by Menon, David
‘I’m sorry,’ he said after Lydia had opened the door. ‘I didn’t know where else to go.’
‘It’s alright,’ said Lydia as she opened her arms and he fell into them.
‘I don’t know what to make of anything,’ he said.
‘Well come in,’ said Lydia, ‘we’ll help you sort it all out.’
He walked into the living room where Kelly was stood waiting for him.
‘I shouldn’t have said what I did,’ said Paul.
‘And neither should I,’ said Kelly. ‘Come here.’
The three of them locked into an embrace. Paul was relieved that they’d forgiven him for his spitefulness. He really needed his friends now.
‘I lashed out because I love Jake, Kelly,’ said Paul, ‘and I’m petrified for him.’
‘I know,’ said Kelly. ‘I know all of that, love. But you’ve got to deal with the loss of your Dad first. Paul, it’s all true. Mary isn’t your mother. Your mother was Clarissa, the lady who gave your Dad the watch that he gave you.’
‘He told us when we went to see him the other day,’ said Lydia.
‘He told you but he didn’t tell me?’
‘Don’t be angry with him, Paul,’ said Lydia. ‘I’m sure he had his reasons.’
‘I’d like to know what they are,’ said Paul. ‘He said that this Clarissa would want me to have the watch but I didn’t know what he meant. Now, I do. Christ.’
Kelly handed Paul the letter his father had given them. ‘He asked us to give you this once he’d… once he’d gone. He said it’ll explain everything.’
Paul wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what the hell to even think.’
‘Read the letter, Paul,’ said Lydia. ‘We’ll leave you to it. We’ll be in the kitchen.’
Paul ripped open the envelope and was immediately comforted by his Dad’s familiar handwriting. Then he started to read what it said.
Dear Paul,
There’s so much I have to tell you about that I almost don’t know where to start. You’re probably annoyed with me because, no doubt, you now know that Mary isn’t your mother and, to put it mildly, it will have come as quite a shock. But there’s a lot more to it than just that, son, and I hope that by the time you finish reading these words, you’ll be able to understand that I did what I thought was best at the time.
When I was younger I was a member of the British Fascist movement. We believed in reclaiming British society for the white British race and we didn’t hold with accepting other cultures. We did things, Paul, that now I’m not proud of, but I can’t wipe them out. I was a fascist. I believed in the supremacy of the white race. I sympathised with Hitler. I know you have views that are opposed to this perspective, Paul, and I’ve never admitted my involvement before, but I’m admitting to it now and I seek your understanding. I didn’t want any immigration. I didn’t want the Jews controlling everything, including worldwide sympathy for the Holocaust. I believed in self-reliance. I thought that apartheid was the best way of creating racial harmony by keeping the races apart with one, the white race, as superior. That’s how I got on so well with Lady Eleanor, your Uncle Leonid, and Dieter Naumann.
I went out with your Uncle Leonid for a few pints one night and met Clarissa in a pub near Glossop. It was love at first sight for both of us. We became friends but we couldn’t resist the rest of the journey. I was married but not happily, in fact, I was desperately unhappy. It’s an age old classic story of unhappily married man meets nice girl in a pub one night but I really did love your mother more than I can put into words. She was a lovely young woman, strong but with a nice, gentle temperament and I’ve always seen so much of her in you.
Your mother and I had to keep our relationship secret from her parents because they didn’t approve. Not because I was married. Oh no, they had no such simple scruples as that. Lady Harding and her husband didn’t approve because I was from a class that they considered beneath them. It was okay for me to organise things in the British Fascist movement for them and be useful to them in that way. But I mustn’t get above myself and think I could get involved with their daughter. Oh no, that was unthinkable. I was bloody annoyed at the time because after all I’d done for them I felt like they were slapping me in the face. You can understand that, can’t you?
Anyway, love wasn’t something they believed in and in any case, they didn’t give a damn about your mother. But when I met your mother and we fell in love, I’d have done anything to please her. She wanted me to have nothing to do with fascism and I gave it all up for her. She needed me, Paul. I was one of the only people to show her any kindness, to show her that she was worth someone’s affection and devotion. We were in love and in our own little world we were happy. But hell wasn’t far away.
I eventually left Mary and moved into a flat with Clarissa. Her parents were vehemently against it but we didn’t care. Then when we found out that your mother was expecting you and we were on top of the world. She went home to tell them. That’s when it turned ugly. They locked her in her room and Dieter Naumann drugged your mother and he was about to perform an abortion when me and your Uncle Leonid got there just in time and stopped him. We took your mother back to our flat in Urmston and that’s where she stayed until you were born.
After you were born we were even happier. It was only a tiny flat we had but we got it looking really nice. I was aware that it was all way short of what your mother was used to but she didn’t mind. We were content in this little world we’d created with the three of us. But your mother wanted her parents to acknowledge her happiness and to acknowledge you. She took you to see them. I went with her of course. After what had happened last time I wasn’t going to let her go on her own. You were only a few weeks old. She was so proud. She was so happy to have had you, Paul, and whatever you think, you’ve got to believe that and hold onto it.
Anyway, suffice to say that she had an almighty row with her parents and something must’ve snapped in me. I shot Ronald Harding. I feel as if it had happened yesterday. You were crying your heart out in your pram. I’d shot Ronald Harding. There were even droplets of his blood on your pram. It was the most hideous, the most evil scene I’d ever come across. Then your grandmother struggled to get the gun off Clarissa. I waded in to help. But then the gun went off and your mother was dead. Did I have my finger on the trigger at the time? Yes is the answer to that one. But I was trying to save your mother, Paul. You must see that?
I was in a mess, Paul. Your Uncle Leonid arranged for me to take you away on condition that I never contacted her Ladyship again. Your Uncle Doug and Aunty Sheila who, as you know, have never been able to have children, suggested that they adopted you, but son, I couldn’t go through the pain of losing both you and your mother. That’s when I went back to Mary and took you with me. Looking back, I should’ve let Doug and Sheila adopt you, or I should’ve brought you up by myself. I made the wrong decision, son, and I’ve bitterly regretted it ever since. I hope you can forgive me that.
Paul, because of your birthright your grandmother, Lady Eleanor, will be contacting you and before you make any hasty decisions, I ask you to remember that your heritage comes through your mother who was an angel and a woman who’d have been the best mother in the world to you had she got the chance. You owe it to her not to just turn your back on what you’ve gained from being her son.
I kept a lot of photographs of your mother and of you with her and of the three of us together. They’re with my solicitor and naturally I’ve left them to you in my will. I know that photographs can’t ever replace what could’ve been but at least they’ll give you something of a time when the three of us were together and so very happy.
Don’t think badly of me, son. I know I should’ve told you all this when I was still around for you to ask me all the questions that must be springing into your head right now. But it was hard for me, Paul and in time you may come to understand that. You know how proud of you I’v
e always been and I know your mother would’ve been proud of you too. You’ve always had steel in your character that you must’ve got from your mother’s side and you’ll really need it now and for whatever lies ahead. This has all been dropped on you, Paul, I know, but I also know you’ll find your way through it because you’ve got that strength.
Keep me in your heart, son and please, please don’t hate me.
With love,
Dad
When Kelly and Lydia came back into the room they found Paul on the floor, in a heap, crying his heart out. Paul kept himself quiet for a couple of days. He was trying to digest everything and had read and re-read his father’s letter so many times that the paper was starting to flake. His life had suddenly changed and without hint or warning. His beloved father had kept so much from him and not that he was beyond the grave he couldn’t go to him for answers. All he did know was that a firm of Manchester solicitors who catered to the rich and famous had been trying to contact him. His status as a member of society had changed but he didn’t feel it. His heart didn’t beat any faster at the knowledge of what he was now a part of. He’d have to deal with it. They would keep on at him until he did. But he was going to keep them at arm’s length until he’d worked out how he was going to deal with it all.
He’d also read up about the British Fascist movement and all the trouble they’d caused when his father was involved and he was ashamed that his father had been part of it. He couldn’t reconcile the father he knew with the man who’d organised for stones to be thrown at immigrant children on their way home from school. His father was right. It was the sort of activity that Paul abhorred. Then when he came to think about himself it made him wish that his father had let his Uncle Doug and Aunty Sheila adopt him. That would’ve saved him a lot of physical and emotional harm at the hands of his step-mother.
But what did infuriate him one afternoon was when his sister Denise sent a message to say that she wouldn’t be able to make it to her father’s funeral. He rang her to find out why and she said that it was because ‘George is getting his bonus from the bank this month and we’ve got a holiday booked to Mauritius, flying first class, five-star hotel and everything. It really can’t all be undone at such short notice.’
‘You selfish bitch.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Well, are you going to let your mother come and stay with you for a while? She’s on her own and despite her shrugging the shoulder act she’s grieving, Denise. You’re her daughter and she needs you. God knows, I don’t know why I’m trying to help her because I’ve enough reason not to. But she is grieving, Denise. Surely you realise that?’ He heard his sister sigh down the phone. ‘Denise?’
‘Well it’s just that it’s not very convenient for me at the moment.’
‘Oh well death isn’t very convenient! Especially when it’s your own father! You knew, didn’t you? You knew that you and I didn’t share the same mother?’
‘Of course I knew,’ Denise crowed. ‘You were the only one in the dark.’
‘Oh don’t bother showing me any sensitivity.’
‘No, I won’t.’
‘It would be a first if you did,’ said Paul. ‘You used to stand by whilst she beat the hell out of me. You watched, you even laughed sometimes when I thought I was going to pass out with pain. That makes you just as evil as she was.’
‘It’s always so good to talk about our childhood days with you, Paul, but I must go,’ said Denise. ‘And anyway, George would be more than happy to advise you on your investment potential now that you’re filthy rich.’
‘Oh, really? Well let me tell you something, sister dearest. Now that I am wealthy I may use some of it to influence the promotion decisions of the bank where George works.’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘Oh? So you can dish it out but you can’t take it? How weak you are. Well if I choose to make hell for you I will because now I can. I can settle some scores now that I’ve got the resources, so I wouldn’t be so fucking smug if I were you. I suffered at your hands for years and you’d deserve anything I chose to do to you. Enjoy Mauritius. Next year it might have to be an off-season caravan in Margate.’
*
The morning of the funeral Paul took a picture of his mother, one of the ones his father had been saving for him, to the chapel of rest and placed it in the coffin with his father. He’d been able to reunite them at last. He’d done his duty as their son. It had broken his heart but it was the best he could do.
He did find it rather uncomfortable walking behind his father’s coffin with Mary but he took a deep breath and got on with it. On top of the coffin he’d placed a Liverpool FC scarf and had even managed to get the team to sign a farewell card to his Dad who’d supported the club throughout his life. The sight of the scarf made his Uncle Doug break down. They’d been supporters since they were small boys and Paul promised to go with his Uncle from now on.
‘You’ll be too busy,’ said Doug, tearfully.
‘I’ll never be too busy for you, Uncle Doug,’ said Paul, equally as emotional. ‘I want you and Aunty Sheila to always remember that. I’m your son now.’
As they walked towards the grave he glanced behind him at his Uncle Doug and Aunty Sheila, followed by his Uncle Leonid, Kelly and Lydia and the rest of the mourners just behind them. Paul had managed to read the eulogy at the service without breaking down but he didn’t know how long he’d be able to last.
The coffin was lowered into the ground and he saw that Mary was crying. The sight made him furious. Her sister Alma, who Paul had always detested, had come down from her home in Keswick and passed her a hanky to wipe her face with. Mary was going to go back with Alma after the funeral for a couple of weeks. He saw her to Alma’s car.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked.
‘Yes’ said Mary, her face set, ‘I’m alright.’
‘You don’t deserve to be,’ said Paul.
‘Oh what do you know about anything?’ she sneered.
‘I know about all the pain and misery you caused me! I understand you chose to make my life a living hell because you were too stupid to see beyond your own pain. That’s why you took it out on me. For Dad’s sake I wanted to try and help you but I can’t do that. I just can’t get past the memories of what you did to me and I can’t forgive you. If you’d have had any dignity at all you’d have divorced my Dad, a man who clearly didn’t love you anymore and saved us all a lot of unpleasantness. But instead you decided to hold onto him and to be cruel to an innocent child. You disgust me and after today we’re out of each other’s lives for good. Oh and by the way, that goes for that slut daughter of yours as well. Goodbye, Mary’
‘Now you just wait a minute,’ said Mary, attempting a fight back. ‘I’m owed by you as well! You’re going to be rich now and I want mine!’
Paul felt all the anger of what she’d done to him over the years rise up inside him and fill his voice. ‘You have the nerve to bring that up at my father’s funeral! Well let me tell you, I owe you nothing! Now get out of my sight and stay there or so help me, I will not be responsible for what I do to you.’
Kelly and Lydia didn’t want Paul to be alone that night but he insisted he’d be fine and that he wanted to have some space to think.
‘Anyway, you’ll only be next door,’ said Paul. ‘I’ll knock on the wall if I need you.’
‘Keep your phone right beside you,’ said Kelly, ‘and pre-programme it for a 999 call. Just in case you get any unexpected visitors and need help fast.’
Paul knew that she meant Jake and what he hadn’t told anyone was that he’d seen Jake that day. He was standing a good fifty metres away, beside a clump of trees, in the cemetery when Paul’s father had been lowered into the ground. He’d smiled and nodded at him before Jake had disappeared. But at least he’d come and paid his respects to Paul’s Dad. And Paul was grateful for that.
He did jump though when he heard a knock at the front door. Immediately he knew i
t wouldn’t be Jake. Someone on the run like that wouldn’t just walk down the street and knock on his door as if he’d just gone down to the off license for a bottle of wine. And it wouldn’t be Kelly or Lydia because they’ve both got a key. He looked at his watch and saw that it a little after nine o’clock. So who was it at this time?
He opened the door to his Uncle Leonid.
‘Uncle Leonid?’ said Paul as he let his visitor in and closed the door, ‘I thought Kelly took you home?’
‘She did,’ said Leonid, ‘but I decided to come back. I thought perhaps you and I should talk on our own.’
‘Uncle Leonid, you should’ve just stayed. You know I don’t like you using the buses and walking the streets when it’s dark.’
‘Yes, yes, I know,’ said Leonid. ‘You’re a good man, Paul. Your father was very proud of you.’
‘Well I shall make up the bed in the spare room,’ said Paul. ‘You’re not going home on your own. I’ll drive you back in the morning.’
‘Paul, it’s only a couple of miles, you know.’
‘Uncle Leonid, I’m not going to argue with you.’
Leonid smiled. ‘Very well’ he said, ‘if it pleases you.’
‘It does,’ said Paul. ‘Now come and sit down and I’ll get you a drink. Your usual?’
‘A vodka would be very nice, thank you.’
‘I’ll go and get the bottle out the fridge.’
Paul poured a vodka for Leonid and a scotch for himself. He came and sat down with his uncle in the living room.
‘Why did he lie to me all my life, Uncle Leonid? Why didn’t he ever tell me the truth?’
