A blast of steam brought her round and she lifted the kettle from the heat. With the bedtime drinks made, she took them through to the parlour. Lyn sidled in some minutes later but she didn’t speak or even look at her. After the cocoa was finished, she ordered the girls to bed. There was more fighting which she tried in vain to quell while her mother sat like a zombie. In the end she covered her ears against the caterwauling and cried at the top of her voice, ‘Stop!’
Silence. Everyone looked towards Mother, who had not batted an eyelash. ‘Now get to bed!’ commanded Rowena sternly.
* * *
‘Rowena Hazelwood, I don’t seem to be in possession of your homework book. Can you tell me why?’
For the two hours since entering school, Rowena had been dreading this question from Miss Greenwood. The waiting had not helped to provide an excuse. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t have time to do my homework.’
Unforgiving eyes peered at her over the spectacles. ‘And why not?’
‘I had to help Mother about the house.’
‘I’m sure that is commendable, but so do most of the girls in your class. Having a little housework to do is no excuse for neglecting your education.’
Rowena did not contradict and bent her head. ‘No, Miss.’
‘Hold out your hand.’ Rowena did so, to receive a stroke of the ruler across her knuckles. ‘Now tonight you will do the exercises which you failed to do yesterday and will also complete this further exercise on page fifty-three.’
Pleading brown eyes were lifted to the teacher. ‘Miss Greenwood… I don’t know how to do them.’
‘Rowena Hazelwood, I spent ninety minutes yesterday giving examples on the blackboard! Are you telling me I wasted my time?’ Rowena whispered that she had not understood. ‘Everyone else seems to have understood! Might it be that you weren’t paying attention?’ The teacher snatched a textbook and proceeded to give an example on a scrap of paper. ‘There! Do you understand now?’
Rowena didn’t, but was too ashamed and afraid to say no, and nodded.
‘So I shall expect your homework book on my desk tomorrow with the two exercises completed!’
Needless to say, Rowena was unable to carry out this order. If she didn’t know how to do them last night she was hardly going to fare any better this evening. And again, when she arrived home she found her mother in a state of catalepsy and numerous chores to see to. It was not unexpected when she received another six strokes of the ruler the morning after.
Rowena, being a child who could not share her worry, told no one and so her persecution went undetected for yet another week. Her mother, boarded up in her own grief, did not notice the face drawn by lack of sleep. Nor did any of her sisters appear to think it necessary to enquire. Charlie, however, did… only to be told that it was none of his business.
Two more weeks passed and still they were without help of any kind, with Rowena taking responsibility for the running of the house and the shopping. The situation at school grew worse – unbearable… but this evening was to see an end to it, one way or another. Rowena sat with her family in the front parlour, listening for the creak of the gate and the knock at the door. All through tea she had been waiting, listening. With every external noise her heart would leap… then silence would reign to extend her torture.
When the knock did come, she almost jumped out of her skin. Her mother lifted dull eyes and said, ‘Answer that, one of you.’
Rowena pulled at her hair, looking at the others. Charlie jumped up and went down the passage. Rowena listened. The sound of a woman’s voice brought a sudden prickling to her armpits and a flush to her face.
Charlie reappeared. ‘It’s Rowena’s form teacher to see you, Mrs Hazelwood.’
Rowena stood as her teacher was shown in, rubbing at her thumbs. Her mother was asking Miss Bannon to sit down. Rachel wore a polite, if manufactured smile. ‘What can we do for you, Miss Bannon?’
The woman looked around, her eyes resting a while longer on Charlie. ‘I’d prefer to speak to you in private, if you wouldn’t mind.’
Rachel frowned, then dismissed the children. Rowena paused at the exit, then, when her teacher turned to look at her, she flushed and closed the door.
‘What’re you doing?’ whispered Becky as her sister bent her head to the wood. Rowena motioned for her to go away, but when this wasn’t complied with had to go into the kitchen with the others, and so missed what was said.
Rachel gave the offer of tea, which was declined. The woman sought to enquire after Rowena’s father before embarking on her intended theme, which was not going to be pleasant. ‘I trust Mr Hazelwood is continuing to keep out of harm’s way on the front?’ She knew from the girl’s school writings that Hazelwood had joined up. She was not, however, prepared for Rachel’s answer.
‘The Germans killed my son.’ There was no emotion.
Shocked, Miss Bannon donned a sympathetic expression. ‘Mrs Hazelwood, I’m so terribly sorry… I had no idea. Rowena never mentioned it. He must have been very young.’
‘He spent his fourteenth birthday on the front,’ answered Rachel gravely. Then explained, ‘Robert ran away to join the Army, we’ve had people searching for him for the past year.’
The teacher nodded and sighed. ‘These young boys, they see their brave fathers marching off to war and seek to emulate them. He must have been very proud of Mr Hazelwood – as you yourself must be.’
‘Proud?’ Rachel frowned her incomprehension, then let out a peal of unpleasant-sounding laughter. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Bannon! But if you knew how funny that was…’ She calmed herself and without further word resumed her stitching, which the teacher’s entry had interrupted.
‘Well… I’m sure we’re all greatly indebted to boys like your son, Mrs Hazelwood,’ murmured the teacher, unsettled by this odd display. ‘Laying down their young lives… Oh, this is going to make what I have to say awfully difficult… Mrs Hazelwood, I’ll delay no further. I’m here because Rowena has been caught stealing.’ She waited for the words to make impact, which they did immediately. When a horrified Rachel asked from whom, she said, ‘Several people, I’m afraid. A member of staff among them.’
Rachel let her sewing drop and whispered, ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘I’m sorry, but your daughter was caught red-handed.’ Miss Bannon frowned here, recalling the look on the girl’s face when she was caught – it was almost one of relief, as if she had wanted to be caught. ‘Pupils’ belongings have been disappearing for several days now. Only when Rowena grew bolder and decided to plunder the staff-room was she exposed as the culprit.’
At Rachel’s dumb shake of head, she added, ‘I know it’s terribly hard to credit. I would never have believed it myself had she not been caught in the act. I feel rather cruel at having to break it to you at such a dreadful time, if I’d known I might have waited… but you had to know, of course, especially since Rowena is to be suspended.’
Stupefied, Rachel echoed the last word.
‘She could, by rights, have been expelled. But in view of her past excellent record the headmistress opted for clemency. Obviously something must have greatly disturbed Rowena to force her into such action… Anyway,’ she rose and made to leave, ‘I won’t intrude further, Mrs Hazelwood, but will leave it in your hands. We shall expect Rowena back at school in a fortnight.’ She saw that Rachel didn’t intend to rise with her, and so let herself out.
Rachel sat there, staring into the fire for a long time. She could not believe this was all happening to her. One thing on top of another. Where were all the righteous busy bodies now? When she needed someone to tell her what to do. Her breast felt like a kettle about to boil. There were screams inside her skull, crashing back and forth like waves against a sea wall: help, help, help! Only when the door flew open and the children stood there with looks of fright on their faces did she realize that the scream had escaped.
Rowena flung herself at the overwrought woman, sobbing, ‘Oh, Mother, I did
n’t mean to do it! I didn’t! Everything seems so mixed up, I couldn’t do my maths and the teacher kept punishing me and she couldn’t show me how to do it and she just kept getting angrier and angrier and I had all the housework to do and…’ She buried her face in her mother’s lap, each out-drowning the other’s cries, while the rest of the family stood helplessly by, not understanding what had caused this.
Charlie came forward and, with a nervous look in his eye as if fearing another assault, clasped Rowena’s shoulder with his undamaged hand. ‘I can help you with your maths, Wena.’
Sniffing, she held up a tear-sodden face. ‘They’re too hard for you. Anyway, it’s not just that. You don’t know…’ Oh, the shame of being caught! Yet perhaps it was worth it to feel Mother’s arms around her. Though it was a different Mother: there was a staleness to her embrace that Rowena had never smelt before.
Charlie let his hand drop as Rachel collected her daughter to her breast. ‘How can you possibly help?’ she hissed. ‘If Rowena can’t do the work there’s little hope that you can.’
Charlie insisted that he should have a look at the work. Rowena told him that her book was upstairs. ‘I’ll fetch it!’ He left them temporarily. When he returned he was smiling. ‘They’re easy! I’ll soon have these done.’
Rachel was annoyed that he vouched success so glibly. ‘Are you making out that Rowena is stupid?’
His smile was dampened. ‘No… I’m just saying she needn’t worry any more. I know how to do these.’
‘But it’s not you who has to do them, it’s me!’ wept Rowena.
‘Then I’ll teach you! Come on, Wena, let’s go in the kitchen and I’ll show you before bedtime.’
Rowena wanted her mother to say, ‘Not now, I want to talk to my daughter’. But alas, Mother only sighed and, returning to her apathy, allowed Charlie to take charge.
He herded them from the room, telling the younger ones that it was their bedtime, while Rowena went directly to the kitchen with her book. Lyn shrugged the boy’s hand from her elbow as he piloted her at the stairs. ‘Just ’cause you got our brother killed you needn’t think you’re the boss, ’cause you’re not!’
Shocked, Charlie hung back and opened his mouth to protest. But by then Lyn and her sisters were at the top of the stairs. Head down, he went into the kitchen, but managed to brighten a little as Rowena opened her book for assistance. ‘We’ll soon have these done.’
She spread her arms over the book and laid her head upon them. ‘It’s not just the maths, Charlie.’
‘I did say I’d let Becky sleep with me again, and see to the sheets.’
She moved her head. ‘It’s not that either. It’s everything.’
He waited for her to go on. In time she looked up at him and admitted shamedly, ‘I’ve been stealing.’
In place of the condemnation she had expected he asked simply, ‘Who from?’
‘Lots of people… I’m so ashamed.’
‘I did it once,’ he said, almost as if he were boasting. At her look of interest, he elaborated, ‘I wanted this statue of Our Lady. It belonged to Father Guillaume. I used to look at it every day and think how it would be to own it. Then one night I stopped looking and took it, hid it in my room. But when I’d got it I didn’t feel like I thought I’d feel, if you see what I mean. It still didn’t belong to me… so I ended up putting it back. I stole some money too, so’s I could come here and see my father. What I’m saying is, a lot of people do it, Wena. It isn’t that bad.’
She gave a negative response. ‘It was different with me. I didn’t want the things I stole, didn’t even like them. It just seemed the only way to make Mother notice me. I had it all worked out. She’d say, “Rowena! how could you do such a dreadful thing?” And I’d say, “Because I’m so unhappy” and then she’d say… but she didn’t, did she? She doesn’t even seem bothered in my reasons.’
‘Perhaps she is, but she doesn’t know how to help you. You can talk to me if you like.’
She couldn’t explain to him how much she needed her mother. ‘It’s not the same.’
He was hurt, but concealed it well. ‘I know. But often you can tell your troubles to someone who isn’t so close to you, someone who isn’t important.’ After a pause, he prompted, ‘You blame me for Bertie being killed, don’t you?’
She spoke into the table. ‘Not really.’
‘You do. You all do. If I hadn’t come then he’d still be alive.’
She offered no contradiction for she knew it to be true.
‘I’m upset too, you know. Even though he didn’t like me, he was my brother.’
‘Only your half-brother. You haven’t known him all your life, you can’t miss him as much as we do – and you didn’t even like each other. Besides, it’s not just Bertie. Ever since he was killed Mother’s been treating me like I’m a grown-up, asking me what to do, leaving me to get the meals, see to the others. I’m not a grown-up, Charlie. I don’t want to be one, it’s too much… and then there’s poor Father.’ She started to weep again. ‘I’m so tired! I just want to go to sleep.’
Gently, Charlie prised her wet face from the page. ‘Careful, you’ll make all the ink run. We don’t have to do this tonight. You go to bed, and tomorrow I’ll get the breakfast and see to the others.’
‘And there’s no clean pants and socks…’
‘I’ll deal with that as well, I’ve nothing else to do all day.’ He hugged her. ‘Don’t worry, lass, I’ll take care of you now.’
‘Oh, Charlie.’ She accomplished a wet little laugh. ‘You sounded just like Father.’
It was true: living for so long among them, the Yorkshire accent had rubbed off on him. He took this as a great compliment and, returning her fond expression, escorted her up to the girls’ room. The others were not asleep. He ignored their glares to accompany her right up to her bed. Pulling her nightgown from under her pillow, he laid it on her lap. ‘Becky, will you squeeze in the other bed so your sister can have a decent night’s sleep?’ There were immediate objections from the others but he stilled them and waited to see Becky tucked in before leaving.
When he had washed several pairs of socks and pants and hung them to dry, he decided to tackle some of Rowena’s homework so she wouldn’t have so much to do. Igniting an oil lamp, he placed it beside the book, then sat down and waded into the mathematical problems.
* * *
He must have dozed, for the shock of the deafening bang nearly sent him up to the ceiling. Someone was at the back door, hammering for all they were worth. Stumbling to open it, Charlie whispered forcibly, ‘All right, I’m coming!’ It was some seconds before his left hand managed to turn the key. All the while the person on the other side continued to rap.
‘Did you think I was knocking for my own good?’ demanded the man as Charlie opened the door.
‘No, I just thought it was a funny time of day for a woodpecker to be at work,’ retorted Charlie.
‘Oy! Now watch it, you cheeky monkey!’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Charlie impatiently. ‘But your knocking has probably woken everyone up. What do you want?’
‘What do I want? What do I bloody want! I want that light out, that’s what I want! Don’t you know it’s an offence to have an unshielded light?’
Charlie, still muzzy from his nap, looked at the kitchen window. ‘Oh heck! I’m sorry, I’ll draw the curtains right this minute.’
‘A bit late for that now!’ The man tapped Charlie’s breast. ‘You’ve earned yourself a ten shilling fine.’
Charlie came fully awake. ‘I haven’t got ten shillings!’
‘Then you’ll have to go to prison, won’t you?’ sneered the special constable. ‘Aye, sorry you cheeked me now, aren’t you?’
‘Please,’ began a nervous Charlie, cupping his injured arm in hope of drawing sympathy. ‘I’m really sorry. I promise never to do it again.’
‘That’s not good enough! I’m here to uphold the law and—’
‘Fred Wil
son, what the hell is all this racket?’ Ella’s head appeared over the wall of the yard.
‘Get that bloody light out!’
Ella hurried to slam her kitchen door. ‘There! Now how would you like your lights putting out – permanently!’ The man said there was no need to take that attitude, he was just enforcing his authority. To which Ella replied, did he have to make so much noise about it. ‘Some of us have to get up for work in the morning.’
‘Listen,’ Wilson directed a finger at Charlie. ‘This lad has contravened Government instructions on the use of artificial illumination—’
‘Charlie, go in and draw your curtains,’ Ella interrupted smartly and the boy hurried to comply. ‘There! That’s settled. Now can we all sleep?’ At the man’s insistence that this must be reported, she gave a groan. ‘This family who you’re intent on persecuting have just had their only son killed in action!’
‘Aye… well, I didn’t know that – but I have my job to do! We can’t have people flashing lights all over the place, you know, else there’ll be more folks getting killed.’
‘And that’s why you’re waving that torch about, is it?’ said Ella. ‘I think I’ll have to get on to the authorities myself and tell them there’s this man what keeps signalling to enemy aircraft.’ She stalled his objection. ‘And I bet they’d find it very strange that a man who’s supposed to be a member of the defence forces gives his house a German name.’
My Father, My Son Page 45
