There is a Season

by There is a Season (retail) (epu

  We’ve made it! We came over the Pyrenees, first with French guides then with Spanish, and now we’re enrolled in the International Brigade. I’ve met some marvellous fellows, from all parts of Britain and some other nationalities. Many Americans, but I believe they’ll go to a different camp to us. Some great chaps from Liverpool, Bootle and Birkenhead. I hope you’re not worried about me. I’m really happy. My only regret is that I can’t tell Grandad about all this.

  I’m sorry I can’t send any Christmas presents, only my love to you both, Mum and Dad, and to Sarah, Mick and Kate. Remember me to my friends if you see them. I’ve written separately to Grandma.

  I think of you all very often.

  Your loving son,

  John

  Cathy read and re-read the second letter and knew that Greg did too. She felt that in the loving, warmhearted letter Greg was seeing John for the first time as the son she had always known.

  On the Sunday before Christmas, when all the family were at Sally’s house for tea, she said she hoped they were all determined to make it a good Christmas. ‘It’s what Grandad would have wanted for one thing,’ she said. ‘And then we don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, good or bad. Kate might go to Hollywood or Mick might stow away on an aeroplane, so we’ll have a good time while we’re all here and have something to remember next year, eh?’

  Kate and Mick were delighted with her guesses about their future, and there was much laughter and joking, but in later years Cathy often wondered if her mother had second sight.

  Cathy and Greg were anxious to make it a happy time for Kate particularly. She had been disappointed at not being chosen to appear in the “Puss in Boots” pantomime, but with everyone fussing over her, buying her presents and praising her appearance in new outfits, she was perfectly happy.

  On Christmas Eve a parcel arrived from America with gifts chosen by Mary and Sam. There was a tiny watch for Sarah and a bangle for Kate, a book on aviation for Mick with a twenty dollar bill as a bookmark in it. Sam wrote that they had no address for John but he hoped that they would either send him the enclosed fifty dollars or buy something for him with it.

  For Greg there was an expensive fountain pen and for Cathy a pair of diamante clips which transformed the plain black silk dress she still wore for best.

  During the year letters had arrived more frequently from both Mary and Sam, and the letter in the parcel was quite bulky.

  Mary told them about a holiday she and Sam had had with some friends, but said she was quite pleased to get home to California.

  Coming here was the best thing we ever did. Sam says out of evil cometh good, and it’s true we would never have left New York if that crash hadn’t happened.

  I’m having a marvellous life here. Wonderful weather and a beautiful house and so many friends. We are at beach parties or cocktail parties or dinners nearly every evening, and everyone makes such a fuss of me. Sam is so proud of me!!!

  We have a couple to look after the house and Mamie the maid says she has never worked for such a beautiful lady, and believe me in this part of the world that’s really saying something.

  P.S. I feel sad at times, thinking of Dada. Mam seems all right now visiting the picturedromes so often with Peggy.

  A parcel had also gone to Sally’s house, containing a book with pictures of film stars’ homes and details of their lives, and a long, broad scarf in very fine pink wool.

  ‘We used to call these fascinators when I was young,’ Sally told Sarah. ‘Not that I ever had one.’ She flung it around her head and crossed it loosely around her neck.

  ‘It’s lovely and warm,’ she said. ‘They’ve put a lot of thought into these gifts, Sarah.’

  She nodded. She felt that she could never really like her Aunt Mary, but she acknowledged that she was kind and generous at times. She felt sorry for her too, since her grandmother had dropped a hint that Mary had been disappointed that her father had preferred her mother from the beginning.

  Sally read Mary’s letter to Cathy and afterwards pursed her lips. ‘I love me, who do you love?’ she quoted ironically. ‘I think she’d had a few of those cocktails before she wrote that letter.’

  ‘She certainly let herself go,’ Cathy laughed. ‘But she seems to be having a good life, Mam. A maid too. Sam must be doing well.’

  ‘He deserves to,’ Sally said, ‘he’s a good lad.’

  After Lawrie’s death she found that her allowance from Sam was increased, and had written to him to protest. He had replied that it was in the terms of the original arrangement that he had made with the company who administered the annuity, and could not be changed.

  “Use the money for little treats,” Sam wrote. “Take Cathy and Greg out to dinner in Southport, or use it for your outings with your friend Mrs Burns. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  Sally read the letter aloud to Peggy and insisted that Sam’s money must pay for their twice-weekly visits to the Palladium or Olympia cinemas in West Derby Road, and for their ice creams in the interval.

  On Peggy’s birthday Cathy went with them and they went to the luxurious Forum Cinema in Lime Street. There was a café there, and emboldened by having Cathy with them, they went for a meal before the performance. Sally had bought the best seats and Peggy settled back with a sigh of bliss. ‘This is the life, Sally,’ she murmured.

  When the organ rose from under the stage at the interval, with Reginald Foort playing it, Peggy was speechless with delight.

  ‘That’s the best birthday I’ve ever had,’ she declared as they left the cinema.

  ‘You should go there sometimes as a change from the Olympia,’ Cathy said. ‘Go to the café again, now you know they’re only people like yourselves there.’

  ‘I think we will,’ Sally declared. She giggled like a young girl. ‘We’re getting hardfaced in our old age, Peg,’ she said. Cathy looked at them with deep affection. What hard lives they had both had, and how little it took to make them happy, she thought.

  Sally planned more treats with Peggy after the holiday but Christmas was for the family, they both felt.

  Kate had lost her faith in Father Christmas, thanks to an older girl at the dancing class, so on Christmas Eve she slept with her grandmother while the rest of the family went to Midnight Mass. They felt soothed and uplifted as they knelt in the crowded church.

  Cathy felt close to her son as she prayed for John’s safety and happiness, and Sarah prayed that Michael would find happiness in a true vocation to the priesthood. She realised thankfully that she could make this prayer without any regret for what might have been, and feel only a friendly interest in him.

  Greg too prayed for John’s safety, and thanked God for his wife and children as he glanced at the intent faces of Cathy and Sarah. When the Mass was over they exchanged Christmas greetings with friends, then they walked home through the starry night, linking arms and softly singing “Silent Night”.

  The anniversary of Lawrie’s death revived all their feelings of loss and sadness, but Sally met the occasion with her usual fortitude. The family had gathered in her kitchen after work and school, and she said quietly, ‘I know none of us will ever forget Grandad, but we must remember, he did a lot of good in his lifetime and he had a peaceful death with his family round him and wouldn’t have wished for more. We’ll just be thankful we had him with us for so long.’

  Greg stood up and put his arm around her. ‘You’re a brave woman, Mam,’ he said. ‘It was your care that meant we had him with us for so long.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Cathy said. ‘We should all try to be as brave as you, Mam.’

  ‘A drop of something to warm us?’ Josh suggested.

  ‘Good idea,’ Greg agreed, but Sally said quickly, ‘You and Greg have a drop of rum, Josh, but me and Cathy’ll stick to tea, and so will Sarah, won’t you, love?’

  ‘Yes please, Grandma,’ she said.

  Mick stuck his thumbs under his shirt collar. ‘I’ll have a drop of rum, D
ad,’ he said with a lordly air, and Kate echoed, ‘I’ll have a drop of rum.’

  ‘That’s what you think,’ Greg said. ‘Ginger beer or tea, which is it?’

  ‘You wouldn’t be able to dance if you drank rum, Katie,’ Josh said fondly. ‘Why don’t you do your new dance for us?’

  She readily obliged, and followed it by several other dances and a song she was to sing in the next show.

  Later, when they were at home and Kate was in bed, Cathy said to Greg, ‘No one could accuse Kate of being shy or backward in coming forward, could they? Wouldn’t you wonder at the difference in our children?’

  ‘She might be a throwback to my grandmother,’ Greg said. ‘My mother told me once that her mother had been an actress and had a sweet singing voice. Her father didn’t like it talked about because he was a solicitor in a small country town, and was ashamed of marrying an actress.’

  ‘But she didn’t carry on after they were married, did she?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Mother only spoke about it once. She was complaining about her unhappy childhood, and said her mother thought she was Sarah Siddons. She used to throw out her arms dramatically and say, “I could have been anything, anything if I hadn’t married that awful man.” She hated her husband apparently, and I think Mother hated her.’

  ‘Oh, Greg, how awful!’ Cathy exclaimed.

  He shrugged. ‘Mother may have been exaggerating, but I know she was bitter about an unhappy childhood although I don’t know all the details. Her mother was selfish, I think.’

  ‘Your mother was quite dramatic herself, wasn’t she?’ Cathy said. ‘Quite a good actress.’

  Greg nodded but said no more, and neither did she. Later, in bed, she lay thinking of their conversation. So Greg thought Kate might be a throwback to his grandmother? Or even worse, in Cathy’s estimation, to his mother.

  How she had detested that selfish old woman, who had hastened her husband’s death by her demand for luxuries, and had pretended heart attacks to try to prevent Greg leaving her for even a few hours. I hope he’s wrong, Cathy thought.

  Mrs Mellor always said that Kate was like Mary and Cathy had hoped she was wrong, but better a thousand times that Kate should be like her aunt than like that old harpy Mrs Redmond. It’s a good thing she has the dancing, Cathy reflected. She’s not good at anything else.

  There had been no suggestion that Kate might go in the scholarship class, and only Greg’s careful coaching saved her from being relegated to the B stream in school. She showed no interest in reading, her only passions were her appearance and her dancing, but she seemed happy enough, and Cathy decided not to worry about her.

  Thinking of Mrs Mellor reminded Cathy that she had not called in to see how she was that evening. The old lady was sinking fast. She was now very confused and doubly incontinent, and Cathy and her mother had been helping Josie with the nursing during the day.

  Sally had offered to help in the evening too but Josie had refused. ‘No, I’m not putting on good nature,’ she said. ‘Our Edie’s a big strong girl and she can help me.’

  ‘But is it suitable for a young girl? I don’t mind coming over,’ Sally said. But Josie said firmly that Edie must learn.

  ‘I don’t want any of our Mary’s capers out of her,’ she said.

  Her sister Mary had said that she couldn’t stand sickrooms, and anyway it was heavy work and why couldn’t he do it? ‘I knew she’d have to get a dig in at Walter somehow,’ Josie said. ‘I told her she’ll finish up in a lunatic asylum the way she goes on about men.’

  ‘She did have a terrible experience with her husband though, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, but she was lucky. He got killed in the war. Other women have to put up with that all their lives,’ Josie retorted.

  Cathy went in to see Mrs Mellor the following morning and found her much worse. She moaned constantly as though in pain, and from time to time she muttered, ‘What have I got to do? Oh God, what have I got to do?’

  Josie wept as they changed the bed and gave her mother the powders the doctor had left for her. ‘If only she wasn’t so worried,’ Josie said. ‘And in such pain.’

  ‘The powders might ease her, and you’re doing all you can,’ Cathy comforted her.

  ‘I wish I hadn’t had so many rows with her,’ Josie said.

  In the late afternoon Sally was with Josie when Mrs Mellor gave a convulsive jerk, then lay making a rattling noise in her throat. Sally bent over her and took her wrist, then after a moment she said quietly to Josie, ‘That’s it, love. It’s a happy release for her, poor soul.’ She drew the sheet over Mrs Mellor’s face, and took Josie downstairs to make her a cup of tea.

  Sally sent a child in the street for Cathy, and when she came Josie said in a bewildered way, ‘I don’t know what you’re supposed to do.’

  ‘Me and Cathy’ll see to the laying out,’ Sally said.

  ‘And Greg will help Walter to make arrangements,’ Cathy offered.

  ‘Will he? That’s good,’ Josie said gratefully. ‘There’s no men in our family now, only Walter, with the lads all being killed in the war.’

  ‘Your poor mam had a lot of trouble and sorrow, didn’t she?’ Sally said. ‘Losing her four lads one after the other, and then your dad so soon after the war.’

  ‘It finished me dad, losing the lads,’ Josie said. ‘And it’s funny, he was so quiet but we didn’t half miss him when he went.’

  Cathy felt more sad at Mrs Mellor’s death than she expected. She had been a link with Cathy’s carefree youth and had always treated her kindly, although she was regarded as a Tartar by most people.

  Cathy remembered that when her father died, Mrs Mellor had heaved herself up from her armchair, which she rarely left, and waddled over to pay her respects to Lawrie and say how much she had valued him as a good neighbour. That had meant a lot to her mother, Cathy knew.

  Greg helped Walter with the arrangements for the funeral, and looking round the church, Cathy thought how sad it was to see the pews filled with the widowed daughters-in-law and their children, with Walter and two adolescent grandsons as the only male members of the family.

  Thinking of the men who had been killed in the war revived Cathy’s fears for John’s safety. More letters had come from him. In the first he said that they had made a long journey by train to Albacete, the headquarters of the International Brigade, and there he had met other men from Liverpool.

  They gave me a lot to think about. I feel sometimes like a boy among men. Although some of them are no older than me, they have been on hunger marches and really suffered hardship. The Spanish people welcomed us and gave us oranges when the train stopped anywhere. Strange to see oranges growing on twigs with leaves.

  The next letter was brief and said that he was training at Madrigueras, and hoped soon to be ready to be drafted to the fighting area. The days were very hot, he wrote, but the nights freezing cold.

  It was only when Cathy re-read the letter and folded it up again, that she realised that there were a few more words written on the back of the paper.

  Dear Mum and Dad,

  This is it. The trucks are here and we’ll soon be moving off. We are to defend the road to Madrid. I’m looking forward to it. Pray for me. Love to all.

  John, Feb. 1st

  ‘February the first,’ she exclaimed. ‘But that was weeks ago.’

  It was a Saturday and Greg was home at one o’clock. He examined the letter and the outer envelope in which it had been enclosed. ‘This is postmarked Liverpool,’ he said. ‘That means someone has brought it home and posted it, so John must be all right.’

  ‘I don’t see how it means that John’s all right,’ Cathy said doubtfully. Neither did Greg, but he said cheerfully, ‘Yes, I’m sure it’s a good sign, Cath,’ and she stifled her doubts.

  Later he went out ostensibly for screws, but walked down to the Old Haymarket to see the Spanish Aid representative. They told him that John’s battalion was fighting in the Jara
ma Valley, to prevent Franco’s troops cutting the road to Madrid. His name was not among the casualties as far as they knew, but Greg must understand that things were rather chaotic out there.

  Greg gave Cathy and Sally a carefully edited version of this news, and a few days later another letter came from John. He wrote that he had been wounded in the foot and was now in a field dressing station but all right. The second part of the letter was from hospital and said that his wound had been treated although medical supplies were limited. He had been given an anti-tetanus injection.

  ‘He’s out of the fighting, anyhow, Mum,’ Sarah said.

  Cathy was convinced that he would soon be home and made preparations for his return. Mick’s possessions had gradually flowed over John’s part of the bedroom, but she made him clear them away and put fresh sheets on John’s bed in readiness.

  The weeks dragged on but no more letters came from John and Greg could get no information about him. The date set for the Coronation of Edward VIII was used for the Coronation of George VI as plans were so far ahead at the time of the Abdication, and Liverpool streets were decorated and street parties planned as there had been for the Jubilee of George V and Queen Mary.

  None of the Redmonds except Kate could feel any enthusiasm for the event. Worry about John clouded all their days, although they told each other that no news was good news. Sarah had been involved in several arguments with people at the ceilidhes when she said her brother was with the International Brigade in Spain. They told her that John should be fighting on the side of Franco who was fighting to defend Christianity, but Sarah and Anne argued that he was doing what he believed to be right.

  Eventually another letter came from John in hospital. In it he said that he hoped when his foot was fully healed he could go back to the Front, and told them a little about the battle at Jarama.

  We held the line and prevented the Fascists breaking through although they had so much more than us in the way of equipment, a lot of it supplied by Italy and Germany. Ten thousand men with air and artillery supplies, I heard, but our fellows fought like tigers.