Honour Thy Father

by Honour Thy Father (retail) (epub)

  ‘We’ve come near to a few bust-ups already,’ Laura admitted. She told Mary about the argument about sharing expenses and Mary said she thought it was only fair in the circumstances.

  ‘I earned more than Danny so we always went fifty–fifty when we went out. Still do, though it’s more like seventy–thirty now because Dan can’t work overtime while he’s studying and he has to buy a lot of books and stuff for the course. When he qualifies, things will be different, of course.’

  ‘Our generation is more sensible about things like that,’ Laura said. ‘When I think about the way my father bullied my mother just because she wanted to take a job! Mind you, she got her own way in the end.’

  ‘Is she still working for the pools?’ asked Mary.

  ‘Yes, but only temporary work, and they are only called back for such short periods. She’s applied for a post as school secretary though,’ said Laura.

  ‘My mother wouldn’t have had the spirit to even suggest taking a job to my father,’ Mary said scornfully. ‘But times are changing.’

  ‘They certainly are,’ said Laura. She was silent for a moment thinking of the tale Terry had told her about Maureen and the married man she loved. Should Maureen and Chris have lived together like Mary and Danny? Would they have been happy or would Maureen’s scruples have spoiled their life together? Too late now anyway, she thought sadly.

  All the family were worried about Maureen. The remission of the disease had been short and when Sarah and Joe had visited her the previous Sunday they had found her in the infirmary of the rest home. The nun who was caring for her explained that Maureen was now unable to hold a cup or to manage cutlery and in the infirmary there would always be someone on hand to help her.

  Anne and John had decided to visit her on Wednesday and Laura had arranged her flexitime so that she could accompany them. Julie and Gerry were unable to arrange time off but they sent flowers and loving messages to their aunt who had always been special to her nephews and nieces.

  Maureen was propped up on a pile of pillows and was very happy to see them. She was in a six-bed ward with two empty beds and she told them that the three other patients had much more to bear than she had. The woman in the bed opposite had a cage-like arrangement supporting her bedclothes and Maureen said that her arthritis was so painful that she was unable to bear the weight of the bedclothes on her legs.

  ‘She never complains,’ Maureen said, ‘although she is in so much pain.’ She told them that another patient was in the terminal stage of cancer and the other was in for a rest because she suffered from angina.

  They were shocked to see how much weaker Maureen seemed to be and John urged her not to talk and tire herself. She smiled at him. ‘It won’t make much difference, John,’ she said gently. ‘I love to see people, especially the family, and talk to them,’ but she seemed breathless.

  Anne took Maureen’s hand and leaned her face against it and they all talked quietly until presently a nun came with a feeding cup for Maureen and lifted her higher on her pillows. The curtains were drawn round the bed and her visitors retreated to the bottom of the bed. John went off to smoke and Anne talked to the arthritis sufferer.

  Another nun came carrying a magnificent bouquet to the patient. ‘More flowers, Mrs Hunt,’ she said. ‘Aren’t they all very good to you?’ and then to Anne, ‘Mrs Hunt has four grand, clever sons. All very important men in different parts of the world but sure they never forget their mother. The flowers and the baskets of fruit!’

  Anne smiled at the woman as the nun carried the flowers away to find vases and Mrs Hunt said in a weak voice, ‘Sometimes I wish they weren’t so clever. Even one or two of them near home so they could visit me. I envy Maureen her visitors.’

  ‘We were such a big family, you see,’ Anne said quickly. ‘I was the youngest of eight and Maureen was the second eldest. She was like a mother to me.’

  ‘Aye . She’s a lovely woman,’ said Mrs Hunt. ‘I think they’re ready for you now.’

  The curtains had been pulled back and Maureen was sitting up on her pillows looking fresh and comfortable but they were alarmed to see that an oxygen cylinder had been put in place by her bed and that she held the mask in her left hand.

  ‘It’s all right, Anne,’ Maureen said quickly. ‘Sister put it there in case I need it. They’re wonderful, you know. You never have to ask for anything. It’s always there before you even know you need it. Now tell me, Laura, are you enjoying your car?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Laura said eagerly and told her aunt about her expeditions in the car and then about her dates with Nick. She stopped when Maureen lifted the oxygen mask to her face but Maureen took it away briefly and said, ‘Go on talking, love. I can take this while you talk. I’m enjoying hearing all this,’ so Laura told her that Nick was at Christ’s College and of his teaching practice in Kirkby. Anne then talked to her about Julie and Peter and Gerry and Margaret, while Maureen took more oxygen. Finally she put the mask aside and smiled at them.

  ‘That’s better,’ she said. She took Anne’s hand. ‘I’m so happy, love, to see you settled with a good man and such good children. You were always my little pet. Such a happy little girl, you were, and you made everyone around you feel happy. Remember Uncle Fred’s name for you? Happy Annie.’

  Laura could see that her mother was struggling with tears but she said steadily, ‘Ah yes. Happy days. Those parties at Uncle Fred’s when we were all young and Mum and Dad still with us. They were great.’

  Maureen smiled. ‘Theresa and Jim came to see me with their youngest child last week. Did you know they have seven children now, including two sets of twins?’

  ‘Yes, and Theresa looks after Aunt Carrie as well and takes it all in her stride,’ Anne said. She turned to Laura. ‘These are the relations in Runcorn. Aunt Carrie is my mother’s sister and Fred was her husband. Theresa is their daughter.’

  ‘She’s a case,’ Maureen said. ‘She said one of her older girls was going out at nearly eleven o’clock and when she was telling her off, Aunt Carrie said, “Leave her alone and let her enjoy herself. She’s only young once.” Theresa was so indignant. She said, “You know, Maureen, Mam would have knocked me from here to next week if I’d come home at that time, never mind going out.”’ The oxygen seemed to have helped Maureen and she breathed easily even after talking.

  Anne said happily, ‘Theresa was always a good laugh. She and our Eileen were a right pair. The tricks they played on the lads they went out with!’

  ‘Aunt Eileen in Dublin?’ Laura said in surprise and Anne laughed.

  ‘Yes. We weren’t always the sedate old people we are now, you know. Eileen and Theresa between them went out with half the lads in Liverpool.’

  ‘But it was all very innocent,’ Maureen said. She seemed breathless again and lifted the oxygen mask to her face.

  Anne stood up. ‘We’ll go now, Mo, and let you rest,’ she said gently. ‘But we’ll come again soon.’

  Maureen took the mask away and said, ‘Thanks for coming, love. I feel so much better for seeing you, and you, Laura pet.’ They both kissed her and John, who had appeared in the doorway, came to the bed.

  ‘I knew you’d want to talk to Anne,’ he said, kissing Maureen. ‘Take care now.’ Maureen held his hand and murmured something to him and he said quietly, ‘I will, Mo. Don’t fret.’

  Laura wondered what had been said but her father volunteered no information. Her mother had missed the exchange as she was saying goodbye to the other patients. Anne smiled cheerfully as she waved to Maureen from the doorway of the ward but as soon as they were out of Maureen’s sight she wept without restraint. Laura put her arm round her, weeping herself but trying to comfort her mother.

  John had paused to speak to a nun who had emerged from a nearby room and Anne and Laura had almost reached the car when he joined them. ‘Oh John, doesn’t Mo look ill?’ Anne said tearfully. ‘What did Sister say?’

  John said evasively, ‘I was only thanking her for looking after M
o so well. Being so kind to her. Did you notice the oxygen cylinder was placed on her left because she has some power in her left hand and can manage the mask herself. She’s getting the best of care, Anne.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Anne said in a muffled voice but Laura knew that she was not comforted.

  Sarah and Joe arrived soon after they reached home and Anne told them about the oxygen and Maureen’s weakness but said that she was still cheerful. Laura told them about Maureen’s visit from Theresa but John said nothing.

  No one noticed when he slipped away but when Laura went into the hall later he was using the telephone and waved at her furiously to close the door into the living room. Then she heard him say, ‘That’s the position, Eileen. I thought you should know but I don’t know how you’re placed for coming over. You know you’re very welcome to stay here if you come.’

  Laura went up to the bathroom feeling as though there was a heavy weight on her chest. Was Maureen so ill then? But she had been ill for so long and recovered on other occasions. Surely her father was just being alarmist. She wondered what the nun had really said to him and why Maureen had whispered to him.

  When she came out of the bathroom she saw that her Uncle Joe was also in the hall and as she descended the stairs she heard him say, ‘Thanks, John. It had to be done but you’ve saved me doing a job I dreaded.’

  ‘They were both upset but they knew it had to come. You’re never really prepared for it, though, are you?’

  They looked up and saw Laura and Joe said hurriedly, ‘I’d better go back. They’ll wonder where we are.’ Laura was about to follow him but her father took her arm and drew her into the front room.

  ‘You saw how ill Maureen was today,’ he said. ‘I’ve just rung Eileen and Terry and they’ll both come to see her. Stephen and Margaret can’t leave Rilla at present.’

  ‘But Dad, is she really going to die?’ Laura gasped.

  ‘I’m afraid so, love,’ her father said gravely. ‘The sister told me that it can’t be long now. Her heart is failing. She said we must be prepared. Maureen herself knows.’

  ‘You mean they’ve told her?’ Laura said indignantly.

  ‘They don’t need to. Maureen knows how ill she is but she is quite happy and prepared for death. She whispered to me to try to make it easy for Mum. That’s why I’m telling you, Lol. Mum and Maureen have always been so close that she’ll be heartbroken. We’ll all have to try to soften the blow for her.’

  Laura was crying bitterly and he put his arms round her and held her close. After a few minutes she raised her head from his shoulder and drew away, wiping her eyes and saying resolutely, ‘I’m all right now, Dad. I’ll run upstairs and bathe my eyes before I go back. Are you going to tell Mum?’

  ‘Not in so many words,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I’ll need to. I’ll tell her I’ve sent for Terry and Eileen – but I’ll choose the right moment.’

  ‘And I’ll be here with her. I can take time off. I’ve got holidays in hand,’ Laura said eagerly.

  ‘No. Save them. You might need them later to help Mum,’ John said.

  It seemed to Laura that she and her father had never been as close as they were at this time. They were united in their tender care for Anne in her grief for her beloved sister and Laura felt no jealousy when Anne turned to John and John never resented but rather encouraged Anne’s clinging to Laura.

  Sarah and Joe’s grief was made worse by worry about Rosa who seemed to have disappeared but during Maureen’s last days a phone call from David brought them comfort. He said that Rosa was safe and was staying with him and they would both travel to Liverpool together. He would tell them more when they arrived.

  ‘I don’t care what made her stay away from us,’ Sarah said to Anne. ‘I’m just so relieved that she’s safe.’

  Terry and Eileen and Martin arrived within a few days, Terry staying with Anne and John, and Eileen and Martin with Tony and Helen as David and Rosa were home with their parents.

  Terry’s presence was a comfort to Laura, although there was little opportunity for private conversation. All their minds were filled with thoughts of Maureen.

  Eileen had planned to travel alone but Martin told Tony that he thought she would be too upset to make the journey alone. ‘She worried about me leaving the business again so soon but our Kathleen’s husband is a grand man. He’ll keep an eye to the business for me and our two lads are staying with him and Kathleen,’ he said.

  Tony said seriously, ‘I’m glad, Martin. She’ll need you, especially going back. You’re a good man yourself.’

  When David and Rosa arrived Rosa flung herself at her parents, weeping and telling them that she was sorry that they had worried about her. ‘I just didn’t notice the time passing,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t realised it was so long since I’d seen you until David told me off about it.’

  David told them later that Rosa had become attached to an actor in a repertory company and had travelled about with him. She had quarrelled with and parted from the man when she was near Cambridge and had come to him.

  ‘She didn’t intend to worry you,’ David said. ‘She just lives in a world of her own.’

  All the family were able to visit Maureen during the last days of her life and all were comforted by her serenity and happiness. On the last day they were all gathered about her bed when the Irish sister who had chiefly cared for her brought water to moisten Maureen’s lips.

  Some could not restrain their tears but the sister said softly, ‘Don’t fret now. Sure, isn’t it only a step she’s taking from the ones she loves here to the loved ones who are waiting for her in heaven. Won’t you all be together in God’s good time?’

  Maureen smiled round at them then her eyes closed, her breathing so soft that it was hard for them to realise when it ceased.

  At her Requiem Mass the family were comforted by the feeling that it was less an occasion for mourning than a celebration of a good life. Many representatives were there from the charities with which Maureen had worked at home and abroad and many tributes were paid to her, but it was the words of an old priest who had known Maureen all her life that meant most to the family, and which were long remembered by them.

  He said, ‘The world is richer for Maureen. In her own quiet way she did so much good for so many people without thought for herself but now she has gone to her reward. We thank God for her and have all been enriched by knowing her. Our grief now is for ourselves who will miss her but all who love her will know that she has entered into happiness and rejoice for her. She never complained but used her suffering for others and her strong faith sustained and comforted her to the end. We thank God for Maureen.’

  Friends and relations came back to Anne’s house after the funeral, many of them unknown to Laura. A stout women came to her and Gerry and introduced herself. ‘You don’t remember me, do you? Monica, Bridie’s daughter. I used to look after you when you were little when your mum was ill.’

  ‘Monica?’ Laura said doubtfully. ‘I think so but you were very thin then.’

  Monica laughed heartily. ‘And now I’m very fat. You’re your da’s daughter all right. He always came right out with things.’ She seemed unoffended but Laura was furious. The cheek of her, she thought. I’m nothing like my da, as she calls him.

  Gerry said easily, ‘Monica, yes, I remember you. Didn’t you go to be a nursery nurse?’

  ‘For a while,’ Monica said. ‘Then I went on to ordinary nursing. I’m a theatre sister now.’ Gerry introduced Margaret and said that she was a physiotherapist and they were soon deep in conversation. Laura moved away. If I ever have a daughter I won’t call her Monica, she decided.

  Terry had told Laura by letter that on his return from Ottawa he had tried to make Stephen ‘see sense’ and thought that he had succeeded. Now he told her briefly not to worry about Rilla’s accusations. It was all being sorted out.

  Later, when only the immediate family were left, the subject of Rilla was discussed by them for the firs
t time.

  ‘What’s happening, Terry?’ Joe asked. ‘We haven’t heard any more from Stephen.’

  Terry shrugged. ‘She hasn’t admitted she told lies about Peter Taylor but Stephen and Margaret know it was just fantasy,’ he said. ‘They’ve written to the Taylors and apologised. Told them the doctor says she is unbalanced at present and can’t tell fact from fiction. Peter and his parents have been very understanding, Margaret told me.’

  ‘And has she been treated by a doctor – for her mind, I mean?’ asked Tony.

  ‘She’s been in hospital,’ said Terry, ‘but they’re saying as little as possible to me. I’m just annoyed that I was away and couldn’t stop Stephen going off half-cocked like that.’

  ‘The more I think about it, the more I wonder at him and Margaret,’ Anne said. ‘A few things they said here made me think they’d had trouble before with that girl. Not like this, of course.’

  ‘Remember Rilla going on about writing to people just when they were leaving?’ Gerry said. ‘Her mother said something then about pestering people and it always ends in tears.’

  ‘I don’t blame Margaret so much,’ Terry said. ‘She tries to be firm with those girls but Stephen undermines her and spoils them.’

  ‘You know what he said to me, Terry, when I phoned them about this?’ said Anne. ‘He said, “My little girl is highly strung but she’s not a liar” but evidently she is.’

  ‘Stephen was always a fool,’ John said bluntly. ‘Look at the girls he went out with, even got engaged to. They could tell him anything, twist him round their little fingers, and he was too thick to see through them.’

  ‘He was always gullible,’ Tony agreed. ‘He was lucky to escape from some of the harpies he got mixed up with. I know we were all relieved when he settled with Margaret.’

  ‘I’m sorry for Margaret,’ Terry said. ‘When they’ve had trouble with the girls, especially Rilla, Margaret has all the worry. Stephen just won’t face facts.’