Michael pulled down their case from the rack and opened the sliding door. The passengers in the corridor were moving past, single file, seemingly reluctant to let them out. Eventually the train emptied and they could move.
Leila stepped down on to the platform, but it was like stepping into a spacious black room for there was a ceiling and birds circled overhead. There were other trains too, neatly arranged in parallel lines, blowing off steam like long distance runners catching their breath after a hard race. Michael joined his wife.
As they approached the front of the train they began to bunch up together as if preparing to enter the narrow end of a funnel. One by one they squeezed through and found themselves in a large pen bounded by makeshift wooden fencing. Behind the fencing were rows of spectators. The emigrants stood silently and shouted with their eyes for their friends and families. Michael put down the suitcase while the English people looked on. He listened, fascinated, as up above a huge voice continually boomed out, talking about the trains, and the platforms from which they would be leaving, and the times at which they would be leaving, and the times at which they would be arriving.
A woman in a Salvation Army uniform came towards Leila and offered her a cup of soup. But Leila looked away, so the woman gave the soup to an old man; she watched over him as he drank it. Leila looked for her mother but could not see her. It was useless. And the truth was she did not now expect to find her among these English people, so she moved away.
After the black interior of the station the sharp daylight caught Leila by surprise. It was not a particularly bright day, but at least she felt able to breathe freely again. Once outside she looked at her mother's address while Michael looked at the cars and the traffic.
‘Which way is it to the address?’ Michael managed to ask the question without seeming in the slightest bit interested. Leila looked at him as if ready to give up now.
‘I don't know, Michael. I've never been to England before.’
‘Then maybe we better take a taxi.’
The square black taxis came about one every two minutes, and soon there was only a tall Englishman ahead of them. A taxi came and the man climbed in without glancing back. Then, as the taxi swished away, another one arrived. The driver rolled down his window.
‘Where to, guv?’
Michael read the scrap of paper with the address on it, then he stood half-questioning the existence of such a place. He offered the piece of paper to the driver.
‘Can't you pronounce this?’ asked the driver. ‘Quaxley Street.’ He leaned back and opened the door for them with his trailing hand.
‘Well, come on then, unless you want to stand out in the rain all day.’
The door had opened the wrong way. Leila bent down, carried Calvin in and sat at the far side. Michael eased his way into the back beside her and the driver slammed the door shut.
Eventually he spoke again. ‘That'll be £2 10 shillings, guv.’
Leila gave the man a £5 note. She checked the change carefully, folded it and put it away in her bag. She did not fully understand the sarcasm of his ‘Well, thanks a lot, missus’ but she did not care.
From the outside the house looked thin and flat, as did all the other houses on the street. It had two small steps up to the door and it stood three storeys high.
‘All this house can't belong to your mother,’ began Michael.
‘I don't know,’ was Leila's reply.
A small group of coloured children gathered in the street. Leila turned and smiled at them, coyly at first, then more confidently when they smiled back at her.
‘I going sound this bell and see what happens.’ Michael pressed the bell and waited. Nothing happened.
‘You think I should sound the next one?’
Leila jogged Calvin up and down in her arms, trying to keep both of them warm.
‘Sound it, then.’
Michael pressed it, then stood back. Almost instantly a window on the second floor flew open and an irate head snaked out.
‘What the hell it is you all want?’
The head belonged to a coloured man who seemed a very tired thirty.
‘We've come to see Mrs Franks,’ shouted Michael. ‘We've just arrived from home.’
The man looked down at them, his eyes narrowed against the afternoon light, and he continued to speak aggressively.
‘So wait. You think that because you just get off the boat you can wake me up?’
‘What we want to know is if Mrs Franks lives here. My wife here is her daughter.’
‘So what you want me to do about it?’
Michael looked at Leila, then back at the man. After a long pause the man relented.
‘Okay, I'm coming down.’
The window slammed shut and Michael turned to his wife.
‘At least we know she lives here.’
Leila could not answer.
The badly hung door almost fell open, and the man stood before them in striped pyjamas. The children began to laugh and point. His feet, like his hands, were bare and rough, as if lightly brushed with chalk.
‘Look, I'm tired, so if you want to come in then come.’
He turned and led the way up the dimly lit stairway.
‘We keep going on,’ said the man as they began to go up another set of steps. Leila's eyes grew accustomed to the dark.
‘In here,’ he said, opening a small door and stepping back to allow them to pass into a hallway crammed tightly with newspapers and unwashed clothing. Leila could immediately tell that no woman lived here. He pushed the door shut and pointed with a jerk of his thumb towards another door.
‘People asleep in this room here. Over there is the kitchen.’
Leila could see a small room. It had no door. In it was just a cooker and some huge pans.
‘Over there is the bathroom, and that door there used to be Mrs Franks's own room but Earl staying there at present. You can wait in there for him but I know he did go to meet you. Make yourself at home for I have to sleep now.’
The man spoke quickly and yawned as he did so. As he turned to go, Leila stepped forward.
‘Who's Earl?’
‘Earl?’ said the man beginning to yawn again. ‘Earl?’
‘And what about my mother? Where is she?’
‘Well, Mrs Franks back in the hospital for test or something.’ He saw Leila's face drop. ‘But I don't think it's serious. And Earl is the chap who owns the place and who does the collecting up of the rents.’
‘What hospital?’ asked Leila.
‘I don't know,’ he said, eager to leave, ‘but Earl soon come back.’ With that he went into the room where he said people were sleeping.
Michael led the way into Earl's room, feeling for the light switch. Leila shut the door. The curtains looked dark green; at one time they had probably been light green, and they were torn at the bottom. Now they successfully blocked out all the daylight; they looked as though they had never really been opened. And the furniture in the room was sparse; an untrustworthy double bed, twin wardrobe, tall and wooden (though clothes were still scattered on the floor), and in the centre of the room a naked light bulb with no shade.
Leila sat down on the bed. Michael stood and looked at the crooked floor. Eventually Leila broke the silence. ‘I'm going to wash and change Calvin.’
Michael nodded as she left the room.
When she came back Leila felt the bed with her hand. She peeled back the bedspread and the two blankets underneath it. The sheet looked quite clean so she laid Calvin down to sleep.
The noises of the children playing in the street were quite clear, as were the noises from the next room of the men snoring. At first Leila had thought it was only the one man, then she realized that she could hear two, maybe even three. She waited.
By the time the early afternoon sounds were replaced by the fiercer ones of lashing rain and cars struggling into the night, Leila was asleep and curled up next to her son. Michael spread himself out at the foot of
the bed. He fought a long battle to stay awake and vigilant, but eventually the room tilted to the left and the naked light bulb slipped from the ceiling, and he too was asleep.
Earl was a thin man and he looked as if life had done more than its fair share of living in his small body. His speech was thick, his stance uneasy, his clothes shabby but unique. He wore a suit that was slightly too big in the arms and legs, a tie that sprouted away from his chest like a bent aerial, and a hat that looked as if it had been shrunk in the rain. He staggered noisily and pushed at Michael, who sat up and looked. Leila just turned and opened her eyes.
‘Well, what happen to you all? I've been waiting since twelve o'clock down by the station.’
‘We were there,’ said Michael, rubbing his face.
‘Well, I miss you then,’ said Earl, ‘and you been waiting all this time for me to come back?’
‘We managed to fit in a little sleep,’ said Michael.
‘So I notice, man. So I notice.’ He laughed, then hushed himself up. ‘Don't want to wake up the lodgers.’ He could see they looked puzzled. ‘It's my business. I have my own room here and I watch over chaps. In the daytime I usually follow a few horses, or have a drink or something.’
‘What about my mother?’ Leila twisted around so that her legs fell from off the side of the bed. ‘The man who let us in told me she was in a hospital.’
‘Sure she in hospital. Sure, sure, but you sounding a little confused so I guess I better tell you what happen. You see, I was down there at the station waiting to see if I spy a young boy who wants a bed in a flat, and I looked at the lady and I'm thinking I do know her for true. So I edge forward a bit and I catch her eye, and she catch mine, and suddenly it dawns on the pair of us that neither one of us know who the hell the other one be. I had to laugh, man.’ Earl paused for breath. He went on. ‘Anyhow, I don't know why, maybe it's because she don't look too healthy, but I just ask her if she have any place as yet to stay, and she must trust me for she say “no”. I say, well come then, I have a place. It's only when I get her on the bus that I realize I can't put her in the spare bed with the other fellers so it looks like I have to move out of my own home and stay by a next friend, so that's what happen till her health begin to really give up and the doctor find an emergency bed for her in the hospital.’ Again Earl paused. ‘But don't worry, I go down and see to her from time to time.’
Calvin woke up and Leila took him into her arms.
‘You can go to see her first thing in the morning. It's only a short bus ride away.’ Earl smiled broadly at Leila who stared back at him. She spoke into his smile.
‘I want to sleep and I have to feed my child.’
‘Well, I done a bit of thinking about this,’ began Earl, ‘and I think the best thing is for myself and your husband to sleep in here, head to foot. You and the child can sleep in the bathroom. It's alright, for you can lock the door so there don't be nobody who can get in.’
Leila followed Earl into the bathroom where he arranged the bedspread in the bath. He left the blanket on the floor for her to pull over herself once she was ready. He noticed that one item of luxury was missing.
‘I going get you a pillow.’ He dashed out but was back in a few seconds. ‘I have it.’ He placed it at the end of the bath, away from the taps.
‘We don't want you getting a drip on your head in the night.’ He laughed. ‘I see you in the morning.’
Leila said nothing. She locked the door behind him and sat on the side of the bath. She would have to sleep in what she had on. Her other clothes were in the suitcase, but she was not going back to that room. And as she sat, her thoughts dissolved. But the nonsense of her confusion only puzzled her further; it was too soon to make or expect sense. At this stage all she knew was that her mother had lied to her or protected her, for she had not mentioned an Earl in her letters, or said anything about the place in which she lived. Maybe it was her own fault but Leila had always imagined her mother just resting up in a nice house with a special doctor coming to visit her and nurse her back to health. The shock of what she had found made her wonder what else her mother had left unsaid. It made her wonder if tomorrow would throw up some discovery more awful than this one. As she closed her eyes she simply waited, knowing she would sleep very little. On top of it all the room was cold, the enamel bath freezing, the bedspread too old and too thin to block out the chilliness. She found herself having to cradle Calvin in a position so uncomfortable that her arms were soon numb.
The next day Earl told them how to get to the hospital, but he chose not to make the journey himself. Michael, in turn, chose not to stay once he had arrived, preferring to ‘go for a walk’. And after her first unsuccessful conversation (more an interview) with her mother, the nurse took Leila to another part of the hospital where she said ‘the doctor’ wanted to talk with her, even though Leila had expressed no desire to talk with him.
He greeted her warmly, then shut the door. He was a thin man. Leila looked closely into his face and saw the creases and folds in his middle-aged skin which reminded her of an old and beaten goat-hide.
‘Please, take a seat, Mrs Preston. Your mother's asleep now and she probably won't wake up until the morning.’
He gestured her to the low seat on the other side of his desk and he swung playfully on his swivel chair.
‘I assure you there's no point in your staying with her any longer.’ Leila sat in silence.
‘I can see from your mother's face that she's glad to see you here.’ He smiled. Leila watched him and waited.
‘Look, I don't wish to make it any more painful than it already is, but the simple fact of the matter is that your mother is very seriously ill.’ The doctor's voice became more resonant and distant.
‘It all depends upon her strength of mind, but I think I can honestly say that your coming here will do her the world of good.’
Leila looked at him, this awkward man, knowing he did not care, though she could not as yet prove it.
‘All I can say, Mrs Preston, is that the medical profession is not an . . .’
Leila stood up and, holding Calvin with one arm, she turned away from the desk.
‘Please, Mrs Preston.’ The doctor stood. But Leila had already left the room.
He reminded her of the men for whom she had worked at Government Headquarters, the white men, who spoke to her with a smile on their face as if afraid that to release it might be interpreted as sexual aggression, or colonial bullying, or both. And so the sugary smile became a part of their uniform, and whenever Leila saw it she knew that behind it a man was frightened, not of her but of himself, and she hated cowards.
Michael was waiting for her by the entrance to the hospital. He had finished his walk and he stood leaning against the white wall and listening to the low droning of an invisible piece of hospital equipment.
Once back at the flat Earl went to make them both a cup of tea. Leila said nothing and again Michael came over to her.
‘You want to come and look for a place to live, for I thought we could do that this afternoon?’
She shook her head. Earl came in with the tea. He had overheard. ‘Don't worry,’ he assured Michael. ‘It's only two o'clock, plenty of time.’
Leila looked up at them both and then down at her inadequate sandals and the threadbare carpet. For most of the afternoon they sat in silence. Then Earl made a long overdue excuse about ‘business’ and reluctantly left his own flat.
For a few minutes Michael stared into space, watching the light fail. Then Leila got up and changed and fed their son. The noises from the street eventually faded away, as did the daylight. Then the lodgers from the day shift came home to sleep, and the night workers left their unmade beds. Then it was quiet again and there was no longer anything for them to think about except this day slipping away into tomorrow and yet another new beginning.
Leila peeled the bedspread back from off the bed and Michael, standing near the window, turned to look at her. She began to undre
ss.
‘She's going to die. The doctor at the hospital wouldn't tell me, but I know.’
Michael began to take off his clothes and prepare for bed. He moved the sleeping Calvin to one side and, as he folded Leila into his arms, she smelt the stale smoke which had become trapped in the tight curls of his hair.
It was almost one o'clock in the morning when a drunken Earl came back. He kicked off his shoes but only stopped singing when he realized that Leila was in the bed too. He crept out of the room. The door to the bathroom was locked. Earl stood and shivered in the cluttered hallway until its occupant had finished.
The next morning Leila stood by the window and bounced Calvin up and down in her arms. Below her a car shot swiftly through the puddles. It had rained all night. Earl went on, ‘I got a hangover like someone trying to bury their damn way out of my skull. English beer is something else, boy, something else.’
Michael laughed, and Earl cleared his throat. He could see Leila looking at him. He spoke nervously to her.
‘First of all I was thinking that we can take a stroll around by the park area where there is quite a lot of rooms to let. Then you and the child can go down by the hospital and visit your mother, while your husband and myself can go and look for a job for him. Alright so far?’
Leila said nothing.
‘Anyhow, after you finish at the hospital we can all meet up back here and if we don't find nowhere to live as yet then we should just walk some more until we can see what we can find.’
Leila still remained silent.
They walked slowly, Leila noticing that it was slightly colder than the previous day, and they followed the half-deserted morning streets which were decorated with drifting strands of fog. Leila had listened to Earl referring to this as the park area but there did not seem to be any sign of either tree or vegetation in the run-down back streets through which they passed. Large white women stood on well-washed doorsteps, their arms folded over dirty aprons, their cigarettes drooping lazily out of the corners of their slanted mouths, and they watched them, keeping a wary eye on their own children, or somebody else's children, while talking loudly to each other. The cold did not seem to bother these women, and the presence of coloured people signalled only a momentary lull in their staccato conversations.
The Final Passage Page 14