Sing As We Go

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘There’s no need. If I’m honest you’re relieving me of an encumbrance I never really wanted in the first place.’

  Kathy stood up. Mindful of his position in the community, she said, ‘You – you’ll want it done properly though, won’t you? Legally?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll instruct my solicitors in the morning.’

  ‘There’s no need for Willow House to be involved, is there? I don’t want him to go back there. Please – don’t send him back there.’

  ‘I wouldn’t think so for a moment. Besides, if what you’ve told me about that place is true – ’ he held up his hand as she opened her mouth – ‘and I’ve no reason to disbelieve you, then I think I might ask my solicitor – who is a good friend of mine – to look into the place. It sounds to me as if it’s not being run properly. Whether they’re doing anything against the law, I’m not sure, but it ought to be looked into. I can’t have something like that going on in my area.’

  Kathy almost laughed aloud. It was his reputation he cared about, not the welfare of the unmarried mothers and their children. But she said nothing. At least if it got the authorities to look at Willow House, it didn’t matter how it came about – just that it happened.

  ‘So – so what about James?’

  He shrugged. ‘You keep him. Just let me know your address so that I can send the papers through for you to sign. I expect it would be better if you and your fiancé were married first. Is that possible? I mean he’s not too ill?’

  ‘No, no. We can be married straight away, and I’m sure the people who’ve looked after James while I’ve been away won’t mind keeping him a little longer. That’s if you’re sure . . . ?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure.’ Henry laughed and there was an undoubted look of relief on his face as he added, ‘And you’re welcome to take all his belongings too. All the nursery furniture too, if it’s of use to you.’

  ‘That’s most generous of you.’

  He shrugged and added, ‘It’s of no use to me.’

  He turned and left the room, heading across the hall towards his study. Kathy watched him go, feeling a fleeting stab of pity for the man. It probably wasn’t needed. Henry Wainwright would be happy enough in his career and maybe, some day, he’d meet someone else who’d fit his exacting requirements in a wife. But now . . .

  Kathy’s legs suddenly gave way beneath her. She sank down on to the sofa and gave way to tears of thankfulness.

  Forty-Four

  Kathy spent the following morning packing up all James’s clothes to take with her. She would arrange for the nursery furniture to be collected when she knew where she was going to be. Then she called a taxi, thankful that Mrs Talbot was not due to come that morning. She didn’t want to get involved in lengthy explanations to the woman, yet, if she’d been there, Kathy couldn’t have left without a word. The woman had been kind to her. Silently promising herself that she would write to the housekeeper, Kathy carried her cases out to the taxi when it drew up at the gate.

  The driver helped her to load them and Kathy climbed in. She took one last look at the house where she had spent the last few months. As the taxi drove away, she did not look back.

  ‘Is James all right?’ was her very first question. ‘Oh, I can’t wait to see him.’

  ‘He’s fine, my dear. He’s asleep just now, but let me have a look at you first.’ After their first greeting, Jemima held her at arm’s length and scrutinized her face. ‘You look wonderful, Kathy,’ Jemima greeted her, kissing her cheek. ‘The change has done you the world of good.’

  ‘Oh, Aunt Jemima, more than you could begin to guess. I’ve so much to tell you, but – ’ she hesitated and the light in her eyes was suddenly overshadowed – ‘if you don’t mind, I ought to tell Morry first. I owe him that much.’

  There was an unspoken question in Jemima’s eyes, but she nodded. ‘Of course, my dear. You’ll find him in the cowshed. It’s almost time for evening milking.’

  Morry was herding the cows into the byre for milking when Kathy pulled on the spare pair of wellingtons that always sat by the back door and crossed the yard towards him.

  ‘Kathy!’ The delight showed plainly on his round, beaming face.

  ‘Morry,’ she said softly and submitted to his bear-hug and a kiss on her cheek. Impulsively, she kissed him back and then wondered if, yet again, her impetuosity was giving out the wrong signals.

  ‘Morry – dear Morry. I want you to be the first to know, Tony’s alive. I’ve found him.’

  ‘Alive? Oh Kathy, that’s marvellous. Wonderful news.’ He gripped her hands and his smile was even wider, if that were possible. Kathy searched his face anxiously but there was not a trace of disappointment or resentment, either in his eyes or in his voice. He was genuinely happy for her, and so glad to hear that the young man was not dead after all.

  ‘Oh, Morry,’ Kathy whispered again as tears filled her eyes and she leant her face against his shoulder. ‘You’re so good.’

  ‘There, there.’ He patted her back. ‘You know I only want you to be happy, Kathy love. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.’ Unbidden, the image of Muriel’s face came into her mind. She and Morry were so alike in their unselfishness.

  And her tears flowed even faster.

  ‘Now, come along, this won’t do. I want to hear all about it, but you’ll have to come into the milking shed with me. Some of these poor creatures will burst their udders if I don’t get to them.’

  Kathy drew back and dried her tears. ‘I’ll help you. I don’t think I’ve forgotten how to do it.’

  Morry laughed. ‘I’m sure you haven’t. It’s like riding a bike.’

  They followed the beasts into the long shed and herded them into the stalls. Then they sat back to back to milk a cow each so that they could talk. The cowshed was warm and cosy, the only sounds the contented chewing of the animals, the occasional swish of an impatient tail and the staccato sound of the milk spraying into the buckets.

  She told him everything and when, at last, she fell silent, Morry didn’t speak for a few moments.

  ‘I can’t understand why Tony’s mother doesn’t want to see him. Like you, I’d’ve thought she’d have wanted nothing more than to take him home and care for him.’

  Kathy shook her head. ‘I don’t understand it either, and I think poor Tony’s bewildered and hurt by it too. His father writes regularly and he’s been to see him, but his mother doesn’t want to know.’

  Morry gave a wry laugh. ‘Well, like Aunt Jemima always says, “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good.” Mrs Kendall’s not going to ruin your next wedding, is she?’

  Kathy turned on her stool to stare at him for a moment and then she burst out laughing.

  *

  Jemima and the rest of the Robinson family were just as genuinely thrilled as Morry had been. She went through the whole story again while she cuddled her son on her knee. She could hardly drag her gaze away from him, and she couldn’t believe the incredible turn in her fortunes. She had found the man she loved, they were to be married and they had been given their son back.

  ‘We’ll get married down south,’ Kathy told them. ‘Tony has another operation coming up so he won’t be able to leave hospital for several weeks. Maybe even months. I shall take James and get lodgings near the hospital and we’ll be together.’

  ‘What a lovely ending, cariad,’ Betty said, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘Well, almost. I still can’t help feeling sorry for his poor mother. I know she’s been spiteful and possessive, but she must be in shreds. And as for his poor father, he must be torn in two. Wanting to be loyal to his wife, yet desperate to see his son. Poor, poor man.’

  Three days later, Kathy walked up the drive to the hospital.

  ‘My, but you’re heavy,’ she chuckled to the child in her arms.

  It was a bright, warm day and she knew most of the mobile patients would be out in the grounds. And she knew just where to look for Tony. In his favourite spot, sitting on the fallen tr
ee trunk in the shade. She had almost reached him before he heard the soft sound of her footsteps on the grass. He turned, the right side of his face towards her, and for a fleeting moment it was the old Tony, the handsome unblemished face of the man she loved, turning to her, standing up and holding out his arms. And now she saw his whole face, saw the ravaged left-hand side and knew she loved him even more if that were possible.

  She stood before him and, with a catch in her voice, said, ‘This is your son. This is James.’

  The look of incredulous joy and wonder on his face swept away any lingering doubts Kathy might have had. All the misunderstandings, all the heartache was forgotten. They were together at last and whatever the future held for them, they would face it – together.

  Forty-Five

  Over the weeks that followed their poignant reunion, Kathy was carried along on a tide of ecstasy. She scarcely knew what was happening in the war, she was so totally wrapped in her own little world of happiness – a happiness she had never expected to find. But somewhere in the back of her mind lurked a feeling that all was still not quite right. That her happiness was not as complete as she had expected it to be.

  They were married quietly in the local church, the congregation made up, almost entirely, of patients from the hospital. To crown their happiness, Tony’s final operation was a success and the great man declared that there was really nothing more he could do for him. His face would always be scarred and he would never regain the full use of his left hand, but, as Tony himself said, he was better than a great many.

  ‘We can go home,’ he told Kathy. ‘Back to Lincoln.’

  Suddenly, Kathy realized what had been niggling at her. Tony’s parents. Betty’s words had stayed with her. The generous woman could still find it in her huge heart to feel pity for the lonely, twisted woman. But why? Why didn’t Beatrice want to see her son any more? He had come back and yet she was still acting as if he was dead, as if she wanted him dead.

  Understanding came to her as she was bathing James on the last evening before they were due to travel north back to Lincoln. Gently, as she soaped his smooth skin, she revelled in its perfection. She watched him splash in the warm water, listening to his happy chuckles. He was growing to be just like his father. He was going to be so handsome, so good-looking . . .

  The realization came slowly, seeping into her mind. Now she understood. Beatrice had so loved her perfect boy that she couldn’t bear to see him injured, couldn’t cope with the tragedy of his marred good looks. All her life she’d wanted perfection. She’d been born into the wrong branch of the Hammond family. Though spoiled by her wealthy uncle, she’d still been the poor relation. In her eyes, her husband had disappointed her and now her son, on whom she’d pinned all her hopes, had failed her too. Beatrice was a bitter and twisted woman, but gazing now on her own son, feeling her love for him overflow, at last Kathy began to understand.

  As she lifted the slippery, wriggling child out of the water and wrapped him in a warm, fluffy towel, she whispered, ‘We’re going home tomorrow, my precious boy. And do you know what? You’re going to meet your grannie and granddad.’ Her smile broadened as another thought entered her mind and she murmured, ‘And what your other grandparents will say, I daren’t think.’

  But in her heart she already knew. Her father would grumble and grouse for a while, but then the realization would dawn on him. He had a grandson. A boy! At last, he had an heir for his family’s farm. Kathy’s smile was tinged with sadness. Perhaps, for once in her life, she had done something that would please her father. And as for her mother? Well, the moment James was placed in her arms she would feel a happiness she hadn’t known existed. No, the problem – as always – was Beatrice Kendall.

  Their long journey took them to Sandy Furze Farm, where Tony was welcomed into the warm and loving Robinson family. Even Morry shook his hand warmly, slapped him on the back and joked, ‘Just look after our Kathy, else you’ll have the whole of the Robinson family after you.’

  They stayed for a week, during which time Tony and Kathy travelled backwards and forwards to Lincoln to find somewhere to live. ‘And if you think I’m going to live in a flat on Mill Road, you can think again,’ Kathy teased him.

  They found a small terraced house on one of the streets leading off Monks Road, not far from where she had lived with Jemima, and signed the contract to rent it for a year. Then they went into Hammonds’ store and sought out Mr James. He was in the office that had once been Tony’s.

  The shock and then the delight that spread across the older man’s face touched Kathy. ‘Anthony! You’re alive! My God! This is wonderful. Come in, come in, sit down. How are you?’

  He ushered them into his office, sat them down and sent his secretary scurrying to unearth a bottle of champagne. ‘This calls for a celebration. And if I’m not mistaken, there’s another reason, isn’t there? You’re married?’

  Shyly, Kathy nodded. She glanced at Tony and gave a slight nod, silently giving her permission for the rest to be told.

  Tony cleared his throat and said with a mixture of embarrassment and pride in his voice. ‘We – er – we have a son. His – his name is James.’

  The man stared at them for a moment and then threw back his head and laughed aloud. ‘You’ve named him after me?’

  ‘Well – to be honest, not exactly,’ Kathy said. ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘Let’s hear it then.’ Mr James stood up as his secretary returned with a dusty bottle and three glasses. As he popped the cork and poured it out, Kathy explained.

  ‘I’m so glad it’s ended happily for you both – for the three of you, I should say. But there’s only one thing that disappoints me,’ he added, looking directly at Kathy. ‘That you didn’t come to me. I would have helped you, my dear. But perhaps, then, you didn’t know me well enough. I expect I was just Mr James, owner of Hammonds, and rather aloof?’

  Kathy blushed and nodded.

  ‘Then I’m sorry because, truly, I would have stood by you.’ Now he looked sternly at Tony. ‘And as for you, young feller, well, you’re damned lucky to get a second chance to put the fiasco of that wedding right.’

  ‘I know,’ Tony said simply.

  Mr James was smiling again. ‘Just one thing,’ he said wagging his finger at the pair of them. ‘I insist on being the boy’s godfather. Oh, and by the way,’ he added with deliberate casualness, ‘when can you start back to work?’

  Tony and Kathy gaped at him.

  ‘You mean – you mean you’ll employ me? Looking like this?’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  *

  They had been living in Lincoln for a month. Tony had settled back into his position at the store and James Hammond had given him more responsibility than ever, happy to return to his privileged life of golf and fishing.

  ‘I think most people are getting used to me now. One or two customers still stare a bit. I suppose I shall always have to put up with that.’ He smiled lopsidedly. ‘The kids are the best though. They’re so open and unafraid. They just come up to me and say, “What’s the matter with your face, mister?” It’s the parents who are embarrassed and try to shush them.’

  He sat in silence, lost in his own thoughts. Kathy took a deep breath. ‘Talking of parents, we should go and see yours. We should take James to meet his grandparents.’

  The bleak look in Tony’s eyes as he glanced at her twisted Kathy’s heart, but she was resolute.

  ‘They – they don’t want to see me.’

  ‘That’s not quite true, is it? I’m sure your father does.’

  ‘But Mother doesn’t.’

  Kathy sat on his knee and put her arm round his neck. Gently, she said, ‘No, but she’d like to see James, now wouldn’t she?’

  He rested his cheek against her breast. ‘You really mean you’d risk taking him to see her?’

  ‘What do you mean, “risk”?’

  ‘She’ll want to take him over. Replace me with him. He’s very like me. Li
ke I used to be,’ he added wistfully.

  Kathy slid off his knee and knelt in front of him. With gentle hands she cupped his face and looked straight into his eyes. ‘Tony Kendall, after all I’ve been through, do you really think I’m going to let anyone – anyone – take away my son from me again?’

  Tony grinned sheepishly. ‘No, I don’t.’ He was thoughtful for a moment before he nodded slowly, ‘All right. We’ll go. But on your own head be it.’

  The following Sunday was a fine, bright day as they walked up the hill to the Kendalls’ home, Tony carrying James in his arms. Kathy rang the front door bell and they waited, glancing at each other a little nervously until they heard George’s slow and heavy tread approaching on the opposite side. The door opened and the man standing there stared at them, his glance going from one to another and then coming to rest, finally, on the child in Tony’s arms. His expression softened and tears welled in his eyes.

  ‘Hello, Dad,’ Tony said at last. ‘Aren’t you going to invite your grandson in?’

  Wordlessly, as if for the moment he had quite lost the power of speech, George pulled open the door and gestured to them to step inside.

  ‘Is Mrs Kendall in the front room?’ Kathy asked, taking the lead.

  George nodded.

  ‘Then I’ll go and see her on my own first. You take James into the kitchen and introduce him to his grandfather properly.’

  Without waiting for a reply, Kathy opened the door to the left of the hall and went into the room.

  Beatrice Kendall was lying on the sofa, looking for all the world as if she hadn’t moved a muscle since the last time Kathy had seen her. Except, Kathy recalled, the very last time she had seen the woman had been in the church, feigning a heart attack.

  At the sound of the door opening and closing, Beatrice opened her eyes and lifted her head. She squinted against the light from the window to see who had entered.