‘Thank you.’ Nell closed her eyes in gratitude.
Then, as they drank their tea, she sought another answer, of not quite such monumental importance, but to sate her curiosity nevertheless. Fanciful though it might be, she had imagined various possibilities over the years as to the identity of her real father, this man amongst them. Might his collusion over William indicate some closer link with her mother than simply that of family doctor?
‘On a similar subject,’ she tendered with caution. ‘The belief that I myself was adopted was somewhat shattered when my mother revealed I was her natural child. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?’
‘My dear, I had absolutely no inkling.’ Indeed, the elderly face did look thoroughly surprised. ‘You were already with your parents when first they consulted me. I too was led to assume you were adopted.’
Adroit at reading faces, Nell would have known had he been lying. This man was not her father. Resigned to leave this as something she would never know, she finished her tea, and shortly departed.
Nell had refused to give Doctor Greenhow her address and telephone number, this in itself causing him to point out her error in wanting to keep the matter from her husband. Nevertheless, she insisted, and said she would call again in person in a week’s time. If that was not long enough for him to discover the information, then he could have another week. As many weeks as it might take.
It was a stressful wait, made even more so in having to pretend to Joe that she was as excited as he, as they watched hour after hour of the televised moon landings over the weekend, when all she could ponder was the old man’s detective work: would it all end in failure?
However, when she did finally call round again, he was in possession of the basic facts. Accepting his offer of tea and cake, for it would have been churlish not to spend an hour keeping an old man company, Nell’s excitement rose, as he proclaimed success in finding out what she had wanted to know.
‘The boy was adopted within months of his arrival at The Willows orphanage –’
Well, that was some slight relief, that he wasn’t like those poor unwanted souls dumped in the old Infirmary.
‘His name at the time was Robert Jackson. I recalled it the moment you’d gone.’
Nell’s eyes followed his to the photograph on the refrigerator, obviously taken at the birthday party. She fought the impulse to be angry that this contented old man had his entire family grouped around him. All she wanted was to be allowed to share her own son’s life.
‘He was adopted by a couple named Morgan. As he was still under two years and not wholly conversant with his name, they decided they would like to change it – to William, strangely enough.’
Nell’s heart soared, and she gave a little laugh.
‘They were able to tell me little else,’ said Doctor Greenhow.
Nell said, ‘That’s better than I could have hoped for. Thank you.’ Her misty eyes were drawn again to the photograph on the fridge.
‘You must be very proud that your grandson followed your profession.’
‘Yes, my granddaughter’s a doctor too. Though neither of my sons were.’
‘Adoption severs all those links,’ stated Nell, meeting his eye once more. ‘That’s why, if there’s anything else, good or bad, I must insist you tell me.’
‘Well, there is …’ But the doctor seemed hesitant to convey this, having to be prompted by a sharp look from his guest. ‘It just so happened that the particular person I spoke to at the orphanage had worked there for a very long time. Since the early fifties, in fact …’
Nell’s pose stiffened.
‘William Morgan re-entered the orphanage at the age of ten or eleven, after his adoptive parents were also killed –’
She emitted a haunting moan.
‘– in a crash this time,’ relayed Doctor Greenhow. ‘The unfortunate boy then continued to reside there until he reached his teens. My informant assures me that he was a perfectly level-headed individual, a pleasant and exceptionally popular boy, that’s how come she remembers him. There was some kind of migration scheme at the time for disadvantaged youngsters, and it appears he was one of those selected to take part. Your son is, so far as I am aware, in Australia. Now, I beg you, my dear,’ he reached across the table and clasped her arm, ‘just go home and forget about him, and be sure that he is gone to a better life.’
Gone to a better life. That’s what they said of the departed, at funerals. But William wasn’t dead. He might be ten thousand miles away. But she was sure in her heart that he wasn’t dead. And he was still William.
PART 3
21
Well-rehearsed at shouldering her burden, Nell had gone home and got on with her life, for there was nothing else to be done. But never a day was to pass that she did not think of William.
Nell had become a lot closer to Joe since he had laid his cards on the table; had at last said goodbye to Bill in her head and her heart. In appreciation of this, her husband had presented her with a diamond eternity ring, plus the additional surprise of a foreign holiday. More jaunts were to follow, to Italy, then to Spain – they had better make the most of it, said Joe, before retirement put a halt to such luxuries, because they’d still have milady to look after even when he was a pensioner. Grumble though he might over the child’s continual presence, his wife could tell it was all manufactured, and so could Romy, a bond having sprung up between them, much tighter than the one he enjoyed with his own daughter, Nell was glad to see – glad too that he did not treat this one as a boy. Instructed on the error of his ways, Joe steered well clear of guns and cowboy hats these days, in favour of dolls and prams. Though more often than not, Romy was to prefer a board game with her grandad.
One evening, anxious to start cooking tea, Nell had let Romy and her new friend Tash scamper off to the back bedroom, whilst Joe went to pass an hour in his shed. She got out her electric mixer, but within no time at all the girls’ shrill squeals were to be heard even above it. She called from the bottom of the stairs – ‘Simmer down please!’ – but the resulting giggles were soon on the crescendo again, and her tolerance eventually snapped. Barging in, she found them parading about in her clothes – which was not such a liberty, for they were old ones she had given Romy long ago – but a viler trespass had her swooping on the other eight-year-old, from whose neck dangled a gold chain, a wedding ring and a dirty strip of baby ribbon.
‘Who gave you permission to wear that?’ Whipping the boater from Tasha’s head, she threw it aside in order to be at the more precious item. ‘Haven’t I given you enough to play with? Take it off at once!’ And it appeared she was trying to strangle the wearer in her haste to remove the chain and its contents from the scrawny neck. ‘Go home now, Natasha – and you’re a very naughty girl to let her do it!’ she scolded Romy, as the other fled.
Then, whilst Romy bawled, a furious grandmother was to collect strewn letters. ‘Did you read any of these?’ She brandished them under her granddaughter’s nose. There came teary denial, mucus spluttering out all over the place. ‘You’d better not! You shouldn’t have touched anything in this box.’ Nell grabbed the hat box, replacing everything inside and banging on the dusty lid. ‘These are my private things – that’s why they were on top of the wardrobe! Were you the one to climb up?’
Tears coursing down her face, Romy shook her head and squeaked. ‘No, it was Tash!’
‘That nosy little madam – well, she won’t be coming in again!’ Hoisting herself onto the same chair that the culprit had used, Nell replaced the hat box on top of the wardrobe, and descended heavily. ‘And you can tidy all these clothes away and sit and read a book until I call you down for tea!’ Then she went down, leaving Romy to blubber.
Using her fury as momentum, Nell had the meal concocted long before it was ready to be eaten, and, with Joe still in his lair, this gave her plenty of latitude in which to explain to Tasha’s mother why her daughter had gone home so distressed. Though un
wavering in her indignation over the raid on her intimate belongings, after pacifying her neighbour, she calmed down sufficiently to reconsider her granddaughter’s participation, and went up to see if she was all right.
‘I’m sorry I was so angry with you,’ she murmured, upon peeping in, ‘but those things were so precious to me, and you had no right to snoop …’
Her face already mottled, Romy began to cry again. ‘I’m sorry, Nana!’
‘Oh … never mind,’ said Nell softly, then approached her granddaughter.
Romy wiped her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her cardigan, but looked guilty as she admitted, ‘I found this under my quilt when you’d gone, but I daren’t put it back because you said not to touch that box …’
From the child’s hand, Nell received the photograph that had escaped her frenzied clearance. Injured though she was, Romy was intrigued by the heartfelt sigh as her grandmother went to get the hat box down again and took off its lid. ‘Who’s that man, Nana?’
‘Nobod—’ Nell bit her tongue and decided to be honest for once. Otherwise, how would the child realise the extent of her infringement? Instead of hiding the photo, she put aside the lid and brought out the chain and its intimate treasures, then sat down beside her granddaughter on the bed. ‘His name was Bill,’ she explained slowly and in murmured tone. ‘He was the one who gave me this chain, and this wedding ring. That’s why I was angry, because it’s something private. Only Grandad and your mummy know about it, so I don’t want you to tell anyone else. Do you understand?’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die … but I thought you were married to Grandad?’
‘I am now. But a long time ago I was married to Bill,’ the white lie could be explained when the listener was much older, ‘but he died. Anyway, we had a baby, and this little ribbon was meant to be for him, but he was taken away from me too …’
‘Did he die?’
Nell shook her head. ‘No, but some people said I was too young to keep him, and they gave him to someone else.’
Romy looked as if about to cry at the thought of her grandmother so treated. ‘But then you had the little girl that was my mummy?’ It had been explained to her before that Nana was her mother’s mother. ‘It was a good job you had her to make you feel better.’
‘It certainly was.’ Nell curled an arm round her then, and hugged her. ‘Though I’m not her real mother – she was born to another lady who sadly died.’
A look of shock appeared on Romy’s face, and she clapped the back of her hand to her brow. ‘This is the worst day of my life!’ And she collapsed backwards on the bed.
Smiling as much for the histrionics as to reassure the drama queen, Nell was quick to console with hugs and kisses. ‘What I meant to say was, I’m not her first mummy. I came along afterwards to look after her and her daddy – that’s your grandad. But I still look on your mum as my real daughter, and I hope she feels the same, we couldn’t be closer than if we were flesh. And I certainly look upon you as my very real granddaughter. I couldn’t wish for a better one – even if you are a nosey little monkey.’ She finished with a squeeze and a grin.
Then she saw that the discussion had provoked even more curiosity on her granddaughter’s tear-stained face. Fearing that it might precursor a query about the child’s own beginnings, which was not in her remit, she said, ‘Now, I think I can hear Grandad in from his shed, so we’d better go and make sure his tea’s ready.’ And, making great play of blowing on the hat box to create a great cloud of dust – which made Romy sneeze and laugh – Nell put it away, then took her downstairs.
When Nina came to collect her daughter at the usual time, Nell revealed that they had had a bit of an altercation, which had forced her to explain about her secret son.
‘Why the hell did you do that?’ Nina looked dark. ‘A clout would have done.’
Nell realised that Nina’s anger did not just stem from her child’s meddling, and said, ‘You’re thinking I was paving the way for you to tell her about her father – but you’re wrong, it occurred on impulse. Still, she’s bound to question her own background. And there are some precocious children about … you’d be wise to tell her sooner rather than later.’
Nina performed a complete change of subject. ‘I think death is a big enough topic for one day – did she tell you her budgie’s conked out?’ Nell touched her lips, and said no, she must have been too upset to mention it. ‘I meant to bring it this morning so she could bury it in your garden, but I forgot. Hope it doesn’t stink when we get home. Anyway, Mam, I’ll be off the rest of the week, so you won’t have her to look after – Romy, time to go!’
Her child came dashing, then at the last minute remembered her hard-boiled egg which was to be decorated for school.
‘I hope it wins a prize!’ the doting grandmother told Romy, who spun to ask if she would come and see the exhibition? Nell said she would love to, at which Romy clapped her hands, then ran to ask if Grandad would come too.
Joe threw her a look of ambivalence, before ruffling the blonde head, with a smile and a yes. Though he was to complain to his wife after Romy had gone. ‘Did you volunteer me for that? I’d better not miss my Tomorrow’s World …’
The following evening, Joe and Nell drove round to Nina’s flat, where a sigh was heaved that they had to tramp to the top floor. ‘I thought you said she’s been off work all day? She could at least be ready and save us from walking up all these steps …’
‘It won’t be Nina,’ puffed Nell, ‘it’s probably Romy.’ And, sure enough, when they entered the flat with its orange and brown decor, Nina was scolding her daughter for keeping her grandparents waiting.
‘Aye, away Greased Lightnin’.’ It was a derogatory term, conjured by Joe for his granddaughter’s leisurely movements. ‘I bet you’d come running if I was offering a pound.’ And, to demonstrate, he presented one.
Romy accepted with glee. ‘Can I buy them hotpants out of your catalogue, Mum?’
‘You can not!’ Rifling her bag for her keys, Nina’s freshly made-up face came up to object between two curtains of hair, the strawberry-blonde tresses grown almost to waist length these days. ‘I can’t stand the tarty things.’
This drew the others’ attention to her own attire. ‘They’re pretty knickers you’re wearing,’ said Nell, catching a glimpse of flowery nylon beneath the shortest of dresses. ‘I don’t know how you can bear to wear your pantyhose underneath, though, they must chafe.’
‘I wear a pair of pants under them as well,’ informed Nina.
‘You’d need two pairs of drawers in that draughty thing,’ sniped her father, then led the way out.
The school hall was filled with proud parents, their children dragging them around the trestles that formed the exhibition, when Nell and Joe began their tour. It did not take long to spot their granddaughter’s contribution, for it stood out from all, adorned as it was in green budgie feathers, complete with wings and a tail. Nell did not know how she or Joe managed to control their laughter, as both complimented Romy on her innovation.
Not until their delighted granddaughter had raced off to seek out her classmates was Joe’s restrained hysteria to escape with a hiss, a swiftly drawn handkerchief covering his grin in the process. ‘I think it’s safe to say she won’t become a vet.’
Blue eyes watering with hilarity Nina refuted that she had in any way influenced the violation of a dead creature. ‘After we got home last night, she sneaked Joey out of his coffin and had his wings snipped off and glued onto the egg before I had a clue! She insisted he was being put to good use – “Nana said, you haven’t got to waste anything!” The rest of him’s waiting to be buried in your garden – not that there’s much. It was all I could do to stop her sawing his head and feet off.’
Still merry, they were to mill around for twenty minutes or so, looking at the amazing display, until Joe felt they had sufficiently done their duty. Tutting at their daughter, Nell said he was never in a place more than five minutes be
fore he wanted to be off. Nina replied that she would just skip to the loo, if her mother would go and find Romy amongst this lot. So, leaving Joe standing, Nell made her way through the throng of parents, and emerged into a corridor. There were several children there, but no Romy. Then, wandering beside a cloakroom, she heard a childish voice declare, ‘Your mam and dad are old, aren’t they?’ Which made her smile. ‘Is that your aunty with them?’
Romy’s scornful giggle drew her nearer. ‘No! That’s my mum. The others are Nana and Grandad.’
‘Oh, is your dad at work then?’
‘Haven’t got one.’
Nell bit her lip and continued to eavesdrop.
‘You must have. Was he killed in Aden, like my uncle?’
‘No.’ Then Romy sounded less sure. ‘I don’t think so, anyway. I just haven’t got one. My mum isn’t married.’
‘She must have had a boyfriend then.’ It was issued with certainty.
‘She hasn’t, then,’ came the rebuttal, ‘because I’d know if she had – she doesn’t even like boys.’
‘Well, she must do, cause you can’t have a baby without a husband or boyfriend.’
And at that point Nell intervened. ‘Ready to go, love!’
‘She’s a twit,’ Romy told her grandmother, upon walking away from the cloakroom with her. ‘D’you know what she just said?’
Nell was forced to hear it all again, but instead of commenting, made some excuse, and was relieved that Romy spotted her mother and ran to meet her. But as she herself rejoined Joe, she was hurriedly to repeat the exchange as they followed the others to the car. ‘She’ll have to be told the truth now.’
‘What, that her father was a scumbag out for what he could get?’
‘Please don’t use that revolting term!’ Nell reared in disgust. ‘I don’t know who thought it up – probably the Americans – I remember the exact time I first heard it, and I hoped never to hear it again. And see, that’s what I’m worried about,’ came her added undertone, ‘that Nina will put it as discreetly as you. I don’t want Romy influenced against all men – come on, we’d better catch them up, I want to alert Nina if I can.’
An Unsuitable Mother Page 48
