by Annie Murray
‘What about you, Katie?’ Em asked. ‘You’re not living round here, are you? And is that your . . . ?’ Em nodded towards Marek and Michael.
‘Marek,’ Katie said, ‘come and meet my friend Em – Emma . . . not Brown any more then?’
‘No – Stapleton.’
Marek smiled and shook her hand and they both said nice-to-meet-yous. Katie saw that Em was intrigued by Marek.
‘My friend,’ Katie added. There would be a chance, she hoped, to explain about Marek – about everything – some other time. She told Em that they were lodging over in Handsworth.
‘And this is my little boy, Michael.’
‘Oh, isn’t he lovely!’ Em made much of Michael, and Mr Perry came out and said hello as well and handed Michael an orange. ‘Don’t tell anyone.’ He winked. Em told Katie about her own boy, Robbie.
Katie knew it was up to her, if she wanted Em’s friendship, to do something about it now. She owed Em. And she did want it – she was full of need for the friendship, and felt happiness at the prospect. And now she felt able to reach out.
‘It’d be nice to see you properly sometime, Em,’ she said, nervously. ‘That’s if you’ve got time, and everything. Maybe on a Sunday?’
Em’s kindly face lit up. ‘That’d be lovely,’ she said. ‘Of course I’ve got time. And you can bring Michael round to meet Robbie. Robbie’s a bit older of course, but we’ll find something they can do.’
She wrote her address down for Katie. Saltley. ‘It’s a long way for you to come,’ Em said. ‘You could come here instead – to our mom’s.’ She too was eager, joyful. ‘We’ll have to come and see you one day.’
‘Come and play in the park,’ Katie said. ‘It’s very nice over there. But I’ll come first – you’ve got enough on your plate.’
They said their goodbyes. Michael walked along proudly holding his orange, the brightest thing in the street.
‘An old friend?’ Marek said.
‘Yes.’ Katie felt like skipping, she was so happy. Already something felt healed, as if a load had fallen off her. ‘An old friend.’
Fifty-Four
‘Penny for them – you look full of the joys!’ one of the other shorthand typists said one morning the next week at work. ‘Are you here with us?’
Katie, who had sunk into a daydream in front of her typewriter and was gazing out at the clouds, jolted back to reality. Everyone seemed more friendly at work suddenly.
‘Yes, I’m here, just about,’ she laughed
Her friend was already passing on with her filing, but Katie kept smiling. Her life had suddenly become so full that she could hardly keep up with it. There was Marek, and now the reunions with her father and with Em, both of whom she hoped to see again soon. Bubbles of joy, excitement, apprehension rose in her. Would it be all right? Would she see them? Could she trust that things might be better? It was all so much, suddenly, when she had had so little, had lived her life in a closed, starved way. This new happiness seemed to make her able to be more open with everyone.
As Christmas approached, the day was drawing closer when Marek’s sister Agnieska would arrive. Katie was apprehensive. Would she like Agnieska? She felt rather in awe of the young woman, because of the astonishing journey she had made and all that she had endured, even if Katie was not sure exactly what that was.
She told herself not to be selfish, worrying that Agnieska would draw Marek’s attention away from her. She knew she was in danger of being jealous. Now she had found someone she could be so close to, she didn’t want it taken away. But she knew that she, too, had demands on her time and emotions, and that Marek was having to make allowances for that. While they wanted to spend every moment they could together, there were other people in their lives who had to be given attention.
On the Saturday before Christmas, Katie and Michael O’Neill had arranged to meet. Once again they met at Lewis’s, but this time she took little Michael.
‘We’re going to see someone very special,’ she told him. ‘Your granddad.’
Michael was less astonished by this information than she had imagined he might be.
‘Children are funny, aren’t they?’ she said to Sybil. ‘You suddenly produce a grandfather out of the air, and they just take it in their stride. I was worried about them meeting, but Michael seems quite happy about it.’
Sybil laughed. ‘Yes – at that age, if you tell them something’s normal, they believe it. Besides, it must be nice to discover you’ve got a grandpa suddenly.’
‘Well, yes, Katie said. ‘I only hope he turns up. He might have got cold feet. I don’t even have his address. It’s somewhere Hall Green way.’
When they got off the bus in town she was still full of misgivings that he would not keep their date. How disappointed Michael would be. And though she told herself it wouldn’t matter so much – after all, she’d got through all these years without him, hadn’t she? – she knew she would be desperately disappointed if he let her down again now. He had said to meet her in The Minories, the walk-through that ran under Lewis’s building. As they turned the corner to walk below the building, her heart was thumping uncomfortably and she felt queasy with nerves. But immediately she saw him, waiting for her to one side of the ‘rubber road’, as it was known, near the wall, standing very straight and tense. When he caught sight of her, he made a slight bow from the waist and tipped his hat. Katie took a deep, relieved breath.
‘Mikey, this is your granddad,’ she said, her hand on her son’s back, urging him towards the stranger.
For a moment, tall man and small boy, both with remarkably similar Irish blue eyes and dark hair, regarded each other. Michael’s head was tilted slightly back. Then Michael O’Neill senior squatted down and held out his hand. Katie smiled, tears pricking her eyes as her son shook that familiar hand and she heard her father say, ‘Well, young man, it’s a great pleasure to meet you.’
‘To meet you too,’ Michael repeated, unsure. ‘Are you my granddad?’
‘I am that,’ Michael O’Neill said.
And little Michael gave a wide-eyed, trusting nod.
‘Come on then, young fella.’ The newly found grandfather stood up. ‘We’ve a few things to do.’
It wasn’t a morning for a lot of talking. Instead they took Michael to see Father Christmas, and Michael O’Neill treated them to a cup of tea and a cake afterwards. Katie was still shy with him, a bit unsure how to behave. But the fact that he had come to meet her again, had kept his promise, meant the world to her.
‘How are your family?’ she asked.
‘Oh, they’re well, thank you,’ he said. Have you told them about me? she wanted to ask. But not with Michael present. And in fairness, even she could see that it was early days. That could wait. He was here. He was her father and Michael’s grandfather. She enjoyed him watching Michael tuck into his cake, eyes alight with amusement at the boy’s blissful enjoyment, cream oozing around his lips.
‘He’s a fine little fella,’ he told her, and Katie blushed with pride. She could see that he genuinely liked children and was taken with Michael.
As they left that day, they were just approaching the stairs when a figure crossed in front of them, seeming in a hurry, and passed down the stairs. A middle-aged woman, slender, elegant. Katie gasped: the faded hair, the smart look. Was it . . . ? But then she saw the woman’s walk, something about the angle of her head – it was wrong. It was not Vera O’Neill.
‘What’s the matter?’ Michael O’Neill asked. Katie had stalled giddily at the top of the stairs.
‘That woman – I thought for a moment it was her!’
He looked down after the disappearing figure. ‘Ah, no,’ he said easily. ‘Not her, too small.’ He seemed so certain after all this time. ‘If it was her, I’d have known.’
Katie felt shaken, though.
‘What about your mother?’ he asked quietly as they went on down. ‘Will you go and see her?’
‘Why?’ She was furious suddenly. �
��Will you?’
‘Me – no! What would that do? Only harm.’
Katie was quiet as they went out of the store and into Corporation Street. Then she turned to him.
‘She’s my mother,’ she said. ‘I feel I ought to see her. As if I owe her, out of duty. But she ditched me. She hasn’t once come and found me. And as for harm – well, I feel as she’s the one who’d do harm to me!’
‘Look, I wasn’t saying you should.’ He looked down kindly at her, but his voice sounded weary. ‘I’m in no position to preach, am I?’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘You’re not.’
‘I’ll be on my way now, Katie. Happy Christmas – and I’m so glad you’ve found someone good . . . for yourself.’
For a moment it sounded as if he was saying goodbye, forever. She was afraid he had had enough!
‘Will I see you?’ she asked in panic.
‘Of course.’ He squatted down again for a second. ‘Goodbye, little fella – see you again soon.’ To her, he added, ‘You have to understand, it’s delicate. But I give you my word, Katie – I wouldn’t have come back into your life unless I’d intended to stay, in some form or other. We just have to wait and see what form that is. That’s all I can say.’
She felt a pang. But I want all of you. I don’t want to share you! Then she thought of Marek. Take what there is and be glad, she told herself. You have more now than you ever dreamed of.
She turned as they walked away, and she and Michael waved at the tall figure who stood watching them, one arm raised.
On Saturday morning, Sybil opened the door to find the Arbuckles on the front step. Katie, who had been halfway up the stairs, paused on hearing their voices.
‘Oh, good morning, Miss Routh,’ Edna gushed. ‘Sorry to disturb you so early, only we wanted to be sure he hadn’t gone out or anything.’
Then came Susan’s deep voice. ‘What Mom means is, we’ve come to see Mr Pee-ot.’
Though, as Polish names go, Zielinski – Piotr’s surname – was not the most difficult to pronounce by a long chalk, Piotr was always known by everyone as ‘Mr Piotr’ or just ‘Mr P’.
‘Ah, I think he’s still in,’ Sybil said. ‘Why don’t you come in a minute?’
Continuing up the stairs, Katie said, ‘I’ll call him. Just a minute!’
‘Ah,’ Sybil said. ‘Thank you, dear.’
From below she heard Edna Arbuckle say, ‘The thing is, we heard that he’s been looking for a room, and we thought: Well, what a stroke of luck – he need look no further!’
Katie ran upstairs and knocked on Marek and Piotr’s door, and in a second Marek appeared.
‘It’s the neighbours,’ she hissed, with a mischievous grin. ‘For Piotr.’
‘What?’ Piotr came to the door, bemused.
‘Those ladies – from next door,’ she whispered. ‘I think they want you to go and live with them!’
Piotr’s eyes widened.
‘They’ve got a room for you!’
‘Go on then.’ Marek shoved him towards the stairs. ‘You have no luck so far . . . Now is here on a plate for you . . .’
‘I expect you’ll have to marry Susan,’ Katie added. ‘As part of the arrangement.’
Piotr rolled his eyes. ‘What – they are here?’
Marek and Katie were finding it difficult to control their laughter.
‘Go – you are keeping them waiting.’
While Piotr went off downstairs Marek pulled Katie swiftly into their room and into his arms.
‘Good morning, my darling!’ He beamed into her face, then kissed her enthusiastically on the lips.
‘Ooh, you’re terrible!’ she laughed. ‘Come on – let me go. I only came up here to get Michael’s shoes!’
But for a moment she snuggled into his arms and kissed him back.
‘Listen – Piotr’s coming back.’
Footsteps thundered up the stairs and he came rushing into the room, grinning. ‘Aha, caught you. I knew you two would be all “lovey-dovey”’ – he said the words as if reading them mockingly from a dictionary – ‘behind my back!’
Marek said something in Polish that sounded fairly ripe, then went on. ‘Come on – you are going to marry Miss Susan?’
Piotr became solemn and gave a little bow.
‘As matter of fact there is big news . . .’ He paused for effect. ‘Miss Susan has boyfriend!’
‘WHAT?!’ Katie and Marek reeled in exaggerated surprise. Marek fell back on his bed, legs waving in the air as if poleaxed by this information.
‘Yes, she has man called Percy who is fish man – he is coming to collect her today for taking to pictures.’
‘Oh, well, that’s lovely!’ Katie said. ‘You mean he’s a fishmonger? Oh, I know who you mean – he’s a great big, strapping bloke!’ She laughed. ‘Oh yes, just right!’
‘Her mother is very happy,’ Piotr said.
‘I bet she is! Oh well, that’s nice news, it really is. So what did they want you for?’
Marek sat up, still grinning.
‘They offer me a room. We have many rooms, they say. Why you not come and live in one of them? But, I am thinking, why do I go and live in room of these nice ladies? Why not Agnieska live next door with nice ladies, and I stay here with Marek’s stinking feet?’
‘Actually, Marek, that’s a good idea,’ Katie said, serious now and full of relief at the idea that things might not have to change as much as she thought. ‘Your sister could have a room to herself next door, with ladies to look after her. It might be nicer for her.’
Marek began to look pleased. ‘You know, Piotr – you have some brain in your head for once. What did you tell them?’
‘I said I ask you.’
‘Weren’t they a bit disappointed,’ Katie asked, ‘not having you instead?’
‘Well, yes, of course,’ Piotr shrugged, ‘but I tell them about Agnieska, little bit, and they . . . You know, really, they are very kindly ladies. I told them we come to visit and they looked pleased as. . . . How you say it?’
‘Punch?’ Katie suggested.
XI
EM
Fifty-Five
December 1948
‘Eh, bab – don’t forget your tokens!’
Em turned as her mother-in-law called from the front door. In the past she would have found Edna’s help interfering, but she had learned to be more accepting as time went by. She had to admit that Norm’s parents had been very good to them.
‘Oh, ta!’ She loosed Robbie’s hand a minute and took the little bag of red-and-green tokens to pay their bus fare. ‘I’ll forget my own head one day. See you later.’
‘Tara . . .’ Edna even waved her hankie at Robbie.
‘Come on, Robbie – let’s get going.’
The bus tokens were included in the treatment. Someone at the school had decided that Robbie was looking peaky, and he suffered from catarrh. Every day that week she was expected to trek across to Erdington with him on the bus for sunray treatment, though no one had told them exactly what the point of it all was, other than that it would be good for him.
‘I don’t like it,’ Robbie protested. ‘Them goggles smell horrible and rubbery.’
‘Never mind,’ Em said, hurrying him to the bus stop. She could have lived without all this carry-on as well. It meant her having to offer to work late in the shop. ‘I suppose they know best. And you just make sure you don’t let those goggles slip off – that light’s bad for your eyes. It can blind you.’
Robbie sat in his seat on the bus, harrumphing. Em smiled to herself at his stormy expression. She knew her little ruffian of a son was none too keen on stripping down to his undies, either, and sitting on the circular wooden planking with other children, goggles on, soaking in the bright light.
‘Feel like a right pansy,’ he muttered.
‘Oh, Robbie!’
‘Don’t laugh! T’ain’t funny!’ He folded his arms crossly and stared out of the window as if the end of the world had com
e. ‘You don’t have to do it, do yer?’
No, she thought, but I have to cart myself all the way over here with you. Then another thought came. If he’s the only child I’m ever going to have, I ought to make the most of every moment with him. Softening, she reached to stroke his hair.
‘Mom!’ Outrage. ‘Gerroff! Stop being soppy!’
The treatment, in the Slade Road clinic, being over, they travelled back and Em went to work. Later, as she went to Cynthia’s to pick Robbie up, she walked along in the freezing, foggy evening, longing for a cup of tea. It was a nice thought that Robbie was at her mom’s. She liked getting there, finding him in that house. Where would Mom be without him? She felt as if by providing Cynthia with a grandson, she had kept her happy and busy. Even her father’s death had not knocked Cynthia for six, as Em had feared.
Ever since Bob had died, Em felt she had the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. There was her own grief for him, quiet man though he had been. She missed him sitting there by the fire, always with a cigarette; his smiles when he saw her, his occasional jokes, his reminiscences about the war: D’you remember the night Ashted Wharf went up . . . ? Now there were only Mom and Joyce and Violet living there, and Joyce, now twenty-one, had been going steady with Larry and was planning to get married the next year. Em had always felt responsible for the household, but all the more so now, with her dad gone. Cynthia had wept and wept when Bob first died, and Em knew she missed him terribly. Dot had been dropping in more than usual, from Duddesdon, but she had her own troubles. Her husband Lou was none too well, either.
Sometimes Em felt overwhelmed by her worries. It was bad enough being shoehorned in with Norm’s mom and dad, and with she and Norm struggling for any sort of private life. And as well as mourning her dad, she was now mourning the fact that it seemed certain she and Norm were not going to have any more children. They had talked about it off and on, but after a while there didn’t seem to be anything more to say. If she ever mentioned it now, Norm got scratchy with her and said things like, ‘Well, what d’you want me to do about it – eh?’ She knew he was angry and blamed himself, and in her heart of hearts she blamed him too. And there was Robbie, headstrong and hardly ever her little boy any more. All that was enough – but having to worry about Mom and the others just added to her burden. She knew she frowned more than she used to, and saw little lines appearing on her forehead and around her mouth.
