by Nancy Carson
Her twenty-first birthday fell on the third Friday in June 1935, and they put on a fine spread. The family was due to arrive when they each finished work. At half past five Herbert went to fetch Elizabeth on his new motorbike. They had been courting steadily for over two years now, and Jesse suspected they might be announcing their engagement soon. Alice had written to Maxine, who was now a professional cellist with the Birmingham Hippodrome’s pit orchestra and she, too, was expected with Stephen Hemming, her young man.
The family gathering went off smoothly, till the one uninvited guest, whom they all suspected might turn up, actually arrived. Jack Harper knocked on the verandah door at a few minutes after half past eight when they were eating. There was a quick discussion as to who should answer his knock, till Alice said it was really her business.
‘I need to talk to yer, Alice,’ Jack said.
She had opened the door halfway and was standing leaning against it and the door jamb so he could not enter. ‘I’m here, standin’ in front of you. Talk. But hurry up. I’m in the middle of my tea.’
‘I want to know when yo’m comin’ back, like?’
‘I ain’t goin’ back, Jack. I ain’t never goin’ back. There’s no joy in bein’ taken for granted. There’s no joy in starvin’ an’ seein’ your own child go hungry just because your husband’s too mean to give you any housekeepin’. There’s no joy either in knowin’ as he’s off with other women when he could be at home doin’ things with his son. No, I’m never goin’ back. It might not be perfect here but at least they love me an’ Edward. An’ I know as they’ll look after us both.’
He fidgeted, moving his weight from one foot to the other. ‘I’ve been thinkin’ about you an the little un a lot, Alice. I miss ya. I miss ya both. I’ll change. I know I’ve been a swine, like, but I’ll mek it up to ya. Just come back, an’ you’ll see.’
‘I don’t need to go back to see, Jack. I can see enough from here. No thanks. Once bitten…’
‘ ’Ere. I’ve bought yer a present for your birthday.’ He took a small box out of his pocket and offered it to her. ‘Ain’t yer gonn’ ask me in for a drink, like?’
‘Jack, I don’t want your present. You never bought me anythin’ before except trouble. Don’t be such a damned hypocrite as to try an’ give me anythin’ now. An’ no, I’m not invitin’ you in for a drink. You might get a thick ear if Jesse or our Herbert cops hold of you, and that’s the best you could hope for. I should go now while the goin’s good.’
He shrugged and left. It was his token attempt at reconciliation. He had done his bit to satisfy the appeals of his shamed family, but he could report back that it was to no avail. He would tell them that he had pleaded with the girl from the bottom of his heart to return home, pleaded for his second chance to be a good father to the son he loved dearly. He would tell them also that her family was not even prepared to welcome him in. The Harpers would soon turn against the Kites after that.
Alice was angry that he had not even enquired about Edward. He had not even congratulated her on her birthday. Oh, she had got the measure of him all right. She was certainly better off without him.
It had been an uncomfortable journey, so hot that Neville Worthington drove all the way to Wessex House with the two front windows open just to make it bearable. He drew his new Swallow SSI Saloon to a halt on the sweeping drive in front of the house and got out.
He entered the house and threw his hat on the hat-stand.
‘Eunice!’
‘I’m in the drawing room.’
‘Are you doing anything vitally important right now?’
‘Nothing. Why? What’s the matter?’
In the drawing room he flopped into one of the soft armchairs. ‘I want to tell you something.’
He loosened his tie and stroked his thick, brown beard thoughtfully; this growth that made him look so much older than his thirty-five years. Will Parish was thirty-five, too, he had discovered today, but he didn’t look this old. Eunice was right. Who, having any respect for their appearance these days, wore a beard, apart from the King and George Bernard Shaw?
‘What is it you want to tell me?’ She shuffled uncomfortably on her chair and sat in elegant anticipation.
Unable to sit still, he got up again and walked over to the French window. In the vain hope of catching a waft of cooler air, he thrust open further the other casement and stared out into the back garden, a riot of lupins and foxgloves.
‘As you know, in the last couple of weeks I’ve been visiting the Lucas works at Great King Street,’ he began. ‘That chap I’ve been dealing with – the one I told you about – you know, the one I thought I knew from somewhere – he’s called Will Parish. Pleasant chap. Good engineer. Jolly well knows his stuff.’
‘Go on.’ Eunice could sense there was much more to come.
‘It’s just that I have this feeling about him, Eunice…I think he might fit in rather well at Worthington Commercials, if he could be tempted.’
‘As an engineer?’
‘Well…Sort of.’
‘So? Why are you telling me this? You’re better placed for head-hunting than I am.’
‘Well, first, I’d like to invite him and his wife over to dinner one evening. To see what you think. To sound him out.’
‘Have you met his wife?’
He shook his head. ‘No. It’s not his wife I’m interested in.’
‘But be wary. You know what some of these women are like, Neville.’
‘It’s of no consequence what she’s like, I tell you. It’s him I want. He would be an asset – truly.’
‘Yes, all right,’ Eunice agreed. ‘I’m certain we could fix an evening to look over the…the Parishes, did you say? Might I suggest a Tuesday or a Thursday evening?’
‘Oh, no. Not midweek. It must be a Friday or a Saturday.’
‘Goodness me. This Will Parish must really have some potential. Well, this coming weekend is out, of course, but the following week…’
‘Good. Good. Then I’ll see what I can arrange.’
Neville lingered at Eunice’s side, half wanting to leave to take his shower, half wanting to say more. Eunice sensed it.
‘Is there something else, Neville?’
‘Yes, there is actually, Eunice,’ he confessed. ‘You’ll probably think me a fool, though…This Will Parish…He’s been bothering me quite a bit.’
‘You said so after you’d first met him.’
‘Well, I just couldn’t place him.’
‘But now you have?’
‘I think so.’
‘Somebody from your early youth, I’ll wager?’
He nodded, thoughtful. ‘He goes way, Eunice, way back. Way back to the very beginning. I racked my brains trying to place him. I went through everything. My school days, Bible class, clubs, Masons, ex-employees, dinners, meetings…Then it dawned on me and I cursed myself for being so blind. I saw it in his eyes first but didn’t recognise it – the Worthington look…Eunice, I’m certain he’s my long lost twin brother. As certain as I’m standing here.’
Eunice sighed. This moment, she had always known, would come. She did not fear it. In a way she welcomed it. But she foresaw the possibility of Neville becoming over-emotional about it, of him being taken advantage of because of it.
‘Are you sceptical?’ Neville asked, disappointed.
‘If I am, it’s because I’d have thought you might have recognised him at once, without having to struggle to place him? If he’s your twin brother the odds are that he’s very much like you.’
He gave a little laugh. ‘Of course, and nobody could argue with your logic, Eunice.’
‘So how certain are you?’
‘I’m just certain. A gut feeling. But it’s also much more than that. I’ve had to ask myself first whether I would know what my twin brother looks like when I’ve quite forgotten what I look like myself? My face has been hidden behind this beard for years, as you so often tell me. But not only has it been hidden fr
om the world and from you, my dear, it’s also been hidden from myself. I suppose you haven’t accounted for that. Even I have forgotten what I look like without my beard. So it’s no wonder, is it, that Will wasn’t immediately identifiable? It’s no wonder I only saw the resemblance in his eyes.’
‘Yes, well…Maybe so.’
‘There’s no maybe about it, Eunice.’
Eunice’s face brightened. ‘Dare we hope, then, that you are about to shave it off at last and present him, and the rest of us, with the bare-faced evidence?’
He turned from the window to face her in her chair. ‘Not yet. I’ve given this some thought. If he has no knowledge of a twin, it might come as a hell of a shock to find out. Agreed? I think we must first establish whether he knows anything of his real parentage. It’s another reason I wanted to invite him to dinner. To talk to him. I’d like to get close to him. I want to make him feel comfortable with us before I present him with it.’
‘So there are two reasons you want him to come and work for the firm, eh?’
‘Yes. If he is my long lost brother it’s only right that he should be a part of it. He should be an integral part of it at that. A seat on the board where he belongs at the very least. I should say he’s certainly capable enough. He could be Director of Engineering. I owe him something, you see that surely? I want to share with him what I’ve got. My father gave him nothing.’
‘He could take some of the load off you, perhaps, yes. Well, Neville, I expect you must feel quite excited.’
‘Well, I’m not sure that excited is quite the word. Apprehensive, more like. It’s rather a shock to the old system, you know. I’ve always had the feeling he’s been out there, somewhere, but I’ve never known with any certainty that I would ever get to meet him. Now that I have, I’m really rather nervous about it.’
‘I can imagine, dear. But it’ll be jolly interesting getting his story, don’t you think? Do you think he has any idea?’
‘Good God, no. I don’t think he has the vaguest notion.’
They heard a commotion in the hall and a child’s voice. ‘Mommy, Mommy! We’re home.’
‘Daddy and I are in the drawing room, darling,’ Eunice called.
A fair haired little girl, the image of Eunice, blustered in and tripped on the tassels of the carpet as she entered, but steadied herself by catching the brass door knob. She laughed.
‘Oops!’
‘Oops!’ Eunice echoed. ‘Goodness, you must be more careful, Kitty. You’ll hurt yourself.’
‘Better take more water with it, next time,’ Neville jested.
The little girl ran toward him and, as he caught her, he lifted her into the air, squeezed her, then let her gently down to the floor again.
‘Do it again, Daddy,’ she asked beseechingly.
‘I daren’t, Kitty,’ he replied. ‘You’re getting much too big for that sort of thing now. Just consider my poor back. Have you had a jolly time?’
‘Yes, we had a very jolly time. We’ve been to the park. Nanny bought me an ice cream.’
‘Pity you didn’t bring some back for Mommy and Daddy, too,’ Neville said. ‘I bet Mommy would love an ice cream.’
‘Oh, Daddy! It would have melted by now. Silly!’
‘Here’s an interesting piece of news, my love,’ Will Parish said, looking up from his Evening Mail.
It was the first Friday in July. He had commenced his shift working at Lucas’s to get the Worthington Commercials project moving but, this particular week and next, he was working the day shift. They had just returned home together from work. Will was sitting on the settee in the living room while Henzey was putting away some eggs and some cheese they had just bought from Woodward’s.
She left the kitchen and stood beside him. ‘What news?’
‘Here.’ He pointed to the article on the third page, and she sat beside him to read it. It reported that the Ministry of Transport had announced yesterday that dipping car headlights would become compulsory. ‘That’s going to keep your department busy, Henzey. We’ve been working on them for years.’
‘Mmm, fancy that!’ She shifted to the other end of the settee and sat facing him, putting her stockinged feet up, legs outstretched. She continued reading the paper. When she’d glanced through it, she said, ‘Are you hungry yet?’
‘Yes, I’m hungry.’
‘All right, I’ll get tea ready.’
‘Talking of tea…has just reminded me,’ he said. ‘Neville Worthington has been in to see me today. We had a meeting about some bits and pieces we’re working on. He’s invited us to his home for dinner next Saturday evening.’
‘To dinner? Oh, my God! Did you mention that I’d met him before?’
‘No, of course not. I never even mentioned you.’
There was a pause. ‘Do we have to go?’
‘Well I think it would be a bit ungracious not to, especially as I’ve already accepted.’
‘You’ve already accepted? Ah well. With any luck he won’t recognise me after all this time.’
‘He’s sure to recognise you, Henzey, not that it matters…God, it’s still so damned hot, isn’t it?’
‘I know…All this sunshine. Have you thought any more about a holiday for us, Will?’
‘It’s going to be awkward if I have to work through the shut-down. In fact it’ll be nigh impossible.’
‘But you’ll get two weeks off later. I’ll take two weeks without pay if necessary.’
‘You’re likely to have that supervisor’s job by then, Henzey. They won’t take kindly to that.’
‘Oh, I don’t care. Life’s too short…It might all be a waste of time anyway…if I get pregnant.’
‘Here we go again! Henzey, don’t talk again of getting pregnant,’ he said huffily.
‘Oh, and why not?’ she asked, at once resentful.
‘Because I’m bored with it. You know why.’ He got up from the settee.
‘That’s a silly attitude, Will. And a damned selfish one, if you really want the truth. I want a baby, you know I do. I want a baby more than anything.’
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. She knew well enough how he felt about it.
Chapter 18
The car that Neville Worthington had arranged collected Henzey and Will from Daisy Road promptly at seven, and delivered them up the sweeping gravel drive to the heavy front door of Wessex House at five past. Wessex House looked impressive with its ornate twisting chimneys. Clematis and variegated ivy flourished symbiotically against the mock Tudor frontage, while a fine show of summer flowers adorned the flowerbeds set amid the well-manicured lawns of the front garden.
Henzey wore a slender, full length evening dress in black satin, expensive, and bought especially for the occasion. It complemented her abundant, dark hair. The vivid blue of her eyes and her bright red lips assumed a striking contrast and Will was quick to comment on it. Her hair was cut shorter these days and was very fashionable.
Neville himself met them at the front door.
‘Will. So nice to see you.’ He offered his hand.
‘Quite a place you have here, Neville,’ Will replied affably. ‘Beautiful garden…This is Henzey, my wife. Henzey…Neville Worthington.’
Neville studied her for no more than a second, but his soulful eyes manifested an expression that lay somewhere between shock and disbelief. As quickly as he could, he mustered his wits. ‘Mrs Parish! How nice to meet you.’ He could barely hide an element of recognition in his voice, but noblesse prevented him blurting out that they had met before. Gently she shook his outstretched hand and he resisted the temptation to take hers to his lips and kiss the back of it, as any gallant might have done years ago. Overawed, he merely squeezed it, released it, and said, ‘Welcome. Please come in.’
Henzey had wondered what his reaction might be at seeing her again. She sensed his reluctance to acknowledge in front of Will that they had been in each other’s company before, and she wished to release him from such a trivial d
ilemma. ‘We’ve met before,’ she admitted at once, smiling beautifully.
He stood to one side, allowing his guests to enter, Henzey first. ‘Of course we have. How could I forget? But it was some years ago…I say, Will, your wife and I have already met.’
Will laughed. ‘Yes, she told me, Neville. Small world, isn’t it?’
‘And you never let on, you old scoundrel. I must say she’s just as beautiful as ever she was. No, I lie…she’s even more beautiful if that’s possible. Marriage evidently suits you, Mrs Parish…Hell! That sounds so formal. Do you mind terribly if I call you Henzey?’
‘Of course not. And I’ll call you Neville,’ she answered impishly. At once she felt at ease with him.
‘Good gracious, I’m absolutely staggered. Taken the wind right out of me sails, you have…Why didn’t you warn me, Will? I imagine Eunice will recognise you, too, Henzey, even after so long.’
‘How is Eunice? I’m not so sure I’d recognise her.’
‘She’s in the garden sipping sherry. Come through, both of you. As it’s such a beautiful evening we thought you’d enjoy an aperitif outside before dinner. We’ve had such a wonderful summer, so far.’
They were ushered through the plush drawing room with its oil painted portraits and landscapes hanging on the walls, through a French window and down a wooden ramp to a sheltered, paved patio surrounded by flowers. A table and three chairs were set out and a drinks trolley. Eunice had her back towards them as they stepped onto the patio, but she turned her head as soon as she heard voices.
Henzey then saw, to her amazement, that Eunice was in a wheelchair.
‘Will, meet Eunice…Eunice, Will and Henzey Parish.’
They shook hands and greeted each other warmly.
Eunice regarded Henzey uncertainly for a few seconds, then said, ‘We’ve met before…Dinner…The Grand Hotel on Colmore Row. 1929. Just before the Wall Street Crash.’
Henzey laughed self-consciously, surprised that Eunice remembered the time and place so accurately. ‘That’s right, it was.’ She felt she should make some comment about Eunice’s wheelchair, but lacked both the confidence and the familiarity that might have enabled her to.
