Time Passes Time

by Mary Wood

As she sat down, she said, ‘You must come and stay with me in York. I haven’t a huge, grand place now, but there is plenty of room and I still retain some staff: my butler who you have met, and maids, and . . .’

  Staff! That sounded alien to his ears. Staff in a house? When she’d initially said about her staff, and a gentleman had been in attendance to their needs when they first came up here, he had just thought it was a service supplied by the hotel. But she was talking as if she had a rook of them at home! Oh, he was used to hired help, as most of his friends’ families had them, but only because both mom and dad had high-flying jobs. His grandmother was talking of a butler, a personal maid, a cook and household maids, not to mention a gardener and chauffeur – and all just for her! It was as if he had stepped back in time.

  ‘But, you know, I still own a house in the country. Tarrington House. Again, not large. It is in Breckton, near to Hensal Grange, but it has been shut up for many years now. My daughter-in-law couldn’t bear to go back to the area after she lost Terence, and Theresa would never visit. I went to York to stay with friends after Terence died, and there just didn’t seem any reason to go back, so I bought a place there of my own and where at least my grandchildren would be brought to see me. I’m sorry, I haven’t said, but my daughter-in-law Louise – a lovely person – is also estranged from your mother. I don’t know the reason. I do know they did have a terrible screaming row not long after Terence died, but what was said that was so bad they cannot be friends, I don’t know. But whatever it was, I have to accept that Louise will never forgive your mother.’

  ‘Never is a long time; things can change. But what you haven’t told me is where my mother is.’

  ‘No.’ She leaned back.

  ‘You’re tired, Grandmama. I’ll go now. I have waited a long, long time to find out about my parents. Now I have, and have had the amazing discovery that one of them is alive, and I have met you, I can wait for anything further. You rest now and I will come back later. We’ll have dinner together.’

  ‘No. I should tell you now. Let us get everything over with. This isn’t going to be easy for you.’

  Not easy! If ever there had been a way to describe how he felt, he would not have used those two inadequate words. The news of what had recently happened to his mother, and her present state, had devastated him.

  ‘I’m sorry, dear. It is breaking my heart, and yet I cannot go to her. I – I only seem to make matters worse for her. In her head, I am someone to be avoided. Like I said, I think your existence may have something to do with that.’

  ‘But why? Oh I know she couldn’t have told you back then, but when attitudes changed over such things and, well, the war produced more than a few of us illegitimate children.’

  ‘Not in our class, dear. We didn’t behave in that manner. Well, we did, I suppose, but we were very discreet about it.’

  He almost laughed. Discreet! His mother had been discreet, keeping him a secret for all of her life, and look where it had got her. But then, there must be something more. He couldn’t accept that his birth, coming as it did from a deep love, could be the full cause. He could see that what she had been through and not knowing where he was would contribute to her mental condition, but not to want to see or be with her own mother! For a moment these thoughts caused him to doubt this lady, who he’d come to love deeply in such a short time. Was she telling him everything? Yes, she was. One look at her distress and he knew that. She loved her daughter, and she was mystified and very, very hurt as to why she was shut out of her life. ‘I know you don’t like shows of affection, Grandmama, but I need a hug.’

  ‘So do I, my darling grandson, so do I.’

  This sealed his love for her, but more than that, it cemented his faith in her and his sorrow for what she had been through.

  ‘Now, darling,’ the endearment as she sat down again warmed him, ‘you coming into our lives will have to be handled with care. I know you want to rush over to the hospital, declare who you are and your undying love to your mother, but you can’t. There are channels you must go through. Her psychiatrist, for one – well, the most important one, of course – but what I am saying is, you have to handle this with care. You said in your letter you want to visit your father’s memorial?’

  ‘Yes. He was shot in a prison camp. There is a memorial erected to him in France – well, not just to him, but to all those who perished. I will feel more at peace when I visit, I am sure. But first I want to go to Poland. I want to see if I can get to know my father more – what he was like, where he lived, played and went to school. I want him to be real, not just a dead father. I want to talk to people who knew him – that is, if there are any still alive.’

  ‘Then that would be the best thing for you to do right now, to get on with your plans, and I do hope they meet your expectations, dear. In the meantime, leave me to pave the way for you with your mother – and, of course, your aunt Louise and your cousins. I think Louise will be very happy to meet you, and won’t hold anything against you that she has inside her where your mother is concerned, and though a shock to your cousins, I know they are going to like you. But everything needs preparing so that it all goes smoothly. We can’t just impose you on them. You understand, don’t you?’

  Being someone that everyone had to prepare for wasn’t a comfortable place for him, but he had to let her handle the situation how she felt best. ‘Yes, it hurts that my turning up to claim my rightful place in my family and to be by my mother’s side is something that needs the way paving for, but I do understand, Grandmama.’

  ‘I know, darling, but that’s the way it is. I’ll take that rest now, and then later we will enjoy dinner. I will have it served in the dining room through there,’ she pointed to a closed door on the right of her. ‘That way we can continue to enjoy our privacy and we can exchange stories with each other – stories that are not clouded by the facts of who everyone is and what their present situation is, but ones of our lives so that we get to know each other, really know each other, and how we tick.’

  ‘Ha – that was an Americanism, “tick”. I’m educating you already! Tick, indeed! I would have expected you to say: “how we have conducted our lives”.’

  Again they laughed, and it lightened the heavy feeling that had threatened to descend in him.

  ‘Go on with you! You have your Uncle Terence’s cheek.’

  This didn’t sit right in him, and it worried him. He knew nothing about Terence, yet he had a feeling he wouldn’t have liked him and that he was responsible for a lot of what was wrong in the family. Maybe it was just the fact that he’d taken his own life with seemingly no reason to do so that made him think this way. Because there must have been a reason, and whatever it was, he felt sure that it was somehow connected to his mother. Otherwise, why the row between her and Terence’s wife, which had never healed, even after all this time? This family of his was turning out to be very complicated. But it didn’t matter; they were his family, and he had found them. That was all that mattered.

  Dinner further cemented their relationship, and it saddened him to learn all that he had missed. On parting, they left their next meeting open, with him promising to ring her often. This wasn’t an empty promise, but one he’d find hard not to keep, because now he’d found her he didn’t want to ever lose her.

  And now, he thought, he felt ready to go to Poland – to do as he’d said to his grandmama: to trace his father’s life before he traced his death. To see if there was anything left of the factory his family had died in, and see if there was a possibility of having something erected on the spot, so that everyone would know what had happened there. This is what his grandfather had asked him to do, and if that wasn’t allowed, he had to find the local Jewish cemetery and to buy a plot. He’d promised to take some of the dust from the factory site and bury it there, and then to sort out having it landscaped and a stone erected with all the names on it. At first, he was just to have his own family names engraved, with their ages, dates of birth,
and approximate date of death. His grandfather had given him a list. Once that was done, he was to advertise it in the local paper with the full story and ask any relative of anyone who had perished in the same fire and who wanted their names on the memorial to contact his grandfather by letter with the details. Although this was an important mission for himself as well as for his grandfather, more than this, he wanted to walk the streets where his father had played, visit the school he’d attended and, if it was still there, the synagogue in which he had prayed. Maybe he’d even find some surviving friends of his father’s – after all, his father hadn’t left Poland until he was a young man of eighteen. That would make any of his peers who were still alive around forty or forty-one. It would be good to meet them. Yes, that’s what he’d do: build a picture of his father, his nature, his likes and dislikes, make him real. Then he would go to France and mourn his death.

  Seventeen

  Love is a Promise

  Patsy 1963

  Ian leaned over Patsy. Everyone had left now, but he’d stayed on a while, just sitting watching her chest rise and fall, gaining reassurance with every breath she took. ‘Patsy. Can you hear me, love?’ A small flicker under the swollen lids told him she could. ‘They’ve found Lizzie, and she’s safe. They will be bringing her here.’

  The dry cracked lips formed a little smile and mouthed the word ‘good’. Just like he’d seen Harri do, he took some cotton wool, dipped it in the small bowl of cold water, and gently dabbed her lips. She was trying to speak again. Leaning closer, he could just hear her saying, ‘Thank you . . . love.’ He dared not hope that she meant anything by the endearment. ‘There’s more news, if you’re ready to hear it.’

  Her nod told him she was. ‘They have confirmed the woman’s body was that of that Rita whom you had phone calls from.’ There was no reaction to this. ‘And they have the man—’ at this, she gasped, ‘Th-they have him? Oh, th-thank God.’

  His heart hurt at how relieved she was. This man must have been the one to rape her before throwing her overboard. How was she going to come to terms with everything? ‘it’ll be alright lass, I’ll make it alright, I promise.’

  ‘Ian . . . I – I’m sorry. I . . . know how you feel. I . . .’

  He didn’t want to ask what she was sorry for. He had a good idea she meant she couldn’t return his feelings. ‘Don’t be, love. There’s none of us as can help how we feel. Stop worrying and there’s no need for guilt. I’m no catch, anyroad. Ha, you were cut out for better things than me, lass!’

  One unbandaged finger moved. He took hold of it. If only he could take hold of the whole of her and love away her pain and hurt.

  ‘Harri?’

  ‘She’ll be back in a little while. We’re staying in a hotel nearby, and Mam took her back there to rest, so don’t worry. Everything will—’

  A knock on the door interrupted him. On answering it, he’d thought to see one of the medical staff, but Greg King stood there, unsteady on his feet.

  ‘Hope you don’t mind. They’ve discharged me and I wanted to come and say goodbye. Is Harri not here?’

  ‘No, but she wouldn’t have wanted to miss you.’

  ‘May I?’

  ‘Aye, of course. Patsy, the man who saved you is here. Greg King.’

  A tear fell down Patsy’s cheek. Greg took hold of the finger Ian had just released. ‘Hello, you. I’ve come to see who it was that slashed my face.’ His voice held laughter, and Patsy smiled.

  ‘Th-thank you . . . S-sorry . . .’

  ‘Seeing you is all the thanks I need. They tell me you are going to make a full recovery, though it may take time. I don’t live far from here, so I’ll pop in and out when I can to keep a check on you. And, if that sister of yours will let me, I’d like to take her out to dinner.’

  Patsy seemed to wince at this, and Greg looked over at Ian, a worried look on his face. Ian shrugged. He knew with how close they were that Patsy did sometimes show a bit of jealousy if anyone took Harri’s attention from her, but decided to make a joke of it. ‘Everyone Harri goes out with has to be vetted by Patsy first.’

  ‘Ian!’

  Patsy’s voice came out quite strong.

  ‘Uh-oh, I’m in trouble now! Sorry, Patsy, but it’s true and they’re both the same. They watch out for one another.’

  Patsy shivered. ‘Don’t take . . . n-notice.’

  ‘Ha, I may if you were able to do anything about it. And I gathered how close you are by what Harri said, so don’t worry. You look cold . . .?’

  Greg pulled the blanket up further round her. He touched her hair. ‘You have the same colour hair. It’s beautiful.’

  It was Ian’s turn to feel a pang of jealousy. This man had an easy way with him that he himself didn’t possess. He brushed the thought away and told Greg, ‘Not only that: though you can’t see it at the moment, they’re almost identical at times. It’s uncanny. And they were born on the same day an’ all.’

  ‘I know. Harri told me. Well, I’d better go. My mum and dad have come up to stay for a few days. They’re waiting outside. I’ll pop in tomorrow, Patsy.’

  ‘Yes . . . please do. And thank you. Th-thank you.’

  ‘You don’t have to keep saying it. I’m just glad I was where I was, though at the time I wished myself a thousand miles away. But we’re safe, and that’s the main thing. Is there news on the other girl and the body?’

  Ian told him what he knew.

  ‘That’s good about the girl. I feel bad about the woman, but there was nothing I could have done. Still, apart from that, I have a good feeling that all this will sort itself, and I’m really glad I’ve met you all. See you tomorrow.’

  When he’d gone, the silence seemed to hang uncomfortably between them. Patsy said something he didn’t catch. When he leaned over her, she said, ‘Shouldn’t tell him . . . th-that.’

  ‘It was only a joke – sommat and nowt. Don’t fret yourself. He took it as it were meant. Anyroad, it seems Harri has told him everything. They’ve really hit it off.’

  ‘Not funny.’

  ‘Oh, Patsy, I’m sorry. Don’t get upset with me. I’ll not be able to take that.’

  ‘I – I’m tired. Le-leave me now.’

  His heart dropped. She wanted him to leave. Why had he been so stupid as to even comment? But, no, he’d done nothing wrong. ‘Well, you can just sleep, then. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you on your own, and I’m not fighting with you either.’

  She made a noise that sounded like, ‘Oooooooh!’

  He laughed. ‘Yes, I am getting out me pram. So there, Miss Likes-Everything-Her-Own-Way!’

  She smiled at this, and the moment had passed. Perhaps he should be more forceful with her in the future. Maybe that’s how she liked it. As he watched her relax, something in him settled in a good place. The sight of the state of her and the thought of what had been done to her cut him in two, but it didn’t take away from the lift in spirits and hope that had sparked up inside him at this moment.

  Harri met Ian standing outside Patsy’s room when she came back an hour later. ‘What’s to do, are the nurses with her?’

  ‘No, they’ve just brought that girl Lizzie to see her. It seems that she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to go and get a pot of tea and leave them to it.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll just pop me head round and say hello. Mam and Dad are here. They’re in the waiting room. I said I’d come along first and then give them a turn. If Patsy and Lizzie want to be alone, I’ll come along and join you all in a mo.’

  The scene that met her as she opened the door tugged at her heart. A frail girl, who didn’t look much younger than she and Patsy, sat in a wheelchair. She had long, blonde unkempt hair, her face and body looked skeletal, and her eyes were huge in the bony structure of her high cheekbones. Her look held surprise. The way she twisted her head back and forth to look at Patsy and then back at her, told of why. ‘Hello, I’m Patsy’s sister. Me name’s Harri. A
nd aye, me and Patsy are alike. You’re Lizzie, I take it? How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m doing okay, thanks. That is . . . well . . .’

  Harri’s heart went out to the girl. She moved into the room and took her hand. Kneeling down, she said, ‘You’re safe now. I’m sorry to hear of your losses. Your brother and Rita . . .’

  ‘It hurts.’

  Taking Lizzie in her arms as best she could, she held her while painful sobs racked the girl’s pitifully thin body. ‘Lizzie, love, it’s good to cry, to get it out, but I’m worried for you. Let’s get you back to your bed and ask for sommat to help you sleep, eh?’

  ‘I want to be with Patsy. She’s the only one in the world that I know now, well . . . want to know. She helped me. It turned out bad, but she was only trying to help me and Rita.’

  There was a plea in Lizzie’s voice, as if she was trying to convince herself as well.

  Patsy stirred. ‘Lizzie?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here, Patsy. I – I thought yer were dead. Rita’s . . .’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  Patsy looked from Lizzie to her and said, ‘Harri, I did a daft thing. I wanted revenge. I couldn’t shake that feeling from me.’ Then to Lizzie, ‘I’m sorry, Lizzie, love. I’m so sorry.’

  Lizzie put her head down.

  For a moment Harri felt an anger surge through her. Patsy wanting revenge had triggered a series of events that had left so many devastated, but then Lizzie lifted her head again and surprised her by putting another perspective on it.

  ‘Things would have been worse for me if yer hadn’t come. Ken were going to take me away with him. He would have carried on giving me that stuff, and Rita wouldn’t have been a match for him to stop him. He . . . he would have killed her, I’m sure of it. But you saved me, Patsy. Anyway Rita didn’t help. She should have let yer call the police, but instead she thought to save her own skin and frame yer. None of us could know that me dad would turn up . . . It’s me that is sorry, Patsy. Sorry yer walked into that.’