The Legacy

by Lynda La Plante

  Evelyne was tired, her eyes aching from the darning. She rubbed them, looked at the clock on the mantle. Freedom had still not returned. She stood up to prod the fire with the poker and became aware of Alex. He was hovering by the kitchen door, his teeth chattering with the cold. ‘Mum, I can’t sleep, Dad not come back yet?’

  Evelyne shook her head, then gestured for Alex to come into the kitchen. She smiled at his hair, which was ruffled and standing on end. ‘You look as though you could do with the basin round your head - I’ll have a go at it tomorrow. It’s all right, you can sit with me a while. Let me rub those feet, they look blue.’

  ‘Where’s me Dad gone? I heard him go out.’

  ‘Not me lovey, my … he’ll have gone walking - now don’t you worry about him. Do you want a biscuit? Well, shush, you know what that brother of yours is like, he can hear the biscuit tin opening a mile away.’

  Alex sat beside her and nibbled one of her home-made biscuits. She stared into the fire, gently stroking his thick, blond curls. She was almost surprised when he spoke, she was so immersed in her own thoughts. His voice was soft, ‘Will you read to me, Ma? Not my school work, one of your books.’

  ‘My books, are they? Now, you know everything here is ours, just that you’re not quite old enough yet and they’re well … they’re special. That is real leather they’re bound in, did you know that?’

  She watched him as he solemnly chose one from the row of books and brought it back to her. She laughed softly, ‘Well, well, it’s my favourite writer you’ve picked out. Her name was Christina Georgina Rossetti, now there’s a name for you.’

  Alex opened the book, traced the inscription with his finger. ‘ “To Evie, from Doris …” Who’s that, Mum? Is she related to us?’

  ‘No, lovey, she’s no relation, but she was a very special friend to me. A long, long time ago now.’ She told Alex about Doris, about the valley, and he listened without saying a word. His mother looked so beautiful, caught in the firelight, he was almost afraid to move.

  ‘Oh, Alex, she opened up a world to me, a world that was out of my reach. And, for a while, just a short while, I almost…’

  Alex hung on her every word. She looked down at his upturned face and cupped his chin in her big, worn hands. ‘You know, sweetheart, there’s a world open to you if you want it. It’s all there, but you have to work hard, because you’ll only be able to find it if you get qualifications.’

  ‘Eddie’s clever, Ma. He’s always top.’

  ‘So you’re clever too, it takes all sorts. You’re not Edward, you’re Alex, and you’re top in some subjects, too.’

  He smiled and nodded, then laughed softly. ‘Tell you one thing he’s not, Ma - tidy! Never puts a thing back in its place.’

  ‘Well, he’s like his father. The pair of them think I’m just here to pick up after them. Now, my lad, you should be in bed.’

  Alex hugged her, whispering in her ear, ‘Can I come and sit with you another night, just you and me?’

  Kissing him, she whispered back, as if they were playing a game, ‘I’d like that, and maybe, no promises, I’ll read my books to you. Would you like that?’

  Beaming, Alex went off to bed like a lamb. Evelyne yawned and stretched her arms. The book fell to the floor, and she picked it up, looked again at the flyleaf.

  Lovingly, she replaced it and drew her hand along the row of books, taking down a thick volume of Ibsen. It opened naturally in the middle, and there between the pages were sheets of her own handwriting. Leaves from a child’s drawing book. The colouring book she had bought for Edward in America. Slowly, she read her own work, placing each page on the fire as she finished it, letting the flames eat her memories. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she sighed. What would Doris think if she saw her now?

  Freedom sighed, pulled his coat collar up, and wondered how he had come to this. He felt tied, bound to that spotless house. He had almost forgotten his old life -not the boxing times, but before that - the caravans, the wagons. He decided it was time to show his sons where their roots were, and the more he thought about it the happier he felt. Come Saturday he would take them on a trip, no matter what Evelyne said, they could spare a few shillings. He walked on along the towpath and decided he w6uld take them on a trip to Brighton, to the sea.

  The schoolteacher, Miss Thomas, was relieved to see Mrs Stubbs. She had been hoping for a word with her but didn’t like the thought of going down their street. The Stubbs family liyed in one of the toughest districts, and she was not sure how they would react to her paying a house call.

  They sat in the headmaster’s office and Miss Thomas poured tea. She couldn’t help but notice how clean and well turned out Mrs Stubbs looked. At one time she must have been a beauty. ‘I’m glad you came in, Mrs Stubbs, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.’ She paused briefly, then went on, ‘Edward is far in advance of the other children in his class, Mrs Stubbs. I would like to put him into the class above. It will mean he’s with boys two years older and he may find it difficult to adapt so I wanted to talk to you first.’

  The pleasure in Mrs Stubbs’ face when she smiled softened her whole appearance. Miss Thomas warmed to her, and continued, ‘I think Edward is clever enough to win a scholarship to a good grammar school. I have a couple of schools in mind, but there could be a slight financial problem. The best schools require the uniform to be bought by the student’s family, and it would mean Edward would have to take the bus every day.’

  Interrupting her, Evelyne assured her very firmly that there would be no financial problems. Her son’s education was of the highest importance and if he gained a scholarship he would have his uniform.

  ‘There is another reason, Mrs Stubbs. I think it would be beneficial for Alex. He is dominated by his older brother, and I think he would find his own personality if they were split up into different schools. They are unusually close, Edward is very protective.’

  This observation met with a stiff reply. They were brothers and that was just how it should be.

  Evelyne dropped in on Freda to tell her the news. Freda hadn’t seen her so happy in a long time.

  ‘He’ll be the first lad from these parts ever to get a scholarship to that grammar school, and I know he’ll do it, I just know it.’

  Freda had been suffering with rheumatism, and had gained a lot of weight. Evelyne noted her frizzy hair, with the assistance of henna powder, was a rather strange orange colour, but even without the grey she was beginning to look her age. She gave Evelyne two jumpers she had knitted for the boys, identical as always, and Evelyne paid her for her work. Freda would have liked to have given them, but times were hard and Ed was making nothing at the gymnasium. They were mostly charitable institutes and his earnings were a mere gesture.

  ‘Your boys never go to the gyms, Evie, and Ed’d love to see them there. Why don’t you let them go, just to see what a boxing ring’s like?’

  Evelyne jumped up, that tight, pursed look on her face, and put her coat on. ‘My sons are not going into any boxing ring, Freda, and that’s final.’

  Freedom fetched the tin bath and began to boil water for the boys’ bath. He whistled, and Evelyne looked up from rolling the pastry. ‘It’s not Saturday, love, you’ve got the days muddled.’

  He came up behind her, gave her a hug, and said they were having a bath early, because on Saturday they were going on a trip.

  ‘Oh, we are, are we? And where’s this trip to, then?’

  Freedom tapped his nose and concentrated on the stove. He was in a good mood for a change so she continued with the pastry.

  ‘An’ I want you all decked out tomorrow an’ all, we’re all goin’ and I won’t have a word against it.’

  She trimmed the edges of the pastry and when he slipped his arms round her waist she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

  ‘I’ve got some good news. It seems our Eddie’s doing well at school.’

  Freedom seemed not to hear, but continued pottering around the kitchen.r />
  ‘He could get into the posh grammar school, his teacher told me. What do you think of that?’

  Freedom shook his head and asked where on earth they would get the money to send him to one of the posh schools.

  ‘If he wins the scholarship, they pay for everything.’

  Bath time was always fun for the boys, sitting in the tin tub in front of the roaring fire. Evelyne would scrub them both with a pumice stone and a big bar of carbolic soap. She scrubbed until their bodies were bright red, then rubbed them dry with a big towel. When they were dry they ate their tea in the cosy, warm kitchen.

  ‘Your Dad’s got a surprise for you both - we’re going on an outing tomorrow, all of us.’

  They looked up in glee, and when she told them they would be going on a train to the seaside, they were so excited that neither of them could sleep.

  Sandwiches were made, lemonade bottles filled, and the family rode into the West End on a tram. The boys had never been out of the East End, and they sat spellbound by the sights and the traffic. On the train, they ran from window to window in their excitement. Freedom sat holding Evelyne’s hand, tickled that he had arranged it all and as excited as the boys. Evelyne talked of the old times, of how she had been shopping in Swan and Edgar, how they had found each other again, and they behaved like young lovers.

  As the train pulled into Brighton Station, the boys let out such screams of delight that some of the other passengers frowned, but nothing could dampen their spirits. When he saw the beach, Edward ran like a wild pony towards the water and he had both feet in the sea before Freedom could haul him away.

  Alex, riding on his father’s shoulders, pointed hysterically at a big Ferris wheel and the lights of the fairground, the music drifting across the beach towards them. Up ahead, Edward climbed over a small wall and disappeared among the rides as Freedom shouted to him to wait.

  The two sticky-faced boys wandered around with their candy-floss, open-mouthed with amazement. They went from booth to booth, and Freedom won a teddy bear on a shooting range, which Alex cuddled. They stopped at a punching machine.

  ‘Punch the bell, mate, punch the bell and win a prize, come along now, punch the bell … lovely prizes, take your pick, all you gotta do is ring the bell …’

  Freedom stepped back and punched, the bell clanged and the man almost fell over. He’d not had anyone ring the bell in ten years and he reluctantly offered a prize. Edward jumped up and down as Freedom led him towards the display, and he pointed to a tin of soap bubbles with a small wire hoop. The fairground man handed the boy the prize and nudged Freedom, saying with a wink that he would bet a shilling that he couldn’t do it again.

  Evelyne pulled at Freedom’s arm, she wanted to move on, there was a small crowd gathering.

  ‘Go on, Dad, do it again!’

  Freedom looked at the man and asked if he was serious about the shilling, then rolled up his sleeves and belted the punchbag. The bell clanged again, drawing a ripple of applause from the crowd, and Freedom turned and gave them a mock bow. Evelyne went to choose a prize and after surveying the array of cheap gifts, she pointed to a doll. She would give it to Mrs Harris’ little girl.

  ‘You not lost your touch, mun.’

  Freedom turned, and there, lolling against the side of a booth, was Jesse. He wore a flashy suit and a red polka-dot neckerchief. His long, dark eyelashes were as thick as ever. He still wore his earring, but now he had a big gold watch and heavy gold rings on his fingers.

  The pair sized each other up, and slowly they moved closer.

  ‘Auv acoi.’

  Jesse held out his arms. ‘It’s buddigur duvus, a good time for us, but you jinned we’d be here, mun, more likely in the fairground than furniture sellin’.’

  Jesse felt the muscles of Freedom’s arms, their eyes locked. Then they kissed each other’s cheeks. Freedom held Jesse’s head in his hands and kissed his lips. Evelyne felt chilled, and drew her shawl closer around her shoulders.

  ‘Eh, boys, come and meet Uncle Jesse, say hello to your Uncle Jesse.’

  Evelyne stared, wanting to call the boys to her side, but she said nothing. The two of them hung back slightly, but then Jesse reached forward and took a coin from behind Edward’s ear, and the child gasped. Jesse kept finding coins all over Edward and the boy was completely hooked. Alex, who had drawn back to cling to his mother’s skirt, moved forward.

  ‘Well, now, lemme see if this young’un’s got the magic … Ohhh, yes, will you look at this, the money’s just falling from him. Come and see this boy, he’s got the Midas touch.’

  Evelyne smiled but remained aloof and watchful as Jesse patted the punching-machine man’s shoulder and told him Freedom was a boxing champion so no need to worry, his machine wasn’t out of kilter.

  ‘Will you come to the wagon?’

  Evelyne opened her mouth to say no, but Freedom was already following Jesse. The boys hung on every word Jesse said, looking up into his face with adoring eyes.

  ‘You like my fair, then, do ye? Well, there’s a fine thing, I’m doin’ all right, mun, am I not? Come on, come on.’

  He strode among the booths, waving and smiling to everyone, and they made their way to the far end of the fairground. On a large square of wasteland was a line of caravans. He went to the door of the first one and opened it, calling to someone inside that he had a surprise. He lifted first Edward and then Alex up into the wagon. As they went inside, Evelyne caught hold of Freedom’s sleeve.

  ‘We should be going, the train leaves in half an hour.’

  Freedom shrugged and said they would catch the later one, and gestured for her to go inside. It took Evelyne by surprise. A lot had changed with the years, and it was. like a real house inside. The walls were draped, the place was filled with ornaments, and there were two parrots in a cage.

  ‘Rawnie? Rawnie, come on out and see what I’ve found.’

  The curtains at the far end of the caravan were drawn aside, and Rawnie, like a ghost from the past, stood staring at them all. Evelyne was shocked at her appearance, she was so thin her skin hung loose on her bones. Her thick hair was greying at the temples and, although she still wore it in two long braids, there was nothing youthful about her; she had to hold on to the sides of the wagon to move towards them.

  ‘Freedom, mun, auv acoi, acoi acoi, it’s been bershor.’

  He held his arms out to her and she went to him, touching his face. She kissed him and then held her hand out to Edward.

  ‘Well, chavo chiv, is he not rinkeney, then, will you gimme a choom?’

  Edward went straight to her and kissed her as if he understood every word she’d said. She held his face and looked into his eyes, then laughed, giving Freedom a look. She held on to the table and eased herself into a chair, tapped her knee and held out a hand to Alex.

  ‘Eh, eh, eh, they’re real tatchey Romany, and dressed like a rye.’

  Alex was more wary of her, but in the end he sat on her knee and played with all the gold bangles along her thin arms. The two men spoke Romany together, sitting on a velvet settee with their arms around each other. Rawnie stared at Evelyne, nodding for her to sit down. ‘The eldest has Romany yocks, looks like his Da - big ‘n’ strong, the pair of them. Yer little ‘un’s gentle, and’yer got one wild, ain’t that right?’ She began to cough, and her whole body shook so that Alex had to get off her knee. Evelyne moved closer, put her hand on Rawnie’s shoulder and could feel the sharp shoulder blades heaving beneath her clothes as she tried to catch her breath. Jesse stood up and clapped his beringed hands together, said he would take his brother around the fair, they’d be back shortly. The two boys ran to Jesse, and after a moment he gave way and they were allowed to go with the men. Evelyne tried to catch Freedom’s eye to tell him they must leave, but he was out of the caravan too quickly.

  Rawnie rolled herself a cigarette, a tuv, and began to smoke, then pulled herself up and put the kettle on, showing Evelyne the gas taps which were linked to a cylinder out
side. She said that, like Freedom, they were almost kairengos now, the caravan staying at the fair all year round.

  ‘Your eldest, he has the dukkerin look. He could read well, I can feel it, and you, me love, you look well-fed.’

  While Evelyne sipped the thick, spicy, hot tea, Rawnie was twice seized by such spasms of coughing that it frightened her. Someone tapped on the caravan door and two little girls peeped in, but Rawnie shooed them outside.

  ‘They’re Jesse’s babes from Martilda, she lives yonder. He’s got a fine boy up in Scotland and one down in Cornwall, both fine boys.’

  Evelyne didn’t wish to appear shocked, and Rawnie’s obvious acceptance of Jesse’s other women made it seem almost natural.

  As Evelyne finished her tea, Rawnie reached over for the cup and stared into the tea leaves. She put the cup down and sighed, she frightened Evelyne. ‘What did you see? Rawnie …? What is it?’

  Rawnie would not meet her eyes, she sucked in her hollow cheeks.

  ‘Remember all those years ago, that terrible night at the fair, you saw something in my hand then, is it the same?’

  Rawnie kept her head bowed. ‘Do I remember that night? Now there’s a question, do you think I would forget? ‘Tis not something you forget, bein’ defiled, torn inside. Don’t heal like a cut on the outside.’

  ‘I’m sorry, that was thoughtless, but will you tell me? You see, I always remember your words - you said “Beware of the birds in the sky”, but I don’t understand …’

  Rawnie coughed again, her body shaking, her bangles tinkling and jangling. ‘Ye’ll know when they come, I can’t say when, but they’re big, big birds.’

  Rawnie did not finish telling Evelyne what she could see, could not tell her that when the birds flew over Evelyne’s head they would take everything from her, all that she loved. Evelyne would have persisted, but the caravan door was flung open by Edward. He demanded that Evelyne come with him, the fair was closing and they were going to have chicken cooked over a real fire.