As Time Goes By

by Anne Bennett

  ‘All right,’ Stan said. ‘If I were you, I’d go and ask some of the fellows outside if they are willing to work for a decent wage. But be careful, because you just might be killed in the rush. But it just may ease the tensions a little. Some of those unemployed are very angry, for they feel so little has been done to help them, it might boil over into violence any day, and without the slightest provocation.’

  Stan was only too right. He knew groups of the unemployed were getting larger and there had been unrest about the lack of any sort of paid work since the war. The government had promised everyone ‘a land fit for heroes’, and it had all been eye-wash. Often the only one who got fed in a house was the man, so that if he should get a job, he’d be well nourished enough to take it. This meant that his wife and children often got by with bread and scrape, and not much of that, thought Stan. Resentment bubbled beneath the surface in many working-class homes at the lies the government had told them and the promises they had broken.

  Bidding farewell to the MP, Stan walked home, noting the sense of relief he felt at the opportunity to be away from the shop, where Angela could appear at any time. He didn’t share these thoughts with his son Daniel when he told him about the job that evening, and Daniel just hoped it might help his father regain his good humour, and even offered to come and help through the coming Easter holidays, when the school where he taught would be closed. Yes, thought Stan, enough moping around. This could be just the fresh start he needed.

  Later that day Angela sat in her kitchen reading the local newspaper. ‘There are so many on the dole already, it’s so sad really,’ Angela said to Connie as she read about the unrest. ‘We should be thankful we are so much better off than many.’

  ‘Yes,’ Connie said, ‘but we could be even more better off. Sarah’s second sister is starting at the Grand Hotel next week, and she says she could get a job for me too if you weren’t so set on me matriculating.’

  ‘I thought we had discussed this, Connie. Nothing is more important than finishing your education.’

  ‘But we never actually discuss it!’ Connie burst out. ‘You tell me how to live my life and if I ever disagree, you tell me that it’s what my father would want. But how can you be so absolutely sure? This is a different world to the one Daddy left behind when he enlisted. Maybe he would feel differently if he was alive today.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘No, Mammy, but neither do you.’

  ‘Connie, what on earth has got into you?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Connie said. ‘I’m just growing up, that’s all. I want to start living my own life, making my own decisions, and being able to live independently. Anyway, I could ask the same of you.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘I mean, what’s got into you that’s causing you to go round with a face miserable enough to sour cream?’

  ‘Connie!’ Angela exclaimed, shocked and hurt, but knowing there was a shred of truth in her daughter’s observations. ‘You’re being rude.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Connie retorted. ‘I’m being truthful. What you mean is, you don’t like what I am saying, and you probably have no intention of answering me, but that doesn’t make what I said rude.’

  Angela knew it didn’t, and she couldn’t answer Connie, because what could she say that would satisfy her?

  ‘You’ll probably just say that it’s none of my business, like you did before,’ Connie said. ‘But if I said that to you, well that really would be rude! I would get it in the neck from you, for sure.’

  Angela knew she couldn’t argue that point. ‘Connie, it’s just too difficult to explain.’

  ‘So that’s that then, is it?’ Connie asked, looking pleadingly at her mother, hoping she might just open up and share.

  Angela bit down the urge to share her heartbreak. Perhaps if she didn’t talk about it, she might one day be able to pretend it had never happened. ‘I’m afraid it is.’

  ‘What on earth is the use of trying to talk to you about anything?’ Connie cried, exasperated, and she left her mother standing in the middle of the room, and Angela felt suddenly bereft. She had seldom argued with Connie for almost all of her growing up, for Connie had been an unusually compliant child who was anxious to please, and in particular to please her mother. Angela was sad that Connie seemed to think she’d let her down in some way, as they had once been so close. After the unpleasant encounter with Stan in the shop, an altercation with Connie was the last thing Angela had the energy to deal with. She sighed and buried her head in her hands, not knowing how or if any of it could possibly be resolved.

  Angela didn’t know what to do with herself that evening, her conversations with Stan and Connie going round and round in her head. Eventually she went to see Maggie Malone, who ran a boarding house on Pershore Road with her husband Michael that they had inherited from Michael’s parents. Maggie had been Angela’s friend since their school days and the two kept nothing from one another. She was the only one who knew the darkest secret Angela hid from everyone else in her life, something so awful that Angela still woke wracked with guilt most nights. Twelve long years ago, she had had to abandon an illegitimate baby that she had just given birth to, leaving the child on the steps of the local workhouse. Maggie had stood staunchly at Angela’s side through that whole time, and so Angela was confident Maggie would be able to advise her on what to do about Stan and Connie.

  Maggie listened intently to Angela. She wasn’t surprised Stan had expressed his love for her, for she had known how the wind blew for a long while and, like many other people, was just surprised Stan had taken so long to tell Angela how he felt about her. What she wasn’t so pleased about was Angela’s response, because she said she had shuddered. ‘But why?’ Maggie said. ‘Whether you are going to admit it or not, I know you, and you are just as crazy about Stan as he is about you. Why didn’t you grasp this chance of happiness?’

  ‘You know why.’

  ‘If you tell me that you can never be happy again because of what happened back then, I will be cross with you,’ Maggie said. ‘That decision was forced on you and is one you’ve lived with every day since. Had you confided in Stan, I’m sure he would have seen that for himself, but you didn’t even give him the chance. Instead, when he told you his feelings, you shuddered. Can you imagine how hurt he would have been? It must have cut him to the quick.’

  ‘I tried to speak to him in the shop – I told you.’

  ‘And what did you want to say?’ Maggie demanded. ‘If he had asked why you recoiled, would you have told him the truth?’

  ‘What shall I do, Maggie?’

  ‘The only thing to do,’ Maggie said decisively, ‘is to find Stan as soon as you can, apologise profusely and tell him about the baby you had to leave the way you did.’

  ‘He will be disgusted with me.’

  ‘No,’ said Maggie thoughtfully, ‘I don’t think he will. But if he is, then he’s not the man I thought he was and not the man for you. At least you’ll have a better idea of where you stand, and that has to be less heart-breaking than the limbo you’re currently in, that is making no one happy. You’re torn apart by the guilt, and not only has it stopped you finding true happiness, but it’s also driving a wedge between you and Connie. You make things right with Stan, and the troubles with Connie will fall into place, because you won’t be carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders any more. You are very special to Connie, and seeing you unhappy makes her worry about you, and why she can’t seem to do anything to ease your pain. Fixing things with Stan is the first step.’

  Angela knew Maggie was right and thought about her words as she walked home, but Maggie hadn’t seen the look on Stan’s face when he told her he never wanted to see her again. And feeling that way about her, would he ever truly be able to understand her despair and desperation that had forced her to sacrifice her vulnerable new-born baby to save everyone else? She shook her head from side to side in agitation and fought back the threatening t
ears, because she really didn’t think, with the best will in the world, that she could take that risk.

  Over the following days Connie knew her mother was unhappier than ever and also knew it had something to do with the time she’d left the house early, dressed in her best clothes, and when she came home hours later she had been crying. Connie had no idea what might have upset her so and was well aware her mother had no intention of telling her, but she remembered that she and Stan used to get on really well, until that awful fall-out. But that had been years before, and surely to goodness it would all be forgotten now. Seeking only to find someone who might help jerk her mother out of the pit of misery she seemed to have fallen into, she said, ‘Mammy, why don’t we ever see Stan any more?’

  ‘You know why,’ Angela said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Mammy, that was years ago,’ Connie persisted. ‘Surely if you were to see him, talk to him …’

  Angela remembered the cold, bitter eyes Stan had turned on her in the shop, and said, ‘Sorry, but neither of us will be seeing Stan any more.’

  Connie’s mouth dropped open and she said, ‘Have you ever even tried to contact him?’

  Angela thought of the hopes she had had that the argument between them would be more or less forgotten. Yet she had seen almost immediately that Stan certainly hadn’t forgotten it, making it plain that he never wanted to see her again. That decision brought another problem to mind. It would be harder to keep well away from Stan if her daughter continued her friendship with Daniel. ‘What is between me and Stan really is no concern of yours, but while we’re on the subject, it might be better if you don’t see Daniel any more.’

  ‘What?’ Connie was incredulous. ‘What’s Daniel to do with this?’

  Angela sighed. ‘It would just be easier, that’s all.’

  ‘Easier for who?’ Connie asked accusingly. ‘Easier for you, but not easier for me – or Daniel. We were friends once, and nothing in my life has happened to change that. If it is you that has a problem with Daniel’s father that you refuse to discuss, then … Well, I just think you are punishing Daniel and me for something his father has done. That’s hardly fair.’

  Angela knew it wasn’t, but could think of no answer to give her that would satisfy either of them. In the end she pleaded, ‘Please can we leave it there, Connie? I won’t insult your intelligence by saying you will understand all this when you’re older, but please leave it for now.’

  And Connie left it. She was frightened of the stricken look in her mother’s eyes, and in her ashen face that filled with sadness. Connie saw the slight trembling of her limbs and was sorry she had caused her mother such distress. Angela had clearly decided that for now she would say no more. But it was frustrating, because, like so many conversations with her mother about the past, nothing had been resolved.

  Just as Connie could sense her mother’s sadness, Stan’s son Daniel was noticing the same about his usually even-tempered father, who, despite the more physical job he was now doing, had continued being short-tempered. Stan regretted the years they had been kept apart because of the war, and knew that by rights he shouldn’t be spoiling the time they had together now. Eventually, Daniel snapped back at his father after he had bawled him out about some trivial thing he had done. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you, but whatever it is, it’s not my fault, so stop taking it out on me!’

  Immediately Stan felt contrite and said, ‘You’re right, and I’m sorry.’

  Looking at his father’s sad face, Daniel felt sorry he had been so blunt with him, and in a softer voice went on, ‘Look, remembering back, this misery of yours seems to go back to the time I advised you to admit to Angela how you felt about her. Did you tell her then how strong your feelings were for her?’

  Stan nodded. ‘Oh yes, I told her, all right.’

  ‘Well, it obviously didn’t go down well,’ Daniel said. ‘I wondered at the time, felt quite guilty about it. I should never have interfered. After all, you know Angela much better than me.’

  ‘Huh! I thought I did.’

  ‘Sorry, Dad.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not your fault,’ Stan said. ‘After all, I didn’t have to take your advice.’

  ‘Maybe she wasn’t ready for a declaration of love just yet?’ Daniel replied hopefully.

  ‘She certainly wasn’t,’ Stan said. ‘But the point is, I don’t think she’ll ever be ready for a declaration from me.’

  ‘Aren’t you getting all this out of proportion?’ Daniel said with a wry smile. ‘Angela might not be ready for love just yet, but she thinks the world of you. You share a deep friendship, if nothing else.’

  Stan nodded. ‘We did, I grant you, but no more.’

  ‘Surely not?’

  ‘Worse than that,’ Stan said morosely. ‘Angela McClusky finds me repulsive.’

  Daniel looked at his father disbelievingly. He had never known him lie to him, and yet he was talking about a woman he greatly admired, who had championed his father, said what a fine man he was. ‘That’s a bit over-dramatic, Dad,’ he said. ‘What makes you think Angela finds you repulsive?’

  Stan didn’t answer Daniel, but what he did say was, ‘When your mother died, Barry and Angela, and Angela’s mother-in-law Mary opened their hearts to me. With you living with your Aunt Betty, who had made it clear I was not welcome, the McCluskys made me feel valued and, well … loved, I suppose. However, some years later, when I began to have deeper feelings for Angela, I hid them and certainly never spoke of them.’

  ‘Why not?

  ‘Because she was married to Barry, who she loved to distraction. She never gave me any indication she thought of me as anything more than a great friend.’

  ‘Is that why you tried to keep Barry out of the army?’

  Stan raised his eyebrows. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Angela,’ Daniel replied. ‘How did you go about trying to do that?’

  ‘Oh, Angela didn’t tell you that, then?’

  ‘No, she clammed up,’ Daniel said. ‘You know she doesn’t like to talk about things that happened years ago?’

  Stan nodded, for he knew that well enough. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘The factory we both worked in made lots of things for the war effort. And when I enlisted, I recommended Barry for my old job as supervisor. That meant he was in a reserved occupation and could have sat out the war in relative safety. I did that because he had a lot to live for – a beautiful wife, a child he adored – while I felt I had little in my life.’

  ‘So how come he became involved in the war anyway?’

  ‘He was bullied into it,’ Stan said. ‘The family were snubbed and mistreated by people they had known all their lives. Barry said he could understand it, for the casualty figures of those killed or injured made grim reading, and mothers who had sons in the thick of it were maybe understandably resentful of a young, fit man like Barry sitting pretty at home. Barry too was uncomfortable about it, and once said to me he had never let anyone else fight his battles before, and this was a particularly fierce battle that he appeared to be hiding from. He also did his very best to help out as many war widows in the local area as he could, stepping in to do any heavy lifting required, fixing up houses, playing football with the boys on the street. He felt it was his duty to be the man of the house for all those whose husbands were away on the front line. Never had a quiet evening in, did Barry – he was always out helping someone somewhere. But then the four white feathers arrived.’

  ‘Four white feathers?’ Daniel repeated, perplexed.

  ‘White feathers for cowardice,’ Stan said. ‘Someone thought it their duty to tell Barry he was a coward. But he was no coward and enlisted straight away. His last act was to make a valiant effort to save me, and he lost his own life because of it.’

  ‘Angela always said he was a hero.’

  Stan nodded. ‘He was, and so was every man who served at the Front.’

  ‘And you are going to throw all that away? All that history you shared with An
gela – over a stupid quarrel?’

  ‘It wasn’t a quarrel, but it became clear that Angela doesn’t feel about me how I feel about her.’

  ‘All right, what did she say when you told her how you felt?’

  Stan paused, summoning up the courage to describe Angela’s reaction out loud for the first time. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’ Daniel repeated, incredulously.

  ‘Nothing,’ Stan said. ‘She didn’t give me the dignity of a reply, she just …’ Stan hesitated, knowing he was already committed to telling Daniel the whole truth, ‘… shuddered.’

  ‘Shuddered?’ Daniel said, quite shocked.

  ‘Yes, shuddered,’ Stan said. ‘I think that showed plainly enough that my love for her made her feel repugnance towards me. She can’t help her feelings, but her reaction shows me plainly that there is now no place for me in Angela’s life, or in her heart.’

  Daniel was stunned. He could now understand how hurt his father must have been – and still was. He felt angry with Angela, and yet he would never have said she was a cruel person, but that reaction seemed a cruel one to have. She would have known how it would make Stan feel.

  ‘Did you ask her for any explanation for the shudder?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Stan said. ‘I had bared my soul, and I walked away, wishing those words had been left unsaid.’

  Over the next few days Daniel could not stop thinking about what his father had told him. His memories of Angela, her gentleness and kindness, did not seem the same person who would shudder when her great friend Stan spoke words of love, let alone allow him to walk away feeling humiliated. Eventually, he decided he would go and see Connie. Surely, if his father had been angered and hurt by what had happened, then Angela was probably upset too. Connie, he reasoned, might have brighter ideas than any he’d come up with on how Stan and Angela could at least become friends again – anything to stop his father looking so wretched …

  Daniel knew better than to call at the house, fearing Angela might not let him through the front door, let alone have a private talk with Connie. He suspected she’d probably be at the library in the city centre where, he presumed, she still worked on Saturdays. So the following Saturday he headed there and waited outside.