The beautifully applied mask collapsed in disappointment. ‘Sorry, it’s just been so lonely here without you,’ Mary explained as she turned to go.
And then, of course, Nell felt awful. ‘Oh, make yourself useful and stick the kettle on then! I’ll be down in a minute or two.’
And for the next couple of hours she was forced to relay everything that Millie had said, Mary especially wanting to know if her sister had appreciated the gifts, and if anything had been sent in return, which it had.
‘I knew she’d send me rubbish,’ declared Mary, examining the item on top, a tea towel with an Aboriginal design. ‘When I sent her all that good British stuff.’
‘That’s from me, actually,’ said Nell through pursed lips. ‘You can give it back if it’s not to your liking.’
‘Oh no, it’s very good of you, I was just surprised it’s made in China.’ Mary showed her the label.
‘Yes, well, I think you’ll find that a lot of Marks and Spencer’s stuff is manufactured by foreigners now.’
I wish to God you’d go home, thought a weary Nell, so I can ring Killie and catch up with family news.
Then as if her prayer had been answered, the phone rang. Nell pounced on it. ‘Oh, hello! It’s one of Joe’s nieces,’ she gave whispered hint to Mary.
The latter showed reluctance to go. ‘I suppose I’d better make myself scarce then … See you tomorrow morning as usual?’
With a nod, Nell made herself comfortable to chat. But within a few seconds of Mary’s departure, her smile was to vanish.
‘I’m sorry, Aunty,’ Nell heard the voice at the other end say. ‘Bad news, I’m afraid … Aunty Beat’s died.’
After a little weep for the loss of her dear old friend, Nell blew her nose, then rang her daughter to pass on the sombre news. ‘She died the day after we flew to Oz. They thought it best not to wait for us to come back.’
At the other end there came a sniff. ‘I’ll come round,’ said Nina. And she hung up.
Three-quarters of an hour later, she entered her mother’s living room, where they both cried again.
Emerging from a red-eyed hug, Nina wiped her eyes with one hand, then held up a bottle of wine. ‘I’ve brought this.’
‘You know me too well.’ Nell got out two glasses, which her daughter filled with red wine. Then she took a large glug, before enlarging upon Beata’s demise. ‘They had her cremated, but they haven’t scattered her ashes yet.’
Nina’s eyes brimmed again, and she turned away with a sigh. ‘I’m not looking forward to that.’
Then they sat and talked of old times with Beata, the many kindnesses she had performed, the way she had sacrificed her own youth to look after one family member after another, the funny things she had said and done over many years. The box of photographs was brought out, that which always came out at such sad occasions, and they sifted through the old black-and-white prints, picking out ones that were especially nice, like that of Beata in her brand-new nurse’s uniform, an unflattering dress maybe, but the goodness and compassion shone out of that noble, beloved face.
More wine was drunk. Then Nell said, ‘I’ll tell you now, I don’t want to be cremated.’
‘Oh, don’t, Mam …’ Nina began to put the photographs away.
‘No, I’m not dwelling on it, I just want you to know. Your dad always said it was nice and clean, but it’s not for me. I want to go in the good earth – don’t spend heaps on a box, it’s a waste of money. Cardboard will do – or wicker. Chicken in a basket.’ She gave a frail smile at her joke. ‘I just don’t want to end up being blown away on the wind. I know it sounds silly, but I want there to be something left of me, in a particular spot, a grave and a headstone to mark where my bones lie.’
‘Right, can you shut up now or you’ll end up with a premature burial.’
And Nell did shut up then. But only for as long as it took for a trip to the lavatory. She brought with her another box when she returned – a hat box – though did not open it for a while, just sat with it on her lap as she stared unseeingly at the bird-of-paradise wallpaper, and commented in a flat voice, ‘It’s hard to grasp, life going on when you’ve gone …’
‘Oh don’t start again, Mam,’ begged Nina, who was beginning to fear for her mother’s sanity.
‘No, don’t be sad, I’ve had a good life – a useful life, I think. And I just want to make sure you know I’m serious about there being a grave, and a headstone for William –’
‘Yes, I get the picture. I’m sorry we couldn’t find him for you.’
‘It’s not you who should be saying sorry.’ Nell might well be prey to disappointment and anticlimax after the fruitless trip, but she pretended to Nina that it was only what she expected. ‘I’ve got a wonderful daughter and granddaughter, why did I bother wasting my life chasing rainbows? I might not have found him, but I know he’ll turn up one day, even if it’s after I’ve gone. I thought about writing a letter for you to give to him – should he be interested enough to come looking, that is.’
‘Course he will.’ Nina looked upset at having only platitude to offer.
Nell shook her head. ‘I don’t think I could bring myself to write it.’
Because to do so would be to accept that they would never meet, and also that she was going to die, and Nell did not want to die. Not for many years. She had her health, and her family, and perhaps great-grandchildren to look forward to. William would know she had loved him, one way or another.
‘Just give him this,’ she eventually said to Nina, and, taking the lid off the hat box, she displayed the gold chain containing Bill’s wedding ring and the scrap of frayed ribbon, and also showed her the watch. ‘That belonged to his father. The ribbon was from one of the bootees meant for him …’ Her eyes were slowly filling with tears, but she fought them to add, ‘His father’s letters to me, and mine to him, are in here too. I won’t give you them yet, but that’s where they’ll be …’
‘Right – now can we please talk about something else?’ begged her daughter, pouring another hasty glass of wine.
* * *
There was a long period of mourning over their dear sister-in-law and aunt, and added to it was a lot of unrest over Romy and her married man – at least married in name, for he was now living apart from his wife, having immediately moved in with Nell’s granddaughter, with the divorce pending. It was all very unpleasant, and Nell suspected she had not been told the half of it – but at least, having met Patrick, she could see he was not undergoing this lightly, and was a totally different kettle of fish to the roguish Hayden, and equally committed to Romy, for he had already bought her a wedding ring. Some might call it sordid. Nell did not like it either, but she could see they were madly in love, and hoped that everyone’s pain would quickly be salved – especially that of the little boy. It was impossible not to equate him with William, to imagine his confusion and bewilderment at being abandoned. Nell worried about him a lot …
But, in the middle of all this upheaval, came something completely unexpected and pleasant.
Gathering the mail from her doormat one morning, Nell sucked in her breath as she saw that one of the letters bore an Australian stamp – had Millie found something out about William? Still in the hall, she shoved the others under her arm and tore this one open quickly.
But she was immediately disappointed. ‘Dear Nina …’
Concerned to have opened her daughter’s private mail, she looked again at the addressee, then immediately rang Nina.
‘I’m sorry, Neen, I wouldn’t have opened it, but it was addressed to Mrs N Kilmaster, not Miss.’
The voice at the other end did not sound bothered. ‘Never mind, see who it’s from.’
‘I couldn’t read somebody else’s mail! But it might be about William, so can you come?’
‘What are you like! Can you just hold on to your excitement for an hour and I’ll come round – oh, hang on! Make that ten minutes, Romy’s just walked in, she can drive me.’
Nell was delighted to see her granddaughter looking so radiantly happy, the Australian letter coming secondary to their greeting. Following a round of questions and answers, she reached for the envelope. ‘Look, it was addressed to me …’
Nina immediately turned it over, and frowned over the sender’s name on the torn flap. ‘S. Schneider – who the hell is that?’
Nell caught Romy’s smirk. But the latter refused to voice her hunch, and just grinned as her mother began to unfold the three-page missive.
Turning at once to the back page, Nina said, ‘Oh …’
‘Who’s it from?’ Nell begged to be told.
Her daughter ignored her to read a few lines.
But then Nell saw her mouth fall open, and her own curiosity barked to be fed. ‘What is it? Tell me!’
‘It’s nothing to do with William …’ A punch-drunk Nina read on – then she seemed to come to her senses, and to realise how disappointing this must be for her mother. ‘Sorry Mam,’ she said quickly.
An inquisitive Nell continued to probe. ‘But who is it bloody-well from?’
‘I bet it’s Shane!’ Romy clapped her hands, wearing a look of triumph.
Her grandmother turned with a sound of disbelief. ‘The ranger?’
‘Well, he’s the only person we know in Australia whose name begins with S,’ said Romy.
‘What the hell’s he writing to me for?’ Nina looked and sounded amazed.
But the others thought they knew, and immediately began to rib her in a similar vein as before: ‘Hold my hand, I’m a ranger in paradise!’
‘Rangers in the night, exchanging glances …’
‘Behave, you daft buggers!’ Nina reprimanded the teasers.
‘No, we’re not, he really must fancy you, Mam!’ Romy and her grandmother were grinning from ear to ear.
‘How the hell do you make that out? We only met a couple of times and on each of them had a raving argument.’
‘A small misunderstanding,’ corrected Romy, who was thoroughly enjoying this, along with her grandmother. ‘And he did save my life.’
‘No he didn’t! Your nana chased that dingo away with her handbag! I hardly remember the bloke.’ Nevertheless, she was smiling, and had a look in her eye that Nell had never seen before in relation to a man, as she tucked the letter away in her pocket.
But the others hadn’t finished with this, Nell checking on his surname. ‘What a coincidence! You naming Romy after that actress of the same name, and now you might be Mrs Shane Schneider – my, that’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?’ And, adopting a nasal speech impediment, she underwent all manner of pronunciations, having the others in stitches. ‘Snane Sneider – Mrs Shnane Schneider – how will she bear it, Romy!’
‘When you’ve quite finished, the pair of you!’ scolded a laughing Nina.
Apologising, though still highly intrigued by this development, Romy gave a knowing smile. ‘So, are you going to write back to him, Mum?’
‘Keep your neb out – and you!’ Nina warned both of them, to a final burst of laughter before the matter was put away.
Being the secretive person she was, Nina was not to volunteer any information whatsoever about Shane, though Romy and Nell shared the belief that she had set up a correspondence with him. Neither of them were to interrogate, though, and with no mention of him again, the ranger jibes were quickly to fade.
Besides, other things were to happen before summer was out.
‘I’m going to be a grandma!’ It was Nina who exploded into Nell’s sitting room, full of beans.
Nell clutched her breast, and beheld her pregnant granddaughter who had come along too. ‘Oh, how marvellous – already?’
‘Yes, I told you it was Hayden to blame for firing blanks!’ Nina was not one for diplomacy. ‘And you’ll be a great-nana!’
Exclaiming in wonder, Nell launched herself at Romy’s joyful face, to give it a kiss and its owner a hug. ‘Congratulations, love – you’ve made my day! I knew you’d finally get what you wanted …’
How bizarre, thought Nell, to be celebrating over an unmarried mother, but how marvellous nevertheless that this truly marked an end to such stigma as she and Nina had suffered, and that this baby would have two parents who loved it, even if they would not be married in time for its birth.
‘Something else nice,’ grinned an elated Romy. ‘We’re allowed to have Patrick’s son with us for the weekend – we’ll bring him to meet you, if you like?’
‘I would like, very much!’ Nell could have burst with happiness.
Exhilarated though their visit left her, Nell tried to subdue herself when telling Mary about her great-grandchild, for her neighbour had only ever seen her grandson in a photo – even though she might brag about him being at Harvard, or whatever the blasted place was called.
And how did Mary repay this? ‘Oh, but it’s a shame that it won’t be your real great-grandchild,’ she stated. ‘You not having any real children of your own.’
Nell was so angry she did not know how to contain herself. Knowing well enough what she had done, Mary turned up a few hours later with a box of chocolates, though she received short shrift from Nell.
Which made her feel guilty when Mary suffered a mild stroke on her way out. Then Nell was back to her old self, reassuring the poor soul and making her comfortable, phoning an ambulance and going with her to hospital.
When she got home, she telephoned the daughter in America too, receiving the answer that Rosemary couldn’t come over right now … she had responsibilities, you see.
‘And haven’t you a responsibility to your mother?’ demanded a furious Nell, before slamming down the phone.
That apparently did the trick, because some days later Rosemary was to appear at Mary’s hospital bedside, at the same time that Nell was visiting. She was quite cool, shocking Nell with her callous indifference in stating that the house would be sold, and Mary would be moved to a nursing home. Nell pointed out that it had only been a mild stroke, and that if Rosemary didn’t want to be bothered, then she herself was quite willing to care for her neighbour when Mary was sent home. But Rosemary declined.
‘She only came over to put the blasted house up for sale!’ Nell fumed to her own more faithful daughter. ‘Didn’t even ask if I’d like a memento. Just said if I saw anybody creeping around it’d only be the house-clearance people. Then she buggered off back to America.’
And still Mary raved on to her sole visitor, Nell, about how wonderful Rosemary was to put her in this lovely home, and Nell had to sit and listen, week after week.
‘And I don’t suppose you get any thanks for it,’ said Nina.
‘Never mind, I’ll get my reward in heaven,’ replied her mother.
Meanwhile, she was to shower her goodness on the new neighbours who had taken over Mary’s house, inviting the parents and two little blond sons in for tea and homemade cakes. Though relations were to be less favourable when the boys began throwing mud at her door, just for the devilment of seeing her upset.
‘It’s like the blasted Village of the Damned,’ she complained to Nina then. ‘You tell them off, and they just stare at you with these piercing blue eyes … I said, “I’ll tell your father!” Well, much good that did. A few days later, there they are doing it again! That Ryan’s the worst – evil, he is, absolutely evil. I told him, if you do this again I’ll fetch a policeman – and do you know what he said? You can’t touch me, I’m only seven. My God, they all know their rights, don’t they …’
Nina was angry. ‘Move in with me,’ she urged her mother, ‘and leave the buggers to it. The garden’s far too big for you now anyway.’ Even though it was mainly shrubs, and Joe’s vegetable patch had been grassed over, it was a full-time job.
But, ‘No, it keeps me fit,’ said Nell, though she unconsciously rubbed her arthritic shoulder. ‘And they’re only kids, I suppose. They’ll get tired of baiting me eventually.’
Yet this was just one of many things that had b
egun to grind Nell’s optimism. Having taken Beata’s place as the last in the slot, she had no friends her own age any more. Of course, there were plenty of others with whom to chat, but it wasn’t the same as having someone who could empathise. Just going into town, for instance, had become an ordeal rather than a pleasure. It was all very well if one were a little old man – shop girls loved helping little old men – oh, isn’t he cute, she had heard them say, while she herself might have been invisible to the assistants whose conversation she interrupted, none of them seeing the irony in them grumbling about customers being rude, whilst one of them held out her palm for Nell’s cash without any acknowledgement of her whatsoever.
York itself was no joy to visit these days. What with most of the industry gone and tourism taking precedence, it had become like an outdoor museum in Nell’s opinion. Anything that was seen to deface the ancient city had been removed – which was somewhat crass, for the Minster, which could be viewed from all points of the city in Nell’s youth, was now obscured by concrete monstrosities. The Cattle Market that had been such a source of joy to little Nina had been flattened thirty years ago, its replacement built on the outer ring road – the latter being another sign of progress.
Admittedly, it prevented the old Bank Holiday snarl-ups, though Nell could not see that it had lessened the amount of delivery trucks that endangered her life as she tried to negotiate the narrow so-called pedestrian streets. Along with the market, the iron cattle pens had been removed from around the medieval walls, and replaced with grass, as had many, many more of her old haunts, all vanished under a tide of improvement.
Yes, the citizens did benefit in having all those old slummy backstreets tarted up, and the magnificent old buildings returned to former glory, but the strife involved in making one’s way through the crowds, the queues that snaked all around Coppergate Square outside the Viking Centre that had replaced Joe’s old place of work … it made Nell really cross and sad. Feeling downtrodden after another such experience, she abandoned her shopping trip and went to catch her bus home.
Alighting a stop earlier, she visited the post office, then walked the rest of the way, over the railway bridge to the estate. It was damp and dreary, the wind carrying the distinctive odour from the sugar-beet factory that smelled like a sickly blend of roast beef and sugar. Nell’s stout figure puffed its way over the bridge and down again, finally to turn the corner. There were few people about, apart from a man coming towards her: an ageing teddy-boy with half-mast jeans, a greasy elephant’s trunk hairdo, and a general down-at-heel appearance. What if her son was someone like this? She hoped not. She wanted better for William. Much better. But then she saw the teddy-boy suddenly turn to greet a boy who came running up to him – meeting him with such parental warmth and affection that it reversed Nell’s opinion – if he were her son, she really wouldn’t mind.
An Unsuitable Mother Page 62