Whilst she had been upstairs, Bertie had arrived. His mother gave little rebuke other than to say he should stay with the others in future. There was no mention of the military parade. Charlie, having been told the good news by the girls, was waiting to greet his father, face beaming. But Russell’s eyes went straight to his other son. ‘My, Bertie – long trousers! You’ve grown into a real man.’ There was a sudden flush on Bertie’s face which Russ deciphered as pleasure. But when the boy spun and left the room he knew it for fancy and sagged into a chair.
The girls hounded him for tales of the war, which he tried to deflect as best he could. Strange that it was the girls who asked questions and not Charlie, who used to be so eager to learn about his father’s career. Russ chanced a look at the boy’s face. At once the crooked smile was there… but the unguarded expression that had preceded it had been studious with just a hint of compassion – not a normal boy’s expression at all. But then what was a normal boy, Russ asked himself as he turned away, thinking of the youngsters in the trenches. He had been much relieved to find that Dobson had not suffered in the gas attack, having received a letter from the lad while he was in hospital. He still did not know who had saved his life, though.
Their questions wearied him. After lunch – in which Bertie refused to participate – he asked his wife if she would mind him having a lie-down. ‘I was up early this morning. I’m feeling pretty worn out.’
To the children’s chagrin he slept all afternoon. There was discussion as to what they could do to amuse themselves. Sometimes, Mother would take them for a walk but today she had boarded herself in the front parlour. Biddy was absent too, visiting her parents. Rowena wished she could get away as well; she just wanted to sit in a quiet corner and think of a way to heal her parents’ marriage. Instead, being the eldest girl, she was forced to look after these rowdies. She suggested they go and see the Army horses tethered on the greenbelt, which met with approval.
Becky said that she was just going to the lavatory and they should go on ahead. However, after they had gone, she made no move to leave the kitchen, consumed with thoughts of her father. What must it feel like to be gassed? A girl she knew had had gas at the dentist but she hadn’t needed to go to hospital after it. Was it anything to do with her father being a sinner? Had it been punishment? Poor Father, he looked so ill…
In the parlour, Rachel’s thoughts were with him too, though they were much angrier thoughts. Then she sniffed. That smells like… another sniff… gas! Jumping up, she opened the door. The smell grew stronger. ‘That stupid Biddy Kelly…’ She marched into the kitchen – and there was Rebecca with her nose to the gaspoint!
Oh no, not another one! She ran over, dragged the suicidal girl away and turned the gas tap off, then threw open all the doors and windows, finally catching hold of Becky and pushing her out into the yard, ordering her to ‘Breathe deeply!’
Becky, who had only taken a few sniffs of the gas, recovered very quickly. Seeing she was all right, Rachel sighed her relief and helped her back inside to sit on a chair. ‘Oh, my God!’ She clutched her head, cursing her husband. ‘Is he trying to smash this entire family – Rebecca, love, why didn’t you say you were upset instead of trying to kill yourself?’
Becky looked perplexed. ‘Can gas kill you?’
‘Of course it can!’ Then Rachel frowned. ‘Isn’t that what you were trying to do?’
‘Oh no,’ replied Becky. ‘I just wanted to know what Father felt like.’
Rachel’s emotion changed to anger. ‘For heaven’s sake, you could have blown the house to smithereens and us with it! You stupid girl!’ With another oath, she grabbed the door handle and underwent a rapid opening and shutting process, trying to help the gas on its way. Becky hung her head. This attitude irked Rachel and, reaching for her daughter, she thrust her into the yard. ‘Off you go – out! Until you can behave sensibly!’ She continued her attempts to waft the gas from the house for a while longer. Then, out of spite for her husband who lay sleeping upstairs, she slammed the door loudly – see how you like that! Coming back here, putting stupid ideas into the children’s heads – and stormed back to the parlour, where she fumed for a good while longer. The token was wasted; Russ, used to sleeping through much worse, never heard the door bang, but slumbered on until teatime when Charlie was sent to fetch him.
The boy opened the attic door, then, seeing that his father still slept, lightened his footstep and approached the bed. Forgetting that he had been sent to rouse Russ, he just stood there looking down at him. Sleep was the one time when his father didn’t look upon him with resentment – Charlie didn’t want to spoil the moment. Yet even in repose there was something in his father’s expression that saddened him – a crease to the brow, spelling a torment that even sleep could not erase… Russ’ eyelids flickered, lifted slightly, then came wide awake at the sight of the brown face that smiled down at him. Once his mind became adjusted, he relaxed, ‘Oh, it’s you,’ yawned and stretched. There it had been again – that look he had seen downstairs. Charlie was balanced on the edge of his bed. With the latter pushed against the wall, Russ was unable to roll off it without asking Charlie to move. He lay there for a spell, hands tucked beneath head, and fixed bleary eyes on the boy who had caused so much destruction. ‘Looks like you’re going to be here for a while, then.’
‘Just while the war’s on,’ answered Charlie.
‘That could be years. Years and years…’
‘Oh no, the papers say we’re winning,’ said Charlie with certainty. ‘I’ve been following all the battles and I know all the French names. I’ve got this chart, well, it’s like a map and you stick flags into it to mark our progress and—’
Russ interrupted. ‘Apart from that, what else have you been doing with yourself? Does Mrs Hazelwood let you go out now?’
‘Oh yes, I go to church and I sometimes walk with the girls to school then take a stroll on the Knavesmire. Then I come back and help Biddy.’
‘In the kitchen? That won’t help your education much.’
‘Mrs Hazelwood allows me to get books from the library.’
Russ shook his head. ‘You need a proper education. I wonder if we could get in touch with Father Guillaume. He’d tell us the best place to send you.’
Charlie felt pleased that his father cared enough to want to send him to the best school. ‘Will it be in York?’
‘Shouldn’t think so.’ Russ started to raise himself, forcing Charlie to get off the bed. ‘Anyway, come on, we’ll go down and have some tea, then I’ll take a look at that letter he sent, see if it’s got an address.’
‘It has,’ Charlie told him as they went down. ‘I’ve written to him myself.’
Bertie heard the two chatting as they passed from the landing to the stairs. He had been shocked at the sight of his father, who looked skinny and old. And with that one sighting all the pain and the unrest had come rushing back. Bertie didn’t know what to do. So he stayed where he was.
Russ didn’t need to ask why his son was not at the tea table, but said to his wife, ‘I’ll take mine in the other room if it’ll make things easier. I wouldn’t want Bertie to feel ostracized.’
‘What’s that mean?’ asked Beany.
Rachel seated herself, ignoring the child’s question. ‘He won’t come down, locked himself in his bedroom. I don’t know where he found the key. It’s been missing for ages. I’ll take him something later. It’s no use forcing him to sit with us if he doesn’t want to.’
‘Mother, what’s “ostracized”?’
‘I was just saying to Charlie that he should be at school,’ said Russ, waiting to be offered food like a guest. ‘It could be ages before the priest comes for him. He’s been without education for a year. I don’t suppose Father Guillaume was expecting it to last this long – the war, I mean.’
‘Father, what’s…’
‘Robina, do be quiet!’ snapped Rachel, frowning her annoyance both at her daughter and Russ’ statement. ‘I w
on’t have him going to Robert’s school and causing more trouble for him!’
Bitch! thought Charlie, what do I want to go to his school for? He felt a reassuring hand on his knee and smiled at Becky.
‘I was thinking along the lines of a Catholic establishment,’ said Russ. ‘That’s what he’s always been used to. Anyway, Father Guillaume can help us with that one.’ He asked Rachel if he might see the letter the priest had sent.
‘I don’t see why not, it was addressed to you. I’ll get it after tea.’ She saw that he was not eating and added, ‘Well, you’d better help yourself.’
Later he read the letter, and said that as the priest was now in Belgium he might as well wait and give his reply to the Red Cross when he got back there himself. Here, the children expressed acute dismay. He assured them that it wasn’t so bad and promised to come and see them again as soon as he could. ‘And I’ll tie a label round my neck this time so I don’t get lost again.’
‘Might you bring the doll next time you come?’
He looked down at Beany. ‘I will indeed – I would have brought it this time if I hadn’t come home on a stretcher. I have brought one or two souvenirs, though I don’t know if they’ll interest you lasses. They’re only German badges and whatnot. I brought you something,’ he told his wife, and went off to fetch it.
On being offered the silver mug, Rachel merely sniffed. ‘Looted, I suppose.’
‘The house had been shelled. It seemed a waste, leaving all that good stuff lying around. If I hadn’t picked it up someone else would’ve.’
‘Oh, I’m quite sure they would! Have none of you soldiers any scruples?’
‘No, they give us lime juice to prevent that.’ Russ lectured himself – you should know better than to waste a joke on her.
A small hand felt its way into his. He smiled down at Becky. ‘Can I whisper?’ came her request.
‘It’s not very polite to…’ began Russ. Then bent down and put his ear at her disposal. ‘Oh, go on then!’
She shielded her words from the others with a hand, ‘I don’t mind you being a sinner, Father,’ and drew back to smile encouragingly.
‘Oh… well, thank you, me love.’ Discountenanced, he kissed her hand and straightened his spine. What on earth had their mother been telling them?
‘That tooth fairy didn’t come,’ said Lyn, testing him.
‘Didn’t he?’ Russ arched his eyebrows. ‘The varmint! I’ll have to have another word with him.’
He had failed the test. Lyn looked him in the eye. ‘Bertie says there isn’t a tooth fairy. He says it’s you who takes our teeth.’ She saw his face flinch. ‘He says you tell lies.’
Her sisters flexed their shoulders, anticipating an outburst from their mother, but the voice was merely cool. ‘If you’ve finished eating you can go out and play until supper.’ Rachel wasn’t going to defend him – he was a liar.
Russ watched them trail from the room. When they had gone he turned to his wife and said quietly, ‘I sent her a little note… you must’ve burnt it?’
‘If it was in an envelope addressed to me I will have done!’ Rachel opened the door of the scullery and told Biddy to take a tray up to Master Robert.
After Biddy had passed through on her way to the stairs, Russ murmured, ‘That’s what she thinks of her father… that I’m a liar… because you burnt the letter.’
‘Don’t blame me for your inadequacies as a father!’ Rachel whirled as Biddy came back down to say the boy wouldn’t answer. ‘Really, Biddy! I don’t know what I pay you for!’ She grabbed the tray and made for the stairs.
However, she too failed to receive an answer and after several harsh raps – ‘Robert, I demand that you open this door!’ – was forced to return to the kitchen. ‘That boy is so infuriating at times!’ She slammed the scullery door on Biddy, who had gone back in to wash up.
‘I hoped he might be over it by now,’ replied her husband sadly.
‘And so he was until you showed your face!’ Rachel started to walk away, then stopped and clapped a hand to her brow. ‘Oh my God, I haven’t told you that, have I?’ Ordering him to sit down, she gave a résumé of the shooting incident.
He interspersed her monologue with groans. When she had finished, he gave a prolonged sigh and tilted his skull over the back of the dining chair, facing the ceiling. ‘I knew he’d taken it badly, but my God… well, that’s made my mind up about sending Charlie to school.’
‘It’s going to cost money, you know. The uniform and everything.’
‘I’m quite prepared…’
‘You’re quite prepared? Who’s slaving to earn that money, might I ask? You don’t imagine that ten of us can exist on the pittance we get from the Army?’ He asked if she had not received the money for the car. ‘I’ve no intention of breaking into that! This war might last for ages.’
‘We’re not that hard up, Rachel – and you do want to be rid of him, don’t you?’
‘I certainly do! But completely, I don’t want him coming back here every evening.’
‘I’m talking about a boarding school, you’d only have to see him in the holidays – and not even then if you didn’t want to. Let me arrange it for you before I go back.’
‘Make penance for your guilt, you mean.’
‘Whatever you like,’ he replied tiredly. After a gap, he had a sudden thought. ‘Have you had any more trouble from that NSPCC woman?’
‘No – and it’s no thanks to you I might add! Why did you have to go and tell her he’d gone back? I would’ve looked a proper fool if she’d allowed me to get my words out. After she said what you’d told her I had to go along with the pretence.’
‘I thought I was doing you a favour.’
‘God protect me from your favours! It’s only because this war’s still on that I haven’t heard from her and if the schools weren’t all to pot you can be sure we’d have some busybody banging on the door enquiring about your precious Charlie’s education – but are they bothered about my children’s schooling? Oh no!’ The children had only just been allowed back into their normal school buildings.
Russ lost patience. ‘Well, if we get Charlie into boarding school we won’t have to worry about that, will we?’
Instead of snapping, she mulled this over. ‘I agree it would be worth the money. It would help Robert too, having him out of the way.’
‘I made the suggestion as much for Robert as for you. I can’t bear the way he looks at me… d’you think if I took that tray up he might let me in? I’d like to have the chance to talk to him before I go… just in case.’
She gave him a scornful look. ‘I think you should leave well alone.’
‘But he isn’t well, is he?’
‘Just leave my son to me! I know best what his needs are.’
‘Rachel, I’m… I’m frightened I’m going to die before I can make it up to him. I was nearly a goner this time… I couldn’t have him spending the rest of his life hating me.’
‘That’s all you’re concerned about, isn’t it?’ Her eyes were vicious slits. ‘That you’ve slipped in his estimation. You don’t really care what Robert’s going through, you just want his forgiveness. If you genuinely cared for him as much as you make out then you’d see what your presence here has done to him – he was just beginning to settle down… Probing his wound isn’t going to heal it. Just leave him alone!’
He sat looking at her for a while, then enquired tiredly, ‘Would I be upsetting anybody if I went to bed?’
Her theatrical look at the clock forced him to explain, ‘I know it’s early, but we don’t get very much sleep on the front. We have to make the most of it while we can.’ He rose, shoving back the chair with his calves. ‘I’ll nip out and say goodnight to the girls.’
His daughters thought it was a huge joke that Father was going to bed before they were. ‘Aren’t you even going to tell us a story?’ asked Lyn as he turned to go in.
He looked back at her. The little face was aggres
sive. He came back and put a hand on the knobbly shoulder. ‘I did send the money for your tooth, you know, but it must have got lost in the post.’ He wouldn’t tell her that her mother had destroyed the letter.
‘Why did you always pretend that it came from a fairy?’ she demanded.
He sat on the garden wall, hands rubbing knees. ‘It’s nice to believe in magic, isn’t it?’
She took a while to decide that it was. ‘But it’s not nice to lie.’
He moved his head in agreement. ‘Sometimes though, Lyn, it’s kinder to tell a lie, just a white one so people don’t get hurt.’ He dug into his pocket for a sixpence. ‘There you are, that’s for your tooth – with interest.’ Two more of the girls said that they had lost teeth while he had been away. Russ laughed and delved back in his pocket. ‘I suppose you’d all better have one.’ A handful of change was withdrawn and the coins selected.
‘Don’t forget Charlie,’ Becky told him.
How the hell could I forget him? thought Russ and handed each child sixpence. ‘That can take the place of a story tonight. I’m a bit tired. But I’m going to be here for a full week so we’ll have plenty of time for stories.’
‘And football matches?’ suggested Lyn.
‘Aye, good idea,’ nodded Russ, then kissed them goodnight. Charlie stood twiddling his sixpence, watching enviously.
Before her father had reached the door, Rowena chased after him to say in a low voice, ‘I would’ve replied to your note, Father, if Mother had given it to us.’
Russ looked stern. ‘How did you know about that – I hope you haven’t been reading your mother’s letters?’ Realizing what she had done, Rowena blushed. ‘I didn’t mean to… I was just worried that we hadn’t heard from you… do you know that Mother’s been burning your letters?’ He nodded. ‘I only took one – and I didn’t read it properly, I just wanted to know you were safe. I was going to write to you but I didn’t know where to send it. Could you tell me so I can write when you go back?’
He touched her face. ‘It’s a very kind thought, lass, and I’d love to hear from you… but I think it might get you into trouble with your mother…’
My Father, My Son Page 38