The Forgotten Home Child

by Genevieve Graham

  Then she said, “I have to get to work.”

  “Right.”

  They headed back, and he wondered briefly if he should take her hand like she’d taken his, but she was adjusting her handbag, keeping her fingers busy. Maybe he’d read her wrong.

  When they reached the main doors of the hospital, he asked if he could take her to dinner after her shift. “What do you say, Irish? Last night didn’t really count.”

  “I would love that.”

  She agreed to choose the restaurant because he didn’t know any, and she promised to pick a different spot from the night before, which was a relief. He’d never go back to that place again.

  * * *

  After Winny went to work, Jack set out for the Veterans’ Centre. A nurse at the hospital had given him a couple of brochures about job opportunities that the government was creating for soldiers, and talking with Winny had given him a good feeling about what might be in store for him. One pamphlet in particular, called To Civvy Street—the Common Sense of Re-establishment, had caught his eye. If he visited the Veterans’ Centre, the brochure said he would receive a one-hundred-dollar clothing allowance plus a “rehabilitation grant” that gave him thirty days’ pay. After another month, he could apply for his “war service gratuity.” That wasn’t all, either. The brochure said he could get paid sixty dollars a month to go to school for a trade. For once, the system was taking care of him. He planned to take full advantage of the offer.

  Later that night at the restaurant, Jack told Winny all about it. “I’ve decided to become an automobile mechanic. It’s just about the only trade I haven’t learned yet, and I reckon automobiles aren’t going to go out of style anytime soon.”

  “That’s brilliant. Good for you, Jack.”

  “It feels good to start planning for the future.” There was an awkward pause, so Jack figured he might as well spit out the question that had been on his mind all afternoon. “What about you? I imagine you’re married by now. Who’s the lucky fellow?” He’d seen no ring, but that wasn’t unusual.

  Her cheeks bloomed. “Oh no. You’re not allowed to be married if you’re a nurse. Besides, it never really came up. No one really interested me that much, I’m afraid.”

  He nodded, holding his expression steady, but he was amazed. How could a woman this special still be single?

  “What about you?” she asked shyly. “There must have been someone. You’re far too handsome to be a bachelor.”

  He chuckled. “Being in the army, I haven’t had time. And it’s like you said, no one really interested me.”

  As they caught up, he watched everything she did with new eyes. He’d never noticed that freckle by her right ear before, or that one of her bottom teeth was slightly crooked. When she twisted a finger in one thick curl he noticed the different shades of brown threading through it, from a deep copper to almost black.

  After supper, he offered to walk her home, claiming he needed her to give him directions to Jeffrey’s. She agreed right away, and they walked slowly. Not once did they run out of things to say.

  She stopped outside a grocery store, closed for the night. “This is me,” she said, pointing at the windows overhead. “That’s our apartment.”

  He wondered if she’d invite him in, but she looked tired. It was the end of another long day for both of them. “Good night, Winny,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you for dinner,” she said. “I loved every minute of it.”

  On impulse, he bent and kissed her on the cheek, catching a whiff of floral perfume, somewhat faded from the day, and a touch of antiseptic from the hospital. When he leaned back, he noticed she hadn’t stepped away from him. With her chin lifted this way, she was close enough that he could feel her breath against his lips.

  “Sorry,” she said, shifting backward, her face flushed. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “I think I might,” he said softly, putting his hands on her waist. Did he dare? Would he ruin everything? He held his breath as he drew her in then gently kissed her lips, but she didn’t move away. Instead, her eyes opened, wide and warm and full of wonder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, and he was lost all over again. But this time he was just fine with being lost, as long as he was with her.

  After a moment, he reluctantly pulled away. “Now, Nurse Ellis, you need to get some sleep so you can save lives tomorrow. And I have school. Can I meet you after?”

  She smiled. “Yes, please.”

  He pressed his forehead against hers, a sense of peace settling over him. “Winny, I want you to know something. Finding you again, finding this with you… You’ve made my life worth living again.”

  She lifted onto her toes and held his face in her hands, then she kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Thank you, Jack. For coming back to me.”

  After watching her step safely inside, he turned down the street and headed towards Jeffrey’s place. That night, he pulled out paper and pen and wrote to Edward. He told him about Mary’s abuse and her death, and he told him about finding Winny after all that time. It was a lot of news for one letter.

  I still can’t believe Mary is gone. When Winny told me how she’d lived on that farm, I didn’t know what to do. It was too much. I failed both of them, and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.

  He put his head in his hand, trying to unravel the knot of emotion jammed in his throat.

  I gotta tell you about something else that happened tonight. Between me and Winny. You’re the only one left who might understand. I don’t know if there was something there all along between us, or if everything that happened over here drew us together, but I know I’ve never felt anything like it before. She’s changed everything for me. I have been so angry for so long, for Quinn, Cecil, and now Mary. I should be shaking with rage. But Winny’s turned my anger into something else, and I don’t know what I would do if it weren’t for her.

  I can hear you saying “Slow down, Jack. Go slow,” and I thank you for the advice, but I’m going to ignore it. This thing between Winny and me feels so right. It’s like we’ve been waiting for each other all along.

  Two weeks later, he made plans to take Winny somewhere special, knowing his first pay from the government would be in. He still had an hour left in class, but he was having trouble concentrating on the engine they were rebuilding. Winny was all he could think about. The other evening they’d talked in the park for hours, and he could have stayed there all night, listening to the ups and downs of her voice. He wondered if she knew she did that, let her voice fade to almost nothing then return again depending on what she was saying.

  He’d tried to imagine what life on the Adams farm had been like for her. If those people had been anything like Warren, they’d probably viewed her as less important than they were, and he hated them for that. Because the Winny he knew had always been more of everything, and she’d deserved so much more. He still remembered that day when he’d chased her through the market, trying to make her go faster, and how she’d argued with him as soon as they stopped despite the fact that she could hardly breathe. Small, feisty, sweet, and unique, his Winny.

  “I feel like I’m home when I’m with you,” she’d told him that day.

  Turns out she’d been right. He felt the same way.

  After picking up his pay, Jack stepped into the cold afternoon on his way to Jeffrey’s to get cleaned up and changed. He hadn’t yet met Charlotte, but he’d gotten to know Jeffrey pretty well, and he seemed to Jack like a real stand-up guy.

  “You look good,” Jeffrey said as Jack passed him on his way out. “You know, Charlotte’s been telling me how happy Winny is these days. You must be doing something right. Winny’s a special gal.”

  “She sure is.”

  By the time Jack was on his way to the girls’ apartment, the wind was coming in hard and cold, sharp with a threat of icy rain. Jack pulled up the collar of his coat and held onto his hat as he strode
through the streets. At the grocery store, he bought Winny a bouquet and it struck him that it was the first time he’d ever bought anyone anything before, other than a meal here or there. He smiled, knocking on Winny’s door, thinking about how good life could be.

  A stunning creature who could have given Lauren Bacall a run for her money answered his knock. Jack fumbled for something to say.

  “You must be Jack,” she said. “Gosh. You really do look—” She stopped and shook her head. “Oh, never mind me. It’s been a long day. Come on upstairs. Winny has told me about you for… oh, I don’t know how long. Years.”

  Jack smiled to himself. “You must be Charlotte.”

  He followed her up the stairs and into the girls’ living room, listening to Charlotte’s continuous chatter as they went. “Winny was my favourite person in the world back at Barkingside. She took care of me.” She faltered slightly and turned to face him. “Her and Mary. I’m so sorry, Jack. About your sister.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond. “Thank you.”

  Her eyes went to the bouquet in his hand. “How lovely! Shall I put them in water?”

  “Sure,” he said, handing her the flowers. “Winny’s not here?”

  “She’s a little late, but she’ll be here,” she said from the kitchen. He heard the water running, then she came back out with the flowers in a vase. “She’s always covering for someone else. That’s our Winny.”

  Spotting an ashtray on the table, he reached for his cigarettes and offered one to Charlotte.

  “Thanks,” she said, leaning in when Jack lit a match. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Who’s that?”

  Jack looked up, startled by the unexpected sound of a little boy’s voice.

  Charlotte caught her breath then rushed over to the boy, tossing an apologetic smile Jack’s way. “Billy, dear, didn’t I tell you to stay in your room?”

  He looked about six years old. Dark hair, serious frown. “Yeah, but who’s that?”

  “This, this is Jack,” she said. “And he’s a friend of—”

  The latch rattled, and Winny entered, sweeping her hair out of her eyes. Billy rushed ahead and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “Mummy!”

  Jack felt all the air leave his lungs.

  Winny met his gaze, her eyes swimming with regret. “Jack, I—”

  She had a child? And she’d kept him a secret?

  “I have to go,” he said, stepping around her.

  “Oh please, Jack. Don’t go. Can’t we—”

  He wheeled toward her, shock thick and solid in his throat. “What? Can’t we what? Talk? Because, correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we had everything out in the open by now. I thought you were done lying to me.”

  “Wait, Jack. Please. We can talk—”

  Without another word, he pulled open the door and left her behind, his heart in a thousand pieces.

  thirty-two WINNY

  Winny lay curled on her bed, a pillow over her face to muffle her sobs. She’d only just found him, and he was already gone.

  After Jack had left, Billy had been all over her, wanting to know everything about the man at the door. All she’d said was that he was an old friend. It wasn’t as if she could say, “Oh, that’s your Uncle Jack. He’s your dead mum’s brother and the man I love.” No, she thought wryly, that would not have been appropriate.

  She heard a soft knock at the door. “Can I get you anything?” Charlotte asked.

  “Cyanide,” Winny moaned into the pillow.

  The mattress dipped as Charlotte sat down. “I brought you water. Shall I pour it through the pillow?”

  Winny blinked up at her friend through burning eyes. “Thank you,” she said, sitting up.

  Charlotte waited while Winny drank the full glass, sympathy in her gaze. “What are you going to do?”

  “Maybe I won’t have to do anything. He’s gone.”

  “Do you think he’s gone for good?”

  “He didn’t look pleased, and I can’t blame him for that.”

  “No, he didn’t.” Charlotte stared off into space. “Gosh. I can’t get over how much he looks like Mary. They could have been twins. And Billy… How could Jack not see it?”

  “I reckon he wasn’t paying much attention to Billy.” She put her hands over her face. “Oh, God. The way he looked at me. I’ll never get over that, Charlotte.”

  They could hear Billy in the other room, singing to himself, interrupted briefly by the buzzing of toy airplanes. The problem of how to tell Jack about Billy—and what to tell him—had always hovered in the background, but Winny had been so busy being happy she hadn’t wanted to think about it. Now it was too late. If she told him Billy was her son, he’d want to know who the father was. If she lied about being married, it would be a hard lie to live with if she and Jack ever ended up together, which she had to admit was probably unlikely now.

  A part of Winny wondered what would happen if Jack ever found out the awful truth about Billy’s origins. If he learned that Billy was his own flesh and blood. He’d understand then that the boy was as much of an orphan as he was. Would that help him get past his anger? Or would he look at Billy and see only the man who had raped his sister?

  Mary had been right all along. She couldn’t tell him the last part of the story.

  “It’s better that he’s gone,” she said.

  “He’ll come back. He was just surprised.”

  Winny threw an arm over her eyes. “No, it’s all right. I love Billy more than my own life. If Jack isn’t here, we can all carry on as if he’d never come back. Maybe it’s better that way. At least I know he’s alive.”

  Except, of course, it wasn’t that easy. She’d loved Jack before, and now she was in love with him. He’d always been a part of her. That hole in her heart was back and deeper than ever.

  * * *

  Winny had the next day off, and she went about her business in a daze, cleaning the apartment, mending a tear in Billy’s trousers. When it was close to noon, she and Billy went for their Saturday walk to the park, but she was distracted, hoping for a glimpse of Jack at every street corner.

  “Can I have a cookie?” Billy asked as they drew near to the bakery. Such a smart little boy. He knew the area as well as she did.

  “Of course,” she said. “But only one. We don’t want to spoil your supper.”

  “And one for after supper, too. We’ll need four. Two for you and two for me.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

  “Is your friend coming back? Should we get one for him, too?”

  She swore he could read her thoughts sometimes. “No, he won’t be coming back.” Then, because she couldn’t help herself, “Would you like it if he did?”

  “No. He made you cry.”

  She squeezed his hand gently, wishing he’d never seen any of that.

  They carried the cookies to their regular bench in the park and sat to enjoy them. Billy wolfed his down in seconds then sprinted toward the swing set. While he laughed and called for her attention, flying through the air so his hair fluffed in the wind, her eyes drifted over the other children, to the girls with their skipping ropes and the shouting boys on the carousel. Mothers and some fathers sat on the sides of the playground, in ones or twos, their pretty clothes and shiny prams a sign of their comfortable place in the world. She felt the familiar rise and fall of her pulse as she rode a wave of jealousy, but it was short-lived. Billy wouldn’t exist in the shadows like she had. She was doing everything she could to give him a life filled with love, just like Mary wanted.

  “Mummy! Watch!” He climbed the monkey bars, and she held her breath as he hooked his knees over one then carefully released his hands and hung upside down.

  “He’s pretty good for such a young boy,” a woman said, stopping by Winny. She was immaculate, dressed in a neat new coat and shoes to match. “Did his father teach him how to do that?”

  “No,” Winny replied, leavin
g it at that.

  “Say, didn’t I see you in a nurse’s uniform the other day?”

  “Yes, I work at the General.”

  The smile wavered. “And you have a son? You’re married?”

  As a nurse, she wasn’t supposed to be married. As a mother, she was supposed to have a husband. The old lie rolled off her tongue. “I went back to work after his father died overseas.”

  “Oh no! In the war?” Pity flooded the woman’s eyes. “You poor, poor dear. So many good men killed over there, fighting for our freedom, and to think he left you behind with a child to raise on your own. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why?” Billy had run over on his silent feet. “Why do you feel sorry for my mummy?”

  “Because your father—”

  Blood rushed to Winny’s face, and she grabbed Billy’s hand as she pushed past the woman. “Come on, Billy. We need to get home.”

  “Already?”

  “Yes, already.” She dragged him behind her for the first few steps, then he trotted to catch up, questions bubbling.

  Winny had needed this sharp reminder. She had a place in the world, but that place was not here, with the regular mothers and children. She wasn’t married. She wasn’t Billy’s real mother. She didn’t belong in the park, smiling and enjoying Billy’s happiness. Her life was a lie and always would be. No wonder Jack didn’t want her.

  “Slow down, Mummy!”

  “Sorry,” she said, checking her pace. Now that they were away from the park, she felt safer.

  He tugged on her arm, alarmed. “We forgot to get a cookie for Aunt Charlotte!”

  “That’s all right,” she assured him. “She won’t mind. She can have mine.”

  When they reached their front door, she put the key in the lock and let Billy turn it—one of his favourite things to do—then they walked up the stairs to the apartment. The first thing Winny saw was Charlotte’s coat, carelessly tossed over the nearest chair. Something must be wrong. Her friend was fastidious about being neat and tidy.