Goodnight Sweetheart

by Pam Weaver

‘But what about all those letters I wrote to Conrad? He’s only got to produce them in court …’

  ‘Judging by the vitriol in that last letter,’ said Frankie, ‘do you really think he kept them? All you have to say is that back then you were a silly schoolgirl with a crush who would do anything to marry a famous film star.’

  Barbara’s face broke into a wide grin. ‘Frankie Sherwood,’ she gasped. ‘You’re a ruddy marvel!’

  *

  Shortly after she’d found their address on the back of his photograph, Frankie had begun a correspondence with Romare’s mother and it was obvious that the Americans were dying to meet her and especially their little granddaughter. She and Ed were soon to be married but as for their honeymoon, they decided to put it off until later in the year.

  The war had been over for six years but the country was still struggling to get back on its feet. For any normal working class family a trip to the States would be prohibitive but now that Ed had got a good price for the buttons and he had put a large chunk of his own savings into the pot, it was perfectly possible to go. They decided to go over to New York on the Queen Mary and Mr and Mrs Delaney would meet them to drive them down to Washington DC. It promised to be a very exciting time and Lillian spent hours drawing and painting pictures for her granny and granddad.

  Aunt Bet and Uncle Lorry set out to see them off at Southampton. The ship itself was huge and the dock crowded with passengers, crew, and other relatives and friends come to see their loved ones set sail. The whole dockyard was festooned with party streamers and at one end a brass band played. Although Lillian couldn’t possible have any concept of what was happening, she was very excited.

  ‘Goodbye, darling, and have a wonderful time,’ said Aunt Bet, doing her best to hold the struggling child long enough to give her a kiss.

  ‘We’ll say our goodbyes here,’ said Frankie. ‘I don’t want you both hanging around for ages and getting tired.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry about that,’ said Aunt Bet. ‘Lorry said he is taking me for an afternoon tea.’

  Uncle Lorry seemed surprised. ‘Did I?’ he said uncertainly. ‘I don’t remember that.’

  ‘That’s because you’re getting forgetful in your old age,’ said Aunt Bet giving Frankie a playful wink. ‘Take care now, my dear, and safe journey.’

  Frankie could see the unshed tears in her eyes. ‘Bye, Aunt Bet, and see you soon.’

  They were travelling Tourist Class so they headed for the bow of the ship and took the forward stairs, down into the depths. The climb on the stair was quite steep and Ed explained that if they had a storm they shouldn’t be scared if it was a little choppy. ‘You’ll soon get used to it,’ he said confidently.

  As it turned out, the cabin – or berth, as they called it – was rather snug but it was nicely decorated and the shared bathroom was only three doors down the corridor. After a little exploration, they discovered a shop nearby with a hairdresser’s and barber’s sharing the same space. They were also glad to find a kiosk next door which sold just about everything and anything they might need.

  The days passed by very quickly. They ate delicious ‘home cooked’ meals, strolled along the decks, went to the cinema, played games and swam in one of the two swimming pools. Ed and Frankie felt as though they were living in the lap of luxury and enjoyed every minute. Four and a half days later they sailed into Upper New York Bay, past the Statue of Liberty and into the harbour.

  *

  Eldrick Delaney was easy to find. Frankie and Romare’s mother had arranged that he would be wearing a tan coloured jacket and carrying a newspaper but when it came to it, Frankie could see his son in the way he stood and the way he looked. The resemblance was almost shocking as she found herself looking at an older version of the man she had loved all those years ago. Apart from his steely grey hair, Eldrick was Romare all over again. He greeted them with a wide smile and hearty handshakes, then he bent to look at his granddaughter.

  ‘Well, my, my … nobody told me you was so beautiful,’ he said. ‘You know who I is? I’s your granddaddy.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Lillian bobbing a curtsey, although where she’d got that idea Frankie hadn’t a clue. It didn’t matter. Eldrick loved the gesture and roared with laughter.

  They loaded his car with everything and then set off. Ed sat in the front passenger seat and Frankie was in the back with Lillian.

  ‘It is far to go?’ she asked.

  ‘Quite a while I reckons,’ Eldrick said with a chuckle.

  Frankie settled back with her daughter. He’d said it as if it were a five-minute drive. Frankie had no idea it was so far from the terminal. As it turned out she enjoyed the ride. Lillian was sleepy so she put her arm around her daughter and it wasn’t long before her head lolled on Frankie’s breast. The men were talking so Frankie watched the world go by. How extraordinary to see the sort of neighbourhood and open countryside she had only seen on the cinema screen. Things were so much more advanced than back home. Wide streets, tree lined avenues, traffic lights suspended over the road and unmanned railway gates. They also went through mile after mile of beautiful countryside which, apart from the very wide open spaces, reminded her of home. But not everything was beautiful. The car went through some very run down areas too, past dark alleys full of ill-kept people milling about. They caught sight of an altercation between a street vendor and the driver of a large car which, even as they sped by, looked as if it was going to get ugly.

  It seemed like no time at all before Eldrick called out, ‘Here we is. We’s arrived, little missy.’

  Lillian yawned and stretched and Frankie and Ed exchanged a small smile. The welcome they had was almost overwhelming. It seemed that everyone wanted to pump Ed’s hand or to kiss Lillian’s cheek. Frankie was swept into everybody’s arms and because they were all talking at once, she only caught a few names which hung in the air because she’d perhaps turn her head just as the person was being introduced and miss the face the name belonged to. ‘This is Selma … Abe … Constance … I’s Forrest.’

  Somehow or other she was propelled towards a flight of steps leading to a white front door. The house was surprisingly attractive. She had heard stories of GI brides coming to the States after the war and ending up in one-room shacks miles from anywhere, but these people were obviously well off.

  An attractive woman in her mid-fifties or early sixties greeted her and invited her inside. She wore a smart day dress in a lovely peacock blue and had matching jewellery. Her greying hair was beautifully coiffured in a uniquely African style.

  ‘Come you on in,’ she cried. ‘I’s Romare’s mother. Cecelia my name. Come on in and welcome.’ She held out her arms and Frankie went into her warm embrace.

  In the moments which followed, Frankie and Ed were shown to their room and invited to ‘wash up’. Dinner, they were told, would be on the table in twenty minutes.

  ‘Well, they certainly gave you a warm welcome,’ said Ed when they were alone.

  Frankie hurriedly washed Lillian’s face with a flannel and brushed her hair tidy again. As soon as her mother finished, the little girl hurried downstairs. Ed was about to follow her when Frankie caught his arm.

  ‘I’m worried that you will find all this a bit hard to swallow,’ she said. ‘They’ll be making a fuss of us because of my first husband.’

  ‘I knew what I was letting myself in for when we came,’ Ed said gathering her into his arms. ‘I want this to be special for you and Lillian, so it’s okay.’

  They kissed tenderly. ‘You’re a remarkable man, Edward Hammond,’ said Frankie looking up at him with a smile. ‘And I do love you.’

  ‘I think I’ll get that in writing,’ he quipped.

  *

  There were eleven at the table. Ed, Lillian, and Frankie, of course; Cecelia and Eldrick were joined by Constance, Cecelia’s sister, Abe, her husband, Selma, their daughter, and Forrest, her husband. Selma had two children, a girl about Lillian’s age called Shanice an
d a boy who was a couple of years younger called Darnell.

  ‘My other son Jefferson should be here as well,’ Selma explained, ‘but he gone to Kannapolis for the union. He back tomorrow.’

  Frankie nodded. She remembered the name. Romare had doted on him but she had no idea he had such a big family. She had already warmed to them. They were all so friendly.

  The meal was delicious but rather strange to her palate. Brunswick stew which, according to Cecelia, consisted of lima beans, vegetables, corn, okra (a vegetable which looked a bit like a skinny courgette), and smoke pulled pork, which they ate with warm crusty bread and a fresh salad. It was followed by banana pudding which seemed to be layers of sweet vanilla custard, broken biscuits and bananas topped with meringue. Lillian enjoyed some home-made pink lemonade, which was very cold because it had been in their refrigerator, and the adults drank something called sun tea.

  ‘I expect you wanna see the sights,’ said Forrest.

  ‘We got a lot planned,’ said Constance, ‘but some places, you have to go alone. They for whites only.’

  Frankie glanced at Ed. ‘I’m sure we’d much prefer to stay with all of you.’

  Her statement was honest and heartfelt but the fact that this was a mixed race family in an America which was segregated had already brought an awkwardness into their being together.

  *

  The next few days passed quickly. Frankie, Ed, and Lillian wandered through Georgetown and along the waterfront of the Potomac river; they took Lillian and the other children to the park and enjoyed meeting other friends of the family. They also spent time looking through old photograph albums and hearing some of the family stories.

  ‘I remembers the time Romare’s cousin pushed him in the water butt,’ Cecelia said with a chuckle. ‘The boy knowed he was in trouble so he knocks on the door and runs away. I opens the door and there’s Romare standin’ there, hair all plastered to his face, water coming out of his pockets and soaked to the skin.’ Then she began to laugh. ‘I tell you, that boy was always gettin’ Romare into trouble.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘The Klan got him,’ she said, her face clouding. ‘They done to him what they done to my boy.’

  *

  As the week went on, Frankie was aware that there was an undercurrent in the home and it seemed to be something to do with the mysterious Jefferson who still hadn’t turned up. They had woken one morning to the sound of Selma’s voice on the telephone.

  ‘He all right?’ She took in her breath noisily. ‘Where he gone?’ There was a pause, ‘He safe there?’ Another pause. ‘You sure? Oh God. Tell him to stay until the heat die down.’

  Frankie and Ed looked at each other. ‘Something’s wrong, Ed.’

  ‘I know, but they obviously don’t want to talk about it.’

  Throughout the day, Frankie tried to ask about Jefferson but people avoided the issue by changing the subject. Eventually late that afternoon, she and Cecelia were alone in the kitchen preparing the evening meal.

  Frankie had been given some celery, onions and green peppers to cut up. ‘Cecelia, I want you to tell me what’s going on,’ she said boldly. ‘Where is Jefferson?’

  ‘Don’t you bother your pretty head about dat,’ she said.

  Frankie caught her hand. ‘Cecelia, I want to know.’

  Cecelia reached for a skillet and put it on the hob. ‘It complicated.’

  ‘I still want to know,’ Frankie said doggedly.

  Her ex-mother-in-law sighed. ‘Romare fight his battle in England, Jefferson fight here but it the same fight.’

  ‘Against racial discrimination?’ said Frankie.

  Cecelia nodded as she put some butter in the skillet. ‘Jefferson live in Kannapolis,’ she said. ‘He work for Cannon Manufacturing. They the largest factory making sheets and towels in these parts, maybe in the whole world. Jefferson only got low pay but he union man.’

  ‘So he’s fighting for workers’ rights?’ said Frankie, trying to fill in the blanks. ‘Romare always thought a lot of his nephew.’

  ‘After the war,’ Cecelia went on, ‘they try to bring unions to Carolina but it ain’t working. Jim Crow laws don’t let white and black folks mix. The white boss stop them working together. Here, honey, put your vegetables in the butter.’

  ‘So what you’re saying is that the unions want to create better working conditions for the factory worker,’ said Frankie as she pushed the chopped onions, celery and peppers into the pan. ‘But because of segregation …’

  ‘The union-shop say no discrimination,’ Cecelia banged the wooden spoon on the side of the pan as she interrupted Frankie, then she stirred the vegetables and turned down the heat.

  Frankie frowned. She could understand the fact that there were two opposing beliefs but surely with discussion and compromise everything would work out. Romare’s mother moved back to the table where she crushed some biscuits into an oven proof dish.

  ‘See, child,’ Cecelia went on, ‘we got a Cold War now and they accuse union leaders of being communist. If you communist you ostracised. You can’t work. You can’t shop at the store. Ain’t nobody gonna help you cause they be called a communist too. They don’t have to prove you communist. They just says you communist. How you gonna prove you ain’t?’

  By now, tears were running down the older woman’s cheeks. Frankie reached for her arm and gave her a comforting squeeze. The biscuits crushed, she gave Frankie some tomatoes. ‘Layer these on top, will you, honey?’

  Frankie began cutting again and while she did, Cecelia mixed some grated cheese, mayonnaise, sour cream, and seasoning in a bowl.

  ‘What’s this dish called?’ Frankie asked as she watched Cecelia cover the biscuits with the tender vegetables from the skillet.

  ‘Lowcountry Tomato Pie,’ said Cecelia, putting the skillet onto a heat pad and reaching for the bowl. ‘Everybody against them,’ said Cecelia, beginning again. ‘The mayor, the police, the president of the Chamber of Commerce.’ She began putting the cheese mixture over the top. ‘They set the whole town against them. They even controlled the churches.’

  ‘Is that why you’re so worried about Jefferson?’

  Cecelia nodded. ‘He got beat on but he got away,’ she said. ‘He in hiding right now but I knows they just biding their time and when they gets him …’ She wrung her hands helplessly.

  ‘Is there any way we can get him out of there?’ said Frankie.

  ‘Eldrick and me thought of that but everybody too scared,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘And Eldrick too old.’

  The preparation finished, Cecelia opened the oven door.

  ‘That looks delicious,’ Frankie said making a mental note to try the recipe on the family when she got back home. ‘Perhaps if somebody approached the leader …’

  Cecelia smiled grimly. ‘You won’t want to mess with this man. He member of the Klan. When they came back from the war, he beat up on coloured men even though some of them got commendations for bravery. Nobody done touch him. He war hero.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  Cecelia came back to the table and picked up the bowl to put it in the sink. ‘Him name Lyman Spinks.’

  Forty-Eight

  Frankie and Ed talked far into the night.

  ‘I agree that someone should try and rescue this boy, but why you?’

  Frankie snuggled into the crook of his arm and put her hand on his chest. They were in shadows, the only light in the room coming from the moon shining through the lace curtains. Lillian was in the same room so they were whispering in case they woke her up. ‘Spinks will be expecting someone from their own community to fetch him,’ said Frankie. ‘The last thing he’ll be looking for would be an English woman.’

  ‘I can see that,’ said Ed uncertainly, ‘but what if he recognises you? Won’t you then become a target?’

  ‘But he’s not going to, is he? He has no idea we’re here. We’ll get Cecelia to arrange for Jefferson to be at a certain place; I drive straig
ht there, pick him up and go.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ said Ed.

  ‘Ed, I need to do this,’ Frankie insisted. ‘When Romare died I knew I could do nothing to help him but I made a promise in my heart that I would help his people. He doted on that boy. This is my one chance, maybe my only chance to honour that promise.’

  ‘But where’s it going to end, Frankie? We’re three and a half thousand miles from home and now you want to go on some risky rescue mission.’

  Frankie raised herself up on her elbow and looked at him. ‘Look, I know I haven’t been very fair to you,’ she admitted, ‘and I’m sorry. You’ve been amazingly patient with me and I promise this will be the very last time I’ll want to fight for somebody’s cause. Please, Ed, please let me do this one thing for the sake of Lillian’s father.’

  ‘And what if something happens,’ he said stubbornly. ‘What if you don’t come back? What happens to Lillian then?’

  Frankie lay back down and stared at the ceiling. She remained silent for several seconds and then she said, ‘I’m sorry but I can’t turn away, Ed. I just can’t.’

  She heard him sigh. ‘Then you’re not going on your own, Frankie. I’m coming with you.’

  She raised herself up again. ‘No, I need you to stay here for Lillian.’

  ‘I won’t be thwarted this time Frankie,’ he said. ‘If you’re going, we’re in this together. I’m coming with you and that’s that.’

  *

  The family had reservations about the idea too, but in the end they were persuaded. After the usual enormous Southern breakfast, Eldrick filled the car and, with Ed at the wheel, they set off. Lillian was quite happy to be left on her own because Selma had promised to take her to the zoo.

  After all of her training with the ATS, Frankie was an excellent map reader. Two hours later, they reached a place called Richmond where Ed stopped for a comfort break. They set off again about half an hour later. After driving for another hour and a half, they reached La Crosse. This time they stopped for a meal in a diner where the waitress was so fascinated by the way Ed spoke that she made him repeat everything he said twice.