Time Passes Time

by Mary Wood

  ‘Oh, God!’

  ‘Jacques, there is no easy way to say this, but I only have a . . . a month at most.’

  ‘NO! No, no!’

  ‘Oh, Jacques, I don’t know what to say. I’m scared. I want you with me.’

  Hearing this fear in his grandfather, something he’d never heard before, etched a strength into Jacques as he took on the role of protector. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll fly back as soon as I can. We will do something, Grandfather. You won’t die. I’m coming.’

  ‘Jacques, there is nothing that can be done. The disease is not detectable until this symptom shows itself, and by then it is too late. There is no substitute for the liver, and no one can live without one. Mine will cease to function very quickly. Come home, son, just come home.’

  Tears ran down his face as he came out of the booth. This time, despite her own worry at realizing something bad was happening to his grandfather, Verkona treated him with more gentleness than she had the first time she’d come across him in tears. Then, she’d seen him as a young man with the world at his fingertips who’d not suffered in his life. In that she hadn’t been wrong, but since his grandfather first told him about his family, and even more now, he knew what suffering was.

  ‘What is it, dear? Is Isaac alright? What has happened?’

  They helped him to a bench. ‘Tell us. Tell us what is wrong.’

  Looking up into Gustov’s face, he had a moment when he thought, If only this was my father bending over me with concern in his face. What must that feel like? How much easier to bear everything with a father to turn to. The thought hadn’t meant to be derogatory to Gustov, only that, being the same age and knowing his father, his action had prompted the deep longing.

  But then he saw more than concern in the face of this man, for though they hadn’t known each other more than a couple of days, he read a deep love in him. Putting out his hand, he took Gustov’s, then looked from him to Verkona. ‘My grandfather, Isaac Rueben, is . . . I – I’m so sorry, Verkona, he is dying.’

  Her intake of breath cut through him and rasped the sore pain that lay in his heart. He told them what had happened. Verkona, in a voice that held her shock, said, ‘But surely, in America they can do something? Why so quick? Why . . .?’

  Her last ‘why?’ seemed to be asking ‘why now?’, rather than referring to his grandfather’s illness, and this compounded the sadness inside him. Verkona had had a dream, and he’d just shattered it. But he could still make a small part of it happen. ‘We must pay whatever it costs to get your travel papers in order. Tomorrow, we will go back to the municipal building, and if I have to pay someone a million zloty, I will! We will go to America together. And that must be in the next few days.’

  Verkona brightened a little at this, but he knew that nothing could completely lift her now. She was a woman whose hopes had been dashed.

  Verkona and Gustov’s joy and amazement at every little thing helped to make the trip exciting despite the reason he was going home sooner than he’d intended.

  His heart pounded when he drove the hired car into the drive of their house. Part of him didn’t want to see his grandfather and be faced with the reality, and when he did, the shock of his appearance nearly undid him. Holding him in his arms and feeling the bones of him did.

  ‘Oh, Grandfather . . .’ They clung on to each other. He could feel his grandfather’s hand gently patting his back. Until she spoke, he’d forgotten about Verkona.

  ‘Isaac, dearest.’

  Grandfather released him. His gaunt face lit up as he looked at Verkona. ‘You haven’t changed a bit, my dear.’

  ‘Go away with you . . .’

  ‘And Gustov . . .’

  The little strength his grandfather had tapped into to greet them, left him. His hand clasped Jacques’s shoulder.

  The chat that now took place, with Grandfather lying on the sofa covered with Grandmother’s quilt, was conducted in Polish. He didn’t mind. It was good for Grandfather to use his native tongue, as he knew he loved to on his visits to his club. At times he was animated, at others he laughed, but through it all it was as if most of him had already left this earth.

  By the time Jacques came back into the lounge from making a call to his grandmother in England, he realized that was what was happening. Grandfather lay with his eyes closed, clinging on to Verkona’s hand. His breathing was shallow, his face was more sunken onto the bones beneath, and his eye sockets were now deep pits.

  ‘Call his doctor, Jacques. Isaac is in pain.’

  ‘N-No . . . Come . . . come here, my boy.’

  Jacques took Verkona’s place sitting on the edge of the sofa. Fingers of fear clutched at his heart.

  ‘I – I haven’t got . . . time.’

  Somehow his grandfather told him that he loved him and that he wanted his own name on the memorial. It seemed that Verkona and Gustov had told him about how they had managed between them to have a stone erected on the site of the old factory. It was a temporary one for now, and its inscription just said: ‘On this waste-ground stood a factory. In August 1939 sixty-six Jews took refuge inside it. They perished by fire at the hands of the Germans.’ Grandfather was pleased at this step, and asked about what plans there were for the permanent one.

  ‘Well, that is the best bit, Grandfather. We have commissioned a stonemason to make a beautiful statue of your father. Verkona remembered seeing a clipping her mother had taken from a local paper. She’d been so proud of her boss, so she kept it for a long time and showed it to everyone. That was lost a long time ago, but in the local museum we found historic copies of the newspaper and the archives of the articles and pictures. Amongst them we found the picture. It had been taken outside the factory to commemorate an honour the mayor had bestowed, and the curator allowed us to borrow it to make copies. We gave one of these to the sculptor.’

  ‘Here, dearest Isaac. While you have been talking to Jacques I have searched my luggage and have found the picture. Look, dear, it is your father.’

  His grandfather opened his eyes. ‘Magnifying . . . glass.’

  Holding his magnifying glass in his shaky hand, Grandfather looked at the picture. A tear seeped out of the corner of his eye, but the sadness of this was belied by the smile that creased his face.

  ‘Thank . . . you . . .’

  The glass dropped from his hand. His head lolled to one side. ‘No . . . no, Grandfather.’

  Despite his grief, the funeral made him proud. The Polish community attended in large numbers, and many had stories to tell – some funny, and some about the bad things they and his grandfather had been through. One stood and told of his grandfather’s heroism in escaping and of his son’s heroic, if short, life. This shocked him. He had not known that his grandfather had shared so much with others.

  Speaking to the man afterwards, he learned that they had only heard of these things recently and had been shocked themselves to hear that Isaac had been through so much. It seemed that after opening up to Jacques, Grandfather was able to talk to others, and listening to their testimony it was apparent that he had spoken with pride rather than sadness. This pleased him. It was as if by forcing his grandfather to speak of it to him, he had helped him to open up and accept it all, and to do so with pride that he had such a son and was the son of such a great man himself.

  The eulogy had gone on to say how Isaac was now more than proud of his grandson and of what joy he had brought to his late wife and himself, filling a gap he’d never thought could be filled. At this, Jacques had found the tears wetting his cheeks as they flowed unhindered. But in some strange way, they were not just tears of sadness, but ones of joy at the knowledge that his grandfather had found peace, and that he had helped him to find it.

  Two days later, a time when there had been a quietness about the house as each of them had lived in their own thoughts, Verkona came out to sit with him on the porch. Looking out over fields and with the Gulf of Mexico in the distance, the scene was a peaceful one. He’d so of
ten sat here with his grandfather. Sometimes in the daytime, but the best times had been in the evening when to the tune of a thousand crickets the lights had glowed a hazy pattern in the distance and the stars had formed a twinkling blanket of silver above them. These were the times they had talked about everything and anything, except the one subject he’d wanted to hear about and had been afraid to ask about for fear of upsetting his beloved grandfather. Now he felt so glad that he had pushed the issue in the end.

  ‘May I sit with you and have a chat, Jacques? I don’t want to intrude, but there are things to sort out.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you worrying. It has all been such a shock.’

  ‘I know. And we understand. It is just that—’

  ‘Look, I don’t want you feeling obliged, but would it be too much for me to ask of you if you would consider staying on here and take care of things – the house and the garden – for me whilst I continue with my European trip? I have so much that I have left undone. My mother . . .’

  ‘We would be glad to. Neither of us is ready to go back so soon, and we have many invitations from the community that we would like to take up, and Gustov has said he wants to learn the language, and . . . Well, apart from the deep sadness we feel, we love it here. The freedom, the warmth, the people . . . well, everything, really.’

  ‘That’s great. You don’t know what a relief that is to me. I’ll be happier travelling knowing you two are safe and well.’

  ‘It is nice to know you are thinking about us when you have so much on your plate. You are a fine young man, Jacques, and very mature for your age. Your grandparents did a good job raising you.’

  ‘Thank you. It has always been that way. Sometimes it has given me difficulties being much more mature than my friends. Things they have wanted to do haven’t always sounded fun to me, but silly. I suppose being around older people made me take on their view of the world. But I didn’t miss out on fun. They always arranged great birthdays for me, and took me to Disneyland and all the other things kids do. It was just . . . well, I can’t explain it, really.’

  ‘Whatever it was, it has turned out to be a good thing, as you have a lot on your shoulders and you are alone in the world to face it all.’

  ‘No, that’s not true. I have found a beautiful grandmother in England, and am soon to meet my mother, just as soon as she is well enough to be told I have come back into her life.’

  ‘Of course. And you must go back as soon as you can. We will be fine, only . . . we haven’t much money.’

  He reached out and took her hand, wanting to lessen her embarrassment at this, but unsure how to put what he had to say. On the one hand he didn’t want them to feel like his employees, as they were much more than that to him, and on the other, he didn’t want them to feel obliged to him. ‘I’ll take care of you. You too are my family, and family take care of their own. You won’t have anything to worry about. Look, we have to go to see the family solicitor tomorrow. There’s the will and other stuff to see to, and he rang earlier and asked that you two attend. That may mean more than just the memorial fund to sort out. Maybe Grandfather made sure you will be okay. And if he didn’t, it would have been because he didn’t have time to and would want me to do it on his behalf.’

  ‘Thank you, Jacques.’ With her free hand she used her fingers to wipe away a tear. ‘It was a good day when I met you. To me it is as if you are the good thing to come out of all of the horror.’

  All he could do was to squeeze her hand, as he felt his own throat constrict.

  Twenty-one

  Harri in Love

  1963

  Plans had changed slightly for Harri. Patsy had shown signs of developing pneumonia. Mam and Dad and Ian had stayed with her, which meant Harri had had to bring Lizzie back to their hotel. Settling her into her room and having ordered dinner to be sent up for her, she said for the umpteenth time, ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay, Lizzie?’

  ‘I’m sure. Look, you’ve been looking forward to going out to dinner with Greg. I can look after meself. I have me chair so I can take meself to the toilet. There won’t be a problem. I want yer to go.’

  ‘Eeh, thanks, love. I were that excited, then it seemed as I’d have to cancel. Mam and Dad will be back later. If anyone has to stay with Lizzie, Ian will. Mam even said they might take you back to Breckton tonight. Dad’s eager to get home. His partner is running the surgery and all the visits on his own and that’s a big thing.’

  ‘I hope not, I’m very tired. I’ll probably sleep once I’ve eaten. Not that I’m very hungry.’

  ‘But, what about, well, I mean, being on your own and that, are you ready for that? I’d cancel in a flash if you need me here.’

  ‘No, I’ll be okay. I’m used to being on me own. And, even if yer weren’t going out I’d want yer to leave me.’

  This relieved Harri’s mind. She couldn’t think of cancelling with Greg.

  With Lizzie’s assurance that she had everything she’d need to hand, and with those exercise books Lizzie put so much store by tucked under her pillow, Harri left the hotel. What those books contained fascinated her. To think they held all of Patsy’s history . . . well on her mother’s side, at any rate, but they must mention hers and Patsy’s dad.

  It was strange that Patsy hadn’t taken them off Lizzie, but then it wasn’t as if she could read them yet with her sore and bloodshot eyes. But to allow an almost complete stranger to read all about the most private life of your mother . . . well, it just didn’t seem like Patsy. And what of this half-brother Lizzie had found out that Patsy had! That was a turn-up. Eeh, life could get very complicated in the future.

  Still, she had other things to occupy her thoughts: Greg! By, in less than an hour he’d be calling for her. She couldn’t wait. But first she had to run along to that shop she’d passed every day on her way to and from the hospital. She’d checked it out tonight as they had passed, and the blue dress was still in the window. Its tight bodice, cut low in a rounded neckline, fitted into the waist then gracefully flowed into a sort of lampshade-shaped skirt. A bow sat at the waistline, and the hem was cut to at least three inches above the knee – not too short, but enough to show off the one asset she would admit to having: her nice, shapely legs. Oh, she knew the old adage that girls with red hair should wear green, but she didn’t always stick to that. Anyway, blue suited her, and this one was a lovely subtle shade.

  Anticipation shortened her breath as she waited in the foyer later. When he finally came through the door, she stood up and ran towards him. His look held surprised pleasure. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her cheek. ‘You look beautiful.’ His husky voice told her that his feelings matched hers. They were like a collision of souls. Once their paths had met, she’d known their lives were entwined for ever. There was no questioning it; there were no boundaries to surmount. There wasn’t even a life to tell of, as nothing that had gone before meant anything. Nothing at all.

  Dinner had been a magical sealing of them as two people with a lot in common: the music they liked, the films, the kind of books they had read and wanted to read. The only differences were in their upbringing. Greg being a city man and her from the country; his coming from the south and her from the north – it all meant they had different outlooks on some things, but both knew these would be new horizons to discover rather than fences to climb.

  As they travelled back to her hotel, she realized she couldn’t bear to part from him. She’d never been with a man – not properly, she hadn’t. She’d had her chances, but she’d felt differently about it than Patsy, and had preferred to keep herself for the right man. Mind, something in her was glad that Patsy was experienced, as she worried that the rape – oh God, she felt sick at the very word – could have damaged her more otherwise. Not just mentally, but physically too. Maybe even to the point that she’d never want to do it again – still may have done, in fact. Her heart went out to Patsy. She could think of nothing worse, but at this momen
t she didn’t want to give her mind to anything other than how her blood seemed to have warmed inside her, and with its flowing it tingled places that had never been touched by another. The sensation gave her urges she didn’t want to deny. It lowered her resistance to a point where she knew she couldn’t think of doing so. ‘I wish I could ask you in . . .’

  ‘I know. I feel we should always stay together now we have found one another. Would you think bad of me if I asked you back to mine?’

  ‘No, I would say, what took you so long . . .?’

  His grin held a magic that she wanted to bottle and keep for ever. His pulling her closer intensified the feelings in her to a point where she wanted release for them right now. Her conscience stopped her, and she pulled away from him. ‘I just need to check on Lizzie – make sure Mam and Dad came back from the hospital and everything is okay.’

  ‘Let’s hope it is. I don’t know if I can cope if I have to leave you now.’ His voice, already low so as the taxi driver couldn’t hear, dropped to a whisper, ‘Harri, I know we haven’t known each other long, but I love you. You are the other half of me.’

  ‘I know, because I feel the same. If you asked me to marry you right now me answer would be: aye, let’s run off to Gretna Green . . . Eeh, I’ve never been so forward in all me life! You’re doing things to me that’s changing me.’

  ‘Our meeting changed us both, as that is how I feel too. And I’d do it, but we would upset so many who don’t deserve it. But for all that, I am asking you to marry me. It’s not the most romantic place to ask, and I haven’t a ring to give you tonight, but with your help I will design one and have it made for you and ready for when I can get your father’s consent.’

  ‘Eeh, Greg.’ She wiped away the tears that had filled her eyes. ‘Me answer is yes. Yes, yes, yes.’

  The kiss took them to another world. The driver tapping on the dividing window brought them out of it. ‘We’re here, mate, and you may have nothing better to do, but I have a living to make, so if you don’t mind, that’ll be six bob.’