My Daughter, My Mother (44 page)

When she came to, a neat-looking woman across the room was talking. ‘. . . I remember my father was out the back, filling sandbags, and he was in a proper temper: “Here we go again! Those bloody Krauts, we should finished ’em off for good last time . . .” I was twelve then, and we’d heard it that morning on the radio – well, we called it the wireless then. Our next-door neighbours had one – course my father bought one soon after; nearly everyone had one, once the war got going. So we’d gone round and stood in the front parlour . . .’ She sat up straighter and recited, ‘ “. . . and, consequently, this country is at war with Germany.” ’

There were murmurs of recognition as she talked. ‘Ooh, it makes me go cold thinking about it now – more than it did then. I was too young to remember the First War, even though I heard it talked about. And you saw the men selling matches, with a trouser leg pinned up . . . But I don’t think I really understood much about it – not then. Course nowadays no one wants to hear about it . . .’

Margaret started to regret coming. The last thing she wanted to be reminded of was the morning war broke out. That, and the day her father came and dragged her away from everything she knew and loved in Buckley, had been two of the worst days of her life. But despite herself, she was drawn in. She found herself listening avidly, hungry to hear what had happened to other people.

Everyone seemed to want to speak at once now. ‘One at a time, please!’ Audrey called out.

Memories poured out, people speaking who had been at varying ages when the war broke out – some adult enough to go straight into munitions work or join up; others who were children. One after another, voices piped up, eager to be heard. Quite a few said that their families weren’t interested, and they never really talked about it much.

After a time a quiet, thoughtful voice spoke: a man among a group made up mainly of women.

‘That day was different for me: I was evacuated the very day the war was announced.’ His voice was tentative at first. ‘We were taken to the station and put on a train to south Wales . . . Course no one told us where we was going. Loads of us – some were quite young, poor little buggers—’

‘I don’t really want to stop you there,’ Audrey cut in, gently, ‘because I know we’d all love to hear what you’re going to say. But we’re hoping to have a whole session on evacuation next week. Would you be able to save it for us?’

‘Oh, well, the thing is, I can’t come next week – I’ll be at work.’ He was a stocky, kindly-looking man with dark eyes and a shock of bristling brown hair, cut in a short, neat style. ‘I had to take the day off special today. To be honest, it’s no good really, putting this sort of thing on in the day when there’s so many people at work. I’ve got my own little firm, so I managed a morning off, but I don’t know why you don’t put it on in the evening, so more people can come.’

Audrey looked stricken. ‘Well, I suppose we could . . . It could be on a Thursday, when we open late. What do other people think?’

There was a buzz of voices. Quite a lot of the ladies were pleased with the daytime session, but all agreed that it wasn’t fair on people who were at work – it ruled out a lot of men. Audrey said they would see if they could rearrange it, and soon afterwards it was time to break for tea.

‘Just in time,’ Joanne said, releasing Amy, who cavorted around joyfully. ‘Madam was just beginning to get restless.’

Margaret turned to her. She had almost forgotten Joanne was there. ‘She’s been ever so good,’ she said vaguely. Her mind was still involved with the stories she had heard. She felt a bit queer and swimmy in the head.

‘I think I’ll take her over to the children’s books while we’re having a break,’ Joanne said.

Margaret crossed the room to where the blonde librarian was making teas and coffees from a silver urn. There was a plate of custard creams and she helped herself to one. She had a strange feeling, amid all this talking, a need rising in her so urgent that she felt she might burst. She kept an eye on the man who had spoken, whose name she gathered was Alan, and when he’d got his coffee he looked up and caught her gaze. He hesitated, then smiled and walked over to her. She was so caught up in her thoughts and her need that for once she wasn’t conscious of her bad eye, or what he might think of her.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘This is a nice idea, isn’t it? What d’you think of it so far?’

‘I . . .’ Margaret hadn’t known she was going to say it, or anything like it. Words just seemed to gush out of her mouth. ‘I was evacuated too – same day as you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I was only five, and it was terrible. They took my brother away and I never saw him again; well, only twice, but that was that . . . Oh, my name’s Margaret by the way,’ she said, trying to recover herself. She was blushing and confused now, but somehow relieved.

Alan’s face creased into a pained expression. ‘My God,’ he said. ‘I know it was terrible for some people. My wife had some rough times where she was sent. I suppose I had quite a good experience really. But what happened to your brother?’

Thinking about it made Margaret’s chest tighten. Her heart was racing, it was horrible, this feeling, but if this stranger whose name was Alan had moved away at that moment and ceased to listen, she felt she would have screamed. She had to say it –
had
to, to someone.

‘They took him to a farm and he never wanted to come back,’ Margaret said. She felt herself becoming emotional in a way that hadn’t happened for years – or ever. She had to fight to keep it under control. ‘I came back here; he never did. He was
stolen
from me, that’s what he was. And the first lady I was sent to was very cruel – I think she was off her head; but then, after that, where I went was lovely and . . . and . . .’ She was shaking now, so that her cup was rattling on the saucer, and he could see it.

‘Dear, oh dear,’ Alan said, and the kindness in his voice was almost her undoing. She wanted to fall to her knees and weep and weep. ‘Would you like to come and sit down over here?’ he suggested.

But Margaret shook her head, because she spotted Joanne coming towards them slowly, holding Amy’s hand.

Alan followed her gaze.

‘That’s my daughter,’ Margaret said, trying to control her trembling. ‘And granddaughter.’ Quickly she added, ‘I’ve never even told them – none of it.’

The man nodded as if he understood and greeted Joanne and Amy kindly. Amy ran to Margaret, brandishing a custard cream and calling out, ‘Nanna! Bikkit!’

‘I probably should be getting off, Mom,’ Joanne said. ‘D’you mind if I go ahead of you? Amy’ll need her dinner.’

‘Oh, I’ll come now,’ Margaret said. Any more and she would be overwhelmed.

Alan stopped her, a hand on her arm. He bent slightly to look into her face.

‘Look, I hope they’ll be able to move it to the evenings next week. I shall have to miss it otherwise. But you will come, won’t you? I don’t want to be the only one!’

Margaret looked down, trying to compose herself. What a kind look he had! She felt so foolish. ‘Yes, I expect I will,’ she said.

As he moved away she had to sit down for a moment anyway, because her legs would not hold her.

Fifty-Five

It was a week since Dave had left hospital and Joanne had found it very difficult.

She had been to see him with Amy three times, taking him extra clothes and things he needed. He seemed so broken and helpless, and wanted just to sit beside her holding her hand. He kept begging her to let him come home.

‘You’re my wife – my family,’ he kept saying. ‘All I want is to be near you both.’

Seeing him so vulnerable tore at her. She wanted to comfort him, but she was still afraid of giving into it all. His need was too much for her.

On Tuesday she had taken Amy back to the toddler group. She felt a bit nervous turning up, realizing that Tess probably knew from Sooky what had happened. Would she have told everyone? But of course Tess hadn’t. As she pushed Amy into the hall, Tess caught sight of her and waved. She came over, carrying her new baby. Joanne could see that Tess looked more back to normal, her face thinner again.

‘Joanne!’ Tess held the baby with one arm and gave her a hug with the other. ‘It’s so good to see you.’ She lowered her voice. ‘How’re things? Are you okay? And Amy?’

Joanne nodded, blushing. ‘Yeah, I’m back home – my husband’s not, though. Taking it, you know, one day at a time. Amy’s all right, I think.’ She smiled at the sight of Tess’s baby. ‘He’s gorgeous.’

‘Yes,’ Tess looked down fondly. ‘He’s great. Really easy so far, thank goodness. Anyway,’ she patted Joanne’s shoulder, ‘great to see you. And don’t forget – if you need any help with anything . . .’

It was really nice to be back. She missed Sooky a lot, though they were trying to get together every Thursday. There was no sign of Kieran, either, and Tess told her when they chatted again later that he had gone back to work. His wife was at home now with the boys.

‘He’s hoping she’ll feel confident enough to bring them here soon,’ Tess said. ‘She’s getting there, gradually.’

Joanne was glad to hear it, though she missed Kieran too. But she got chatting to one or two new people, and Amy made another little friend called Clara. It felt good to be one of the ones who knew what to do, and to show other people. There was also a new volunteer, a skinny white girl, who was sweet, but much shyer than Mavis.

Once the toddler group had finished she walked up to the library on the Soho Road. As well as getting out some books for Amy, she picked up information about the local colleges where you could do A-levels.

The phone was ringing. Joanne stood in the middle of the back room holding a basket full of wet washing, tempted just to ignore it. Which one of them would it be this time? Sighing, she dropped the basket and went to answer.

‘Joanne?’ Dave’s mom sounded really flustered. ‘Look, I really need an answer from you as to how much longer . . . I mean, it’s been nice having Dave back here for a bit, but it can’t go on. It’s driving me round the bend, him forever under my feet. It’s upsetting the whole energy of the house. He’s gone out for a little walk now, just round the block, and I feel
so relieved
not to have him in the house . . .’

Joanne closed her eyes for a minute.

‘It’s been a week now, and I know you need some time, but this can’t go on. You’re going to have to have him with you . . .’

A wry smile turned up Joanne’s lips. Wendy’s delight in having ‘my boy’ back at home hadn’t lasted for long. In between her phoning there were Dave’s calls, which ranged in tone from imploring to petulant.

‘Look, Jo, I need to come home. There’ll be no trouble, I promise. You
know
I’ve promised – it’ll never happen again. I mean,
what more can I do
?’

‘Just give us a couple more days, Wendy, all right?’ She tried to keep her voice calm. ‘I’m sure we can sort something out.’

It was grey outside, but not raining – just about worth putting the washing out. Amy was dozing, so she was rushing to get things done. There was something soothing about pegging out washing, the pegs kept in an empty ice-cream box. She breathed deeply in the breeze, hanging up one of Amy’s little shirts.

She knew she wasn’t ready. The thought of having Dave here filled her with dismay. It wasn’t just the violence she was afraid of. Just as much it was the thought of sinking back into things as they were before, when she knew now that she needed something to change. She kept thinking about Sooky. How would it be if she went and did some classes, started on her A-levels, and just lived here with Amy: alone? Sooky had her mom, of course. Moving back in with Mom and Dad was out of the question – it would drive her crazy.

She imagined it, finding someone to mind Amy, learning, getting a good job. Her heart flipped with happiness, then landed belly-up in the realization of how lonely it would be. No Dave – the old Dave – coming home with jokes and kisses and playing with Amy. No Dave, full stop. She stood for a long time staring across the garden. She thought back fondly on the good times. Then she recalled the bad times.

Never before had she had to choose like this. Life had happened, and she had fallen into it: she had fallen into following Dave. But now she had to decide and pay the price for her decision, whatever that was.

All that week Margaret couldn’t stop thinking about the group at the library in Kings Heath. The experience had shaken her up. At least while she was there she’d just about managed to keep her emotions under control. Once she was alone in the bathroom at home, where no one would hear, she let go. Perched on the fluffy cover of the lavatory seat, she put her head in her hands and sobbed and sobbed as if her chest would split open. It was all beyond her: she couldn’t control it. Afterwards she felt exhausted, but lighter in herself.

Two days before the next one, she called into the library to check whether the time had changed. Audrey told her that it would be in the evening. She seemed delighted that the group had proved so popular.

Margaret went home jittery with excitement. She’d never known herself get in such a state over anything like this.

‘What the hell’s got into you, Margaret Tolley?’ she demanded as she made coffee back at home with shaking hands.

All she could think about was getting back there on Thursday. She wanted to see that chap she’d talked to. It was something about the way he’d looked at her, as if he really wanted to hear what she had to say. He had such a warm, lively look in those brown eyes. She couldn’t explain it to herself – it wasn’t as if she was ever going to say anything in the group, but she knew she just had to be there.

‘So, are you going back to that reminiscence thing?’ Karen had asked that morning. ‘It sounded quite nice.’

Margaret took a long drag on her cigarette, taking her time to answer.

‘Yes, I might.’ She wanted to tell Karen to mind her own business. This was
hers
. She didn’t want anyone else interfering. ‘It’s going to be in the evening now, though.’

‘Oh.’ Karen sounded disappointed, as if she thought this meant Margaret would never go to it now. ‘That’s a shame. Thing is, I’ve got my evening class on a Thursday.’ This was said with importance. Karen had enrolled on a twelve-week course entitled ‘Introduction to Counselling’. ‘And Joanne can’t really come out at that time.’