Terms of Affection

by M K Turner

  Chapter Eight

  The room remained silent for a while as everyone considered what Annette had told them. It was a part of his father’s life that Robin had not heard about before.

  “What happened to that girl, did she give up chasing him once she knew he and Mum were serious?”

  “I have no idea, Robin. The next morning he got up and was absolutely fine. He never mentioned her again.” Looking thoughtful for a moment, she added, “Although sometimes it seemed to me that he was forcing himself to be normal. I said as much to your grandad but he thought I was making it up.”

  “Sounds to me like he was a bit of a lad.” Young Henry grinned. “Up until today, listening to everyone else talking about him, I’d thought he was a bit too perfect, you lot made him sound like a saint. I’m glad he was normal.”

  “Nothing clever in mucking young girls about. You never know what might happen. And he was perfect, tiny little flaws don’t make you bad. He was never bad, not intentionally. He was a—”

  “Good boy. Yes, I know, but at least he was a good boy who had lived a little.”

  Annette turned and looked Henry in the eye. “And you’ve lived have you? What have you done? Go on, no judgements, no scolding, what have you done? You’re about the same age as him when he went, what should we be worrying about? Because the only thing I ever worried about with my Henry was that he’d get some poor girl in trouble, and I was right. But they were in love, and without that I wouldn’t have you two.” Her chin gave a wobble, and her voice was croaking as she asked, “Are you likely to be producing any time soon?”

  “No! Oh, Gran. I’m sorry.” Henry pulled his great grandmother into a hug. “No, I’m not. I haven’t lived either, and . . . I’m sorry. Tell us some more about Grandpa Henry.”

  “I’m not sure what else there is to tell. What would you like to know?” Releasing herself from Henry’s grasp, she looked at Angie.

  “Anything you think might help us get a feel for his personality. For instance, I believe he was taking extra maths tuition because he knew Mr Rogers was Lorna’s father, and he hoped he’d bump into her. But what reason did he give you, you were paying for it after all.”

  “He did what?” Hands on hips, Annette shook her head. “Who told you that? The cheeky bugger. I had no idea, although now you’ve said it, I can see it makes sense.”

  Robin chuckled. “He really was smitten with Mum. I wonder if she knows that, I’ll have to ask when I call her tonight. Why did you think he was taking extra lessons?”

  “To get the university place he wanted.” Annette looked down trying to remember something, but it wouldn’t come to her. “I can’t remember which one it was now, but we’d got all the brochures, most of it went over my head if I’m honest, and Henry set his heart on doing engineering at this particular university because they had a good rugby team, and some of the England players had gone there.” Smiling, she looked at a trophy still sitting proudly on a shelf in the alcove. “He lived for his rugby, until Lorna, then he had to share his time.”

  “And the maths . . .” Robin encouraged.

  “Oh yes. Well, to do the engineering course at this university, he needed a good A level in maths, and his O level had only been a B. I spoke to your grandad, grandad Rogers that is, about it, and he thought that if Henry kept his head down and worked hard, he’d easily get the grade, but he also mentioned he did private tuition in the evenings if Henry was worried about it.”

  “And he was?”

  “I don’t know now, Robin, but at the time, yes. Although he was hesitant at first, after a few days thinking about it, he jumped at the chance. Even took on an extra couple of streets on his paper round so we could reduce his pocket money, to help pay for it.” Laughing at the memory, she tutted. “Never touched it of course, but it was good that he knew you had to work for what you wanted.”

  “That was keen.” Angie pointed to the trophy. “May I?”

  “Of course. I’ve got a whole box of them in the small bedroom, kept that one out because it was the last one he won. Lorna was there to cheer him on, that’s the photo.” She pointed further along the shelf to a small frame. “Look how happy they are.” She beamed at the photograph.

  Collecting both, Angie returned to her seat, and looked at the photograph. “That’s lovely, you’re right, they do look happy. Your mum and dad were a handsome couple.” She smiled at Robin as she passed the photograph to Margaret. She read the inscription on the bottom of the trophy. Henry Cooksey, Club Man of the Year 1977. “How lovely. I bet he was chuffed.”

  “More than, but you know he was just as made up with the scarf Lorna made him to celebrate. He managed to catch his old one in the chain of his bike, so she knitted him a new one.”

  “Is that the scarf found at the bus stop?” Taking the trophy from Angie, Margaret read the inscription and folded her hands around it.

  “Yes. The police did ask if we wanted it back, but at the time I refused. I didn’t want anything that would remind me he’d been taken from me. And he was taken, I’ve always been sure of that. And the sighting of him getting into a car confirms it. Perhaps if that person had been around at the time, things might have been different.”

  Clasping her hands, Annette lowered her head. After a moment’s contemplation, she threw out her hands. “But who knows? What is, is what is, we need to be grateful for what we have. And I am.” Smiling at Robin, she took Henry’s hand. “I know Gerry was, I think I’d have lost him a lot sooner if it hadn’t been for you two.”

  Angie could tell that Annette had had years of ‘putting on a brave face’, and ‘getting on with it’, and her heart went out to the woman. She was also conscious of the fact that her mother had leaned back into the sofa, and was motionless. Not wanting to look for fear of drawing attention to her, she turned to Robin. He was a handsome man, and even though he’d never met his father, his brow was furrowed in thought.

  “Who would take a boy like Dad?” Pushing his hair away from his forehead, Robin looked at his son. “He was clearly a big powerful lad, and if you had malice in mind, you’d have to have a plan on how to overpower him. From what I know, he wouldn’t have given in easily.”

  “That’s what Gerry said. If the police were quick, whoever took him would have the marks of a struggle. But they weren’t. I’m sure they did everything they could, spoke to everyone. Teachers, friends, neighbours all his teammates. Your granddad even helped with the search of the woods, took two days for all those people to do it thoroughly.” Looking back at Angie, she grimaced. “That’s because he hadn’t gone in there. We know that now.”

  Nudging Annette, Henry pointed at Margaret. “I think she’s fallen asleep.”

  “Oh.” Annette’s nose wrinkled, obviously put out that someone who had come to talk about her son was not interested enough to stay awake. “Dreaming as well. Look her lips are moving.”

  A quick glance told Angie, that her mother was probably with Henry. Her hands squeezed the trophy but the rest of her body remained relaxed.

  “I’m sorry, she’s been poorly. This is the medication, makes her drowsy, she’ll be mortified. I’ll wake her—”

  “No, leave the poor thing. She can listen to that.” Pointing at the telephone, Annette smiled at Margaret. “I was the same when I had my knee operation. Lorna had taken me to the cinema and I slept through the whole film, I had to go again the next week.”

  “I know. I was there.” Tutting, but with a twinkle in his eye, Robin teased his grandmother. “Brideshead Revisited, wouldn’t have been my first choice. Don’t know how I stayed awake.”

  “Don’t give me that. You loved it. He likes teasing me.” Shaking her fist at Robin, Annette turned back to Angie. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”

  “Not at the moment, but I may want to speak to you in the future if something crops up which I don’t understand. I’d also like to speak to Lorna. Do you think that would be possible?” Hearing the release of breath, Angie
glanced at Robin.

  “Of course she’ll speak to you. But unlike Gran, who copes with it all, Mum always gets dragged back to that time. Up here.” Tapping the side of his head, he looked sad. “Takes her a couple of days to get back to normal.

  “I wouldn’t want to upset her.”

  “You won’t. Perversely, despite the melancholy it brings, she loves talking about him. Let me have your number, I’ll ask her to call you.”

  Scribbling her number on a page from her notebook, Angie handed it to Robin, and made a mental note to get some business cards printed. “One last thing, if it’s possible, can I have a look at Henry’s things, you said you had a box full.

  “I’m sure Gran won’t mind,” Robin shot a look at Annette, “But what can you possibly hope to find that would be of any use after all this time. Surely the police would have taken it.”

  “I don’t mind.” Annette got to her feet. “I like looking at it. Henry, take Angie to the small bedroom, I’ll put the kettle on.”

  “Not for me, once I’ve done this, I’ll wake Mum and we’ll leave you in peace. Thank you anyway.”

  Hoping she wouldn’t have to wake her mother, Angie followed Henry out into the hall and up the stairs. Allowing her hand to glide the bannister she could feel Henry’s presence. “Give me some help here, Henry,” she mouthed silently.

  Pushing open the door to the box room, young Henry allowed Angie to enter first.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to find out what happened?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  “It will be weird if you do. I’ve grown up with the stories about him, and when I was younger, I always dreamed he’d show up one day. A millionaire who’d lost his fortune, but regained his memory.” He laughed. “I had an active imagination, now I tend to agree that he has probably been dead as long as he’s been gone.”

  Pulling open the wardrobe door, he held his hand towards it, inviting Angie to take a look. There were no clothes hanging from the silver rail, instead every inch had been taken up with boxes of various sizes, all stacked neatly into the small space.

  “All Henry’s?”

  “Yep. Do you want me to put some of them on the bed?”

  “Please. I didn’t anticipate there would be this much, this will take a while.”

  Halfway through the first box, Henry excused himself. “I’m starving, I’m going to grab a snack, can I get you anything?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. I take it you’ve seen this lot before.”

  “Just a few times. I don’t mind actually, I find it interesting. I wish I’d known him.”

  “Wherever he is, I’m sure he knows that.”

  “I don’t believe in all that stuff, but it’s a nice thought.” He paused in the doorway as Angie lifted an exercise book out of the box. “That’s one of my favourite things. Have a look. He wasn’t doing much schoolwork.” With a smirk, Henry disappeared onto the landing. “Won’t be long.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Flipping open the book, Angie smiled. At the top of the page, was a list of exercises for homework to be in by Thursday. Below that was a list of names under the title First Team. And in the bottom corner was an L. The next page was some sort of training regime to include the maximum time in which the different tasks should be completed. A scribbled explanation on a formula Angie didn’t even try to work out, and then one line of text underlined. ‘I’m going to ask her!’. The rest of the book followed a similar pattern. A few notes on homework, lots of notes on training and rugby, and lovely little mentions on his growing relationship with Lorna. Setting it to one side, Angie continued her search.

  By the time Henry returned some twenty minutes later, she had a pile of four objects. The exercise book, a flyer about the school dance, a photograph of a rugby team, in which Henry took pride of place, centre row, holding the ball, and a pair of tiny silver stud earrings on a piece of card with the jeweller’s name printed in gold across the top. The last item had been tucked away at the bottom of a biscuit tin containing a healthy collection of sporting medals and their brightly coloured ribbons.

  “Gran asks if she can get you anything?”

  Shaking her head, Angie smiled at him. “I don’t think so. I’m done here; shall I stack these boxes back in the wardrobe?”

  “I’ll do it, the other lady has just woken up. She looks a bit odd, I think that’s why Gran sent me to get you.”

  “Oh dear, I’m on my way.” Scooping up her chosen items, Angie hurried downstairs. As she neared the bottom, she could hear Annette soothing her mother.

  “Are you sure? No, don’t move. You look quite queer. Do you feel dizzy? Here, have a sip of this water.”

  Robin had moved to sit in the space vacated by his grandmother. He sat leaning forward, peering at Margaret as though he might need to catch her. Margaret was trying to reclaim the hand which Annette was patting, and look relieved to see Angie. Her eyes jerked towards the door, Angie got the message.

  “Mum, are you feeling okay? I explained that you’d been poorly. I think you’re doing too much too soon.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right. I’m fine, but perhaps I should get off home.” Smiling at Annette, she finally reclaimed her hand. “Thank you, Mrs . . . Annette. I didn’t mean to startle you. We’ll leave you to it.”

  As she got to her feet, Robin stood too, he still wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t keel over.

  “Good idea. I’ve found a few things which might help us, would you mind if I took them with me?” Angie held the small collection in her hands. “Shall I show you?”

  “Oh no. Take what you want, as long as you return them. I’m more concerned about your mum.”

  “Please don’t be, it’s only that I’ve not been sleeping well lately. Shall I put this back?” Getting to her feet, Margaret held out the trophy.

  “Here, I’ll do it, and I’ll show you out.” Robin put the trophy in pride of place on the shelf and followed them into the hall as they said their goodbyes. He walked them to the gate. “Thanks, I’m sure she’ll want to check up on how you’re doing but you will let her know, won’t you?”

  He sounded concerned and Angie reassured him. “Yes. We might even make a nuisance of ourselves, although I hope not.”

  “Good. I have to confess I thought this was going to upset her, but it seems to have had the opposite effect. Thank you, and good luck.”

  He was still standing at the gate as they drove away. Shifting her position to look in the back seat, Margaret tried to see what Angie had brought with them.

  “Is that a school book?”

  “We’ll get to that later, it might be nothing. Your turn, tell me, you had contact, didn’t you?”

  “I did. Didn’t even feel it coming, I usually do. I wasn’t asleep by the way, I could hear you all talking, but everything was jumping about, and I was trying to make sense of it.” Moving her head from side to side, Margaret closed her eyes. “We were longer than I thought, head for the bus station and I’ll try and make some sense of it.”

  “Are you sure? That means Gran will want to know everything.”

  Bridget Bearing had an enthusiastic, outgoing, sometimes outspoken personality, and having been a headteacher for many years, was used to people following her lead. Angie had no issue with this, and although she tried and failed to slow her grandmother down on occasion, she enjoyed being in her company. This wasn’t always true for Margaret, she loved her mother dearly, but found her exhausting and often irritating when she interfered in Margaret’s affairs. Margaret was conservative and considerate in all ways, she and her mother were chalk and cheese in their outlook. Bridget had spent a lifetime trying to encourage Margaret to be more outgoing, when Margaret was more than content with her life.

  “She’ll find out anyway. Once I drop her home, I’m out for the evening, so if she wants anything out of me, it will be tomorrow.” Hushing Angie, Margaret leaned back against the headrest. “Enough questions, let me think.”
r />   As they approached town, Margaret sat upright. “Is your phone in here? Drive round for a few minutes. I’m going to record this for you. You can get it typed tonight with whatever else you’ve found out, and we might be able to make some sense of it.”

  “You seem excited. Hang on, I’ll pull over.” Angie smiled as her mother struggled with the phone. Pulling into a side street, she set the phone to record and put it on the dashboard in front of her mother. “Talk away. I won’t ask questions.”

  Chapter Nine

  Grinning, Henry held the trophy above his head and waved his hand to keep the resultant cheers coming. Milking the response for a few moments, he lowered his arm and kissed the trophy. Club Man of the year! He knew he was going to win something, the team’s coach, Jamie Dance, had told him to make sure he wore his club tie, but Club Man! Scanning the crowd, he found Lorna was still standing on her chair, and as she caught his eye, she gave him a thumbs up and blew him a kiss.

  Walking over to Henry, the chairman shook his hand again, and pushed him towards the steps leading onto the stage. “Go on, go and see your public.” Laughing as Henry gave a low bow, he turned to the audience. “That’s the last one for tonight, and as I said, well deserved. The bar is open until eleven, the buffet will be ready in ten minutes, I’ll have some volunteers to clear the chairs off the dance-floor, and the disco will start thereafter. I know I’ve already said this, but what a season! Top of the league, only one defeat, record number of tries in . . . what do you mean I’m repeating myself?”

  Laughing with the crowd, he held up his hand for silence. “Okay, okay, I’m going. Enjoy yourselves, and whatever time you leave, please do so quietly. Remember the neighbours. That’s your lot, get on with it.”

  Reaching Lorna, Henry took her hands and she jumped lightly to the ground, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, it was a peck on the lips, followed by her congratulations, but it didn’t stop his teammates clapping and giving a few ear-piercing wolf whistles. A few lewd comments reached them, and Henry looked round and wagged his finger at the offenders as his eyes searched for Mr Rogers.