‘Well, it was said as our dad . . . well . . . that he – he raped her.’

  ‘He didn’t! Rita told me they were having an affair. She saw them!’

  ‘What? You never said . . . Eeh, I don’t believe it. He and Mam had only just married! Your mam were local gentry, and besides, our father . . . well, he were mentally unstable. Dad told us. You remember? I don’t think your mam would have given you up had you been born out of a love affair.’

  ‘So I’ve been unwanted from the moment I was conceived.’

  ‘No. You’re wanted now – very much so – but aye, I can see as a lot of women wouldn’t want a daily reminder of such a horrific thing happening to them. By, I know we haven’t spoken much about how you came to find me, Patsy, but I never liked the sound of that Rita. I reckon as she would tell you that it were an affair just to get you going. She’d think on how it would be harder to take if you thought your mam had done what brought you into this world willingly but then didn’t want the consequences. Don’t forget, Rita’s sole aim was to hurt your mam and your uncle.’

  Yes, I can see that. I’ve always seen it, really, so I’ve never denied the assumption Hattie made about it being rape when she met me. Though deep down I don’t think any of them believe it, really. I don’t know why. Maybe that’s why Mam’s afraid that something may all start again, whatever that something is.’

  ‘There’s nowt as can start again. She’s just afraid of losing you and of it all raking up the terrible things she and Granddad Jack went through, as a lot of that can be put at the door of the Cromptons. She just can’t face any more upset. I mean, your family were . . . well, there was the fire and, well, you know. Oh God! I know what Mam means. It’s all so painful to think about even for us, and we weren’t even born!’

  They sat in silence for a moment, holding each other’s hands as though they would never let go. But Patsy’s thoughts weren’t silent. They raged at her. They brought back her need for revenge. She didn’t want to feel like this, but then, she supposed it was all part of it – the upset to their lives that no one wanted. She wouldn’t do anything for now. She wouldn’t even look at the article about her mother.

  ‘Hi, you two. Why so glum?’

  Oh no, that was all she needed: Ian and David, returning from work. It had surprised her that with their upbringing and education they both preferred to work on their granddad’s farm rather than take up a career. Especially Ian, who was exceptionally clever and into anything scientific – besides being a pain, that was. Him and his silly crush on her. It was embarrassing! It wasn’t that he wasn’t a nice person – he was, and good-looking too, taking after his granddad Jack in looks and manner, and there wasn’t a nicer man he could take after – but he was two years younger than her and had an irritating way of hanging on her every word.

  ‘Patsy’s had a bit of a shock and needs to be quiet for a while. Dad’ll tell you of it.’

  She saw Ian about to respond to this by coming over, but for once he showed maturity and carried on into the house, only saying as he passed them that he was sorry to hear it.

  ‘Thanks, Harri. I’m feeling a lot better now.’

  ‘Well, it came a bit out of the blue, didn’t it? Like someone smacking you round the face for no reason, but it might turn out for the best. You never know.’

  ‘I don’t want our lives to change. I won’t go to her. I—’

  ‘Well, that’s up to you, love. No one’ll try to persuade you one way or the other. How about we go for a walk? We’ve been sat down here all afternoon and I could do with stretching me legs. I were thinking of cutting some of them chrysanths and taking them to Granny Bridget’s grave.’

  ‘I’ll do the walk thing, but I’m not up for going to the churchyard. There’s too much sadness there.’

  ‘Aye, I know what you mean. But though I put flowers on them all, it’s really only Granny Bridget’s grave that means anything, because she was always in me life.’

  ‘I know. Though she didn’t live long after I came to live with you, I did grow to love her and I miss her. It’s just that after this all happening . . .’

  ‘Okay We’ll walk into the village.’

  ‘No, not that either. It takes us by that Hensal Grange.’

  ‘Reet. The thicket and the beck, then?’

  ‘Yes, okay.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what. We’ll take a towel and have a paddle. And a jam jar and see if we can catch some tiddlers. Ha! I’ve not done owt like that since I were a young ’un.’

  ‘Well, I’ve never done anything like that.’

  Harri visibly cringed at this, and for a moment Patsy felt sorry she’d said it. The difference in how they’d been brought up was so great that it was as if they’d lived on another planet from each other instead of being sisters. But then, Harri had been privileged, and it wouldn’t hurt her to remember it now and again.

  Harri couldn’t think of much to say as they walked arm in arm towards the beck. She didn’t want to dwell on the bitterness she’d heard in Patsy’s voice, so she lost herself in the beautiful scenery she was surrounded by and the silly excitement inside her at going to do something as daft as fishing with jam jars! But then, she and Patsy were soon to enter a life that wouldn’t leave a lot of time for fun. They’d finished their theoretical training and had a few weeks’ respite before taking up positions as student doctors in Leeds, so it wouldn’t hurt to act a bit childish. Besides, they needed something that would give them a laugh.

  They were sitting dangling their feet in the cool water before she spoke. ‘Eeh, this is grand. Are you okay, now, Patsy, love?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be. I’ve been mulling it all over and I’m still not wanting to do anything. I’ve been thinking of what Hattie always says: “When in doubt, do nowt.”’

  ‘Aye, she’s full of wisdom, is Hattie. I bet her and Arthur are nearly in America by now. Eeh, I’d love to travel!’

  ‘Well, I don’
t think Hattie thought of it like that. She was really nervous. I can hear her now: “Eeh, the thought of not having me feet on solid ground, it frightens the life out of me.”’

  ‘Ha, I know, but she wouldn’t have missed the chance of going to see Sally and Mark and their lot. Mam misses Sally an’ all. They were very close.’

  ‘Well, maybe she and Dad will go out for a holiday. They should have gone with Hattie. By the sounds of things, Sally and Mark have plenty of room – live in a mansion, don’t they?’

  ‘Aye, I can’t take it in. Mark, wounded so badly in the war and left blinded, becoming a songwriter, and a famous one at that! But I’m glad for him, and wish I had half his courage.’

  ‘There’s a lot of that in the family – courage — and it’s shown itself down the ages by the tales we hear. I hope some of it rubs off on me. I could do with some.’

  ‘I reckon as you’ve got it in abundance, love. And it’ll stand you in good stead in the future an’ all. Come on, let’s catch a few of them tiddlers swimming over there.’

  ‘Harri Chesterton, you’re nothing but a big kid!’

  ‘Aye, I know I am, Patsy Crompton, and I’m even going to tuck me skirt into me knickers. Ha, hope no one comes up here and catches us.’

  As she did just that to the sound of Patsy’s laughter, Harri thanked God that the moment that had made her feel uncomfortable – when Patsy had compared their lives – had passed, and now it seemed silly to have even given it a thought.

  Five

  Jacques – Theresa’s Long-lost Son

  A Need to Know – Florida 1963

  ‘And to Jacques Rueben, a distinguished pass. Well done, Jacques. You are our youngest candidate and our highest achiever.’