My Father, My Son

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

  The rest remained downstairs, packed into the narrow space twixt front door and kitchen, the girls uttering noises of admiration for their father’s uniform. On hearing the excited voices, Charlie came out of his lonely attic to crane his head round the corner. But he could see only legs and was forced to move onto the staircase… and there was his father as his mother had always described him, in all his military glory. He perched on a step and gazed on him.

  Rachel seemed oblivious of the audience, forgoing the last shreds of dignity she had promised her husband. ‘You coward,’ she breathed. ‘You cringing coward!’

  ‘They’re asking for soldiers,’ he answered lamely.

  ‘Soldiers! Not weak-kneed cheats who’re running away from their responsibilities. You’re a married man, unless you’d forgotten. There’s no need for you to join up. You’ve a business to run and a family to support. How’re we to live if you go? I can’t manage the shop I have my own work to see to.’

  The children had become silent, calcified by the desperate accusations from their mother. Upstairs with the baby, Biddy listened eagerly.

  In his chronic melancholia, he had genuinely forgotten about the shop. ‘Jimmy’s a good lad, he’ll do most of the work…’

  ‘He’ll have to! And you’re too old! I thought they only wanted men up to thirty?’

  ‘That’s for the New Army.’ He explained falteringly how it was possible for ex-NCOs to rejoin their old regiment, then said plaintively, ‘It’s best for all of us if I go, Rachel… I just can’t take any more.’ The alacrity of it all had amazed him. In the space of a few hours he had been signed up, given instructions to report at a local church hall tomorrow morning for medical inspection and fitted with one of the few uniforms available. He had kept it on: it would save on explanations to his wife.

  ‘You can’t take any more? So you creep off, leaving me your black son as evidence of your betrayal and cowardice!’

  ‘Oh, Rachel… only a few weeks more and the priest’ll be here to take him back and it’ll all be over. Don’t be hard on him, he’s only a lad.’ He failed to perceive his own hypocrisy.

  Scornful eyes swept him from head to toe. ‘Taking my husband’s by-blow off the streets, housing him, feeding him, that’s being hard on him?’

  ‘You see! You see!’ he cried in desperation, falling back against the wall. ‘It’s going to be like this all the time if I stay. You’ll never let me forget.’

  ‘So you think you’ll just crawl away and join the big boys? Well, go on then! I don’t care. Because you’re right, I won’t let you forget and I’ll never forgive you, never. I hope you catch a bullet – I do! I’m only sorry you’re not taking that one upstairs so’s he can catch one as well. I’m sick of looking at him, sick of being told only another few weeks and he’ll be gone – he’ll never go! Because he’ll always be up here.’ She beat a vicious tattoo on her head. ‘Staring out at me, reminding me of how little you thought of our marriage and my children. Go on, clear off! You can go right away. We don’t want you. Go to your precious Army!’

  Russ was acutely embarrassed and stole a look at his daughters. ‘Rachel, you’re upsetting the lasses…’

  ‘It’s a pity you never thought of them when you brought your strumpet’s son into their home!’ With a last exasperated sound she launched herself at the staircase, braking as she came upon Charlie, then pounding past him.

  Beany’s mouth trembled, ‘What’s a strumpet?’ but Rowena nudged her into silence and gestured for her sisters to go into the kitchen.

  Russ stood alone in the dim passageway. Oh God, what was he doing to them all? Their little faces… He would have to speak to them before he left. Pushing himself from the wall, he wandered into the kitchen and looked at each concerned child. There was another missing besides Bertie. ‘Where’s Lyn?’ Rowena whispered that she was in the back yard. Her father stepped out into the sunlit yard and spoke at the door of the water closet. ‘When you’ve done, Lyn, I’ve something to say to you all.’ He was about to go when he heard a juddering intake of breath that bespoke tears. Opening the closet door, he looked in, but it was empty.

  Taking a few more steps, he found his daughter round the back of the building, crouched in an attitude of sheer misery. Squatting beside her, he pulled her into his side and tried to see her face, but she kept her arms wrapped tightly round it. No one was allowed to witness Lyn crying. ‘Your mam’s all right,’ he soothed gently. ‘Don’t worry, lass.’

  She gave a great sniff and lifted her head, though keeping her face averted. ‘I’m not bothered about Mother.’

  ‘Ah… well, if it’s me, then don’t…’

  ‘I’ve swallowed a tooth!’ she squeaked and the tears streamed down her face.

  Russ tried his best not to laugh. He hugged her. ‘I don’t know! Here’s me thinking it’s because I’m off to war… you soft a’p’orth. Was it loose?’

  She nodded and dashed her arm over her eyes. ‘I’ve kept jiggling it all week and when Mother shouted she made me jump an’ I went and swallowed it. I won’t get me money off the tooth fairy now!’

  ‘Come here!’ Her smiling father reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. ‘Let’s see this face – come on, you can’t go in looking like that. There.’ He dabbed away the tears. ‘Now, I’ll have a word with the tooth fairy and tell him what happened.’

  Red eyes beheld him hopefully over the linen square. ‘Will I get me money, then?’ When told that it would be there when she woke up, Lyn blew her nose, sniffed and examined him. ‘You look nice as a soldier.’

  ‘Aye, not bad, am I?’

  ‘But what’ll happen to the tooth?’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that, it’ll go all the way through… mindst, it might give you a nasty nip on the way out – no, no, I’m only kidding!’ He cuffed her lightly, took the handkerchief from her and pushed himself up. ‘You won’t feel a thing. Away now, ’cause I want to talk to you all.’

  In the scullery, she left him to splash cold water on her face. When Russ re-entered the kitchen, Charlie had joined the gathering. It was this that prompted Russ to go upstairs and speak to Bertie first. It was only fitting. His son’s door was closed. After a couple of soft taps went unheeded, Russ went in. Bertie looked up from the pillow, then flung himself onto his side to face the wall. Russ stood there for a second then, closing the door, came to sit on the bed. At the contact of his father’s thigh against his body, Bertie shuffled away from it.

  ‘I just want to say goodbye, Robert… I’ll miss you, son.’ Russ reached out a hand and placed it on the warm head, but it was rebuffed. After a moment he got up from the bed, said, ‘Bye, lad,’ and went out.

  Passing his wife’s room, he had a sudden thought and tapped softly. ‘Rachel, I thought you might wonder where the car is – I’m sorry, it’s been requisitioned. Somebody copped me when I went into the recruiting office… anyway, I’ve told them to send the money here, so you won’t be short.’

  Rachel, tear-stained and blotchy-faced, covered her ears. Damn the car! Damn the Army! Damn you!

  Receiving no answer, Russ went down to the kitchen, where the girls waited. Taking a dining chair from the table, he sat on it and held out his arms for them to gather round him. Charlie moved up too. Russ felt the urge to scream, I bloody hate you! You’ve killed me! but he didn’t. He took a daughter’s hand in each of his and said evenly, ‘Now then, I want you all to promise you’ll be good lasses while I’m away. No squabbling. D’you think you can manage that?’ They all murmured that they could. Rhona wanted to climb on his knee. He took his hand out of Rowena’s to hitch the smallest child up. ‘Good, and when I come back from France I’ll bring you all a present.’

  They brightened. ‘A French doll?’ asked Beany.

  ‘That’s what you want, is it?’ He bent his face down to her level. ‘Then that’s what you shall have.’

  If the others seemed to have forgotten Mother’s shrieks, then Rowena had not. ‘You won’t reall
y get killed, will you, Father?’ she asked in a small voice.

  He put on a show of vivacity. ‘Me, get killed? No! By gum, I’ll have them Germans whipped before you can say tickle-me-fancy.’ His hand shot out to tickle her ribs and she gave a relieved giggle, doubling over. But looking at Charlie, who stood behind the row of pretty faces, he pictured his wife and son and thought bitterly, oh, dear Christ, I hope Fritz does it for me… because my life will be worth nothing if I have to come home to this.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After passing a while longer reassuring his daughters, he made himself scarce for the rest of the evening, spending most of it in a public house. When he came in they were all asleep. Unwilling to see Charlie again, he prepared a bed on the sofa. Sleep was impossible of course – even without the annoying tick of the pendulum clock. He lay there, staring into the embers for ages. When he did close his eyes the warmth of the fire on his face became South African sunshine and he opened them quickly, not wanting to be there. But the vision had been formed… he felt her hot skin beneath his palms, her legs drawing him into her… and Charlie being squirted from his body to her womb.

  The door opened then. He turned to see the subject of his nightmare, then turned away again. Charlie pressed the door shut and came over to stand by the fire, hands in pockets. The glow of the coals burnished his face. He wanted to ask if his father was leaving because of him… but did not want to hear his father’s yes. ‘Aren’t you coming to bed?’

  Russ pulled the tartan blanket over his shoulder and closed his eyes, hoping the boy would go. ‘I thought I’d sleep down here, I didn’t want to disturb anyone.’

  ‘I wasn’t asleep. I’ve been waiting for you to come in. Can I try your jacket on, please?’ The boy was pointing at the Army tunic that was round the back of a chair.

  ‘If you like,’ said Russ apathetically, and gave up his pretence of tiredness to watch the boy. But when Charlie donned the military garment, a thought came to his mind and he spoke on it. ‘Don’t go getting any daft ideas, you have to be eighteen to join the Army.’ Charlie simply nodded and buttoned the tunic. Russ was not satisfied and hoisted himself onto one elbow. ‘Listen, I don’t want to get over to France then hear you’ve run away to join me. You’re to wait right here for Father Guillaume to come and collect you. I want your promise on that.’

  Charlie hesitated. How had his father known what was on his mind? Finally, he gave his word.

  ‘Right, well, take that tunic off now and go to bed, it’s late and I have to be away early in the morning.’ He lay down again.

  Charlie removed the jacket and draped it round the chair-back. ‘Will I see you before you go?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ With each gap in the dialogue the noise of the pendulum crept back to the foreground. Tick, tock, tick, tock… smash the clock, smash the clock. Russ felt ready to scream.

  ‘But you’ll be home before Father Guillaume comes?’ said Charlie in anxious tone.

  ‘Hardly, it’s only a matter of weeks to his coming. I’ll be in the middle of a retraining programme.’

  The brown eyes were devastated. ‘So… I won’t see you after tonight?’

  Russ glanced at him briefly. ‘I think it’s best, don’t you? We’re only causing each other pain.’

  After a pause, Charlie held out his hand to his father. ‘Goodbye then, Father.’ Oh, how he wanted the man to grasp his hand and pull him into a rough, paternal embrace.

  But the most this filial display received was an insipid handshake and a curt ‘Bye.’

  * * *

  Russ slipped away in the early hours, half hoping that one of them might waken and come to kiss him goodbye. No one did.

  Not until he had been at the church hall for some time did he realize he had forgotten his promise to Lyn. He snatched a glance at his watch. Even though his home was not far from here, it was too late to go back now. She would be searching frantically under her pillow and there would be nothing to find. Oh, God help me! All the while he waited, half-naked, for his medical inspection, he worried about her. Most would have found that laughable – the worries he had, and he was getting steamed up about a tooth fairy! But if his child lost her faith in the tooth fairy, where did that leave him?

  As soon as the medical was over he dressed and slipped out to purchase paper, envelopes and glue. In the privacy of a lavatory he sat on the seat and used the paper and glue to make a miniature envelope, then set about writing a letter of apology on a piece of paper the size of a matchbox.

  Dear Lyn,

  I have just seen your father who tells me that you swallowed a tooth. That is all right, you get your money just the same. Sorry it’s late but we’ve had a lot of work to do.

  Love from the Tooth Fairy.

  Folding the tiny letter, he slid it into its envelope along with a threepenny piece, then tucked the lot into a standard envelope which he addressed to Rachel, with a note asking her to put it under Lyn’s pillow. Slipping out into the street again, he found a boy and asked if he would deliver it for a shilling. ‘It’s very important war business.’ Before he went back inside, another thought hit him: he would telephone the NSPCC woman and tell her that Charlie had left for Africa this morning – the priest had arrived earlier than expected. Mrs Ingram accepted the lie – like everyone else she was too involved in the war effort, and the boy had obviously not been harmed in any way. Charlie’s name was removed from her files.

  Russ thanked the vicar whose telephone he had used, paid for the call then went back to the billet.

  * * *

  Rachel wandered downstairs and into the kitchen, pausing to stand and stare. He was gone. For good? She neither knew nor cared. The pig, leaving her with the mess he had created… Biddy slouched up behind her, making her jump. ‘What time do you call this?’ She began to fuss about the kitchen. ‘Don’t think we’re all going to wait for breakfast while you idle in bed.’

  Biddy objected. ‘’Tis only six o’ clock, ma’am, the time I normally rise.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to start getting up a bit earlier! Have you woken the children?’ Biddy said she didn’t usually get them up until half past seven. Rachel said, ‘All right,’ and from then until the children came down chivvied and scolded the maid.

  ‘Where’s Rosalyn?’ demanded the child’s mother when all but this one were at the table.

  ‘She’s looking for something,’ replied Becky, and before Rachel had time to answer added, ‘Mother, you didn’t really mean it about wanting to see Father shot, did you?’

  Rachel was taken off guard and she stopped tearing about to look at each of her girls. Robina’s eyes were filled with tears. ‘Of course not,’ she answered briskly. ‘I was just angry at him for leaving us in this mess.’

  ‘What mess?’ asked Beany.

  ‘Oh, Robina, do stop asking silly questions and go fetch your sister or her breakfast will be thrown away!’

  Beany went upstairs to relay this message and met her sister halfway, her face was like thunder. ‘Haven’t you found it?’

  Lyn replied with a strident, ‘No! There was nothing under the pillow. I even looked under the bed to see if the money had dropped down the back.’

  ‘Maybe he left it under the wrong pillow,’ suggested Beany, and when Lyn made as if to go and look said, ‘But wait till after or Mother’ll be mad.’

  ‘He’d better have left it,’ said her sister darkly as they went down. ‘The little sod.’

  After breakfast she searched under everyone else’s pillow but found nothing. ‘Then it has to be under Bertie’s!’ She marched into his room and demanded that he search.

  When told of the reason, Bertie scoffed, ‘You don’t still believe in fairies, d’you?’

  ‘Not ordinary fairies.’ His sister was scathing. ‘But the tooth fairy is different. Father said he would speak with him so he must be real.’

  ‘Father’s a liar,’ replied her brother. ‘He lies about everything. There’s no such person as the
tooth fairy. It’s him what takes the tooth from under the pillow and leaves the money there.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ But Lyn’s confidence wavered.

  Bertie grabbed her arm and dragged her along the landing to what had been their parents’ room. On the mantelpiece was a china jar. He lifted the lid and said, ‘Look in there!’ In the bottom was a sprinkling of milk teeth. ‘He sneaks into your bedroom at night, swaps a tooth for threepence then chucks the teeth in there.’

  Lyn’s lips parted. She did not say anything, just stared at the jar. Bertie slammed the lid back on. ‘So it isn’t the tooth fairy who forgot your money, it’s Father, because he doesn’t care about any of us.’

  ‘Pig!’ Lyn went white and fled from the room.

  Despite having wanted to hit back at his sisters for their lack of kinship, Bertie suddenly felt very mean. He remembered his own feelings when a boy had told him that Father Christmas didn’t exist – his whole world had caved in. Tramping back to his own room, he heard the closet door slam and knew that his sister had gone there to cry. His own eyes smarted at the spiteful attitude he had shown her. It was his father he had really wanted to punish. Searching a bookshelf, he withdrew a boys’ annual and hovered indecisively for a while, then going down he waited in the yard until his sister emerged. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, head down, and shoved the book at her. Still glaring she took it and offered a sullen thank you. ‘I suppose he just forgot, what with going off to war,’ said Bertie.

  ‘I’ll never believe anything he says again,’ she replied strongly.

  ‘Right, I want everyone out of the house until dinner!’ At the sound of their mother’s voice, Lyn and Bertie joined the others. Charlie, knowing that the instruction did not apply to him, plodded up to his attic to wait for Mrs Hazelwood to closet herself in the parlour. Then he would go down and perhaps help Biddy or play with the baby. His half-brother and half-sisters, armed with notepads and pencils, went out of the front door. Once on the pavement, Bertie said he wouldn’t be going on the trip to the river with them, he wanted to be on his own. None of the girls tried to change his mind, and he walked on ahead.