A Mother’s Sacrifice

by Kitty Neale

  The service began and Helen couldn’t help but shed a tear for the sometimes ferocious old woman who lay in the coffin. During the time when she had gone to pick Johnnie up every fortnight, she’d built quite a bond with Maude, especially after Maude had been unexpectedly widowed when Bob had died of a heart attack. How odd, thought Helen, that it was 1968 and Maude had been sixty-eight when she’d died. It was as though she had lived along with the century; the woman had survived two World Wars and was a tough old bird. Who would have thought that a common cold would have led to this? But she was a stubborn woman and had refused to see the doctor, pneumonia finally finishing her off.

  Helen hated funerals. There had been far too many of them and each one reminded her of how life changed for those left behind. Her own mother had died peacefully in her sleep, and her dad had soon followed her; the heart had gone out of him after the death of his wife. With the area scheduled for demolition, Helen had been rehoused in a one-bedroom flat in one of the new tower blocks on the Winstanley estate. She didn’t like living there. It made her feel very isolated and she’d become lonely, her nieces and nephews rarely visiting. There had been some compensations, such as a fabulous view over Clapham Junction, and a modern kitchen and an inside bathroom with constant hot water. She had her little budgerigar for a bit of company too, and for amusement she had taught him how to say a few simple words.

  As the service ended, Helen wiped her eyes and made her way outside to view some of the beautiful wreaths that had been laid on the ground. She noticed Harry leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette with Johnnie standing a little way off from him, kicking the ground and scuffing his highly polished black shoes. She wanted to chastise him, but he wasn’t a child any more so instead she walked over to offer her condolences.

  ‘Thanks, Aunt Helen,’ Johnnie said, ‘I know you meant a lot to my gran.’

  ‘As she did to me,’ Helen replied. ‘I will miss her, but at least she had a good innings and didn’t suffer any horrible illness. Anyway, young man, it’s been a while since you’ve been up to see me. Why don’t you pop up for a meal after work tomorrow?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry, I’ve just been a bit busy and that, you know how it is, but thanks, I’d love to,’ he replied with a genuine warm smile.

  Helen didn’t want to speak to Harry. Despite all the years that had passed, she would never forgive him for the way he’d treated Glenda. Maude had told her that Harry had become a bit of a recluse and rarely went out socialising, even to the local pub. It had all begun years back when Betty Howard died. It had affected Harry badly and he’d never been the same since, yet she couldn’t feel any sympathy for him. She turned her back to him and said to Johnnie before leaving the old churchyard, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, love.’

  He waved a goodbye and as Helen walked along a path close to the Thames, she pondered what treat she could cook up for Johnnie tomorrow. Once her mind was made up on sausages and mash with fried onions, she began to consider giving him a good talking-to about his antics with the stolen car. With Harry seemingly indifferent and Maude no longer around to give him any motherly advice, Helen felt it was down to her and she knew it was what Glenda would want.

  Thinking of Glenda, she realised she hadn’t heard from her in a while, at least six months in fact. She frowned, worried that something was wrong with her friend, and hoped that she hadn’t fallen ill or anything. The last correspondence Helen had received was a Christmas card, and Glenda hadn’t replied to her last letter, which she’d sent to her back in February.

  Maybe Glenda had been busy or her letter had been lost in the post. She would wait until after Johnnie’s visit tomorrow and then write again with an update, but maybe it would be best not to mention that her son had been involved with the police. It would only worry Glenda and Helen didn’t want that.

  The small bunch of flowers that Johnnie had for Helen were wilting slightly, but he knew she would still be chuffed with them. Anyway, once she put them in some water, they might perk up a bit.

  The lift opened and he walked across the landing to knock on her door. The sound echoed loudly off the windowless walls. As the door opened, Johnnie got a waft of onions and Helen looked really pleased to see him.

  ‘Johnnie, I’m so glad you came. Oh, and you’ve brought me flowers, how lovely! I can’t remember the last time anyone gave me a bunch of flowers. Thank you. Your meal is almost ready, and if I remember it’s your favourite.’

  ‘Sausages,’ he said, grinning as he walked into the living room and sat on the sofa.

  ‘Spot on, and I’m just going to mash the spuds. I won’t be long,’ Helen said as she bustled to the kitchen.

  Johnnie smiled. Helen had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember, and he now berated himself for not visiting her more often over the past couple of years. She had aged, and he resolved to call in at least once a month from now on. Helen’s home was warm and friendly, albeit very old-fashioned; it felt like a reflection of her. The sofa was plump with a caramel floral design and she’d hung orange curtains. The fitted carpet was flowery too, but olive and red so nothing really matched. Even so it felt cosy, and he’d noticed that Helen was dressed in an outfit that reminded him of one of his old spinster schoolteachers. With her large bust, round stomach and greying hair worn in a bun, Helen was a funny little woman, but Johnnie was deeply fond of her. Apart from Maude, she was the closest person he had to a mother.

  ‘Grub up,’ Helen called from the kitchen.

  Johnnie walked into the room and took his place opposite her at the small kitchen table, salivating at the large plate of sausages, mash and onions, covered in rich, thick gravy. Maude’s culinary skills hadn’t been the greatest, though he would never have complained, but he did miss a good home-cooked meal like this and relished the thought of getting stuck in.

  ‘So how have you been, Johnnie?’ Helen asked as they ate. ‘I expect you’re missing your gran. Any ideas about where you’re going to live now that she’s passed on?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. I did think about moving in with my dad, but he’s a bit of a funny bugger. Whoops, excuse my French.’

  ‘You can speak French as much as you like. You know me, it’s nothing I ain’t heard a million times before.’ Helen laughed. ‘So if not with your dad, where then?’

  ‘I’ve got a mate who’s offered me a room in his gaff and for pretty cheap rent too. I’m thinking about it but it’s down on the Surrey Lane estate, quite a way from the station.’

  ‘And this mate of yours, does he work?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Johnnie answered, ‘but that’s a funny sort of question.’

  ‘I’m just a bit worried about the company you’ve been keeping of late. I’ve heard about you and that stolen car. What on earth were you thinking?’

  Johnnie hadn’t intended to tell Helen about his run-in with the law, but he should have realised that with all the local gossips she’d have heard about it. ‘It was just a bit of a laugh, nothing serious,’ he said, trying to defend his actions.

  ‘But it was serious! You could have been charged and ended up in prison, or what if the car had crashed? Either way you could have lost your job. Come on, Johnnie, you know better than to be mixing with the likes who go around nicking cars. How would you feel if you had a car that you worked hard to buy and then some hooligans stole it? Think about that. I’m a firm believer in karma. What goes around comes around, remember that too.’

  Johnnie hung his head in shame. He knew that Helen was right, and didn’t intend to get into trouble with the law again, but the talk of karma made him feel angry. ‘“What goes around comes around,” you say, but what about me losing my mum to cancer when I was just a baby? I hadn’t done anything bad so why did she die? I don’t remember her, nothing about her. I ain’t even got a photo and my gran would never talk about her much. She told me not to mention her in front of my dad in case it upset him. But what about me? Don’t you think it upset me, not knowing anything about m
y own mother? It’s not fair. Life ain’t fair, so I don’t believe in all that hippie karma rubbish. My mum’s dead, my gran is dead, and my dad’s pretty much brain-bloody-dead so who have I got left? No one, that’s who, so I’ll be looking out for number one from now on, regardless of bloody karma!’

  Helen looked taken aback and Johnnie instantly regretted his outburst.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lose my rag,’ he said. ‘You were just trying to put me straight, and you’re right, I’m an idiot for getting involved with that crowd of layabouts. They’re not my real friends, just some old mates from school.’

  ‘It’s all right, Johnnie, you have every right to feel angry, and I understand that you feel cheated, but you’re not alone. You’ve got me and your dad. OK, I know he keeps himself to himself these days but he’s still there for you.’

  ‘You don’t get it, Aunt Helen. Yeah, I love him, but we don’t have much to do with each other. I wouldn’t really know how to have a conversation with him. He’s … well … weird. Yesterday was the first time I’d seen him in months and he hardly said more than two words to me.’

  ‘He’s just lost his mum, he was probably too upset to talk.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe,’ Johnnie said, but he didn’t look convinced.

  ‘He’ll come round, and in the meantime, as I said, you’ve got me.’

  ‘I know you’ll always be there for me, but no offence, you ain’t proper family.’

  ‘I–I know, but I’m very fond of you, Johnnie.’

  ‘I’m fond of you too and forget what I said. I’m just being maudlin ’cos of my gran. She was like a mother to me,’ he said sadly.

  There was a long silence and Johnnie worried that he’d upset Helen, but then she spoke. ‘Johnnie, if I tell you something, you’ve got to promise me not to go off your head.’

  Johnnie nodded his head, intrigued.

  ‘I don’t know where to start and please don’t hate me, or anyone else, but I think there’s something you should know.’

  ‘You’re worrying me now. What is it?’

  ‘It’s about your mum. You see … er … well … there’s no easy way to say this – she isn’t dead.’

  Johnnie dropped his cutlery onto his plate and looked at Helen in complete astonishment. His head whirled. ‘What do you mean, she’s not dead? I don’t understand.’

  ‘I know this is hard for you to take in, but your mum is alive and living in Kent.’

  ‘I don’t believe this. Kent … how –’

  ‘She had to leave London,’ Helen interrupted. ‘You see, when you were a baby your dad was, well, difficult, and things happened that forced her to run away. Oh, Johnnie, she didn’t want to leave you and trust me, it was the hardest thing for her to do.’

  It was too much for Johnnie to take in and questions were flying through his mind. He left the table and looked out of the window, but hardly noticed any of Clapham Junction as his thoughts raced. Helen said his mother was alive, but was it true or was she losing her marbles? He had a mate whose gran had gone a bit funny in her old age. Was that happening to Helen? She wasn’t even an old woman yet. He spun around.

  ‘Why did everyone tell me she was dead? Why did she leave? Aunt Helen, you’ve got some explaining to do, none of this makes sense!’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry to drop it on you like this, but there have been so many lies and secrets for too long. Your mother loves you, she always has, and I think she’ll be thrilled to bits that you finally know the truth.’

  ‘But she left me and let me think she’s been dead all these years. What sort of mother does that? And you reckon she loves me, but that don’t sound much like love to me!’

  ‘Johnnie, you’ve got to understand, she had no choice.’

  ‘Then make me understand, tell me what happened, everything.’

  ‘Well, back then your dad could be a violent man, and to be honest your mum was petrified of him. It wasn’t unusual for her to be covered in bruises. One time he put her in hospital and the beating was so bad that she had her nose broken and a couple of teeth knocked out. That’s where she met Frank Myers. He showed your mum a bit of kindness and I swear your mum tried to fight it, but she fell in love with him. Trouble was, your dad found out about it and he was on a mission to kill them. In those days he was more than capable of it, and though I don’t like to speak badly of your dad, that’s how it was. So your mum only had one option, and that was to run away. Once she and Frank went into hiding, you went to live with your gran and the way your father was, your mum could never come back for you, not safely anyway.’

  ‘I just can’t take this all in,’ Johnnie murmured. ‘Why wasn’t I told? Why?’

  ‘Your dad and gran decided to concoct the story about your mum being dead, but I’ve been secretly writing to her over the years, sending her the odd photo of you, and Johnnie, she’s missed you so much. But you must see, there was nothing else she could do.’

  Johnnie sat back on the kitchen chair, reeling with shock. He was speechless, confused as he tried to digest it all, and didn’t know if he should feel anger, bitterness, relief or joy.

  ‘I don’t know what to say. My dad wanted to kill my mum, then ’cos of him she left, and he’s lied to me all these years? And my gran knew too, but so did you?’

  ‘I wanted to tell you, Johnnie, I really did, but your dad was … scary. I don’t know, maybe I’ve been a coward and should have told you before now. Your mum was my best friend and I missed her badly when she left. I was never really one of Maude’s friends – well, not at first. I promised your mother that I would look out for you and you became like one of my own nephews. It’s a shame you don’t remember your other nan and grandad, but Ted and Elsie died years ago when you was just a toddler. They thought the world of you. It tore your mum to bits, but she was too scared to attend either of their funerals. She knew your dad would watch for her and she was right. He turned up expecting to find your mother – thank Gawd she had stayed away! I hated your dad for what he did, but I’ve got to say, the years do seem to have mellowed him. As for your mum, she’s made a life for herself in Kent, but I know she has never stopped wanting you, or loving you.’

  Johnnie had no reason to disbelieve Helen, and he did have vague recollections of angry outbursts from his dad, though he couldn’t imagine him capable of killing anyone. ‘Can I see her?’ he asked, not entirely sure if he wanted to – but if Helen was telling the story as it really happened, then his mother wasn’t to blame.

  ‘Yes, of course, but Johnnie, you have to swear never to tell your father. He might appear to be a mild, quiet man now, but I don’t believe a leopard changes its spots. If he gets wind of you seeing your mother, I shudder to think what might happen.’

  Johnnie could see that Helen was serious and obviously very worried. ‘As I said, I hardly see him, and if I do, I promise I won’t say a word about this.’

  Helen nodded, ‘All right. I’ll give you your mum’s address. She calls herself Glenda Myers now, though rather than just turning up on her doorstep, it might be best if you write to her first.’

  He thought about it for a moment before answering. ‘No, too much time has passed already. I’m not doing any overtime this weekend so I’ll go to see her tomorrow, and if she misses me as much as you say, then she won’t mind me just turning up.’

  Helen gave Johnnie the address but he could see she was still worried, no doubt frightened of what his father would do to her if he found out she’d told him the truth. ‘Don’t worry, I’d never put you in any danger, and my dad will never find out about this. Thank you, Aunt Helen, thank you for telling me about my mum. If you hadn’t, I might never have known that she’s alive.’

  The worried expression left Helen’s face and she smiled. ‘When you see your mum and she gives you a hug, give her a bloody big one from me too. I haven’t seen her for donkey’s years, must be at least ten or so. I suppose we’re more sort of pen-friends nowadays, but tell her I’m coming for a
summer holiday. Johnnie, you’ll love it down there, she’s got a sweet little place.’ Helen pulled something from her pocket and handed it to Johnnie. ‘I thought you might like to see this photo of her. It’s a bit old but it’s a good one.’

  Johnnie studied the black and white image of a woman he didn’t recognise. The picture was a bit grainy but he could tell she was pretty. If fact, she was quite a stunner and Johnnie felt unexpectedly proud. The good-looking woman was his mother and he couldn’t wait to meet her.

  Chapter 28

  On Saturday, as the taxi drove into Ivyfield village, Johnnie’s heart was beating thirteen to the dozen. He clutched the piece of paper with his mother’s address in his clammy hand, nervously sucking in deep breaths in anticipation now that he was just minutes away from her house.

  When the taxi pulled up he couldn’t tell if anyone was home, but he paid his fare and went to knock on the front door. He tried to recall the well-rehearsed introduction that he planned to say, but his mind went blank. Nobody came to the door so he knocked again, this time a little louder. There was still no answer, but an elderly woman came down her garden path from the house next door.

  ‘Can I help you, young man?’ she asked.

  Johnnie thought she was probably just being nosy, but decided to see if the old dear could help. ‘Er, yes. I’m looking for Gl–Glenda,’ he said, finding it strange to be using his mother’s first name. ‘Glenda Myers. I’m an old family friend and was hoping to surprise her.’

  ‘Oh, goodness, haven’t you heard what happened?’ the old lady asked, aghast.

  ‘No, I’ve been overseas, working. Why, what’s happened then?’

  ‘Shocking it was, absolutely shocking!’ The old woman twisted her apron in her hands and shook her head. ‘I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you, but I’m sorry, young man, you’re about seven months too late to surprise her. She’s passed away. She was killed in an accident.’