by Judy Leigh
‘While Lil was bringing up a toddler whose father didn’t know she existed.’
David raised his eyebrows. ‘You must feel a little bitter, Cassie, your mom too. I guess you have every right.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘We aren’t made of that stuff. Lil and I did just fine – we’re still doing fine. It was never a problem – we didn’t need Frankie Chapman.’ She examined a fingernail, then stared out of the window. ‘I’m glad Frankie had a good life, though. I’m glad things worked out for him.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Does he still play the banjo?’
‘He used to, a lot, but not now.’ David’s eyes met Cassie’s. ‘But I do. I play live gigs sometimes. Why do you ask?’
‘He left a banjo behind when he rushed back to the USA. Lil passed it on to me.’
‘Do you play?’
‘Yes, to audiences, just like you do.’ Cassie smiled. ‘Well, David, Frankie has given us a gift we both share.’
David met Cassie’s eyes, his face hopeful. ‘Can I meet Lily? I’d like to, very much. After all, she’s the mother of my half-sister.’
Cassie decided that she liked this man; he was well intentioned and good-hearted, but the news was so sudden, so overwhelming. She’d take her time. She wasn’t ready to open her arms to a new brother and a new father, not yet. Lil was most important: how she might feel, what she would want to do. Cassie was unsure how she might react after so long.
‘I’ll have to ask her first.’ Cassie exhaled slowly. ‘I’ve no idea what she’ll say, after all these years. It’s her call.’
Cassie put a hand to her head, thinking. Lil had loved Frankie Chapman; she’d never loved again after he left. Cassie wondered how her mother would take the news after all these years, how she’d feel about the shrunken man in the armchair, the red and white baseball cap pushed on his head. Lil remembered him as a dashing soldier, the charming young man in the photo, dark curly hair, a smart uniform, eyes shining with affection and a warm grin. She shoved her plate away, the food untouched.
‘I’ll go and see her now and then I’ll call you.’ And as an afterthought, she murmured, ‘Can you send me his photo, Frankie’s? The one of him in the armchair? I think I might need it.’
35
Lil was munching toast in the Kaff while Keith the chef was munching Belgian butter biscuits covered with chocolate. He handed Lil another plate of wholemeal toast with lashings of butter and a steaming cup of tea. ‘Here you are, Lil. Get your laughing gear around this little lot.’
Lil reached for the toast. ‘Thank you, Keith darling.’
‘My pleasure. I have to say, these biscuits are delicious. I’m going to have a go at making some myself. Belgian, aren’t they?’
‘They are indeed – that’s the meaning of life, you know.’
‘What is, Lil?’
Lil grinned, her lips moist. ‘Butter.’
She opened her copy of Birdsong, smoothing out the black and white photo with her fingertip before she started to read. She’d been fascinated by the opening chapter, the mysterious house that led to the river Somme: she could imagine the dark shadowy corridors and hear the whisper of footsteps from the past.
The café door opened wide and Cassie rushed in. Lil glanced up from her novel and called to Keith. ‘More tea and toast, please, darling – with lashings of butter.’
‘Coming up, gorgeous.’
Cassie sat next to her at the table. ‘How are you, Lil? Tired?’
‘Not at all,’ Lil lied, closing her book. Her hips and legs were aching after the long journey yesterday, but she wasn’t one to grumble. ‘Well, it seems you can’t keep away from me, Cass.’
Cassie scrutinised her mother, trying to work out how she was feeling. Cassie wasn’t sure quite how to begin her story. She took a breath. ‘Lil, I’ve just had lunch with a man called David.’
‘Ooh, nice.’ Lil grinned, leaning forward. ‘Handsome, is he? Jamie will be jealous, I’ll bet.’
‘He’s called David Chapman.’ Cassie watched her mother for signs of how she’d take the news. ‘He’s from Denver.’
‘Chapman?’ Lil sat back in her seat, the colour starting to drain from her face. She lifted her hands to her mouth and her fingers were shaking. Cassie put an arm around her mother who felt small, frail, vulnerable. Her breath came in a short gasp, then she whispered, ‘Frankie?’
‘He’s Frankie’s son, Lil.’
Lil blinked. It was difficult for her to take in. Cassie noticed her thin eyelids, the heavy veins in the back of her hand, the way her lips pursed in confusion. Then the question came, her voice a dusty croak, a question she had been asking herself for so long but had not dared to utter the words. ‘Is Frankie…?’
‘Still alive, yes.’ Cassie nodded, gauging her mother’s reaction. Lil closed her mouth with a snap of teeth and exhaled. Cassie waited for the next breath to come and, eventually, Lil sighed softly.
Keith arrived with the tea and toast, but Lil didn’t notice as his tattooed hands placed the tray on the table.
‘Frankie. After all these years.’ She was quiet for a moment and Cassie waited, taking her mother’s hand in both of hers.
Lil met her gaze and Cassie was surprised by how diamond-hard her mother’s eyes were, how they glittered with an emotion Cassie had never seen before. Her voice was low. ‘He married, then? He had children?’
‘Just a son.’ Cassie studied her mother’s frozen expression of horror; she decided not to mention the grandchildren, Aaron, Reuben, and the great-granddaughter, little Hannah. Lil had missed out on all that; she didn’t need to know about Frankie’s family. She watched her mother pick up her cup and bring it to her lips, her hands still trembling, and Cassie lifted her own drink, sipping warm tea. Then she said, ‘Do you want to see a photo of Frankie?’
Lil nodded. Cassie pulled out her phone and opened up an attachment. Lil took the phone from her hands and stared at the image, her lips moving silently, forming unspoken words. Then she murmured, ‘He’s changed – he’s old now.’
‘The years have passed, Lil.’ Cassie wrapped an arm around the small shoulders.
‘Is he married?’ Her voice was a whisper.
‘Widowed.’
‘Does he know I had you? That you’re his child?’
‘He didn’t. But he does now.’
Lil was lost in thought for a moment, her lids closed. Then she muttered, ‘Is he still here, the son?’
‘He’s here for two more days. Do you want to meet him?’
‘No.’ Lil’s answer was immediate, forceful. ‘But he’s your half-brother. I suppose you want to get to know him better.’
‘I might.’ Cassie shrugged. ‘But this is about what you want, Lil.’
Lil took a breath. ‘I want to talk to Frankie. I want to ask him some questions. I want to see him.’
‘You want to go to Denver?’
‘I don’t know. It’s a long way. It was all such a long time ago. I just want to – to see him.’
‘I can try to set you up a video call, on a laptop. Would you like that?’
‘Yes, I would. Can we do it now?’
‘Not now. Not straight away. I’d have to talk to David. Maybe we can set it up for later this afternoon? Denver is seven hours behind us so, if we were to chat at six o’clock, before we go to the pub, it would be eleven in the morning there. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds all right.’ Lil put her hands to her face, long fingers pressing against her cheeks. ‘Cassie, I want to talk to him by myself. I mean, I want him to meet you, to know who you are…’
‘I’d like to meet him.’
‘But when you’ve spoken to him, can you give me some time by myself? Just a few minutes?’
‘Of course.’
Lil leaned back in her seat. She could feel her heart beating, fluttering like a trapped bird, knocking hard at her chest. She turned her gaze on Cassie, her eyes half closed, exhausted. ‘I’d like to get a couple of hours’ sleep first, love. I think
the bus trip has caught up with me.’ She held out a weak arm. ‘Would you give me a hand back to my flat? I’m tired.’
Cassie nodded, helping her to stand up, picking up her novel. The black and white photo slid to the floor and Cassie bent down quickly and stared at her mother and father together, so many years ago, Frankie’s disarming smile, Lil’s expression of uncertainty. She replaced it gently between the pages and wrapped an arm around Lil, helping her to shuffle forwards. ‘It’s best to have a rest for a few hours. I’ll set up the chat and pop round this evening.’ Cassie offered a cheery grin. ‘Then we’ll go to The Weaver, shall we? I’ll drive you there and we can relive our holiday and have a nice time. Albert will be there.’
‘Albie?’ Lil’s mouth formed the words, confused, her eyes glassy.
‘Come on, let’s settle you down. No wonder you’re tired out, all this information, seeing him again after all these years.’
‘Tired… all these years,’ Lil agreed and allowed herself to be shepherded across the road and back to Clover Hill. Her mind was confused, buzzing with too many thoughts.
Fifteen minutes later, her head was on the pillow. She sighed softly and her eyes closed straight away. Cassie smoothed the soft white hair and placed a kiss on her brow. Lil’s skin was damp.
‘Sleep well, Lil – I’ll be back soon.’
Cassie moved quietly from the bedroom, through the living room to the door, closing it behind her with a click. She stood still for a while on the landing, thinking. It had been a shocking day. She had acquired a father, a brother. She was feeling a little stunned herself; she noticed that her pulse was racing. Cassie imagined how it must be for her mother: sixty-six years of silence, and suddenly Frankie Chapman was alive, smiling at her from a photo, a red and white baseball cap on his head. Cassie frowned. Her own discovery that she had a father who was still alive, and a half-brother, had stunned her. She couldn’t imagine the turmoil of emotions exploding like fireworks inside Lil’s mind, making her heart pound.
She glanced at a clock on the landing wall – it was almost half past two. Cassie would go home and talk to Jamie. He’d offer kindness, warmth, and the thought made her throat swell with emotion. Her mind was filled with the image of Frankie, her father. She wondered what she would say to him, what he would be like, whether she would even like him, whether she might feel resentful and blame him for all the missed years. Perhaps it was his fault that she could never settle down? Perhaps his absence had damaged her emotionally, made her afraid to commit? Cassie took a breath, then another, and calmed herself. She’d be fine; she’d support Lil. She set off for the stairs. As she passed Maggie’s flat, the swirl of a violin being played sifted from beneath the door with the faint scent of sweet peas.
Lil was dreaming; it was vivid, in Technicolor. She was dancing to music, a fiddle was playing, and she was young, her hair dark and long to her waist. She was wearing a floral blouse, off the shoulder, a long dirndl skirt; her legs and feet were bare. Her arm was in the air as she waved a tambourine in time with each step. The breeze lifted her hair; she was outside, dancing in a field that smelled of woodsmoke and flowers – even in her dream she could hear the loud, vibrating music, smell the sweet scent of a log fire – and her dancing was frantic, animated, but she was strong, sturdy, in control.
Lil twirled and the skirt spread wide like a bell, her feet pivoting beneath her. A man approached; he was handsome, with a charming smile and dark curly hair. Lil tilted her chin, raised an arched eyebrow and, with a single word and a flash of her eyes, invited him to dance. He took her hand and they whirled round together; she could smell his warm scent, feel the heat of his body; his fascination with her was tangible and she threw her head back, confident in the power she had in her movements and in her control over this man who clearly adored her.
The man’s arm was around her waist. Of course, it was Frankie, and Lil’s dreams swelled with the recognition of old emotions, desire, longing, anticipation, danger. They were dancing, their bodies pressed together, and Lil realised that they were moving too close to the fire. The violin cry became louder, it swelled as the heat of the fire warmed the flesh of her legs. Then the tambourine slipped from her grasp, a fast rattle of metal and then there was a roar, a wind, a whoosh of flames as it caught alight and began to crackle. The blaze was suddenly around them; they were trapped inside leaping tongues of red heat. Lil was choking, her vision blurred by hot clouds of silver smoke, and Frankie had disappeared. In her dream, her voice called his name over and over until her cry became the loud wail of a violin, a melody out of control. Then there was silence.
36
Jamie had been desperate to come with her; he had held Cassie’s hand in both of his, gazed anxiously into her eyes and told her that, after sixty-five years of having no father, she needed the support of someone who cared for her when she talked to Frankie for the first time. Cassie couldn’t disagree, but she had explained to him softly that she wanted Lil’s feelings to come first. She’d spoken to David, arranged to set up the video call between Lil and Frankie, who was in a nursing home and would be helped throughout.
Although Jamie’s intentions were good and he’d wanted to support Cassie, there would be time for that later. This was Lil’s moment. She would need all the help Cassie could give her when she spoke to Frankie; she would finally have the chance to lay her ghosts to rest. There was so much that had been unresolved for so long. Jamie had conceded that Cassie was right; he’d be in The Jolly Weaver at seven-thirty and he’d have a pint of best bitter waiting for her.
Cassie’s fingers were on the door handle, her laptop under her arm. She pushed her way into Lil’s flat and stood in the little living room, furnished simply with two armchairs and a small table. It was fifteen minutes to six. The room creaked softly, then was quiet. Cassie took a breath: Lil wasn’t awake yet. She set up her laptop on the table. She’d wake Lil in a moment, settle her in an armchair, pop into the kitchenette and make her a cup of tea. She fiddled with wires and buttons. It was ten to six. Lil needed to get ready.
Cassie moved towards the bedroom. The door was ajar and Lil was sleeping, resting on her back in exactly the same spot as Cassie had left her. Cassie approached the bed and gazed at her mother, the soft white hair spread on the pillow, lids rounded, her mouth slightly open. Cassie’s thoughts drifted, as they often did, to a time when her mother would be no more; Cassie would find her lying in bed exactly as she was now, her face at peace, and she knew instantly, like the jab of a spear to the heart, how much she would miss her. She approached the bed and took Lil’s hand, cool in her own, the skin paper-thin to the touch. She pressed it gently. ‘Lil?’
Lil did not move, her head resting on the pillow, her hand in Cassie’s. Then her eyelids fluttered and she exhaled softly. ‘I’ve been dreaming – I was fast asleep.’
Cassie crouched down. ‘You need to get up, Lil. Remember, you’ve got a chat with Frankie.’
‘Oh. Oh, yes.’ Lil opened her eyes wide, struggling to get up. ‘Oh, I wanted to look my best.’
Cassie took her hand. ‘Put some lipstick on. He’ll only see your top half.’ She wondered how much Frankie would be able to see at all: the figure in the armchair had appeared frail and small. She helped Lil to sit up and swing her feet out of the bed. ‘Right, tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you.’
‘Cassie.’ Lil turned watery eyes towards her daughter. ‘I’m a little bit scared.’
‘I bet.’ Cassie pressed her hand. ‘To tell you the truth, so am I. But we’ll talk to him together first, then I’ll leave you alone for ten minutes so you can – reminisce.’ She took a breath. ‘After that, we’ll both go to The Jolly Weaver and have a stiff drink.’
Lil nodded, standing on wobbly legs. Cassie put an arm around her and felt her shaking, her body like a butterfly against glass. Cassie hugged her. ‘We’ll be all right. We have each other. That’s what matters – that’s what has always mattered.’
Once she was read
y, Lil sat in front of the screen, squinting, making her eyes small. She could see a fuzzy shape, a man in an armchair, something red on top of his head. A voice spoke, an unseen person, telling Frankie to say hello. Cassie squatted next to Lil, taking her hand, and spoke clearly, aware with each word how absurd it sounded. ‘Hello, Frankie. I’m Cassie Ryan. I’m your daughter. I have Lil here with me, my mother.’
Frankie stirred, leaned to one side then tilted forward, his face filling the screen. ‘Hello, Cassie. So nice to meet you.’ His voice was thin, a single reed, tremulous. Cassie took a breath.
‘I’m pleased to meet you too.’
He shifted around in his seat and then raised a hand, a bony finger. ‘I’m sorry, Cassie – sorry that I never knew. I wish I had. I missed out – we both did. But I’ll make it up…’
Cassie shrugged. She decided to move the conversation forward. ‘I have Lil here with me, Frankie…’
‘Lily?’ Frankie gave a little cough. ‘Hey, Lily – is that you?’
Lil leaned towards the screen nervously. ‘Hello, Frankie.’ Her heart thudded in her chest – he still had the power to do that to her. She stared at him: the same eyes, the same charming smile. His face was thinner, older, and she couldn’t see his hair for the red and white baseball cap pushed down on his head.
‘How are you, Lily?’
‘I’m fine, Frankie.’
‘You’re looking good…’
Lil exhaled. ‘You too.’
Frankie gave a little cough. ‘I’ve been unwell. I had a stroke. They are very kind to me here. I’m a lot better than I was…’
There was silence, then Lil muttered, ‘That’s good.’
He leaned forward, and his eyes were filled with water. ‘I’m so sorry I left you when I did, all those years ago. They called me back to the States and I had less than twenty-four hours’ notice. I should have come to see you, to tell you I was leaving, but I was a coward. It would have hurt us both so – I just left without saying anything.’