My Father, My Son

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Rachel hugged the trousers to her chest and stared after her for a second, dwelling on the words. Then she marched down the stairs to the kitchen.

  He was sitting on the sofa. Just sitting there, staring at that blessed photo. The room was a shambles and the girls were shrieking outside in the yard, and there he was just sitting there like a dummy. She flew at him, still clutching the trousers. ‘What were you doing, telling Rosalyn she could wear these?’

  His eyes came up slowly from the photograph. ‘What?’

  ‘You needn’t think I’m going to drive myself into the ground while you idle here all day! I had enough of that while you were in France. Look! Look at the state of this room! Couldn’t you even wash a few cups?’

  ‘Rowena said she’d do it before…’

  ‘And what’s wrong with you, might I ask? She’s had more than her fair share to do, just as I have. You needn’t think you’re treating my house like the sergeants’ mess. I’m sick of coming in and finding you just sat there staring at that blessed photo. That’s all you ever seem to do, as though you and those soldiers of yours were the only ones to suffer in this war. There were others, you know! Your own son, for one. But could you care about that? No! You let his clothes be used as playthings.’

  At the mention of his son, he turned away. ‘I didn’t suppose Bertie would mind.’

  ‘And how would you know? You didn’t have to cope with his unhappiness when you were away in France!’

  ‘You think I don’t care what happened to our son?’ he breathed incredulously, the photograph resting in his lap.

  ‘And where were you when he needed you?’ she flung at him. ‘Playing at blasted soldiers in France!’

  ‘And what d’you think I’ve been bloody doing there?’ he yelled back at her. ‘Gaily striking matches one after t’other? Making meself doorsteps with half a pound of butter on each slice? Do you? Do you?’

  The madness in his eyes stopped her outburst. In a flash of discovery, it came to her – he had been killing people! They stood facing each other, he half-crazed, she wholly terrified. Then she began to back away from him.

  He saw the fear and showed instant remorse. ‘Rachel…’ His hand came out to her.

  But she rushed from the kitchen and up to her dead son’s room, where she shut herself in, breast heaving with fear and revelation.

  * * *

  Having heard the argument, the girls had quelled their noise and made themselves scarce. A short while later, Lyn crept back, first checking that her mother was not in the kitchen. Rowena was in the scullery, washing the cups. The door to the other room was closed. ‘Don’t go in,’ her eldest sister warned her softly. ‘Father’s upset. He wants to be on his own.’

  Lyn ignored this as was usual when anyone gave her an order. Closing the door behind her, she went to stand by the sofa. After hovering a moment, she said, ‘I’m sorry to get you shouted at, Father.’

  He pretended to be blowing his nose. ‘I can’t see why you wanted to wear trousers anyway, a pretty little thing like you.’

  She balked. ‘I don’t want to be pretty. I want to be a boy.’

  Russ shoved his handkerchief away. ‘Nay, that’s daft.’

  ‘No it isn’t. Boys are more important.’ Her hands twisted two portions of her hair into an even worse mess than it had been.

  He tried to smile. ‘Don’t let your mother hear you say that.’

  ‘She thinks so too.’ Her father said he was sure she didn’t. ‘Then why is no one allowed to go in Bertie’s room or touch his things?’ she demanded with jutting lip. ‘And why did he have a room all to himself while all of us have to share?’

  ‘That was only because, well, it’s not the done thing to have boys and girls sharing a room and Bertie had no other boy to share with.’ When Lyn reminded him of Charlie, he said, ‘That’s different – look, girls are just as important, you know. They grow up to be mothers. A funny old world it’d be if it were populated by boys, wouldn’t it?’ He took the gangly child on his knee. ‘Eh, poor old Spindleshanks. It’s my fault you got into bother. I didn’t think.’ He gave her a crushing hug. ‘Never believe you’re not important. You’re important to me and I know you’re important to your mother. She’s just… well she’s angry at me and she took it out on you. That happens sometimes. I’ll bet you’ve done it yourself, haven’t you?’

  After a short gap, she nodded. ‘I took it out on Charlie when Mother told him to take charge of us. It wasn’t really his fault, was it?’

  Russ did not answer, but gave her knee a final brisk rub and told her to go out to play. As she got off his knee she said, ‘If I ask you something, will you promise not to be mad?’ He smiled and gave his guarantee. ‘Well… the next time you look at your birds’ eggs would you let me do it with you?’

  ‘Oh… I don’t think I’ll have time to bother much with them now.’ Apart from not having the slightest interest in them any more, he couldn’t bear to look at them. They reminded him too much of Bertie. Seeing her downcast face, he said kindly, ‘Now you’re twelve I reckon you’re quite capable of handling them, don’t you?’

  Her face lit up. ‘Aw, can I look at ’em now?’ At his smile of consent she pelted off to the attic. Russ stared after her for a moment, then wandered up the stairs.

  His wife was still in their dead son’s room. When he opened the door, she recoiled from him, apprehension on her face.

  ‘I just came to apologize,’ he murmured. ‘It was thoughtless of me.’ With that he closed the door.

  Rachel gazed at the wood, then turned her eyes back to her son’s possessions. By leaving his room as it was, turning it into a shrine, she was only prolonging the torment. Robert wasn’t coming back – a lot of boys wouldn’t be coming back… a lot of fathers too. There would be orphans needing clothes.

  Smoothing her skirts with her palms, she got up off the bed and after the briefest indecision began to take his clothes out of the tallboy. Jumpers, vests, shirts, trousers, all were transferred lovingly to the bed in neat piles alongside the unopened birthday presents. Socks, scarves… occasionally she would pause to rub some garment over her cheek or to slip her hand into a glove, flex the fingers, trying to feel that she was holding Robert’s hand… but one after the other his belongings joined the pile.

  The drawers were empty. She looked round. There were pennants on the wall. Her fingers unpinned them, then moved on to the pieces of military bric-a-brac scattered about the place. So much did she blame the Army for his death that she could scarcely bring herself to touch the badges and relics. Every item with which she made contact increased her anger and sense of loss. She picked up the school satchel and flung the wretched things into it, then covered them with the flap and squeezed the whole lot with such savagery that the buckles punctured her hands. Then she looked at the pile of clothes on the bed… and put every single item back into the drawers. The only thing to leave Robert’s room with her was the satchel containing the military junk, which she cast into the dustbin.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  It turned out that Jewitt did not call to see him. However, Russ’ concern that the lad had ‘bought it’ before his leave had come was assuaged with the coming of another letter from the private apologizing for not having had the time to visit. Although worried over Jewitt’s welfare, Russ was somewhat relieved that the private hadn’t come. His presence and conversation would only restir nightmares.

  His other recurring nightmare came home in the summer. Charlie arrived to a house almost as unsettled as the one he had left. No one was at the station to meet him, but then he had not expected this. After spending half an hour trying to get a cab, he gave up and deposited his case at the left-luggage hall, then walked home.

  They had just eaten lunch when he got there. All looked up from the table as a brown face peered round the door. ‘Charlie!’ Rebecca flung herself at him, to be greeted in avuncular fashion. He seemed to have matured even more since being at college.

&nbs
p; ‘Blimey, aren’t you tall!’ observed Lyn and received a similar remark in exchange.

  Rachel was looking down at the trousers which had become too short. ‘Tut! I should’ve bought the bigger size—never mind, I’ll try and lengthen them before you go back. Sit down, Charlie. Rowena, fetch his plate from the pantry. It’s a salad,’ she informed the youth.

  He thanked her and, disentangling himself from the girls, he sat at the table. ‘Hello, F…’ He clamped his lips over the rest of the word and fingered the cutlery, abashed. Russ nodded, then left the table to sit on the sofa behind Charlie. The latter picked up a knife and fork as Rowena put the salad before him. She had altered greatly too – almost a woman. ‘Most of that’s from Mrs Daw’s garden,’ she told him. ‘Except the dandelion leaves; we picked those.’

  ‘Do you like tomamotatoes?’ asked Regina. Charlie laughed and said he did. ‘So do I.’ She looked at his plate so enviously that he was forced to spear a piece of tomato and pop it in her mouth.

  ‘No more!’ Rachel warned her, and to Charlie. ‘You eat that up.’

  Rhona was whining, ‘Mother-r, mother-r.’

  ‘Shut up,’ said Beany.

  ‘Mother-r, tell Beany to stop saying “shut up”. Mother-r…’

  Rachel had been concentrating on Charlie’s manly appearance. As another, ‘Mother-r!’ irritated her ears she snapped, ‘Oh, Mona, do shut up!’

  Lyn covered her mouth and sniggered. Rachel looked at her in annoyance – then realized she was guilty of using the adulterated name and was forced to splutter a laugh. Everyone else laughed too, except Russ, who had been too busy thinking to hear the joke. Even after their hot exchange he still found it impossible to speak about Bertie to his wife – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking about him. Sometimes he looked at Rachel, trying to guess if she were thinking of their son too, but didn’t dare to ask her, for fear that she would want to know more… and then he would have to tell her he had killed her son.

  Lyn suddenly noticed something about her elder sister. ‘Eh…’ She prodded at Rowena’s chest. ‘You’re getting doodahs.’

  ‘Get off!’ Rowena lashed out, blushing crimson.

  ‘Rosalyn, please leave the room at once!’ commanded her mother.

  ‘But…’

  ‘I will not have such talk in this house! Up to your room until you have learned more polite conversation.’

  Lyn obeyed, leaving behind a period of embarrassment. Charlie drove his teeth into his meal so that he wouldn’t laugh – he had noticed them too. After a while the questions resumed. Rachel and her daughters assailed him for information about the college. Only his father showed no interest. On exhausting his own news, Charlie asked for theirs.

  ‘Mr Daw’s been wounded,’ provided Becky. ‘He’s had his leg off.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’ve just seen him.’ Charlie pressed a last strip of bread into his mouth and brushed his hands. ‘I forgot to say.’

  ‘Here?’ Rachel pointed at the floor.

  ‘Yes, some men were helping him indoors as I came in.’

  Rachel turned to her husband. ‘Oh, there you are, you’ll have something to do this afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll let him get settled in before I go… Maybe later on. I don’t expect he’ll want crowding.’

  ‘Will you take us for a walk, then?’ asked Beany.

  ‘Aye, maybe.’ Russ lit a cigarette and listened to his children make plans with Charlie for the afternoon.

  ‘Oh Lord!’ Rachel remembered. ‘Ella won’t be in yet. I wonder if I should take him any dinner? She never mentioned anything about him coming home today, I wonder if she knows? We can’t leave him sitting helpless with nothing to eat.’ Disappearing into the scullery, she set about remedying this, and in ten more minutes took the resulting meal round.

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t give you anything hot,’ she told Jack and made to put the plate on his lap then, rethinking, placed it on the arm of the chair. ‘We didn’t know you were coming. Ella will be surprised, won’t she?’

  He nodded and thanked her. She tried to keep her eyes fixed to his so that she would not appear to be staring at his infirmity. Then, without asking if he wanted one, she set about making a pot of tea. Both said little until the tea was poured. Rachel clasped her hands uncertainly.

  ‘Right, is there anything else I can get you before I go?’ At his shake of the head she told him that Ella shouldn’t be long now. ‘I’ll go then… Russ said he’ll be popping round later, when you’re settled in… bye, then.’

  Jack said a taut goodbye. When she closed the door he put the edge of his hand under the plate and sent it spinning across the room, contents and all.

  * * *

  ‘I thought you’d still be nattering next door,’ said Rachel to her husband when she got home that evening. She smiled at the girls who, being off school, had prepared tea. ‘How did you find him?’

  ‘I didn’t.’ Russ felt her enquiring glance but did not return it. ‘I haven’t been.’ He took a seat at the table.

  She paused in tying her apron strings. ‘You mean to tell me you’ve been sat here with nothing to do all afternoon and couldn’t drag your idle body ten yards to see how your friend is?’

  Charlie slunk into the scullery; there was going to be a row.

  Russ waved a dismissive hand. ‘He wouldn’t want to see me.’

  ‘How do you know if you never go and ask?’

  He turned on her. ‘Because I don’t want to bloody see him! I don’t want to sit looking at him with his leg blown off!’

  Her face creased into disblief. ‘What? Fancy saying a thing like that about a man! You make me sick. If I can put aside my grievances to help him I’m sure you can!’ She hauled a chair out and sat at the table. The children looked down at their plates. ‘The poor man’s been sat there all on his own…’

  ‘I’ve been on me own as well.’

  ‘Then you should know how he feels! He was the one who saved your life when you lost your marbles!’

  ‘Don’t tell me what he did – I know what he did!’

  Beany’s mouth trembled. Under the table Rowena felt for her hand and gripped it.

  ‘And this is how you repay him? Letting him sit all alone because you can’t bear the sight of his leg?’

  Russ shot from his chair and thrust his face at her. ‘Because he reminds me, you silly cow! I’m trying to forget it, to put it all behind me, but how can I when he’s sat there with his leg ripped off!’ He had shocked her into silence with his language. ‘And him!’ He jabbed a vicious finger at Charlie. ‘How can I forget when he keeps turning up?’

  Rachel found her voice. ‘Don’t you bring Charlie into this! He’s been here doing his bit like the rest of us. He’s done more in this war than you ever have. You, who swanned off without a thought, leaving us to live in penury!’

  ‘Are we moving house?’ Beany’s tremulous lips enquired of her sister, who squeezed her hand and shushed her.

  ‘And don’t change the subject,’ continued Rachel. ‘We were talking about…’

  ‘My friend! Yes, I know! You were always quick to remind me he was my friend and not yours, so just mind your own business!’

  ‘A funny way to treat your friends!’

  ‘I’ll bet he feels the same as me!’ raged her husband. ‘Go on, go ask him! He won’t want to sit looking at me and remember the blood and the shit and the stench!’ As she reeled from the table in disgust he shouted, ‘Aye! You’d frigging swear if you’d seen little lads with their guts hanging round their ankles!’ He was almost screaming. ‘Rats picking the meat off your best pal’s skull!’

  Rachel slapped her hands over her ears. ‘Stop it! Stop!’

  He was breathing heavily, gripping the back of a dining chair and leaning the upper half of his body over it, about to shower her with more filth… when he heard Robina sob, and gazed at his children in horror. ‘Oh, Christ!’ He unclamped his hands from the chair and raised them to his mouth. The eyes that
stared over them were bloodshot and full of self-recrimination. But he could say nothing, and stumbled up to his room.

  Rowena leaned over to curl her arm round her mother, who sat pale and speechless. Charlie pulled out his handkerchief and dried Regina’s tears.

  ‘I hate me father,’ said Lyn vehemently.

  * * *

  The next time Russ spoke to his wife, it was to tell her he was going to make the effort and get back into the running of the shop. Rachel wondered whether it was her words or Charlie’s presence that had finally driven him back but, needless to say, did not argue.

  It was strange being at home all day again. On the first morning when Russ had gone and the children were out playing, she paced about wondering what to do first. Then the thought came to her that in three years there had not been a spring clean, not a proper one, so armed with dusters, soap and water she began in the attic and worked her way down. It was when she was in the girls’ room that she came across it. All the pictures were unhooked from the walls and the cobwebs wiped from the backs of them. One of them concealed something more than cobwebs. Rachel frowned and her fingers picked at the brown sticky tape that secured a letter to the frame. Tearing it free, she put the picture down and took the letter from its envelope.

  My dearest Rachel…

  Something lurched inside her, making her flop onto the bed. But she read on…

  I hope that my genuine plea for your forgiveness will one day be answered. I still care deeply for you and our children…

  No, you don’t! Rachel’s eyes swam. She blinked furiously.

  I wish most desperately I was with you and Bertie…

  She screwed the letter into her fist and thumped her knees, lips pressed tight to contain the tears. Then she straightened the letter and forced herself to read to the end.

  I truly didn’t love her, you know…