The Long Way Home: A moving saga of lost family

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  ‘When we get back, why don’t you and she have a chat?’ David suggested. ‘Ask her to make you some coffee — get to know each other. I’m sure you’ll hit it off.’

  *

  ‘And all this business flair. How did you come by that?’ Ralph sipped the coffee Marie had made when David made his excuses and retired to bed.

  ‘I took a business management course. I worked in a hotel in Ireland when I was younger.’

  ‘Really, which hotel would that be?’

  Marie smiled to hide her uneasiness. ‘This is beginning to sound a bit like an interrogation.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Ralph laughed. ‘It’s habit, I suppose.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were in the military police,’ she said. ‘But then David hasn’t talked much to me about you.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Ralph shrugged. ‘No reason why he should. We’ve never been close.’

  ‘But you are the only blood relative he has,’ Marie pointed out.

  ‘I’ve neglected him, you mean?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m glad you came to see him, though. It made his day. Are you planning to see more of him now that your army career is over?’

  He gave her the disarming smile she’d experienced earlier. ‘Do you think I should?’

  ‘It’s not for me to say.’

  ‘I suppose what I’m really asking is, would it bother you?’

  She looked at him. ‘Why should it?’

  ‘You tell me.’ He smiled again. ‘I’d like to think that maybe you’d quite like to get to know me better. I might not be such a bad guy once you got me house-trained.’

  She laughed in spite of herself. ‘I’m sure you're right.’

  He regarded her for a moment. ‘So — what are your plans, Marie? What do you intend to do with your life?’

  She looked surprised. ‘Well, this.’ She held out her hands. ‘I love the hotel business.’

  ‘Will you persuade Dad to expand further then?’

  ‘I’d like to. I’d like to see a chain of hotels around the coast. Small hotels with big hotel service and luxury. That’s my dream, I suppose you could say.’

  ‘And will it come true?’

  ‘Who can tell? You never know your luck.’

  ‘I happen to think we all have to make our own luck in this world.’ His eyes swept over her in a way that made her blush. ‘Do you ever take any time off? Do you have any other interests besides the hotel?’

  She looked up in surprise. ‘No. Not really.’

  ‘What — no boyfriends?’ He shook his head. ‘I can hardly believe that.’

  ‘The work and the hours we put in here don’t leave much time for a social life.’

  ‘But you should make time.’ His eyes held hers. ‘You’re too young to submerge yourself in work. Letting your youth slip away — wasting yourself — that’s a crime.’ He moved closer. ‘You asked if I’d be seeing more of Dad from now on. I think you can count on it.’

  Hot colour burned Marie’s face. ‘I — I’m sure he’ll look forward to that.’

  ‘And you, Marie — will you look forward to seeing me again?’

  She turned away and began to gather up the cups. Ralph reached out to touch her arm.

  ‘I’ve embarrassed you. I had no right, I’m sorry. It’s a sure sign that I’m in need of rehabilitating into civilisation.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’,

  ‘Oh yes, it does. I like you, Marie. I admire you too. And I’m grateful for what you’ve done for my father.’

  She was silent, unable to think of a suitable answer.

  ‘I wish we could get to know each other better.’ Bending closer, he peered into her eyes. ‘So would you like it if I came to visit again?’

  ‘When?’

  The dark eyes lit up. ‘Ah, that’s distinctly encouraging.’

  ‘I only meant, if you come to see your father I’d naturally be happy — for him.’

  ‘I think you know that I’m not talking about Dad now, Marie. I’m talking about us — you and me. As for when, I’m not sure exactly but soon. Because I’d really like to see you again. I mean that.’

  ‘I see.’

  He cupped her chin with his hand and turned her face towards his. ‘This is where you’re supposed to say you’d like to see me too.’ He prompted gently. ‘But you’re too shy, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m not shy — not normally.’

  ‘Then how about telling me how you feel about seeing me again?’

  Marie swallowed. Her heart was beating fast. She was so acutely aware of this man standing so close to her.

  ‘Well, Marie?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I’d like to see you again, Ralph. I — I think.’

  He bent and kissed her swiftly. ‘You think too much. I can see I’ll have to take you in hand.’

  ‘It’s just …’ She swallowed hard. ‘There was someone — once. He …’

  ‘Let you down?’ Ralph tipped her face up to look into her eyes. ‘I’d never let you down, Marie. You can depend on that.’

  *

  Alone in her room, Marie scrutinised her face and figure critically in the dressing-table mirror. It seemed a long time since she’d given much thought to her appearance. Ralph had said she was attractive, but she didn’t think so. She was too thin for a start, and she didn’t bother much with clothes or make-up. Perhaps she should. She turned this way and that. But what sort? Fashion was something she’d never had the chance to learn about. At the convent she’d dressed exactly like all the other little girls. Later as a hotel chambermaid it had been the same. One off-duty dress was all she could afford. Then later — in prison … She shuddered and thrust the thought from her, her skin crawling at the memory of the coarse stuff of that uniform and its characteristic smell. Getting into bed quickly, she switched off the light.

  Lying in the dark, her thoughts returned to Ralph. There was no denying that he was attractive. In some way she couldn’t quite describe, he reminded her of Liam. He didn’t look at all like him, but he had a similar personality — the same kind of charisma; charming, funny and exciting, all at the same time. Just the type to sweep a young impressionable girl off her feet. But she wasn’t a young girl any more. And Ralph wasn’t Liam. Even if he were she’d promised herself long ago that she’d never trust that kind of man again. But Ralph was different. He was no stranger, he was David’s son.

  A worrying thought occurred to her. If David saw that his son was interested in her, would he tell him about her past? She turned over, telling herself that she was worrying for nothing. Ralph had only been flirting with her. And anyway, David would never betray her confidence. That was the one thing in life that she could be sure of.

  Chapter 4

  From the moment Mavis and Ken Payne set eyes on Sarah they had been enslaved by her. The baby girl’s blue eyes and blonde hair, already showing the promise of curl even at six weeks old, and the tiny, perfect hands and feet were everything they had ever dreamed of. It was almost impossible to believe that she was the twin of the other baby, the little dark monkeyish-looking child who seemed to scream all day long.

  The process of adoption was set in motion; the interviews and the research into the finest details of both their backgrounds were carried out while the Paynes waited, hardly daring to hope, through anxious days and sleepless nights. At one stage there had been some doubt about their age. Were they too old to adopt at thirty-two? But finally everything was cleared and the day came when they were allowed to take Sarah home to their trim little semi-detached house in Leicester. It was the proudest day in their lives.

  Already the nursery was ready and waiting with its shell pink walls painted by Ken and the rose-sprigged curtains and cot quilt to match that Mavis had spent hours sewing. On the white-painted chest that contained all the baby clothes, collected over the years of hope, a row of soft toys stood to attention, awaiting their new owner.

  Mavis laid the baby girl tenderly in the cot and s
he and Ken stood together, hand in hand, looking down at the unbelievable miracle that was their daughter. This time there would be no disappointment. The circumstances were such that the mother had given her babies up unconditionally at birth. For Mavis and Ken the years of hoping and longing — of painful, embarrassing examinations and tests; of raised hopes and heartbreaking miscarriages — were over and done with. Now they would have a child in their arms at last. And if she wasn’t of their blood then she would be of their hearts. No child would ever receive more love than little Sarah. Ken would take snaps of her with his specially bought camera to show proudly round the office, and Mavis would no longer have to envy her sister-in-law Jean her brood of three healthy youngsters. They were parents at last.

  Mavis was a little disappointed that Sarah was already christened. She would have liked to have chosen the baby’s name herself. She had always favoured Shirley, Marilyn or Cheryl. Sarah was such a plain name, but after discussing it they had decided to compromise and call their daughter Sally. It suited the dainty little girl better than Sarah, they both agreed on that.

  Throughout her babyhood Sally Payne was loved and cared for as no other child in the neighbourhood. From picture-book baby she developed into a chubby toddler then into a bright, engaging five-year-old, taking her first wide-eyed look at the world outside the garden gate. Her first day at school was a big adventure for Sally, a traumatic ordeal for Mavis. But the Paynes soon became accustomed to their new status as parents of a schoolgirl.

  The happy, rewarding years flew for Ken and Mavis. When Sally was eight they made two important decisions. The first was to tell Sally that she was adopted — news which, much to their relief, she received without a glimmer of distress. The second was to send her to an exclusive private school where she would receive individual attention. This was no small decision for the Paynes. Ken had to put in all the overtime he could in order to pay the fees. For a few years the trim little house at the end of Beech Lee Close went without its bi-annual coat of paint and they postponed the purchase of the new car they had budgeted for, resigning themselves to keeping their five-year-old Consul another year or two. Sally always came first. Ken’s sister Jean, on one of her frequent visits from nearby Hinkley, looked sceptical.

  ‘You’ll spoil the child,’ she warned, repeating her favourite maxim: ‘If they’ve got it in them, it’ll come out, I always say. I don’t believe in private education. I wouldn’t mind betting that half the teachers at that place are unqualified anyway.’

  But Mavis and Ken were not to be moved. Mavis was privately of the opinion that Jean was jealous. Her children were all boys with great dirty knees and terrible table manners. None of them had ever been as attractive as Sally, even as tiny babies. They couldn’t hold a candle to her. Ken refused to be annoyed by his sister’s remarks. He just shook his head good-naturedly.

  ‘She means well,’ he told his irate wife after one of Jean’s visits. ‘She’s only trying to help. But we’ve adopted Sally. She’s ours, and it’s up to us to do what we feel is the best for her.’

  But for Mavis it was more than that. She wanted Sally to be accomplished and talented; to have a brilliant career; to be looked up to and admired — even famous perhaps. She wanted her to achieve all the things she herself had had neither the brain nor the opportunity to achieve. That was her dream for her daughter.

  As Sally grew up her promise of beauty was fulfilled. Her hair curled softly and retained its flaxen purity of colour, and her complexion was like milk and roses. From the age of four she had attended ballet classes and music lessons and although she wasn’t especially talented at either, she had proved herself proficient. At school she remained in the middle of her class, though Mavis insisted that if she really tried she could have been top.

  The Payne family did everything together. In summer they spent a fortnight’s holiday at a quiet holiday camp in Cornwall. At Christmas they shared the festivities with Jean, her husband Jim, and their three boys, who grew larger and noisier with each successive year. On weekday evenings Ken helped Sally with her homework and Mavis taught her to knit and sew. On Sundays the three of them attended Chapel, where Mavis took Sunday School and played the organ. For fifteen years life was rewarding and good. Then Sally began to grow up.

  *

  The first sign of trouble was when Jason, Jean’s youngest, asked Sally to go to a disco with him. Mavis was appalled when a starry-eyed Sally announced that she had a date for the following Friday evening. The moment Sally was out of the way she was on the telephone to her sister-in-law.

  ‘What does your Jason think he’s doing, asking a girl of Sally’s age to a disco? She’s only a child.’

  Jean laughed. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, Mavis, your Sally is growing up fast. She’s a very pretty girl. And like it or not, the boys are going to be around in hordes from now on.’

  Mavis went hot and cold all over. Surely they’d brought Sally up to be different from other girls? She loved her home and the quiet things they’d taught her to appreciate. She went prickly with annoyance as she answered crisply: ‘Sally isn’t one of your dolly birds, Jean. I’m sure she wouldn’t like this disco thing anyway. I don’t think she even realises what it is.’

  ‘Rubbish! Of course she knows what it is — and she’ll love it.’ Jean chuckled maddeningly at the other end of the line. ‘And, Mavis love, you’re a little behind the times if you don’t mind my saying so. Dolly birds went out with flared trousers. Let the kids enjoy themselves. They’re only young once. Anyway, it’s only a little do at the youth club, not some den of iniquity as you seem to think.’

  Mavis hung up in disgust.

  To her dismay, Mavis found that Jean had been right. Sally knew exactly what a disco was, and she did want to go with Jason; she wanted to go very much indeed. So much so that there was quite a scene about it. They had never denied their daughter anything before and the argument devastated them. After she was in bed, Mavis and Ken had a serious talk about it.

  ‘We’re going to have to let her go out on her own some day, love,’ Ken had pointed out reasonably. But Mavis sat twisting her handkerchief round and round her fingers till it looked like a piece of chewed string.

  ‘The things you read about in the papers nowadays,’ she wailed. ‘Suppose something awful happened to her?’

  ‘It won’t. Look, at least we know Jason, and he’s not a bad lad. He’s always had a soft spot for our Sally. He’ll look after her all right.’

  ‘That motor bike,’ Mavis murmured, picturing Jason recklessly taking bends on the wrong side of the road, her precious Sally clinging to the pillion.

  Next morning at breakfast they told Sally she could go. But her delight was short-lived when she heard that there were to be conditions. She would not be allowed to be picked up by Jason on his motor bike. Ken would take her to the youth club in the new Ford Escort and he would collect her again at ten o’clock sharp. Sally wailed her protests. The others would all think her a spoiled baby. They’d laugh at her. She’d die of shame. But Ken and Mavis stuck to their guns. It was that or nothing.

  But that was only the beginning. Sally loved the disco. It gave her a taste for teenage fun and showed her the freedom that other girls had. When she saw the way the others dressed in their leisure time she refused to wear the home-sewn dresses Mavis made for her any more. As soon as she was old enough she took a Saturday job in a florist’s shop and saved up to buy some clothes of her own choosing. The first time she appeared in a tiny flounced ra-ra skirt and low-cut lurex top there was such a fuss that she took to smuggling her party clothes out to a friend’s house and changing there before she went out. The strict curfew imposed upon her by her parents earned her the hated nickname of ‘Cinderella’. Ken still collected her from discos and parties, patiently waiting outside in the family’s blue Ford Escort — derisively labelled The Purple Pumpkin, and killing stonedead any chance of her being walked home by a boy.

  As Sally’s sixteenth birthday
drew nearer Mavis tried to persuade her to put her name down at the Technical College for a typing and shorthand course.

  ‘It’s all computing and word processing nowadays, Mum,’ Sally told her. ‘We’ve done a bit of that at school and it’s stultifying.’

  It was Sally’s current favourite word and it set Mavis’s teeth on edge. ‘Well, whatever you think it is, it’s a good training for a well-paid secretarial job,’ she said doggedly. ‘Do you have anything better in mind?’

  ‘Yes. Horticulture,’ Sally said.

  Mavis stared at her. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Horticulture. Well, floristry really. I’ve always loved helping Mrs Jessop on Saturdays.’

  ‘Yes, but — that’s only a little pin money job, a hobby,’ Mavis protested. ‘Besides, it’s so dirty. You’d get your hands all messed up and break all your fingernails.’ She peered at her daughter. Was this just another fad? ‘Anyway, what kind of a career could that possibly lead to?’

  ‘I’ve thought it all out,’ Sally said. ‘I’d like to have a garden centre or a florist’s shop of my own someday. I could hire myself out — go around creating floral displays for hotels and theatres, places like that.’ She leaned forward, her arms on the table and her pretty face earnest. ‘Look, Mum, I’m not exactly “Brain of Britain”, am I? I only passed two of my ‘O’ levels. And, besides, I really want to do this.’

  Mavis gave a lot of thought to Sally’s ambition as she prepared the evening meal. It was right enough what she’d said. Sally’s exam results had been disappointing. They had hoped she’d stay on for another year and sit them again, but her headmistress hadn’t seemed optimistic about further academic success. Maybe she and Ken could save up whilst Sally trained and set her up in a little shop eventually? A business of her own would keep her occupied and out of harm’s way. Mavis began to warm to the idea. She didn’t really have much to occupy her these days. Maybe she could even work with Sally — help her get the business on its feet.