Time Goes By (29 page)

‘I don’t suppose it’s been easy for her,’ said Tim. ‘They all made a promise to keep up the pretence, didn’t they? And you found that letter that your mother wrote, saying she would never contact your family again. It must have been dreadful for her as well, Kathy love. And I’m quite sure what your aunt says is true, that Barbara really loved you very much.’

‘Yes … that’s what I’m trying to believe,’ said Kathy. ‘We know she had another little girl, and she may well have more children by now, grandchildren as well. She’ll have made a whole new life over there in America.’ She was deep in thought for a few moments. ‘It’s quite possible that she and her husband have kept the past hidden from their children. They might not know
anything about me, just as I’ve been kept in the dark about my parents’ divorce and everything. It might come as a tremendous shock to them; I’m saying ‘them’ although I don’t know how many children there might be, my half-sisters and – brothers …’ She shook her head bemusedly.

‘All the same, I’ve got to try, Tim, no matter what the consequences might be. You do agree with me, don’t you, love?’

‘I shall be with you every step of the way, my darling,’ he told her.

Kathy was unsure how to go about starting the search for her mother, and it was Tim who sorted things out for her. It turned out to be much simpler than they could have believed. Winifred had the address that was on Barbara’s letter, written all those years ago, but there was no telephone number. However, a long-distance call to the telephone exchange in the town of Stowe in the state of Vermont proved fruitful. Kathy and Tim were amazed to discover that a family called Castillo were still living at the same address. And now they had the telephone number.

Kathy’s hands were trembling so much that she could scarcely hold the receiver when she decided, late one night in mid October, to make the all-important call to the USA. She knew that the time in America would be different, some five or six hours behind the time in Britain, so it would be
early evening over there. Who would answer the phone? she wondered. Her mother, Barbara? The thought of that filled her with wonder, but also with fear. Or might it be Nat Castillo? She had tried to conjure up a picture in her mind of what he might look like, but of course, she had no idea. And what on earth should she say? She had tried to compose a few opening remarks in her head, to ease her way into the situation. She knew that she must not say straight away that she was Katherine, Barbara’s long lost daughter.

It was a woman’s voice that answered the phone, giving the number and saying that it was the home of the Castillo family.

Kathy took a deep breath. ‘Hello … Could you tell me who it is I’m speaking to, please?’

‘I’m Beverley Hanson … Who is it you wish to speak to?’ The voice, with the typical accent of a north American, sounded puzzled.

‘Well, I’m wondering if that is the home of … Mr Nat Castillo?’ asked Kathy hesitantly.

‘Yes, it sure is. He’s my father. I was Beverley Castillo before I married. I’m just visiting. Look … who are you? Where are you speaking from?’

‘From a town called Blackpool in England. My name is Katherine Fielding. I was Katherine Leigh before I was married. And I have reason to believe that your father was in Blackpool during
the war …’ Kathy was finding it hard to keep her voice steady ‘… and I believe he knew some of the members of my family. It’s really important that I should speak to Mr Castillo, if you don’t mind.’

There was silence for a moment, then she heard the voice again. ‘My father is not too well just now, but I guess he’d sure like to speak to you when he’s feeling more himself again. I’ve heard him say that Blackpool was the place where he met our mom.’ Kathy’s heart gave a jolt, but she could not pluck up the courage to ask to speak to this woman’s ‘mom’. ‘Listen … give me your address and your telephone number and I’ll ask my dad to get back to you. Tell me again, what did you say your name is? … Katherine Fielding, and you used to be Katherine Leigh … Yes, I promise I’ll tell him. Just a minute and I’ll get some paper and a pen … Yes, I’ve got all that. I’ll tell him to contact you as soon as he’s feeling better … Bye for now, Katherine.’

Kathy’s legs as well as her hands were trembling as she replaced the receiver. She collapsed into the nearest armchair.

‘Well?’ asked Tim. ‘Any joy? Who was that you were speaking to?’

‘She’s called Beverley,’ replied Kathy in a hushed voice. ‘She must be my half-sister … She says her father will get back to me. Oh, Tim … whatever have I done?’

B
arbara was fascinated by her new home and touched by the welcome she received from Nat’s parents and the rest of his family: his brother Larry and his wife, Shirley; his sister Nancy and her husband, Frank; and their children, six in all, ranging in age from five to fifteen. The warmth of their greeting and their continuing care and concern for her helped a great deal to ease the heartache she had been feeling ever since she had been forced to part with her beloved little daughter. She knew that she would never forget Katherine; there would always be a special place in her heart and mind for her firstborn child.

She often cried about her, but always in secret. She knew that she, Barbara, was in the place where she must be, with the man she loved and who loved her, and with their own little daughter, Beverley.

It had been a traumatic time for Barbara in the December of 1944, when she had left Blackpool and had gone to stay with her Aunt Myrtle’s sister, Muriel, in her Manchester home. Muriel and her husband, Jack, had been very kind and understanding. They had been made aware of the circumstances and she had met with no reproach or condemnation, only sympathy and friendliness. Muriel’s commonsensical approach helped Barbara to look forward, not only to the birth of her baby, but to her future life with the man who loved her.

Beverley was born in the February of 1945. Barbara was pleased that she had given birth to another baby girl, not to be a replacement for Kathy – no child could ever be that – but to give her, Barbara, the chance to start again and to be an even better mother this time. She knew that she had failed Katherine. She did not try to convince herself that she was not responsible for what had happened. She knew that both she and Nat had been guilty of wrongdoing in the eyes of many people … but was it wrong to fall so deeply in love? She had paid the price for it – a bitter, agonising price – but good must be allowed to come out of it. She would do her utmost to be an ideal wife and mother.

Baby Beverley did not resemble Katherine in any way, and Barbara was glad of that. Whereas Kathy was dark with Barbara’s brown eyes, this
baby was fair, with Nat’s colouring. The little hair she had was like the fluffy down on a newborn chick and Barbara guessed she would be blonde-haired, and probably grey-eyed too, like her father, although it was hard to tell at first.

The war was drawing to a close by the time Barbara’s baby was born. ‘Operation Overlord’ had proved to be a victory for the Allies, although not without a few setbacks and severe loss of life. Barbara had heard intermittently from Nat and thanked God that he was still safe. The German troops were in retreat; Paris had been liberated, followed by Brussels, in the late summer of 1944. In the following March the US forces had seized a bridgehead on the Rhine and British troops were now occupying the Ruhr Valley.

Probably because the conflict was in its last stages, Nat was given compassionate leave to be with Barbara and their baby daughter in the month of April. Her divorce was now absolute, and she and Nat were married quietly at the nearest register office, with Muriel and Jack, who had proved to be true friends, as the only witnesses. Unfortunately Nat had to return to Germany to await his demobilisation, leaving Barbara behind once again. She was, however, feeling much more optimistic by now, making arrangements to join him in the USA as soon as it was possible.

She sailed from Liverpool in early October. Her Aunt Myrtle and Uncle Ben, as well as her good friends, Muriel and Jack, were at the quayside to wave goodbye as the ship sailed away. Nat had been demobbed from the US army a couple of months earlier, and the letters they exchanged told of their love and their longing to see one another again. Despite her heartache over Kathy, which was still very intense, Barbara knew she must try to look forward to her new life and, first of all, to the journey.

It was, of course, the longest journey she had ever taken, and the same was true for the many GI brides who were making the voyage along with her. It was a completely new experience for all of them, and as they exchanged stories of how they had met their husbands and about where they were going to live in the USA, the time passed quite quickly. Some of the women had young babies with them. Barbara felt very proud and pleased that she had her lovely nine-month-old Beverley with her. She did not say a word to anyone, however, about the other precious little girl whom she had been forced to leave behind.

The ship docked in New York harbour. It seemed like an impossible dream to Barbara as she caught sight, for the first time, of the Statue of Liberty and the skyscrapers of New York. They were far taller than she could ever have imagined.
She remembered joking with Nat about the height of Blackpool Tower. It was true, it seemed, that everything over here was so much bigger and bolder.

Her meeting with Nat, when at last they found one another amidst the milling throng of people, was a rapturous one. Their kiss was full of the delight of seeing one another again and the pent-up longing of the last few months; there was the promise, too, of the joy and contentment of a happy life together.

Baby Beverley, held by her mother, was wide awake and staring around, especially at the smiling stranger who, of course, she could not remember. She had been only two months old when her father had seen her for the first and only time. She had been nearly squashed by their embrace, but now Nat took her from her mother as they made their way to the customs hall to deal with all the rigmarole of disembarkation and entry to a new country.

Finally, they were aboard a long-distance bus, setting off on the long journey to the state of Vermont. They headed north from the state of New York to Connecticut, Massachusetts and, finally, to Vermont.

Barbara was tired and she dozed a little at first, but as they drove through the landscape of hills and valleys, streams and woodlands,
she became too enraptured by the scenery to do anything but stay awake. Never had she seen such a kaleidoscope of colour, opening up on either side and in front of her, as far as the eye could see. Vibrant colours such as she had never imagined, ranging from palest yellow through the whole spectrum – gold, orange, scarlet, vermilion, russet – to the deepest brown, as the leaves of the vast variety of deciduous trees changed from their summer green to the varying hues of autumn.

‘This is fantastic!’ she breathed, after she had gazed at the view in awe for mile upon mile, with Nat watching her with pleasure and pride in his country, and in some amusement as well.

‘You ain’t seen nothing yet!’ he joked. ‘Just wait till we get to Vermont. All the New England states are a sight to behold in the fall, but our little state beats the lot. It’s known as the Green Mountain State in the summer but it’s even lovelier in the fall.’

‘Look at the deep crimson,’ remarked Barbara. ‘I’ve never seen such a vivid colour.’

‘Those are maple trees,’ Nat told her. ‘The maple leaf is the symbol of Canada, but it’s one of the most common trees in New England as well. You’ve heard of maple syrup?’ She nodded. ‘Well, our state is one of its chief producers. It’s one of our specialities, pancakes with maple syrup. You sure have some treats to look forward to,
Barbara … And not just maple syrup either,’ he smiled as he leant across and kissed her.

‘I’m quite overwhelmed already,’ she said. ‘It’s just … so beautiful.’ She really was at a loss for words.

‘We’re fully booked with visitors at the moment,’ Nat told her. ‘We are very busy for most of the year, but in the fall we get a lot of what we call “leaf peepers”, folks from the South or Midwest, staying maybe for only a couple of nights and then moving on to the rest of the New England states to enjoy the scenery.’

‘I’m looking forward to meeting your family,’ said Barbara. ‘I had a lovely letter from your mother.’

‘And they’re sure looking forward to meeting you too,’ replied Nat. ‘We’ll have our own quarters, you know, at the hotel, and Mom and Pop will leave us alone when we want our privacy. It won’t be like living with your in-laws, I promise you. It’s just that it makes sense, with me helping with the running of the hotel. And Pop has sure made me work since I came home. He may well think of retiring in a few years’ time, although I could never see him giving up altogether, nor Mom.’

Barbara was reminded of her own aunt and uncle, Myrtle and Ben, still running their Blackpool boarding house, although they were
talking of selling up soon. And of Albert and Winifred next door, working along with their parents in the family business. She pushed the thoughts away, though, as she always tried to do whenever they recurred. She had been instructed, and had promised, that she would have no further contact with them. She must look to the future, the future that had now become the present.

It was good to be part of a large family after being brought up as an only child, and an orphan as well, although Barbara had never had cause to doubt the love that her aunt and uncle showed towards her. Larry and Nancy, Nat’s brother and sister, soon made her feel as though she was a welcome addition to the Castillo family, and their children, all six of them, were delighted with their new little cousin.

Then there were Martha and Jacob, known as Jake, whom Nat called Mom and Pop; and Uncle Elmer and Aunt Carrie who lived nearby and helped in the hotel when they were needed.

The hotel was vastly different from anything Barbara had known before. It was a wooden building, as were the majority of houses, a very large white chalet with a wide veranda where the guests could take their ease. The family, too, if and when they had time to do so, because Barbara soon realised that they were busy almost all the year round.

The little town of Stowe, and the surrounding countryside, was as beautiful as Nat had described it to be, ringed by mountains and surrounded by woods and pastureland. The highest peak in the area, Mount Mansfield, could be seen from Barbara and Nat’s bedroom window. She never tired of the view: the verdant green of the spring and summertime, the glorious tints of autumn, and the pristine white of the winter snow.

Winter began early in Vermont, as it did in all the New England states. There was a decided nip in the air when Barbara arrived in mid October. By November it was considerably colder, and in the middle of that month the first snow began to fall. When they awoke in the morning it was to a very different scene. The rooftops and church spires, pavements, trees and bushes were now clothed in a mantle of silvery white, glistening in the early-morning sun, virgin white in the places where no feet had trodden.

Barbara soon learnt that the New Englanders adjusted quickly to the change in the weather. Houses were centrally heated, so there was no huddling round a coal fire, then feeling frozen as soon as you moved away, as was the case in England. The snowploughs were soon at work to clear the roads, and people took the weather in their stride, equipped with boots, fleece-lined coats and fur hats.

The snow remained all winter, fresh falls arriving throughout the succeeding months. There was none of the slushy brown mess left behind when a thaw came, as there was back home.

Nat was busy, not only with his duties at the hotel, but also as a ski instructor. He persuaded Barbara that she must learn to ski as most people did in Vermont. She promised she would do so, but not that year. Or the next as it happened …

Winter continued until the end of March, and by that time Barbara knew she was pregnant again. Their son, Carl, was born in the November of 1946, on Thanksgiving Day, to the delight of all the family members.

Another daughter, Anne-Marie, was born in the summer of 1949. Barbara and Nat decided then that their family was complete.

She did learn to ski, but not until several years later when the children were old enough to accompany their parents on a skiing holiday to the Green Mountain range.

They enjoyed many holidays, as a family, to some of the other New England states. To the city of Boston, where they walked the Freedom Trail, visited the State House of Massachusetts and climbed to the top of Beacon Hill; to the lake district and the mountains of New Hampshire; to Portland and the rocky coast of Maine; and to the beaches and quaint colonial villages of Cape Cod.

Their holiday times were precious to them, a time for relaxing together as a family and following new pursuits. They were a happy family, and although there were, inevitably, minor disagreements as the children entered their teens, there was never any serious discord.

Holidays were taken when it was convenient to Martha and Jake. Nat’s father, although he had been saying for ages that he would retire, did not do so for many years, not until 1960, when he was seventy-five years of age. He and Martha then went to live in a smaller house on the outskirts of Stowe, leaving the hotel in Nat’s capable hands.

Barbara had helped there too, over the years, with various kinds of work. She became responsible for the office work and bookkeeping when Nat took control of the business. Their three children were still at school. Their parents had no wish to persuade them to take part in the family business unless they wanted to do so. Barbara and Nat had high hopes for them all, that they would go on to college and do well in their chosen professions.

What was Katherine doing now? Barbara sometimes wondered about her, although the heartache had eased considerably over the years. Her firstborn child was there in her mind, though, as a poignant memory. She thought of
her especially on her birthday each year, the last day of June. Now she would be eleven, eighteen, twenty-three … She might even be married.

Nat had agreed with her that it would be better if their three children, Beverley, Carl and Anne-Marie, were never told of their half-sister back in England. Barbara had begun a whole new chapter in her life when she had come to live in Vermont. To tell the children about Kathy would only cause complications and give rise to endless questions.

There were times – although only occasionally, and she never mentioned them to Nat – when Barbara felt a deep longing to know how Kathy was faring. Had she been happy with Albert and his parents, and with his sister, Winifred? Perhaps Albert had married again, in which case Kathy would have a stepmother. She felt, though, intuitively, that Winifred would have had a lot to do with the little girl’s upbringing. Barbara had always been fond of Winifred, and she felt sure she would have done her very best for the little girl entrusted to her charge.