by Joan Jonker
‘If yer let me have yer new address some time, I’ll write to yer when I get meself sorted out.’ Even now Phil found it hard to walk away from her. It wasn’t the love of a son for his mother that held him back, it was sadness for a woman who didn’t know right from wrong. ‘Look after yerself.’
‘I’ll come down an’ meet yer outside work one day,’ Fanny said, ‘see how yer gettin’ on.’
Phil nodded and turned away. He walked a few steps, then stopped. There was something that had preyed on his mind since he was old enough to understand that Tom Bradley wasn’t his father … perhaps now was the time to ask the question that had plagued him over the years. He turned to face his mother. ‘Mam, who was my real dad?’
Fanny lowered her eyes as her face drained of colour. ‘What d’yer want to know for? What difference does it make who he was?’
‘You don’t understand, do yer, Mam? Everyone has a right to know who their father is, in my case more so than most. D’yer think it’s been easy for me over the years, people thinkin’ Tom Bradley’s me father? I hate that man, and there’s been times when I’ve hated you for marrying him.’
Fanny screwed up her eyes as the words brought reason to a mind and heart where for years there’d been none. She could see herself as a young girl again, with a boy she’d been crazy about. He was tall, blond, handsome and full of fun. She opened her eyes to see the image of that boy standing before her … her son. And at that moment she knew how much she’d failed him.
‘Mam, I want an answer. I think I’m entitled to know who my real father was. What he was like and why you didn’t marry him. I don’t want to seek him out or cause trouble, I just need to know something about him.’
‘If yer look in the mirror, yer’ll see yer father. You’re the spittin’ image of him.’ Fanny spoke softly, her head bent so she didn’t meet his eyes. ‘We were courtin’ for a year, and were goin’ to get married when I was eighteen.’
There was a long silence, then Phil asked, ‘What happened?’
‘He worked down at the docks and there was an accident.’ Fanny’s voice faltered as she was forced to relive something from her past that was so painful she’d blotted it from her mind years ago. ‘He … he was killed.’
Phil dropped the case and put a hand on her arm. ‘Mam, are yer tellin’ me the truth?’
‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘If I never move from here, it’s God’s honest truth! I know I haven’t been the best mother in the world to yer, but I wouldn’t lie about a thing like that!’
‘Did you love him?’
‘We were crazy about each other. I was devastated when he died, thought I’d never get over it. Then, a month after he was buried, I found out I was expectin’.’
‘So you married Tom Bradley? Did he know you were pregnant?’
Fanny nodded. ‘Yeah, I told him.’ Her eyes were pleading for understanding. ‘I was so ashamed … never thought anyone would have me with an illegitimate baby. When Tom asked me to go out with him, I refused and told him why. Then he asked me to marry him, said if we got married quick, no one would know it wasn’t his baby.’
For a while Phil couldn’t speak, he was dumbfounded. Then he found his voice. ‘Mam, I’m sorry, it must have been terrible for yer. But I’d be tellin’ lies if I said yer did the right thing. I’d rather have been illegitimate than have Tom Bradley for a father.’
‘Don’t you say anythin’ against him, he’s been good to me!’ Fanny’s voice rose. ‘How many other men would ’ave married me? Just you tell me that!’
‘I’m not goin’ to argue with yer, Mam. It’s your life to do with what yer will. Just don’t expect me to be grateful to a man who has turned his children into thieves and pulled you down to his level. You might think you owe him something, perhaps yer do, but I don’t owe him a thing. Not for all those years of misery he caused me.’
‘Ay, don’t you be forgettin’ he put a roof over yer head,’ Fanny said hotly. ‘If he hadn’t married me I’d have been walkin’ the streets, because me family would have disowned me. An’ you’d ’ave been born in the bleedin’ workhouse, so just think on.’
‘You think that would have been worse, do yer, Mam?’ Phil closed his eyes, sighing at the futility of arguing with her. She was quite happy and content with the life she led, could see no wrong in the man she’d married. He could try to reason with her until kingdom come, it wouldn’t change her. And for good or bad, she was his mother and he didn’t want to part with ill feeling between them.
‘I’ll have to go, Mam.’ Phil had spotted Jimmy approaching the factory gates, and even from that distance he could see the steam rising from the newspaper parcel his workmate was carrying. ‘Me mate’s back with our chips. If I don’t put a move on they’ll be stone cold.’
‘I’ll come down again an’ see yer, son.’ Fanny was torn. She had feelings for her son and hated to see the hurt in his eyes. But she was under no illusions … if she had to choose between him and Tom Bradley, her son would be the loser. ‘When we get settled in our new ’ouse.’
‘Okay, Mam, I’ll see yer.’
Fanny watched him walk away, swinging the scruffy case. In her heart she admitted she hadn’t been a good mother to him, that he deserved better. But there was one decent thing she could do for him now. ‘Phil!’
He turned. ‘I’m sorry, Mam, but I’ve really got to go.’
She walked towards him. ‘Would yer like to see a photo of yer dad?’
Phil’s mouth gaped. ‘Yer mean to tell me yer’ve got a photo of him? All these years, an’ yer’ve never let on?’
‘I haven’t looked at it for years … kept it hidden away in case, er, in case someone saw it. It was taken about a month before he died. We’d gone to New Brighton fair with a gang, and someone took the snap of us together.’
There was no sign of Jimmy when Phil glanced over his shoulder. He was probably sitting in their usual place, pouring tea into his chipped enamel cup before making his doorstep-thick chip butties. He’d be wondering what was keeping his mate, but what Phil was hearing from his mother meant more to him than a king’s banquet. For the first time in his life he was learning about his real father, his own flesh and blood, and he was filled with an overwhelming desire to know more. What did he look like? Was he a good man? Oh, there was so much he needed to know about the man who had fathered him. ‘Will yer let me see the photo, Mam?’
Fanny nodded. ‘I’ll meet yer here tomorrow, same time. An’ yer can keep the photo.’ She dropped her head and gazed at the cracks in the pavement. A heavy sadness descended on her as she realised she wasn’t only letting her son down, but also the man she’d loved so much … his father. Fanny shivered. For some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, she had a feeling the day wasn’t far off when this handsome lad would walk out of her life forever. Before that happened she had to put the record straight between them. ‘It’s only right yer should have it … it’s what he would have wanted.’ With a catch in her voice, she told him, ‘His name was Bob Mitchell, an’ he was a fine, upstanding man. He was as honest as the day is long, always had a smile on his face and was liked by everyone. And I can tell yer this, he’d have been right proud of you, son.’
Phil opened the front door the next morning and stepped into the street, at the same time as the door opposite opened and Doreen appeared on the top step. Their eyes locked and for several seconds they were frozen in time. Phil was willing her to smile, to show some recognition, but Doreen dropped her gaze, banged the front door and took to her heels without a backward glance. With a heavy heart, Phil watched her slim legs cover the ground quickly as her long hair bounced around her shoulders.
‘Well that’s put an end to any hopes I had,’ he murmured softly as he closed the door behind him. ‘She’s made it clear she doesn’t want anything to do with me.’ His steps were heavy as he walked down the street. He should have expected her rejection, he supposed, because she had every right to be angry. But there’d been a tiny fl
ame of hope in his heart that she’d give him a chance to explain. In the last few minutes she’d extinguished that flame.
Victoria had come to expect a smile on Phil’s face when he came in from work. He was a pleasure to have in the house, and his presence gave a whole new meaning to her life. The days didn’t drag now that she had something to look forward to. There was a song on her lips as, with her one good hand, she made the beds, washed the dishes and dusted around. But her favourite job was setting the table for two. No more sitting with a tray on her knee, in front of the fire to eat her meal alone. But as soon as Phil walked through the door that night she sensed a change in him. He had a permanent smile on his face and when he talked there was excitement in his voice. She was curious, but didn’t pry. If there was anything he wanted her to know, he’d tell her in his own good time.
‘I enjoyed that, Miss Clegg.’ Phil laid down his knife and fork. ‘Yer can’t beat steak an’ kidney in a nice thick gravy.’
There was pleasure on Victoria’s face as she reached for his plate. ‘The kettle’s boiled, I’ll make yer a nice cup of tea.’
‘You stay where yer are, Miss Clegg, I’ll make it.’ Phil took the plate from her. ‘You spoil me too much.’
Victoria sat at the table, listening to him bustling around in the kitchen. ‘I’ll use this water to wash the few dishes, save botherin’ later,’ he called. ‘It won’t take a minute to stick the kettle on again.’ It hadn’t taken him long to get used to the layout and he knew where to put his hand on what he wanted. He was a tidy boy and Victoria knew everything would be put away where it should be.
‘Here we go!’ Phil came in carrying two cups of tea and set one in front of her before sitting down. ‘Have yer had a good day, Miss Clegg?’
Victoria grinned as she tutted. ‘You can’t keep on calling me Miss Clegg, it sounds so formal!’
‘What else can I call yer?’ Phil leaned across the table. ‘I can’t call yer Victoria, it wouldn’t be proper.’
‘You could call me Auntie.’ There was a shy smile on her face. ‘It sounds more friendly.’
‘You wouldn’t mind?’ Phil beamed when she shook her head. The day that had started off badly, with Doreen ignoring him, was turning out to be one of the best days of his life. His mother had been waiting for him outside the factory gates as she’d promised, and she’d given him something he would treasure all his life. And now here was Miss Clegg treating him like one of her family. ‘Auntie Victoria … it’s quite a mouthful, isn’t it?’
‘My parents used to call me Vicky … how about Aunt Vicky?’
‘Aunt Vicky.’ Phil rolled it around his tongue and liked the sound of it. He stuck out his hand. ‘How d’yer do, Aunt Vicky?’
As Victoria reached across the table she thought how easy this boy was to live with. He’d only been here a few days but she felt she’d known him all her life. She took his hand, roughened by the years of handling iron, and squeezed. ‘I’m very happy to meet you.’
‘Seeing as we’re practically family now, I’ve got somethin’ to show yer.’ He reached into his top inside pocket and produced a photograph. Rounding the table, he placed it in front of her. ‘That’s me real dad.’
Victoria stared at the old sepia-coloured photograph, creased and faded with age. Her eyesight wasn’t what it used to be so she picked the snap up and held it closer. ‘You’re the image of him!’ She gazed at Phil with wonder. ‘It’s like looking at the same man!’
Phil’s chest expanded with pride. ‘That’s just what me mate in work said.’
‘Who’s the woman with him?’
‘That’s me mam.’ His face clouded. ‘Yer wouldn’t think to look at her now that she used to be so pretty, would yer?’
Victoria didn’t trust herself to speak. When all was said and done, the woman was still his mother. And the photograph showed she’d been quite a beauty when she was young. But what on earth had possessed her to allow the man she’d married to change her into what she was today?
‘Me dad was courtin’ her for a year an’ they were goin’ to be married. That photo was taken on a day out at New Brighton.’ Phil took the photograph from her hand before returning to his seat opposite. Without taking his eyes off the face of the man he would give anything to have known, he slowly told his Aunt Vicky the story of how he came to be part of the Bradley family.
And as she listened, her eyes glistening with tears, Victoria’s heart went out to the boy she’d have been proud to call her son. He certainly didn’t deserve the cruel hand fate had dealt him.
When he’d finished telling her all that had been said, Phil sat gazing at the photo he held in his hands. ‘She said he was a smashing man. Kind, full of fun and liked by everyone.’
‘I’m sure he was … he must have been very special to have fathered a fine boy like you. And I’m sure you feel more settled in yer mind, knowing who he was and why he and your mother were never married.’
‘Yer don’t know the half of it! Honest, Miss … er … Aunt Vicky.’ A wide smile stretched his handsome face. ‘It’ll take me a time to get used to callin’ yer that, but I’ll get there! Anyway, to get back to what I was sayin’, I feel as though a heavy weight has been lifted off me shoulders. It’s a marvellous feeling to be free of the Bradleys at last. For the first time in me life I know who I am. I’m not a nobody … I’m the son of Bob Mitchell.’
The sound of the door knocker had Phil shoving the photo back in his pocket as he stood up. ‘I’ll go.’
‘It’ll only be Molly, come for her pan back.’
And Victoria was proved right. ‘Hiya, sunshine!’ Molly breezed in, bringing a draught of cold air with her. ‘All nice and cosy, eh, as per usual.’
‘We’re ahead of ourselves tonight.’ Victoria was looking so smug she might as well have stuck her tongue out and said ‘so there!’. But Victoria didn’t do things like that so she contented herself by adding, ‘Phil’s already washed the dishes and tidied everythin’ away.’
‘You’re too bloody good to be true!’ Molly took the sting out of her words by rewarding him with a sunny smile. ‘I could do with yer in our house.’
‘I don’t think yer daughter would be too happy about that.’ Phil pulled a face. ‘She cut me dead this morning.’
Molly looked surprised. ‘Where did yer see her this mornin’?’
‘We both came out of the house at the same time. She looked at me as if I was somethin’ the cat had dragged in, then legged it hell for leather down the street.’
‘She’s been in a right mood for the last few days. Got a face on her like a wet week and snaps yer head off if yer so much as look sideways at her.’ Molly perched on the arm of the couch. She didn’t want to get comfortable or she’d never budge. ‘Me ma says she takes after me, but I can’t remember bein’ as moody as she is.’
‘You’ve got to make allowances for her, Molly, she’s at an awkward age,’ Victoria said. ‘Too old for a doll’s pram, but not old enough to go out and do what she wants.’
‘Then all I can say is, I hope she grows up ruddy quick. She sat at the table tonight with a right miserable gob on her, an’ it puts a blight on the whole family.’
Victoria had been at the window this morning waiting to wave to Phil as he passed, and she’d witnessed what had taken place. Not for the world would she tell him, in case she embarrassed him. Or, worse still, he’d think she was being nosy. But after what she’d seen with her own eyes, and with what Molly was telling them now, she thought she knew what might be ailing Doreen. Perhaps a little push in the right direction wouldn’t go amiss. ‘Show Molly your photograph, Phil.’
‘Aw, Aunt Vicky! Mrs Bennett wouldn’t be interested!’
Molly’s brows shot up in surprise. Aunt Vicky! Well I never!
‘Of course she’d be interested!’ Victoria wasn’t to be put off. ‘Go on, show it to her.’
Phil reached into his pocket as he crossed the room. ‘Guess who that is?’
Moll
y glanced casually at the snap, then bent her head for a closer look. ‘I can’t see a thing in this light.’ She went to stand by the table, under the gas lamp. For several seconds she stared at the photograph, then turned to Phil. ‘This is uncanny! The feller on this looks like you, but I know it can’t be ’cos the snap’s donkey’s years old!’
‘Nineteen years to be precise.’ Phil was looking over her shoulder. ‘His name was Bob Mitchell, he’s me dad.’
‘Well, I’ll be blowed!’ Molly’s eyes were drawn to the face staring up at her. She couldn’t get over the likeness. ‘He’s a handsome man.’
‘He was.’ There was a catch in Phil’s voice. ‘He’s dead.’
Victoria could see the questions in Molly’s eyes and could hear the pain in Phil’s voice. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to ask him to go over the story again so soon, he must be hurting terribly inside. But Victoria had a feeling that only good could come out of Molly knowing the truth.
‘Sit down properly, Molly, and I’ll make you a cuppa while Phil tells yer about his dad.’
‘Will yer try and put a smile on yer face?’ Maureen took the two cloakroom tickets from the girl behind the counter and put them in her purse. ‘Honest, I don’t know why yer agreed to come out with Mike an’ Sammy if yer feel as miserable as yer look.’
Doreen took a deep breath and forced a smile. ‘I’m all right! If I go around with a permanent smile on me face everyone will think I’m doolally.’
‘Don’t be sarcastic, Doreen,’ Maureen said, ‘there’s no need for it. All I’m askin’ yer to do is make an effort, otherwise we’re all in for a miserable night.’
Doreen slipped her hand through her friend’s arm. ‘If yer see me without a smile on me face, give me a kick.’
‘Don’t tempt me.’ As they neared the entrance to the dance hall, Maureen saw Mike and Sammy waiting and she walked towards them. ‘We’re ready if you are.’
Bowing from the waist, Mike opened the door and the strains of a tango reached their ears. ‘How about it, Doreen?’
‘Yes, okay.’ Doreen passed her handbag to her friend. ‘Put this down for us, kid.’
