My Father, My Son

by My Father, My Son (retail) (epub)

  Things here are not so bad as you imagine. My sisters are very friendly. There are six of them. Rowena is the eldest and is very kind. I like Becky too. She has ginger hair and is always following me about. This makes Bertie angry. I don’t know why because I’ve tried to be polite and friendly. I even bought him a pair of long trousers because he envied mine… He remembered that he had been wearing shorts the last time the Father had seen him and explained, which I had to buy when I arrived here because it was so cold. Anyway, Bertie went mad when he found out I’d bought them and ripped them up. They are still on top of a neighbour’s shed. He is the only one who doesn’t like me and is always calling me names. I know you are forever saying I should turn the other cheek and not fight with people but I have only two cheeks, Father, and sometimes I would love to bash him. I am telling you this because I cannot go to proper confession. Mrs Hazelwood has even forbidden me to go to Mass. Do you think my not going will be counted as a sin? It’s not my fault, is it? It’s not just church where I’m not allowed to go, I’m not permitted to go out at all. Of course, it’s only Mrs Hazelwood who says this, not my father. She’s a bit funny and it isn’t only me who she’s mean to, but Biddy as well. Biddy is the maid. She lets me help with the housework sometimes. She’s very bossy but she is a good Catholic…

  The letter then did a backwards leapfrog to give more information about the girls and also mentioned Charlie’s opinion that everyone would have got used to him by the time Father Guillaume came. So don’t worry if you can’t come for me at the end of August, I quite like it here. He finished by saying that he was looking forward to seeing the Father and signed himself, Your obedient servant. Then as a mischievous afterthought added the prefix ‘dis’ to ‘obedient’ before folding the letter.

  He had a tiny amount of change left in his pocket so he would not have to beg a stamp. He would, however, have to find an envelope and get someone to post it. But that would have to wait until the house was cleared of visitors. With a sigh, Charlie crossed his arms to stare at the wall. That could be ages. Oh, how monotonous it all was. Feeling in his pocket, he took out one of the butts he had salvaged from the ashtray and lit up. The strength of it burnt his tongue, but he didn’t care. It was something to do.

  The children were on their way home from school. In actuality, the younger ones had already been home but had gone back to the end of the street to await their brother and elder sister, who had been to music lessons.

  Bertie felt a twitch of anger as he turned a corner to be greeted by Becky’s wave. He did not reciprocate, considering her to be a two-faced cat. She had barely looked in his direction since the African had arrived; too busy crawling round Fuzzball, laughing at his jokes. He grimaced again as a breathless Rowena scampered up behind him to pounce on his shoulder.

  ‘Bertie! Didn’t you hear me shouting you?’ She matched her step with his.

  ‘No.’ He continued to look straight ahead.

  ‘You must be deaf. I’ve been calling you for ages. Why didn’t you wait for me?’ It was customary for them to meet after their music lessons and travel home together. When her brother didn’t answer, she flourished a hand at the fiery-headed child who galloped to meet them. ‘Hello, Beck!’

  ‘Charlie’s waiting to see you,’ Becky informed her brother after responding to Rowena’s greeting. ‘He wants to know if he can borrow…’

  ‘No he can’t!’

  Becky stuck out her chin. Her brother had been behaving in this stupid fashion for weeks. ‘I haven’t even said what it is yet!’

  ‘Whatever it is he can’t have it!’ Bertie widened his step and left them.

  Becky pulled a face at her brother’s back, then nodded at Rowena, who had said, ‘Maybe I have what Charlie wants.’ The elder girl waved at Rhona, Lyn and Beany, who waved back but did not jump from the wall as their sister had done. Beany wasn’t speaking to her brother, who – as he had sworn on the day she had broken her promise by talking to her father – had not bought her a birthday present. Lyn, never a great fan of her brother, had lent her support. Rhona stayed with them simply because she was not allowed to cross the road on her own.

  Bertie marched on, head down like a charging bull. It seemed to him that they were all falling over one another in an attempt to please the cuckoo. He wondered how much longer he would have to put up with the African’s presence. The worry was making his school work suffer. Twice today he had had his knuckles rapped for inattentiveness. It was fortunate that he had taken his scholarship exam before the Fuzzball had arrived or he would never have passed. He couldn’t decide which was the worst place to be, school or home. In either situation he could not rid himself of his half-brother – and still he couldn’t grasp the crux of it: how could Father be father to two boys at the same time in different countries? As yet there had been no proper explanation – not that he would have listened to it if there had been. He was still unforgiving of Russ for letting him believe he was the only son for all these years. There was tiny consolation to be had from the fact that Father didn’t seem to welcome Charlie either – yet even here there was paradox, for why was Father sleeping beside the boy he professed not to want? No, Russ had plummeted in his son’s estimation. Even when Charlie went, things could never be the same.

  His thoughts ended with the arrival in the street of an ice-cream vendor, who pedalled along shouting encouragement. Only now did Lyn and Beany come running. Children began to swarm from their houses and stampede after the vendor. One of them, returning with an ice, brandished it gleefully at Lyn, knowing that the Hazelwoods were not permitted this treat.

  ‘Hokey pokey, penny a lump, makes you cough and makes you trump!’ retorted Lyn, sticking her tongue out. Then said excitedly to the others, ‘Aunt Ella’s home from work – come on!’ and with Bertie leading the way they headed for the back lane and along to the Daws’ house, where they burst in upon the woman.

  ‘Oh, blimey, it’s you lot!’ After the initial charade of heart failure, Ella turned to scuffle about on a battered dresser. ‘Come for your brimstone and treacle, have you?’ She too had heard the ice-cream seller’s cry and was well prepared. When she faced them, she had a bottle and spoon in her hands. ‘Right, line up, who’s first?’ At the row of baggy-mouthed faces she gave a wry smile and, putting down the bottle, tendered a florin instead. ‘Here you are! I must be daft.’ Rowena asked what it was for. ‘Eh, you want to go on the stage, you do. What’s it for, she says! Ice cream, that’s what you came for, isn’t it?’

  ‘We’re not allowed ice cream,’ supplied Bertie. ‘Mother says it’ll give us tuberculosis.’

  Ella folded her arms across her off-white blouse. ‘I know very well what your mother says, as I know very well you didn’t come here just to enquire after my health. Get one for Kim an’ all – away! before he goes.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll catch him at the corner!’ Temporarily brightened, Bertie snatched the coin and, with Rowena as helper, charged down the back lane to intercept the man at the corner. When the two returned with dripping cones, the children sat in Ella’s kitchen to consume them. They came here quite often, though in secret for their mother would not have approved, regarding Ella as a bad influence.

  ‘What a shame Charlie’s not allowed out,’ sighed Becky, wrapping her tongue round the treat. ‘I’m sure he’d love ice cream. I don’t suppose they have it where he comes from. It’d melt, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, and who’s Charlie then?’ Ella sat down and held out the cone for the dog to lick. She quite enjoyed the children’s company. With them not being her own she could send them away when they got too argumentative – as Bertie was wont to do. He was a clever little devil sometimes. But she had to smile at the way, whenever she offered a forbidden treat, he would always put on a disapproving face as though he had no intention of accepting it and that Ella was trying to lead him astray. Ella supposed there was an element of the latter in it – Rachel had no idea how to bring children up. No ice cream indeed!
She opened her mouth in surprise at Becky’s yell, saying to the normally placid Rowena, ‘Eh, I saw that!’ The guilty person apologized. ‘Nay, it wasn’t my ankle you kicked.’ She allowed the dog to take the cone, which it ate with much heavy breathing and gyrating of head as the cold ice cream hit the roof of its mouth.

  Rowena was forced to explain. ‘We’re not meant to talk about him, you see.’ Another grimace at Becky.

  ‘Oh, I see!’ Ella performed an understanding nod and watched as Kim littered the floor with shards of wafer and blobs of ice cream.

  ‘But when Mother said that, she meant strangers!’ complained Becky. ‘Not Aunt Ella.’ She fetched her knee under her chin to rub at her ankle, daubing herself with ice cream in the process and having to lick it off.

  ‘Well yes, I suppose so… but Becky, you must be more careful with your tongue! What if anyone else had heard?’ Rowena took a hesitant lick of her ice, suddenly remembering poor Charlie who had been waiting to see her all day and here she was guzzling ice cream. In her selfish gluttony she had forgotten all about him. ‘Sorry, Aunt Ella… I’d like to tell you but…’

  ‘If your mother said you’re not to speak about him then you’d best not,’ advised Ella, scooping the terrier onto her lap, where it continued to wrap its tongue round its jowls for some time.

  This vow of silence was excruciating. Becky was absolutely bursting to show off her new brother. Now, she said thoughtfully, ‘But Mother didn’t say anything about showing him to anybody, did she?’

  ‘Why do they keep him locked away then, dummy?’ Bertie rubbed a drip from the arm of his chair and looked to see if Ella objected. She obviously didn’t – didn’t even seem to notice. His mother would have heard it drop if she had been over the other side of Knavesmire. The abrasive tone and the question itself prodded Ella’s curiosity, though she said nothing; it was the best way if you wanted to know anything: let them do the talking. Who the dickens could this Charlie be? Did Rachel have a secret lover? The thought produced an inward grin.

  Rowena bit her lip. ‘I do feel sorry for him. Look at us sat here scoffing while poor Charlie’s stuck in the house… if we sneaked him out, Aunt Ella, would you tell?’

  ‘Who, me? No, cross me heart and take me for dogmeat.’ She fondled the ageing dog who groaned his ecstasy and licked her face.

  ‘There’s no ice cream for him,’ said a cross Bertie.

  Becky showed more generosity. ‘He can share mine.’ She had found her new brother much more receptive to her adulation than Bertie.

  ‘Maybe he won’t like it.’ Bertie was determined that the boy shouldn’t come.

  But Rowena had made her decision. Rising, she entrusted her half-eaten cone to one of her sisters and, ignoring her brother’s pettish obstacles, dashed off.

  Entering by the back door she silenced Biddy with a finger across her lips, and crept on up the stairs to the attic. The door wasn’t locked; her parents hadn’t actually gone that far. When she peeped in Charlie was not there. Alarmed, she rushed first to the nursery, then to the other rooms, finding him in Bertie’s. ‘Oh, Charlie, you shouldn’t be in here!’ Her voice jerked him from the window. ‘Bertie’ll kill you if he finds out.’

  ‘I haven’t touched anything.’ He was glad to see Rowena, having made no intelligent contact all day. ‘I was only waiting to see…’

  ‘And Mother said you weren’t to show your face at the window,’ she interrupted in a tone that scolded. At his further apology she softened at once. ‘I’m not angry, Charlie, I’m just trying to save you from Mother’s tongue.’

  ‘She’s been madder than ever today,’ he confessed. ‘Father Guillaume isn’t coming until the end of August.’

  ‘Oh…’ Rowena liked Charlie, but his presence had created an awful atmosphere between her parents. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to remain for another two and a half months. ‘Will you have to stay up here for all that time?’

  ‘I hope not!’ His eyes widened. ‘I think I’d go loony.’ He had read every book in the house apart from Bertie’s. That was why he was here now, hoping the latter might be swayed.

  ‘Oh, I nearly forgot why I came!’ Rowena told him about sneaking into Ella’s and the ice cream. ‘Mother doesn’t allow us to have it but sometimes Aunt Ella makes us have some. Anyway, Becky let slip about you, but I don’t think Aunt Ella will tell so if you like you can come and have some too, but don’t clomp.’

  Charlie’s expression was one of disbelief, but he didn’t waste time by putting voice to it. Instead, he dashed as light-footedly as he could after Rowena and, within minutes, was being instructed on how to demolish the fast-melting cone that Becky had been trying her best to save.

  Ella’s heart had bumped against her stomach at the entry of the dark-skinned youth. But sufficiently recovered now, she smiled and said, ‘So, you’re Charlie, are you?’

  ‘Oh, aren’t we rude!’ Rowena, ice cream dribbling from her lips, swallowed with difficulty and apologized. ‘Charlie, this is Mrs Daw or Aunt Ella as we call her, who’s kindly bought the ice cream you’re eating.’ The introductory hand was turned on the boy. ‘Aunt Ella, this is Charlie – our brother.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Black as a collier’s horse!’ crowed a delighted Ella to her husband, having pounced on him the minute he came in from work. ‘Well, no… I tell a lie, a sort of light brown really – well he would be, wouldn’t he? I could scarcely believe my ears! Got him locked up in the attic they have, least that’s where he was meant to be. Eh, what a going on!’ She chortled again.

  Jack peeled off his overalls, slung them in a corner and went to wash his grimy hands. His only answer was the elevation of one eyebrow.

  ‘I can’t tell you anything, can I?’ She slammed his meal onto the table and stood, hands on hips as he emerged from the scullery. ‘How long have you known about him?’

  He seated himself, picked up his knife and fork and began to eat, confining his chewing to one side – the decayed tooth was still troubling him, though not quite so painful today. ‘Oh, I didn’t know he was here.’

  ‘But you know how he came into being, don’t you?’ She narrowed her eyes and received but a nod. ‘Well, thank you for keeping it to yourself all these years!’ She dragged a chair away from the table and sat opposite him to begin her own meal.

  ‘It’s hardly the sort of tale you go spreading about a pal.’

  ‘Eh, what about this pal here?’ She thumped her chest, then snatched a mouthful of stew.

  ‘Now what would you have done if I’d told you?’

  ‘Well… nowt, I suppose, but…’

  ‘Give over! You’d have thrown it at Rachel the first chance you got.’ He used his fork as a shovel, crouching over his plate like one who is famished.

  ‘Jackie Daw, fancy accusing me of a thing like that!’ Ella dropped her hands to the table.

  ‘Aye well, I know you.’ He sprinkled more salt on his meal.

  ‘Stuck-up cow, serve her right if somebody told her.’ She resumed eating.

  ‘Well, she knows now well enough, doesn’t she?’

  A gravy-edged grin from Ella. ‘Aye! My God, won’t this alter her chest measurement – well, come on then! Give us the whole dirty story.’ Over the rest of the meal he told her what he knew of the liaison. At his conclusion, she used the back of her hand to mop her lips, then made a barbed comment. ‘I hope this doesn’t mean I can expect a long-lost piccaninny on my doorstep, Stanley Daw.’

  For the first time he gave her his entire attention, cutlery poised in mid-passage. ‘I’d never do anything like that to you. You believe me, don’t you?’

  Her hand shot out to grasp one of his. ‘Aye… otherwise that knife and fork’d be sticking out of your face.’ After exchanging dry looks, they scraped up the last of the stew.

  ‘Even if she is a snooty bitch,’ said Jack, wiping his mouth and patting his stomach, ‘I feel sorry for her. It’s no thing for a wife to find out. He’s not a bad lad, isn�
��t Russ, but he’s weak. I wonder how the kids’ve taken it?’

  ‘They didn’t appear to see anything odd about it,’ replied Ella, swapping the empty plates for bowls of sponge pudding and sitting down again. ‘Though Bertie was a bit sulkier than normal. I don’t suppose I would’ve known anything about all this if it hadn’t been for them.’ Another accusing look for her husband. ‘Eh, but Rachel can’t keep him locked up for ever, can she? Apart from anything else it’s inhuman.’

  Jack downed a huge spoonful of pudding. ‘How did he get here, d’you know?’

  ‘Could I have that interpreted please?’ After her husband had swallowed the mouthful and repeated the question more clearly, she said, ‘From what I gather he’s been here quite a few weeks, turned up on the doorstep and blithely announced himself. They’ve done well to keep it quiet for this long, haven’t they?’

  ‘I wondered why they were scuttling about the last time I was in there.’

  ‘Oh yes, and when was this? You never tell me anything.’

  ‘It didn’t seem worth telling…’ He pondered on his friend’s behaviour on their last meeting, feeling rather peeved that Russ hadn’t felt able to confide in him. ‘This’ll finish Russ as far as the council goes if it gets out, you know.’

  ‘Won’t it just?’ Her eyes were cunning over the spoon.

  He pointed his own spoon at her. ‘Eh now, Ella…’

  ‘I never said a word,’ came her light rejoinder.

  * * *

  ‘Ah, Russ! Come in.’ The Lord Mayor rose to greet his Sheriff. ‘Will you take a drink with me or is it a bit early?’