Seas of Snow

by Kerensa Jennings

  So in the glade that autumn day, russet leaves intermingling with flashes of orange and dabblings of yellow, crunchiness underfoot, they resumed their mission.

  Billy had brought lollipops for them to suck on as a pre-tea snack. He let Gracie pick which flavour she wanted. She smiled and pointed to the lemon one, leaving Billy his favourite, the blackcurrant. He should have known she would do that. But then, as she began licking her sweetie, the piquant fragrance of lemons hung in the air and reminded him, of course. Gracie and lemons. It was the scent he always associated with her. If Gracie was a colour, she would have been yellow – fresh and sunshiny and lemony, daffodilly and happy.

  Only not so happy these days. The visits from – him – had been taking their toll on her. Even though she threw herself into her homework and her diary and her reading, there was still that sleep-awake time in the morning when you woke up before you got on with the busyness of the day – and there was still that dark, quiet time, alone in her room, when the memories would crowd in and chase out nicer thoughts. Fear and re­­vulsion were her customary companions. She never knew when the next visit would be, or how far he would take it next time. All she knew is that she was beginning to feel a struggle and a torment others her age did not face.

  Billy tried to convince her it wasn’t some kind of unexplained punishment and that she hadn’t done anything wrong. How could she? She was utterly lovely.

  But Gracie felt there must be an explanation, and she cast her mind back through her life, observing herself closely, trying to draw conclusions from every twist and turn. She wondered how her Ma came to be in May Close in the first place; wondered who her Da may have been, and why she didn’t know who he was; even wondered where Joe had gone travelling and whether he was like this before he went.

  She had remembered that first night when he had arrived. She had only been about five but the memory imprinted itself on her mind. She recalled the intensity of his odour and the gruffness of his manner. The raspy, scratchy stubble itching her skin. The way her Ma seemed to be happy at the sight of him. Although she doubted her memory of this happiness now … The way her usual smiley face soon turned into something else.

  And as for him – she had never seen him smile, or laugh. Not once. It was as if that sneer he had somehow set into his face permanently, oscillating from scorn through smirks to anger and back again. She wasn’t sure if he knew what happiness was, or whether he ever felt it.

  She breathed out these latest thoughts to Billy.

  ‘I wonder if it all means something? Whether it all adds up to an answer?’

  Billy shook his head, preferring as always to try to lift her mood.

  ‘No, Gracie, it’s a series of horrible coincidences. There was a brother and a sister and the brother was evil and the sister was too scared to escape. The sister had a young girl and the brother continued being evil and frightening them both. But luckily, the young girl had a friend, and the friend had a plan, and the good thing was it wasn’t long before the plan could be put in place. Then the young girl and her friend would be able to run away and the evil brother would never find them ever again. And they would live happily ever after!’

  He looked at her from below his lashes, wondering how his attempt at lightening the situation was going.

  A slow smile began to cross her face, then a little laugh burpled up inside her.

  ‘Oh, Billy, you are such a funny thing. I wish you did have a plan though, wouldn’t that be just wonderful?’

  ‘But that’s the best part, Gracie, I really do have a plan. I’ve been working it out over the last couple of months. Do you think you can wait till the spring before we escape?’

  ‘If it means really escaping, I can wait for as long as it takes! But what are you talking about?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about this for ages, Gracie. Your Ma just isn’t going to do anything about it. If she refuses to deal with being hurt herself, that’s her business, but she shouldn’t be letting him hurt you. So I’ve got everything sorted.

  ‘By the spring I will have earned enough money for us to take a train to London. I’m going to make my fortune there, Gracie, inventing things. At the moment the money from the docks work isn’t much but it’s going into a great big pot which will give us transport and lodgings for a few months until I find my feet and work out what to do next. We’ll find you a nice school and I’ll get a job building on the engineer apprenticeship I’ve been doing here. But we can’t go just yet – I’ve worked it out, we need to have enough money to live on for several months so that we can feel safe and secure. What do you think of that, then?’

  He looked at her with anticipation, expecting her to be pleased and excited.

  Instead, large, lolloping tears started to roll down her childish cheeks.

  The salty splashes smudged the bodice of her pale pink dress – little damp patches where she had wiped the wetness of her cheeks into her hands and onto the cotton.

  ‘Oh no, what’s wrong, what have I said?’ Billy exclaimed, worried.

  ‘Oh Billy, that sounds such a clever idea, you always have been so clever. But does it mean I will have to leave Ma, and you’ll have to leave May Close? How can we leave our families? Wouldn’t you be sad?’

  He hadn’t quite thought of it like that. But he was strong in his resolve.

  ‘Some things are more important, Gracie. I am scared about what might happen. It’s getting worse each time he comes. How many times has it been now, since that first time I disturbed him locked up with you in the bathroom? Maybe four or five over the last few years? He’s not going to stop, Gracie, and who knows what will happen?’

  She sighed, knowing he was right. But the idea of abandoning her Ma was truly awful. She was becoming a shell of her former self – lines etching onto her face and pain carved into her every expression. Gone was the soft, beatific placidity of times gone by. Gone were the days of bubbles in the garden and picnics. Gone were the happy times where life felt full of possibilities …

  Only what Billy was offering her was a doorway out of this stifling existence into a life full of – yes, that’s right! Possibilities.

  She attempted a smile, gratefully.

  ‘Anyway, that’s the second part of my plan. Once I’ve got a good job I’ll be able to come back and visit everyone here, and then in the future when I’ve saved up enough money to look after her as well, I’ll come and fetch your Ma. I promise you, Gracie, I swear – that I will always, always, no matter what – fetch her and make sure she’s okay. I’ll make sure you are both okay.’

  Gracie looked up at him, in wonder at his generosity and cleverness. He always had looked after her. Always been the knight in shining armour. Always rescued her in all their games. Now he was rescuing her for real.

  ‘If you’re sure, Billy, and as long as you think you’ll be able to come back and visit everyone as often as you like, then what I think is – hurrah! We will be running away from this wretched place and we can have a home where we can feel safe and cosy. A home that will be warm and inviting. No more dragons …’

  Gracie thought back to that moment now, with a leap of excitement in her heart. They had pledged to keep the plan secret. In the spring when the weather improved and when Billy had enough money, they would go to London, leaving notes to be discovered after they’d gone. And they would correspond all the time, letting their families know how they were. Billy had found out about a post box system where you could pay to collect your mail no matter where you lived. So they were going to be able to protect themselves from anyone knowing their address and tracking them down. Well, when they said ‘anyone’ they both knew who they meant. But they tried not to articulate it any more than was necessary.

  So here she sat, with a new wave of possibilities washing over her, and this note from Rilke which seemed to be written just for her. Giving her permission to stop blaming herself for everything.

  Don’t observe yourself too closely. Don’t be too quick to
draw conclusions from what happens to you; simply let it happen. Otherwise it will be too easy for you to look with blame (that is: morally) at your past, which naturally has a share in everything that now meets you.

  She remembered even yesterday, she had been scrutinising every memory for a clue to why her life had unfolded the way it had. Now she was being told she could simply let it happen.

  It gave her an unexplored feeling – a sense of liberty and a renewed sense of optimism. She reflected on those other lines, from one of the other letters, that she had clung to so protectively, since she had first stumbled across them:

  So you must not be frightened..

  If a sadness rises up before you …

  … You must think that something is happening with you.

  That life has not forgotten you.

  That it holds you in its hand.

  It will not let you fall.

  For the first time since … it happened … she felt strangely comforted. She even found herself allowing herself a proper smile.

  A calmness settled deep at her innermost being. She breathed. And she slept.

  Revelations

  Dinner at May Close had been a merry affair with much laughter and clinking of glasses. The conversation flowed nicely and everyone pronounced the lamb a triumph.

  Aidan was just pottering away in the kitchen, clearing the main dishes away, and putting the finishing touches to pudding.

  Back home, he had prepared a rustic apple tarte tatin. Now, he was tipping it out of the baking tin and onto a pretty serving dish he had found. He rather liked the old-fashioned green and gold swirls around the edge.

  There was a matching jug, so he poured the cream into that and collected up some spoons and napkins.

  He bustled back into the dining room, smiling at his partner and Mrs Harper. The room had a somewhat dingy air about it, but there were fresh flowers adding a dash of colour on the sideboard and another splodge of colour from a collection of bone china knick-knacks, presumably collected over the years. A deep purple china beetroot sitting alongside another porcelain trinket in the shape of an apple, with a tiny china mouse poking out from the base of a partially eaten china core. There was a postcard tucked at the back with a picture of a flamenco dancer. Someone had sewn a scarlet ruffle skirt onto the ­cardboard. There were seven or eight thimbles of different shapes and sizes, and another china ornament – a slice of Swiss roll with glossy chocolate china round its edges and another grey china mouse poking out through the middle, having cheekily taken a bite.

  So despite the gloom in the room, the atmosphere was lively and the eccentric decorations gave the place a bit of character.

  Billy and his Ma made appropriate oohing and ahhing noises as Aidan presented the tarte to the table.

  ‘Doesn’t that look gorgeous, Billy?’ cooed his mother. ‘Looks like you’ve found yourself a talented young man there, pet.’

  She smiled warmly at her son, so grateful for the chance to see him and spend time together. Life had been lonely these last few years. It was good to see her Billy happy.

  Aidan popped back into the kitchen to get a serving slice, leaving mother and son alone again briefly.

  ‘Oh my goodness, I’ve just realised!’ she gasped, clutching her mouth, eyes widening.

  Billy wondered what was wrong.

  ‘It’s the dish and jug set, pet,’ she said, noticing the china Aidan had rooted out from an old forgotten place in a cupboard to put the tarte onto.

  Her voice dropped, and she spoke softly.

  ‘Your Da gave that to me as a parting gift before he went to the War. He said it was for me to stay hopeful and remind me that he would be back, wanting more of my famous dinners in no time. That he would stay safe and come back to us just as soon as he could.’

  Her eyes were filling with tears.

  Aidan, unaware of the upset in the room, came marching back with gusto, declaring it had taken a while to find a suitable knife. He stopped short when he saw Billy’s face and came around from behind Mrs Harper to glimpse her damp cheeks.

  He rushed back into the kitchen and fetched a couple of tissues.

  ‘Do you need me to, um …?’ he began.

  ‘No, pet, don’t you go going anywhere. I think Billy would want you here …’

  Billy wondered where this was leading.

  Then it all came tumbling out.

  ‘Billy, I’ve not spoken about this to anyone, pet, but I’m getting very old now and I want to make sure you know this in case … anything happens.

  ‘It’s about Gracie. There’s something I think you should know.’

  The silence hung in the air. Billy gave her an encouraging nod.

  ‘Back in the late thirties, a young woman moved into the Close, taking the smallest, end house next to ours. Just a living space downstairs with a kitchen down one end and two small bedrooms upstairs, and a bathroom.’

  ‘Gracie’s house?’ asked Billy, needlessly.

  ‘That’s right. Gracie’s Ma was very shy but also very sweet. We became friends instantly and she helped me enormously when you came along. I was pregnant with you when we met and she cooked for John and Simon and your Da sometimes when I was feeling tired and unwell.

  ‘She would pop over and make sure everyone was okay, and often made extras of bread or stew or hotpot and would bring it over. The night you were born, she even came here and stayed the night with us, caring for the boys and looking after your Da. She was a natural homemaker and I always thought it was rather sad that she didn’t have a man in her life.

  ‘She was pretty and gentle and petite. I remember her lovely dark-green eyes – do you remember them, Billy?’ she asked.

  He nodded. How could he forget?

  ‘Then the first few months after you came along, I was feeling was far more tired and far more unwell than I had been with the others. Perhaps it was being a bit older when I had you, I don’t know, but it took its toll on me physically. I would take myself up to my bed as early as I could and I stopped making all the delicious meals I used to make. I was so exhausted, Billy, and I found I couldn’t stop crying. Years later I read about postnatal depression in one of those magazines, but I hadn’t heard about it then and I know it was beginning to wear down your Da and the boys. They wanted the old me back – the one who smiled and laughed and cooked and kept everything nice.

  ‘As the months swept by, I was consumed by looking after my new wee bairn and everything else seemed to drift by.

  ‘I hadn’t even taken in that your Da had started doing lots of odd jobs for other people in the Close. And especially Gracie’s Ma. I barely saw it, Billy, but slowly it seemed to me that she was coming over to us less frequently, but he was going over to her.

  ‘Now, I can’t be sure of anything, but I began to have my suspicions. Nothing was ever said to me, by him or by her. But there were times when I felt I just knew.

  ‘Then, that devastating day came when we knew he was to be posted abroad for the War. He was being sent to serve in France, to start with – although as you know, he ended up soon afterwards in North Africa. None of us even knew where that was or what it had to do with the War.

  ‘He sat with us all around the table – you were about one then, Billy, pet. And he told John and Simon and me that he would be back. He gave me a large, heavy parcel, wrapped in newspaper. Inside was the prettiest dish and jug set I had ever seen.

  ‘Delicate green swirls and curls of gold leaf intertwining. The china gleamed on the table and we all looked at it, trying to take in the enormity of what was happening. I can remember the look in his eyes, almost as if he was sad, or regretful.

  ‘“This is for you, darling Mary. When I’m back I want to see your lovely old smile back, I want you to feel better and be better. Boys, will you help your Ma? I want you to encourage her to start making her famous dinners again, alright boys, so that when I’m back we can sit around this table again, as a family, and we’ll use this dish and this jug fo
r beef mince and gravy, for stew and dumplings, for hotpot and roasts. Alright boys?”

  ‘John and Simon agreed enthusiastically. I don’t think it had dawned on them yet that their Da would be going away, and possibly never coming back.

  ‘“Do you know when you’ll be back?” I asked him, scared of the answer.

  ‘“I don’t know, I’m afraid. I don’t know.” A shadow of something passed across his face.

  ‘I remember looking at the dish and the jug – sitting there so pretty and so proud – willing myself to give him strength and confidence that we would be okay.

  ‘“I have to go and say my goodbyes to the neighbours now,” he announced, and gave me a peck on the forehead before popping out into the Close and heading round to the smallest house at the end.

  ‘He came back a couple of hours later, after the boys were in bed. You had gone down beautifully that night, so I was sitting on my own, listening to the wireless. Earlier I had packed together his things for him. I put in a photograph of the family, and I wrote him a letter telling him how sorry I had been for not being my usual bright and breezy self since the baby had come. I tucked it into one of his shirts for him to find when he was away. I hoped he would write to us and that God would keep him safe.

  ‘When he came back, he was very tired, so we went to bed, preparing for the awful morning to come.

  ‘He left us just after Christmas in 1939.

  ‘So I don’t know for sure, Billy, but all I do know is that in the autumn of the following year, Gracie’s Ma had little Gracie. Nobody knew who the father was and she hadn’t started having boyfriends. I can’t be sure of course, I can’t be sure, and I like to think I may be wrong…’

  Billy sat in stunned silence. Aidan took his hand, gently, as the news began to sink in. Aidan more than anyone would know what an impact this revelation would have on him.