by Chloe Mayer
Annabel smiled at Bill, whose moustache and kind-looking face made him look like an older version of Reggie, which she supposed he was. Moira returned with a cup and then poured tea for everybody, including a milky one for the boy.
‘You’re back earlier than we thought,’ she remarked. ‘How was it?’
‘It was …’ Annabel trailed off, not sure what the question meant. ‘I’ll miss him,’ she said eventually, although that was not quite true. ‘It will be strange without him here,’ she added, which was. Her eyes threatened to betray her but she managed to hold her tears in.
‘We’ll all miss him,’ Moira agreed, abruptly. ‘The worst thing is the worry, isn’t it? I’ll be praying every day for his safety.’
Annabel hadn’t really thought about that. She’d been so worried about what his absence meant for her that she hadn’t really thought about what would happen if he were hurt or even killed. What would she do then?
‘You mustn’t think about all that – you’ll only upset yourself, Moira,’ her husband told her.
‘Who’s upset?’ Daniel asked.
‘And remember that little pitchers have big ears,’ Bill added.
‘Nobody’s upset, dear,’ Moira said. ‘That’s a good castle.’
They all looked at the boy’s design and agreed as they drank their tea.
‘Well, we better get a move on after this,’ Bill said. ‘We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.’
Annabel nodded. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Norfolk’s lovely this time of the year,’ he added.
‘Ah, yes, I’m sure.’
Moira fidgeted, placing her cup back on the tray and patting her auburn hair. She seemed more uncomfortable than Annabel with the silences. ‘How long have we been there now, Bill? Two years?’
‘Um, three, I think.’
Moira laughed. ‘Goodness! How time flies!’
‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’ Annabel gave a little laugh too.
‘Can’t say I miss London – especially not now,’ Bill continued. ‘All those streets reduced to rubble.’ He shook his head. ‘Moira and I were disappointed when you and Reggie moved out here when you married, and I know your parents were too because we all lived so close to each other before, but now we’re glad of it.’
Moira drained her tea. ‘Have you finished, Bill? Now then …’ She shifted in her seat and looked at Annabel. ‘Are you going to be all right, dear?’
Finally.
‘Yes … Yes, thank you. I’ll be quite all right.’ Annabel swallowed and gave a shaky smile. ‘We’ll be quite all right, I mean.’ They all glanced again at the boy. ‘My parents are just a train ride away.’
‘Well, you’ll let us know too if you need anything,’ Bill said.
‘Of course, thank you.’
Annabel realised she hadn’t drunk any of her tea. It was almost cold now but she took a few gulps.
‘I’m sure Bill could do without me for a few days if you want me to stay? Or you could always come up to Norfolk with us.’
‘No, no!’ Annabel was horrified. ‘Really, there’s no need to put yourself out. We’ll be fine.’
‘Or … Well, now I think of it; perhaps we could take Daniel back with us. You know. Just for a little while. Give you a bit of a break? And we’ll have such fun, won’t we, Daniel? You can play with your friend Harry, remember, who lives next door?’
The boy looked up with sudden interest now he was the topic of conversation.
‘No, please – I …’ she looked from Moira to Bill. Was this another plot? ‘There’s really no need for this.’
‘Well, if you really think … If you’re sure?’
‘Yes, quite sure. Thank you for the offer, but honestly, like I said – there’s really no need.’
There seemed to be nothing else to say, and Bill and Moira finally put down their cups and stood up.
‘Shall I help you clear up then, dear? Before we go?’ Moira said.
‘Oh no, leave that, please – thank you.’
Bill crouched down beside the boy, wincing as his knee cracked audibly.
‘So. Have you finished?’
‘Nearly. It’s an even bigger castle this time.’
‘Very big. Much bigger than the last one. Well done.’
He cuffed the child playfully across his shoulder and heaved himself back up.
‘Say goodbye,’ Annabel said. ‘Granny and Grandpa are going home now.’
Daniel stood, appearing reluctant to be kissed by Moira, but too polite to refuse. She left a smudge of lipstick on his cheek and he wiped at it with his sleeve.
Bill ruffled his hair. ‘Bye, Master Daniel.’
Annabel walked Reggie’s parents to the front door. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Moira said, kissing her cheek.
Annabel resisted the instinct to rub at the spot of saliva and lipstick she could feel there.
‘Bear up, old girl,’ Bill said, squeezing her arm in a gesture reminiscent of his son’s earlier that day.
‘We’ll visit again in a month or two.’
‘Thanks, Moira. Well, goodbye then.’
Daniel had followed Annabel out into the hall and they both waved as the Pattersons drove off. Moira’s worried face framed by the passenger window was the last thing Annabel saw before she shut the front door. She didn’t look at the peeling paint.
That had been a difficult day, and sitting here now, four years on, Annabel was sure the door must be in even more need of a new coat. She’d check it later to see how bad it was, but first she’d sip her gin and light a fresh cigarette.
One more smoke, and then she’d carry on with the housework. Starting with putting these letters back in the bureau.
Idly, she turned to the most recent, the one on the top of the pile. It had arrived just over a week ago – the morning before she received a scrawled note from Reggie’s commanding officer informing her that her husband was due a day’s rest and recuperation at home. ‘Do him good to see his pretty wife and son!’ the man had written.
10th May, 1944
Dear Annabel and Daniel,
Sorry it’s been a long time since I wrote. I’m fine apart from the ringing in my ears which stops me sleeping.
Love, Daddy
P.S. Please keep sending letters.
P.P.S. How are you?
‘I’m so glad he wrote again! I was worried,’ Daniel had said after they’d both read it.
‘No need to worry. I told you that.’
‘It’s … not very long, is it?’
‘Well, he’s very busy.’
But the tone of Reggie’s letter was a trifle odd. She was surprised the boy had seemed to pick up on it.
‘I’m going to write to him straight away!’ he had said and charged upstairs.
She’d supposed she should draft her own reply too but hadn’t yet started it when she learned of Reggie’s upcoming home leave. There was no point now she’d be seeing him so soon.
It was something of a relief; she found it difficult to fill an entire sheet of paper talking about the weather, the food situation, and the boy.
She folded the final letter away and returned the pile to the bureau. Still standing, she finished her second cigarette and her drink, and went back upstairs with some beeswax furniture polish to make everything look nice and shiny.
Reggie’s train was due in at 10.12 at Victoria Station.
Moira and Bill had driven Annabel and Daniel down to London to meet him, and the family lined up on the concourse to await his train.
Annabel smoothed down her skirt and straightened her matching green jacket. She had tried to look smart but was now crumpled from the car journey. Moira looked impeccable as usual, in a long-sleeved pink dress that set off her auburn hair nicely. She had doused herself even more liberally than usual with lavender water and Annabel felt nauseous after breathing in the reek of it in the enclosed space of the car.
‘Will he definitely
remember what we all look like, Grandpa?’
‘Yes, yes, of course he will. You can remember what Daddy looks like, can’t you?’
‘Um … yes?’
‘Well, there you are!’
‘Sometimes I look at the photograph of him and Mother on their wedding day. The one in the sitting room.’
Daniel was standing between his grandparents holding their hands, and when Annabel looked over she saw him scratching his calf with his other foot. He was jiggling up and down slightly. Bill had just taken him to the toilet so she hoped he didn’t need to go again.
‘But people can look different from photographs,’ the boy continued. ‘Sometimes they smile so they look happy but they might not be really, and sometimes they look serious, but actually they are very funny.’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’
‘And also, sometimes you might smile and be happy when the photo is taken, but just one minute later you might hurt yourself and be crying and serious.’
‘Yes, that’s true as well. But Daddy looks just like that photograph in the sitting room, remember? And he’ll be very happy to see you.’
At last, the train pulled in and passengers started piling through the doors of the carriages. There were several men in uniform and the family scanned their faces looking for Reggie.
In fact, they nearly didn’t recognise him. Bill was wrong; he didn’t look like that photograph at all.
Annabel heard Moira gasp next to her and turned to see what she was looking at.
‘Oh, goodness,’ she said.
Reggie had grown very thin, which made his eyes seem excessively large in his gaunt face. They had a dazed expression and he didn’t appear to have seen them at first as he shuffled along with the crowd.
‘Christ,’ she heard Bill mutter.
‘Grandpa, you swore!’
‘Sorry, Daniel.’
Annabel realised the boy hadn’t spotted him yet; he was still looking around for his daddy.
‘Reggie! Reggie! Over here!’ Moira called as she marched towards her son.
Annabel could no longer see her mother-in-law’s face, but knew she’d have a lovely bright smile plastered there. She tried to rearrange her own expression into something similar while Moira enveloped Reggie in a fierce hug.
She took a couple of steps forward, along with Bill, who led the boy by the hand, as Moira walked Reggie back to them. Perhaps it was just the drab brown-green of his uniform that made his skin look so grey.
‘Ah! Hello, Reggie!’ With his parents here she felt self-conscious, but reached up to kiss his cheek, which was rough with stubble. His moustache was tatty and almost lost amongst the patchy growth of whiskers.
‘Damn ringing in my ears,’ he said loudly, waving his hands around his head. ‘I can barely hear you.’
Bill stepped forward. ‘Wonderful to have you home, son.’ He slapped his shoulder and Annabel saw her husband flinch.
Then Reggie realised the boy was there and he seemed to become still as he stared down at him.
‘My Daniel.’
The child had been watching Reggie with shock etched across his features and he had huddled against his grandpa’s leg. But now he must have seen something he recognised. Because he wordlessly lifted up his arms, and Reggie scooped him up, and they buried their faces in each other’s necks.
Moira tried to engage Reggie in conversation in the car during the journey back to Kent, but he was in the front seat and said he couldn’t hear her. So she kept up a bright stream of chatter all the way home, which Annabel supposed must have been for everybody else’s benefit.
When they arrived at the cottage they all climbed out of the car for a short rest and to drop off Reggie’s bag. Moira insisted Reggie shave, so now, to Annabel’s relief, he was looking a little more like his old self.
It was clear he’d been left a bit shaken by the fighting. It seemed strange when she compared him to the relaxed-looking Jerry prisoners she’d seen arriving in the village. She thought of the tall one with the fair hair, Johannes, confidently striding down the lane.
And then they were in the car again, heading for Hillwood Grange Hotel in Densford where Bill had booked them in for Sunday lunch. They were given a nice spot by a large window and all ordered the roast beef.
As they waited, Reggie began to fidget, jerking his head and repeatedly scanning the tables.
‘They’re carrying on as normal.’ He tittered, and looked at Moira incredulously.
‘Everyone’s got to eat, Reggie,’ his mother said. ‘It doesn’t mean they’re not as upset about the war as you are.’
There was an uncomfortable pause as Reggie stared at her. ‘They’re carrying on as normal.’
In fact, sitting here with Reggie in uniform, Annabel was aware that it did seem somehow foolish to be eating lunch in a restaurant as though people weren’t being shot at just over the Channel.
She could see what Reggie was getting at; that this meal, this restaurant, was an absurdity.
But she was surprised Reggie wanted everyone to acknowledge the fact. Apart from the bizarrely emotional letter he’d sent her once dredging up the difficulties with her nerves after Daniel was born, he was usually as much a one for pretending everything was normal as his parents. But after two car journeys featuring Reggie’s strange silences and sudden outbursts about the ringing in his ears, Moira’s nerves appeared to be ragged. Even Bill seemed a little frustrated with his son. Perhaps they felt as she did and were secretly relieved his visit home would be over by the morning.
The waitress topped up their glasses with vinegary white wine, apologising again that there was no red on the menu today. Annabel took a couple of gulps. She stared at the linen tablecloth, which had been starched so often the fabric was becoming threadbare at the folds. She rubbed it with her finger, feeling where the rough cotton had turned smooth and almost shiny along the crease.
She drank some more of her sharp wine.
Daniel was arranging his cutlery into geometric patterns in front of him. Nobody asked him to behave because at least he was sitting quietly. His smart bow tie was starting to sag. If he was aware of the tension, or his father’s distress, he didn’t show any sign of it.
The waitress came back with another girl also bearing a tray and their lunches were placed in front of them all with a flourish.
Annabel felt suddenly ravenous; it made a change to have a hot meal. Mostly she and the child ate sandwiches whenever they got hungry, because it was so much easier than thinking about ingredients and cooking.
She idly wondered how the hotel was getting its food.
Opposite her, Reggie was chewing too, but had apparently realised something was wrong with the piece of meat in his mouth.
‘I can’t eat this bit.’
‘Sorry?’ Moira asked.
‘It’s, I don’t know, a bit of gristle. It’s all bony. They disguised it with all this onion gravy.’ He pushed his mouthful into the side of his cheek and looked round at them all.
‘I can’t swallow it,’ he told the table, looking panicky. ‘I can’t eat it.’
Moira started laughing. ‘Spit it out then!’
He shook his head. ‘No!’
‘You have to! Do it discreetly, in your napkin. No one will notice.’
Reggie started to laugh too, although he had to keep his mouth pinched closed so the food couldn’t fall out.
Bill started to chuckle as well, and then the boy joined in. Annabel smiled, relieved the tension had been broken.
Reggie was still laughing, with the meat a tell-tale bulge in his cheek. Finally, he raised his napkin to his lips and spat the offending gristle into the cloth. He folded it over to hide the gravy smears on the white cotton. Everyone was still giggling and Reggie’s cheeks were red from trying to compose himself. They were all hunched over, trying not to attract attention, apart from Daniel, who was delighted at the sudden laughter, although Annabel wasn’t entirely sure he got the joke.
>
Reggie laughed so hard, he cried. And then he couldn’t stop crying. Tears streamed down his cheeks and Annabel registered with a start that he was suddenly choking back sobs.
It was impossible to tell where the change occurred and there was little to distinguish between the two states at first. Everyone continued laughing for a while before they realised what was going on.
Annabel sobered instantly and saw the stupid grins fade from the faces of her in-laws. Only the boy was still giggling.
Moira cast an anxious glance around the restaurant. Annabel looked around too and saw the diners seated at the tables nearest to them were watching and whispering behind their hands.
‘That’s enough,’ Bill said in a low voice. ‘Pull yourself together now, son.’
Reggie turned his face away towards the window and tried to shield his eyes from his horrified family. He gasped as he struggled to regain control.
Annabel was dumbstruck. Was she supposed to say something? Comfort him? She looked to Moira for guidance but saw nothing but mortification in her expression. In truth, Annabel was mortified too, and strangely frightened.
In public! That’s what she couldn’t believe. She had never caused a scene in public – no matter what her own weaknesses, no matter what was going on in her own house; strangers weren’t to know.
She noticed even the child was silent now, staring at his father, aware that something was very wrong.
Reggie rubbed his eyes viciously with his palms, to remove any stubborn tears that clung there. He turned back to the table, although he kept his eyes lowered.
‘I’m all right now.’
8
… the youngest son took his cup to the sick king in order that he might drink out of it, and be cured.
From The Water of Life
‘Daniel?’
But I was still staring at Daddy, whose red eyes were staring down at the plate in front of him, so Grandpa shook my shoulder until I looked up at him in the seat next to me.
‘Come on Daniel, let’s go to the toilet.’
I felt my cheeks blaze red because the other people stared at us as we made our way through the restaurant to the toilets. Grandpa didn’t notice because he kept his head down.
