by Anne Bennett
‘Angela,’ said Chrissie, after a while, ‘is something bothering you? If you’re not enjoying the walk, we can just go back?’
Angela stopped short. ‘Oh no, Chrissie,’ she said, ‘it’s nothing like that. It’s just …’ She broke off, not quite knowing how to carry on.
Taking a deep breath, she looked down into the wide, bright-blue eyes of her innocent young daughter and said, ‘It’s just that you’ve been through so much in your few short years, and everything – all the hardship, all the pain, all the sadness – is my fault, and I just wish I knew how I could make it up to you.’
Chrissie might be young, but she had a good head on her shoulders. Living with Father John and Eileen had shown her nothing if not the art of compassion. She and Angela started walking slowly again, both deep in thought. At last Chrissie spoke. ‘Angela, what happened, happened. As I see it, we can continue on, always looking back and worrying about the past. But I know how guilty you feel, and you’ve told me time and time again how sorry you are. Yes, my life in the workhouse was appalling. But I’m not there now. Thanks to Father John and Eileen, I have the opportunity to have a much better future, and now, by coincidence, that future might also include you and Connie. Something that I’d like very much. Eileen always tells me that I can spend my life looking back at all that has happened, or I can make the most of what is still to come. So that’s what I want to do. And …’ she broke off and looked directly at Angela once more, ‘I think maybe that’s what you have to do too. I don’t want every minute of time I spend with you or Connie to be shrouded in guilt and misery. That would be no fun for any of us.’
Chrissie stopped there, as if she wasn’t quite sure if she’d said too much, and looked hopefully at Angela to make sure that her mother wasn’t angry with her outburst.
Angela didn’t know quite what to say. That so much sense could come from one so young made her marvel at this wise, sweet girl who had endured so much, but who seemed so determined to rise on top of it all. ‘Chrissie, what you’ve just said is so brave and brilliant. I will try my hardest to stop harking on about the past. I suppose …’ and here Angela had to choke down a sob, ‘I know how proud I am to be able to call you my daughter, but what I’d like one day is for you to be just as proud to tell people that I’m your mother.’
Chrissie smiled and shyly held out her hand to take Angela’s. ‘From what I know about you, and all you’ve been through, and how you’ve raised Connie, who I adore, I think anyone would be proud to have you as their mammy.’
The tears that had been brimming in Angela’s eyes threatened to spill over, so she said, ‘Come on now, let’s get away home and have a nice cup of tea. I want to show you some photographs of my family, and I know Connie will be waiting for us both, she so dearly loves to see you. I’ve been saving a pot of Maggie’s homemade jam for a special occasion, and I think this could just be it.’
So Chrissie and Angela made their way home, their hands still linked. To Angela it felt like a corner had been turned. In no way did she want to replace Eileen in Chrissie’s life, but if she could play another important role in giving the girl the support and love she needed to go far in life, then Angela was determined she would do it. She’d made enough mistakes in the past; this was one thing she was going to get right.
When they got home, Connie had laid out a real spread for them, and they all sat round the table talking and laughing. It felt, thought Angela, as natural as anything. Most heart-warming was sitting back and watching her two daughters, different as chalk and cheese, getting along like a house on fire. Their heads were bent together as Connie showed Chrissie how to play a simple card game she and Angela had always enjoyed when Connie was younger. The two were giggling away and Angela almost had to pinch herself. Never would she have been able to believe that she could feel so contented.
When Stan came in after work early that evening, he was delighted to see the three of them getting on so well. He had been worried for Angela when he’d headed out that morning, knowing how much store she’d set by this meeting going well. And it seemed it had been even better than he could have hoped.
When it was eventually time for Chrissie to head home, two of Connie’s favourite books tucked under her arm, Stan said he’d see her back to Father John and Eileen’s. Stan said to Chrissie, ‘I hope you know that as far as I’m concerned, you’re part of this family now, as much as you want to be.’
Chrissie linked her arm through his and gave it a squeeze. ‘Thanks, Stan,’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to get to know you and Daniel better. And thank you for walking me back, Eileen will really appreciate it. She always worries about me. Please say thank you to Angela again for such a lovely afternoon. Goodbye!’
Stan walked back to Angela’s, thinking that this evening was the first time he’d seen the weight of the world, that had always been sitting heavy on the shoulders of the woman he loved, truly lift. He smiled. Maybe it was time he and Angela made things official …
NINE
Angela felt happier and more contented than she had been in years. Connie had begun her intensive physio, which left her feeling physically and emotionally drained on the two days per week when she was up at the hospital. But Angela was proud of how stoically Connie bore it, and she hoped to God nothing would happen to spoil the new life she could see unfolding in front of her …
One evening, as they sat together before the fire, Stan put his arm around Angela and held her close, and his voice grew husky with emotion as he said, ‘Angela, I love you so much – more than I have words to tell you. Once I opened my heart to you and meant every word I said. And when all the confusion between us was over, you said those words of love were what you had longed to hear. Did you mean that, Angela?’
Angela took Stan’s face between her hands, looked deep into his almost black eyes, alight with love, and said, ‘Stan, I love you so much, it hurts. There are no words you could say in this world that would make me think less of you.’
‘Angela,’ Stan said, ‘I confess, to my shame, that I began to love you when you were married to Barry. Obviously, I could not show my feelings or speak of them, especially as you gave me no indication that you felt anything more for me than friendship.’
‘My, darling, darling Stan,’ Angela said. ‘We must tell the children how we feel about each other now.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Stan with a wry grin. ‘But don’t expect it to be news to them.’
‘It hasn’t been plain sailing for us,’ Angela said and added with a rueful smile, ‘it didn’t start very well, did it? That day in the shop when I said we needed to talk, and you wouldn’t let me speak …’
‘I know,’ Stan said. ‘I was sorry about it afterwards, but I was frightened you were going to show even more of your disgust for the idea of me having feelings for you. Really, one of the reasons I took on the job clearing the bomb sites was to get away from you.’
That was news to Angela, and she said, ‘Is that really true?’
‘Oh, it’s true all right. I know these people desperately need help, but there’s plenty of unemployed men out there, and it hurts a man’s pride not to be able to provide for his family. In fact, I felt guilty taking a job from one of them, but when you came in the shop that day, I wanted to show you how much I still loved you. But I thought the shudder showed your true feelings. If only we had spoken then, would you have told me about the abandoned baby, and so given a reason for that shudder?’
‘Truly, I don’t know,’ Angela answered thoughtfully. ‘Maggie asked me that and I couldn’t really answer her either. What I do know is, if you hadn’t felt driven to do something else to keep away from me, that ultimately involved our children, we might not be here, having this conversation now. In fact, we might never have met up at all. And though I would never wish any harm on my daughter or Daniel, I can’t help but be pleased that we are together once more, and I think we should lose no time in telling them that.’
As Stan predicted, it wa
s no surprise. ‘Do you honestly think you’re telling us something we didn’t know already?’ Connie said. ‘I’ve known for ages how you really felt about one another, as has Daniel, though for some reason we didn’t know, you refused to see that for yourselves.’
‘Was it so obvious?’ Angela asked them, laughing.
‘I’m afraid it was,’ Daniel said. ‘It was worrying about you two that prompted me to get back into contact with Connie in the first place. We thought together we might think up some plan to get you two talking again, because the way you were acting was making everyone miserable.’
‘Yes,’ Connie agreed. ‘That’s how it began. And then we found we liked each other’s company … Well, I liked being with Daniel.’
Daniel slipped his arm easily around Connie as he said, ‘Do you imagine for one moment that I didn’t feel the same?’
‘I … I hoped you did,’ Connie said hesitantly. ‘We confessed a lot when we were buried together.’
Daniel drew Connie slightly away from where their parents were now chatting easily to one another. ‘Do you feel differently now?’ he asked quite anxiously.
‘What do you think?’ Connie said. ‘I was afraid to tell Mammy, in case she forbade us to meet, as I knew how she felt about your dad. Doesn’t that tell you how much I cared about you then and still care now? I told you how I felt when I didn’t think we’d get out alive. But despite that, I meant every word then, and still do now.’
‘Oh Connie,’ said Daniel ‘there’s something I want to ask you, and I can’t think of a better time than now, surrounded by the family we love. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
Connie’s eyes opened as wide as they could. She couldn’t believe that after all she’d been through, her heart would ever feel so full and so happy. ‘Of course I’ll marry you, Daniel!’ she said. ‘When we were buried in that shell factory, knowing you were lying by my side was the only thing that kept me going, that kept me fighting the darkness. You make me so happy, and I’d love nothing more than to be your wife.’
Daniel’s smile was lost to her when he lowered his head to hers and placed the gentlest kiss on her lips. They broke apart, remembering where they were.
‘My darling Connie,’ Daniel said fervently, and snuggled Connie even closer.
Angela, catching sight of them, felt tears prickling behind her eyes. There was a lump in her throat as she saw the love light sparkling in their eyes. She knew that regardless of Connie’s tender years and the age difference between them, Connie had met her soulmate. ‘Have I heard that right?’ she asked. ‘Is there to be a wedding?’
Hearing the emotion in her mother’s voice, Connie felt her voice wavering as she answered, ‘Yes, Mammy. Daniel has just asked me to marry him.’
‘Well, it sounds like congratulations are in order. Hey, no more tears!’ Stan declared. ‘I am here to care for all of us now.’
‘Well, whatever it is you have planned to achieve that,’ Connie commented wryly, ‘you’d better put it into action straight away, because at the moment my mother is crying her eyes out.’
Connie was right. Angela faced them, and though tears trickled down her cheeks, her eyes were shining as she said, ‘Happy tears, Connie.’ And Connie hugged the mother she loved so much and sighed in happiness and relief. She hoped from now on, life would be smoother for them all.
Stan hoped so too, but there was one more thing he felt he had to get straight, so that night Stan sought Connie out as she tidied in the kitchen before going to bed and said, ‘I know what you said in the room in front of your mother, but how do you really feel about the two of us getting together?’
‘I thought you already knew that,’ Connie said. ‘Surprised you had to ask, really.’
‘I hoped you felt all right about things, but really I had to hear it from you.’
Connie smiled, ‘Well you’ve heard it from me. If you want it spelt out, I think you and Mammy are made for each other.’
‘Yes, but the thing is, I know what you thought of your father.’
Connie looked at Stan’s face which was creased with anxiety, and she sighed as she assured him, ‘Stan, I have never said this to Mammy, for I feel it might upset her, and don’t you tell her I said this either, but I can’t really remember my father.’
‘You don’t think I would try to take his place?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you,’ Connie insisted. ‘He hasn’t got a place, well not in my life, anyway. Mammy missed him sorely, I know, and Granny did too. Mammy would always consider my feelings before she agreed to marry you, because she’s that kind of mother. If I had any doubts or misgivings, she’d talk it over with me, but she hasn’t had to do that because I feel fine about the whole thing, and she knows I do.’
‘I’m relieved about that, but I’d like to think your father would approve.’
‘Well, we’ll never know that for sure,’ Connie said. ‘So, let’s look at what we do know. You were neighbours and work colleagues, and you thought enough of him to try and keep him out of the Great War. And when that failed, he died trying to save you. I think that says a lot about how the both of you thought of one another. I should say, if my father was not here to look after me and Mammy too, there is no one he would rather have doing it than you.’
‘You don’t resent me at all?’
‘Not in the slightest,’ Connie assured Stan. ‘Never think that for a moment. Both you and Mammy have suffered loss and tragedy. Make Mammy happy, Stan – that’s all I ask.’
‘I will make it my life’s work,’ Stan promised. ‘And your words have eased my heart.’
TEN
The following day the younger librarian, Miss McGowan, came to visit Connie at home. And though Connie was pleased to see her, she was surprised.
‘Great result in your first exam,’ she said as she placed a chair by the side of the bed and sat facing Connie.
‘Yes, it was. I was very pleased.’
‘You must have worked hard.’
‘I find it easier to work when it’s something I enjoy doing.’
‘You still enjoy library work, then?’
‘Yes, yes of course. Why do you ask? Am I doing something wrong?’
‘No my dear, it’s nothing like that, but you realise you have years of study ahead of you.’
Connie was confused. ‘This was all explained to me at the beginning,’ she said.
‘You won’t find it rather daunting?’
‘No,’ Connie said, ‘I’m really rather looking forward to it.’
There was silence between them for a few minutes and then Miss McGowan said, ‘I was talking to your mother yesterday.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘She wasn’t too keen on you doing library work in the beginning, was she?’
‘No,’ Connie admitted. ‘It was all tied up with a promise made to my father about educating me as much as I had the ability for. He died, you see, in the war, and I suppose she felt she had to fulfil that promise. It’s very hard to fight, or even disagree with a dead hero.’
‘What does your mother think of your career in librarianship now?’
‘Oh, she’s better about it, much better,’ Connie said. ‘I knew if I didn’t make some sort of stand I might be pushed into something I didn’t want to do. So I talked to her about Daddy and the promise she had made. I said it was a different world to when Daddy enlisted, and if he had survived the war he might well have supported me. She could see I was right, and she’s fine about it now.’
‘She also told me you were seriously courting, and I must say I was surprised,’ Miss McGowan said. ‘Are you seeing the young man you used to meet from the library sometimes?’
‘That’s right, Daniel Bishop,’ Connie said, ‘He’s a teacher now at King Edward’s High.’
‘Only you seem rather young to be so serious about a boy?’
‘Mammy was my age when she got married.’
‘Yes,’ Miss McGowan said. ‘But
you are not your mother. Your mother went to work at fourteen and gave her pay-packet unopened into your grandmother’s hand. Her money helped pay for the rent, coal, oatmeal, candles, gas mantles and paraffin. She was lucky enough to work for George Maitland too, I believe. She told me that as well as her good wage he used to pack her a boxful of groceries every week. She said that without that food they would have been in dire straits.’
‘She felt beholden, I suppose,’ said Connie, ‘because my granny wasn’t even my mammy’s real mammy. She was her friend’s child that my granny took in when the whole family died of TB.’
‘That’s right,’ Miss McGowan said and she paused, looking serious. ‘Have you known this boy a long time?’
‘Not that long really,’ Connie said, ‘though Mammy has known his father Stan for years before the war. Then the war came and Daddy and Stan joined up. After the war Stan sort of disappeared and Mammy thought he’d been killed too. Daniel was brought up by his aunt in Sutton Coldfield because his mother died just after he was born. Then Mammy found out Stan was not dead, and reunited him with his son, and I became friends with Daniel. We seemed to be just friends for ages, but when we were trapped in the shell factory, we found our feelings had changed to something more.’
Miss McGowan leant closer to Connie and her voice was low and gentle as she said, ‘And what would you say if I was to tell you that if you were thinking about marrying Daniel, your career as a librarian would be over before it’s even begun? That all the work you’ve done for those exams, the plans you may have for the future, would come to nothing?’
Miss McGowan could see by Connie’s reaction that she hadn’t considered that possibility.
Eventually, Connie said hesitantly, ‘Is that really true?’
Miss McGowan nodded her head sagely and said, ‘Only too true, I’m afraid. Do you think I’d come here to tell you a lie?’
‘No, of course I don’t think that, not really,’ Connie said as she felt her dreams crash around her ears. ‘It’s just … well, I can’t really believe it.’
