The Memory of Us: A Novel (24 page)

“No, I
do
understand. I understand that he likes chocolate. I understand that he loves growing things. I understand that he likes to take walks. I understand that he can’t hear me or see me, but that he knows I’m there.”

He slumped into his chair like a defeated schoolboy. “How . . . how do you know these things?”

“Because I’ve been to see him. Many times over the years. Oh, you picked a
lovely
place for him, and I’m glad for that, but the problem is, he can’t
see
the marble floors or the brocade curtains. But he can feel the presence of another person, and it makes him feel loved. He might have liked to know his parents.”

He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands. He looked up at me with red eyes.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be in my position and to have a son, only for him to turn out, well, the way that he turned out. You don’t know what it did to your mother.”

I felt certain I had a very good idea of what it did to her, but chose to keep that to myself and let him talk, now that he seemed of a mind to. He sighed and gripped a youthful photograph of her from the side of his desk.

“She used to be so vibrant, so joyful. I met her at a concert out at Newsham Park. Everyone was so elegant in all of their finery, sitting properly and clapping politely as each piece finished. But not your mother. Her shoes peeked out of her skirts, and they moved with the music. The rest of her body was still, but underneath, she was dancing.”

I listened expectantly, caring more than I wanted to. They’d always said that they’d met at a charity ball. I didn’t know this part of it.

“I caught her eye, and I expected her to turn away. But she didn’t. She looked straight at me, almost like she was daring me. So I started moving my feet, too. Just a little, but she saw it. I didn’t have the rhythm that she did, though. We went on like that for the rest of the concert, ten seats away from one another, moving our feet discreetly and stealing glances. When it was over, she disappeared, and I drove myself mad looking for her. That’s why, when I saw her at the ball a couple of weeks later, I headed straight toward her, asked her to dance, and put my name on every slot of her dance card.”

He looked back at me and set the picture down. He leaned in and folded his hands together over the desk.

“She was so
alive
. Nothing frightened her. There was nothing that she couldn’t do. Then you and Charles were born. She wanted a son so badly, because she knew I wanted one. When he came out, well, so
wrong
, something broke in her. She wouldn’t look at him. She wouldn’t even try to nurse him.”

He hung his head down and shook it. He continued, almost in a whisper. “She’s never really come back to me, my Beatrice. Sometimes she’s like a stranger.”

A part of me was moved by this sad, arid portrait he’d painted of their marriage. But I couldn’t help thinking of what he’d said about my husband, words he had yet to retract.

“But why didn’t you go see him? All this time, you have a son and you’ve never gone to see him.”

“It’s easier just to forget. But I suppose one can never forget. It’s easier just to pretend and to move on.”

“That may be so, but you’ve
robbed
me. You’ve robbed yourself, and you’ve definitely robbed him. How’s that for being open and honest?”

He sat straight up again and pounded his fist on the desk. “Don’t try to distract me from the real issue here. Perhaps I’ve made my own mistakes, Julianne. But that doesn’t excuse your behavior. This conversation is still about you and that Catholic boy.”

“That Catholic boy has a name, Father. It’s Kyle. He’s my husband now. And do you want to know how
we
met?”

“Frankly, I don’t. In fact, I’m going to ring my barrister and see what can be done about this.”

“No, you’re going to listen to
me
. I met Kyle at Bootle Home, where he was taking care of Charles. He was taking care of
your son
, out of the goodness of his heart, while you sat here, far away, denying his existence. You might donate to the cathedral, and Mother might raise a king’s ransom for the less fortunate, but so much for your values. They’re empty. All this time, it’s a
Catholic
who’s been doing what you should have been doing all along.”

He looked as if I’d struck him, as if we both saw our long-cherished rapport crumbling before our eyes.

I stood up. “I’m sorry that you can’t see it that way, Father, but you have a choice here. And if you make the one that I think you will, it is your loss. Here’s some honesty for you, since it seems to be so precious. You’ve lost a son. You’re going to lose your daughter. And you’re going to lose out on knowing the best son-in-law that one could hope for. You are a wealthy man, Father, but you are a poor, poor excuse for one.”

I marched out the front door and ran off into the park to find Kyle.

We left for London on Thursday, on a nine o’clock train, a week to the hour from our wedding. It was amazing how seven days could change everything. Kyle had sold his truck to the man who replaced his father at Bootle Home. I’d planned to make it out there with him, to say my good-byes to Miss Ellis and to Charles, but a terrible cold kept me in the flat, so I asked him to extend my love to both of them.

Before we left, I had seen Lucille, who peppered me with questions. They ranged from “How are your parents going to explain this to their friends?” to “What is it like to make love—really, do tell me, because I am so nervous!” and everything in between. To the first, I answered that I didn’t give a whit what they would tell their friends. To the second, I answered that she would have to find out for herself, but I promised with a wink that it was
wonderful
.

My parents were noticeably absent at the train station, but Lucille was there, as well as Father Sullivan.

The train ride was our second trip together in a week, and I was glad that Kyle wasn’t driving so that I could sit closer to him. When I was hungry, he pulled out cucumber sandwiches that he had packed. Third class was so different from the luxury I had traveled in only a year ago. Gone were the etched carvings, the embroidered upholstery, the doting service. But I paid no mind to all of that. Kyle was an excellent substitute for all of that posh. I believed I was living in absolute bliss.

Well, almost.

The flat that Kyle had inquired about from an advertisement was still vacant, which we originally thought to be a stroke of luck. But when we saw it, we realized that the description had been woefully optimistic.
Cozy, cottage-like flat above charming neighborhood café
should have read:
Dingy closet situated above obnoxiously noisy pub; rats available at no extra charge
. We left as quickly as we could, grateful that we had not sent in a deposit or signed any papers. We stayed for the first few nights in a boardinghouse and scanned the newspaper for another option.

We were just about to give up hope when I had dinner with Abigail. Kyle was meeting with his new employer, and Dorothy hadn’t arrived back in town yet.

“A runaway marriage, now? And you thought
I
was a bold American. You’re an honorary member of the club.” Abigail had hung on to every word of our story. “What are you going to do now?”

“Well, Kyle has a job with a landscaper, and I’m going to ask the hospital for some kind of employment to offset my tuition. I don’t think I can afford to come back full-time, but I’ll still work away at it. Maybe they have some kind of housing for married people.”

“Oh, nix that. There’s a waiting list and it could be another year before you get one of those. I think I have a better idea.”

“What’s that?”

“My father’s assistant just got transferred to the embassy in Rome. She had a lovely little flat not too far from the school, and she has to sublet it. It can’t possibly cost very much, not on a secretary’s salary. Maybe something can be worked out.”

“You’re a peach, Abigail.”

“Hey, it’s the least I could do for stealing your boyfriend.”

“Oh, Roger? He was never really my boyfriend. And you’re much better suited for him.”

“Ha! I don’t know about that. I often wonder what some of his stuffy colleagues think of me. I mean, I know how to act correctly at these functions we go to. I’m not the daughter of a diplomat for nothing. But my mouth can’t help but get the better of me once in a while. Still, he seems to like my crazy hide. Especially when I let him touch it.”

“Abigail!”

“Oh, don’t pretend that I shock you. You know me better than that. But our proper parliamentarian friend, I’m telling you—he has a wilder side.” She pressed her finger into the table squarely to drive home the statement.

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“Oh, but it’s true. There was this one time—”

“I do not want to hear this.”

“OK, I wouldn’t want to damage your innocent ears. On the other hand, you’re married now—you should know what I’m talking about.”

“Another subject, Abigail.”

“Fine, then. When do you want to see the flat?”

We were able to get in the next day, and it was ideal. It was closer to the school than to Kyle’s office, but he didn’t mind the commute. It was in Lambeth, on Black Prince Road, above a pub called the Jolly Gardeners. We occupied the middle floor of the three-story, red-and-white-bricked building. The rumbling of the train just a block away became such a routine noise that we no longer heard it. It was also a little more expensive than we had budgeted for, but it was furnished, so we made up for it out of some money that we had earmarked for that. The icing on the cake was a place on the roof where Kyle could place several wooden boxes for growing herbs and small vegetables. It reminded me of Charles and how he liked to put his hands in soil.

The flat situation was just my first awakening to living within my means. I’d never realized how expensive things were. Last year I had a healthy allowance, and although I wasn’t particularly reckless, it never ran out. Anything I needed was available. If I was hungry, I’d pop into a café and get a sandwich and soda. If I was bored, I’d buy a magazine. If I was cold, I’d stop into a fashionable shop and buy a sweater without even looking at the tag. All too soon came the crashing reality that my former carefree lifestyle was over. I discovered that I could make my own sandwiches for far less, a Coke wasn’t necessary, a magazine could be borrowed from a friend, and my goodness, the price of a quality sweater could feed a small army.

Kyle wasn’t bothered by this, of course. He’d been frugal his whole life. He was proud of the efforts that I was making, but he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to tease me.

“What are you doing, darling?” He looked up at me earnestly as I was disposing of the scraps from supper into the waste bin. There was quite a bit to toss, unfortunately, as I was in the beginning stages of learning to cook for myself.

“I’m scraping the plates.”

“You mean, you don’t save the bones for the secondhand market?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“The bones. Didn’t you know that you can wash them off and resell them to cobblers? They grind them up into a powder and use it for shoeshine.”

“I had no idea.”

“Oh yes. Of course, they’ll deny it when you first approach them, but that’s only because they want to talk you down from your price. Don’t fall for it, though. If you’re persistent and tell them that it’s fifty pence or you’re walking, they’ll meet your price.”

“That is very clever! I never would have thought of that.”

“It’s not such a secret. Growing up, I’d save up for Dadaí’s Christmas present with the bones I’d sell throughout the year.”

I didn’t think we were quite that desperate for money, but I wanted Kyle to be proud of me. It only took three visits to befuddled cobblers and one threat to “ring the bobbies” if I didn’t leave to realize the full scope of my gullibility.

Kyle had a tremendous laugh at my expense, egged on by Abigail, who thought it was a brilliant prank. But a night of sleeping on the sofa brought a sincere apology and a promise never to do anything like it again. Not that I could stay mad, though. He looked so desolate all alone in the other room, and the bed was too empty without him. I put on one of my new nightgowns and called him into our room.

Who said that you needed money to have fun?

Chapter Twenty-One

Word of continued Nazi aggression dampened the revelry of our first few months together. In late November, word spread about what was being called
Kristallnacht
, or “Night of Broken Glass.” Newspapers posted staggering numbers, reporting that thirty thousand Jews had been sent to concentration camps, a thousand synagogues had been burned, seven thousand Jewish businesses had been damaged. People were committing suicide by the hundreds rather than face the terrors that might come. The Movietone reels, which we saw when we scraped together enough money to catch a show, showed glass flooding the streets of Germany and Austria as the destruction continued.

I feared Britain’s involvement in a potential war for the selfish reason that Kyle no longer had the exemption of the seminary to fall upon. If anything happened to him, it would be my fault. And the possibility of violence in our own streets was daunting.

So far, professors at the school had managed to maintain a sense of normalcy, and I was too busy to think any more on it. Our studies were delving deeper into anatomy and physiology, and our hospital hours remained taxing. We were being encouraged to start choosing a specialty, and I was debating between elder care and midwifery.

I decorated our little flat as December rolled in, with candles in the windows and tinsel around their frames. Kyle had brought scraps of boughs and an anemic little tree from one of his sources through work.

Two weeks from Christmas, I had fallen asleep upon an open textbook when I heard a knock at my door.

“Father!” I cried, as I saw the tall man in the woolen overcoat standing at my threshold. Despite how we’d parted, I couldn’t help but throw my arms around him. He responded, somewhat stiffly, but I considered it a good sign that he was even here.

“Julianne,” he said, as I waved him in. He took off his hat and patted the thin layer of snow into the sink. Quickly, I closed my books and piled them with my pages of notes into a corner of the table. I wiped the chair clean of some crumbs that had fallen from an afternoon snack.

“Have a seat. Please.”

He looked around him and pursed his lips. “Do you have a coat? There is a restaurant I passed a few blocks away. We could talk there.”

“Yes, let’s do that.” I bundled up, and we walked to Princes Arms, a small place with geometric black-and-teal floor tiles and brass lamps lighting each table. I had peeked through its windows in the past but couldn’t afford to go in.

We slid into a green leather booth, and I braced myself for whatever my father must have felt it important enough to come say.

I knew immediately that a beef stew sounded perfect on a cold day like this, so I spoke first while he studied the menu. “It’s good to see you. What a wonderful surprise.”

He shut the menu and placed his folded hands over it. “It’s good to see you, too. I’m in town for a freight conference. I also had a meeting with a shoe manufacturer who was going to talk to me about shipping through our Liverpool port, but he had to cancel. So I thought I would drop in on you and see how you are getting along.”

I wondered if I had, in fact, been a mere afterthought to a business meeting that never happened or if, in his pride, he could not admit that he might really have wanted to come see me.

“We’re getting along well, Father. Kyle is working extra jobs so that I can go to school full-time, and I’m taking on extra work at the hospital. He’s good to me. We’re happy. We really are.”

The tuxedoed waiter arrived just at that time. Father ordered a roast with Yorkshire pudding, and I chose mint tea with my stew.

I fiddled with the necklace I was wearing. “And how is Mother?”

“She’s well. Keeping busy. You broke her heart, you know.”

I remained silent at that.

“But still, she saw fit to send along a Christmas gift for you.” He pulled from his pocket a small box and encouraged me to open it. I pulled at the long silk ribbon and opened the paper as carefully as it seemed to have been wrapped. Inside was a silver bracelet with an anchor charm.

So I hadn’t merely been a substitute for a shoe exporter.

“Your mother saw that in a store on Lord Street, and she thought it might be a way to show you that if working was your little rebellion against the other plans she might have had for you, then you have her forgiveness and her blessing to come work with me at the docks and learn more about the shipping business.” He leaned in. “We have been talking, Julianne, about your little stunt. Perhaps we were harsh in taking it so seriously and not realizing that you had got caught up the way young people do when they try to rebel and make their own way. We thought that perhaps by now you would have realized that your marriage was a mistake, and we are prepared to bring you back home if you would like.”

I breathed deeply in and out, holding back the things I wanted to say. I tried to find it in my heart to pity that woman, but years of resentment interfered.

He continued. “It’s not too late. It’s not as if there’s a baby in all of this mess or anything that will hold you back from just making a clean break of it.”

I stood up. “If this is going to be the nature of this conversation, then I think that I will go home. Everything I said in August is still true today. Kyle is my husband. We are happy. I am not coming back to Liverpool unless we are both welcome.”

“Sit back down, Julianne.”

The little girl in me, the one who once crawled on his lap so he could sneak a peppermint to me before dinner, obeyed.

“Look. Let’s put this talk of your marriage to that Catholic boy aside for a minute. I’m convinced you’ll see our way of thinking before long, so I’m not going to bother over that. But the truth is, you need to know that London is not going to be a safe place to live in for much longer. You keep up with the reports from Germany, I assume?”

“Of course I do. It’s all anyone talks about. In fact, the hospital is preparing us for an influx of Jewish children over the next few weeks. Most of them are the only ones in their family to have survived, and we may need to take some of them in, depending on what their health conditions are.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about that. Ten thousand over the next few months. The Liverpool Ladies’ Society is working to find homes to place them in up north. See, you could continue that work back at home.”

“I understand what you are both trying to do, and that you think this is helping. I appreciate that. But this is home. Kyle is home. I have no plans to return to Liverpool.”

“Well, then, I don’t see that we have anything to talk about.” He called the waiter over and pulled out a wad of notes. “Please package up the food we ordered and send it with this young lady. I have been called away.”

He placed a few more notes in front of me and stood up. “Have your fun while it lasts, Julianne. We’ll see you when things have changed.” I didn’t turn around as he left, just stared at the ten pounds he had left for me. On principle, I wanted to leave them there. Maybe give the waiter the best Christmas of his life. But if that money would allow Kyle to work fewer hours, then I could swallow my pride and take it. I waited for the waiter to bring the food and carried it all home.

While I had originally chosen to work at the hospital on Christmas Day, the money from my father allowed me to give the higher-paying shift to another nurse. Kyle and I chose to spend our first Christmas together at midnight Mass, and it seemed fitting to go to Immaculate Heart of Mary. We learned from the cabbie we’d hired to take us that it was more commonly referred to as the Brompton Oratory. The cab ride itself was a splurge, but the thought of riding the Tube so late at night was a little frightening.

When we got home, we huddled next to our little tree, with the window candles casting flickering light into the darkness.

“Happy Christmas, Julianne.”

“Happy Christmas, Kyle.”

We brushed our lips together lightly and laughed as our cold noses touched.

“Here, I have a present for you.” Kyle handed a package to me. It felt like a book, and was, in fact,
Rebecca
, by Daphne du Maurier.

“Oh, thank you! I’ve heard of this one and I’ve been dying to read it.” I threw my arms around his neck.

“I went to W. H. Smith, and they told me that this one is all the rage right now.”

“It is.” I opened it up to read the first pages. “‘Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again . . .’” I snapped the cover shut. “I can’t start now. I’ll never want to stop. And, besides, I have to give you your present.”

“OK, I’m ready.”

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s small.”

“Um, a pocket watch?”

“Smaller.”

“A money clip.”

“Smaller. Think tiny. Infinitesimal.”

He was silent. I grabbed his hand and put it on my belly.

“Kyle, we’re having a baby!”

It was at this time that I mourned the relationship with my mother more than any other. How comforting it would have been to have someone besides a doctor tell me what to expect. The midwifery courses I’d been taking dealt more with the birthing process than with everything leading up to it. Kyle did everything he could to tend to my needs—cravings, nausea, fatigue—but as wonderful as he was, a girl just needs a girl. I was eager to share the news and complain about the misery with Dorothy and Abigail, but no one could know before Lucille.

For weeks, I tried to reach her, but between my party line and hers, my schedule and hers, I was beginning to think that my child would graduate from primary school before I got to share the news with her. We kept in touch with letters, of course, where I learned that she and Ben had set their wedding date for 10 June, and she had started classes to become a teacher. But I longed to hear her voice.

At last, the miracle happened, and the operator passed me through to a free line at Lucille’s house. Her squeals at my news must have deafened any busybodies who might’ve been listening in on the party line.

“I’m going to be an aunt! Well, kind of. But still! I can hardly believe it. Kyle must be so excited.”

“Oh, he is. Probably more than I am, I think! He’s already getting to work carving pieces for a cradle, and it’s not looking half-bad. In between rubbing my feet and fetching crazy things for me, you know.”

“Golly, you picked a good one, Jul.”

“I know it, Lucille. I just wish my parents could see that.”

“No improvement on that front, huh?”

“No. My father came down in December, and they did send me a Christmas card. But it was only addressed to me. I just can’t reconcile with them until they accept Kyle as my husband.”

“Well, don’t you think they’ll have to with a baby on the way?”

“One would hope, right? But I’m just not sure what to expect.”

“When are you going to tell them?”

“Well, this might sound silly, but I thought I’d come up for your wedding in June and tell them then.”

“Won’t you be just huge by then? Are you sure you want to wait that long?”

I paused for a minute to breathe through a cramp, one of many I’d been experiencing lately.

“Jul? Are you there?”

“Yes,” I answered, rubbing my abdomen. “Whew. It’s tough growing a little one.”

“I can’t imagine. Although, I hope to be in your shoes someday. Maybe sooner than later.”

“Lucille!”

“Ha! That’s not what I meant. Funny girl. No, I just mean that after Chamberlain’s speech the other day, we seem closer to entering this war than we’ve ever been. Ben’s certain that we’re going to enter the war and he’s going to be called up. So we’ve been talking about moving up the wedding. In fact, it’s going to be in April, just a few weeks from now.”

“April? Oh, Lucille, I can’t make it to Liverpool then. I’ll still have classes and I’m supposed to attend the opening of a hotel with Kyle. His landscaping team designed the grounds of a place out in Kensington.”

“I figured as much. I never imagined that we wouldn’t be there for each other’s wedding days. But that’s the way things work out sometimes, I suppose. Drat! There I go again. Ben’s been telling me I’m too gloomy over the war stuff. Boys, right? So. There must be twenty thousand other things to talk about. Go!”

We distracted each other with titbits. Miss Ellis and I corresponded regularly, and Charles was the same as ever. Abigail and Roger had got engaged. I’d learned to make cinnamon rolls, and Kyle loved the drops of lemon juice that I’d add to the icing to make it tart. Lucille told me that Blythe had taken the bookkeeping job at my father’s docks when Mavis retired.

Another cramp rolled through my belly, and I told Lucille reluctantly that I had to get back to studying. What I didn’t tell her was that the pain was so bad that I needed to lie down. I didn’t want her to worry needlessly nor hear the fear in my voice.