Apportionment of Blame (26 page)

“I expect she does.”

“So what's going on with the investigation?”

“I'm nearly there.”

“Really?” Her voice rose, perhaps a mix of surprise and pleasure.

“I shall have some interesting news for you tonight.”

“Interesting? Not good?”

“Quite good. But not the best, yet.”

“That's something anyway.”

“See you tonight then.”

There was a slight pause.

“I love you.”

“I know, and I can't quite believe it.”

Joyce opened the door before the sound of the bell had died away.

“Hi.”

“Are you ready for this?” She smiled her welcome.

“Is it going to be like the inquisition?”

“Oh no. Far worse than that.”

Oliver came out and greeted me.

“Let me take your coat.” He smiled knowingly at me. “Then I can get you a drink.

“Pam's in the kitchen,” he said over his shoulder.

I went straight in there and found her working at something on a wooden board.

“In answer to your questions,” I said, “the answers are yes, no and yes.”

“What?” She spun round. “Do you know something?”

“Yes, about the inheritance. That's the first one. I'll tell you everything when we are all together.”

“Are we going to like what you tell us?”

“Only you can decide that, but I hope at least I can put your minds at rest to a certain extent.”

“What's the no?”

“There are some things I still don't know, particularly, I'm afraid, about Helen. I've only been able to piece together part of what happened to her.”

Oliver came in.

“Drink?”

“Red wine, please,” and I moved to follow him into the living room.

“Just a minute,” came from the kitchen.

I turned back to my hostess, who was standing with her arms out clumsily, holding her flour-covered hands away from herself.

“And what's the other yes for?”

“Yes, I'm in love with your daughter.”

She took a step towards me.

“And don't try anything with that flour on your hands.”

She beamed at me.

“I'm delighted. I really am.”

Well that was good to hear, I thought. At least that might temper the effect of the other things I have to say.

I found Joyce in the living room, loading a CD. I took her arm, turned her towards me and kissed her.

“Is this something I have to get used to?” Oliver asked. I hadn't realised he was there.

“I'm afraid so,” I assured him.

Joyce's mother came into the room, quickly wiping her hands on a towel.

“What?” Oliver asked her.

“Greg has some news.”

“I know.” He smiled knowingly.

“Not about that. About Helen.”

He turned to me.

“Do you know what happened?”

Joyce took a step back and I sensed Oliver looking at me.

“Well, not quite all of it,” I said. “but some of it. Shall we all sit down.”

I looked from one to the other and decided to plunge straight in.

“Ilse Chambers is Annie's daughter.”

“What?” they all said together.

I took them through the whole story, as I understood it. How Annie had met a German airman she referred to as the love of her life.

“Poor Alan,” from Joyce's mother.

How Ilse had been born in secret and given away for adoption. How she had been brought up in Aberdeen, but her mother had been killed in an air raid. How her father and brothers hated all Germans for killing her.

I mentioned the move to Montrose, that Ilse and her brother had come to London and how Ilse had finally decided to try to trace her birth mother and found Annie. I told them how Annie had been delighted to find her daughter and had told her the story of how she met her father. She had taken her to Scotland and to see his grave at the German cemetery on Cannock Chase.

“So that was Annie's friend in the Midlands?”

“Exactly.”

“But I knew none of this.”

“I know. That's why it seemed such a mystery.”

“So Annie left everything to her only surviving child,” Oliver said. “I suppose we can hardly complain about that.”

“Of course we can't,” his wife chastised him.

“Look,” I said, holding out Annie's journal. “Ilse has let me borrow this. It's Annie's journal. You can read her own account of what happened.”

I took the journal across to Joyce's mother. She looked from Joyce to Oliver, then back to the book, and gingerly opened one of the pages.

“You need to be careful,” I warned. “It's become rather fragile.”

She was reading and turning pages as if it was an important historical document. But then, I suppose, for them it was.

“Listen,” she said and read out loud:

‘28th June 1964

Archie brought a lovely girl to see us today. Her name is Pamela.'

Joyce's mother smiled.

“That was me.”

‘She is staying with the Johnstones. Perhaps we will be seeing more of her in the future.'

She turned more pages.

“It's all here. All about Fergus and me, that was Helen's father,” she said to me. “How she tried to help me when she could see things were not working out for us.

“Listen.”

‘4th September 1969

‘Pam has gone off to see her parents. I hope the change does her good. She certainly isn't happy, and now she is pregnant she needs a husband who will look after her.'

“It was on that journey to my parents' that I met you,” she said to Oliver. “Do you remember?”

“Do I remember?” And then to me, “I got on the train and there was this beautiful woman sitting across from me. She was fast asleep. I couldn't take my eyes off her.”

He smiled across at his wife.

“Stop it,” she said. “You're embarrassing me.”

A few pages further on she stopped, and her expression changed.

“What is it, Mum?”

“I've found the piece about Helen's father being killed, and poor old Archie. Do you know, I think I was more upset about Archie than I was about Fergus. His brother always gave him such a hard time. I thought things had worked out for him when he moved away. But then he came back to visit, and suddenly he was gone, they were both gone.”

Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Darling.”

Oliver moved across to sit next to her and put his arm round her.

“Don't be upset. It was such a long time ago.”

“I know. But the memory is still there, and being reminded like that, it brought it all back.”

Joyce's mother was still thumbing carefully through the journal.

“Poor old Annie,” she said. “Listen to this.”

‘3rd July 1941

‘Visited the doctor today. He told me I am pregnant. Hans' child.

I asked him if he was sure. He said the blood test confirmed it.

What shall I do? I can't tell Alan. Thank goodness my parents are abroad.'

“Then there's this:

‘8th July 1941

‘Alan knows something's wrong. Every day he asks me how I am.

I tell him I'm just a little tired, but I don't think he believes me.

I told him the doctor said I've been working too hard. That perhaps my commercial course is harder and more demanding than I expected.

He told me I don't have to continue with it if it tires me out.

He is so kind. I can tell he loves me and I feel so ashamed. I don't know what to do.

13th July

I have an idea. If I can make up some secret war work and pretend to be recruited through my college, I could go away somewhere and have the baby in secret. I can't think of anything else. I must work out how I could do this.

16th July

I have heard of a place in Aberdeen where I might be able to go to have my baby. I have telephoned for an appointment and I go in two days.

20th July

It is all arranged. I can go to Aberdeen. It will be funny being there, and it is like a large institution, but if it means I can have my baby safely, it is what I must do. But I shall have to give up the baby for adoption afterwards. At least Alan and my parents won't know.'

“What a terrible thing to have to do,” Joyce's mother said. “To have a baby in secret and have to give it away.”

“Alan can't have known anything about it,” Oliver said. “She must have kept the secret to herself for all those years.”

“Yes, all about her German, and the baby. It must have been like having a secret life. I had no idea.”

She was still turning pages and reading.

“Oh, listen,” she said.

‘15th February 1942

I have a daughter and I've called her Ilse. I've had to agree to have ‘father unknown' on the Birth Certificate. That's why I decided she should have a German name. She should have something of Hans.'

“That's so sad. She must have been devastated to have to give away her child like that. I can't begin to imagine what that would feel like.”

She closed the book and looked up at me, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I'm sorry Greg. None of this concerns you.”

“It's part of your story,” I said. “And therefore it's part of Joyce's story. So I'm interested.”

Joyce was beaming at me.

“What a lovely man you are. Thank goodness we've found each other at last.”

I cleared my throat in a very embarrassed sort of way.

“Enough of this. We have other things to think about.”

“Yes,” said Joyce's mother, who then blew her nose very loudly, causing us all to laugh.

“The thing is, that Ilse is very embarrassed about the inheritance. She says she never wanted it, and I believe her. I don't think she has any idea what to do with it, and I think it makes her life much more complicated than it was before.”

“I know how she could use it.”

“Oh, Oliver, stop it. She was her daughter. She's entitled.”

“I know.”

Oliver shrank back into his chair.

“But what about Helen?” Joyce asked. “Do you know what happened?”

“Not yet. I have a theory, but it's rather an odd one.”

“Tell us,” Oliver said.

I told them that Ilse lived near where Helen had died, and described how Helen had traced Ilse and how it was possible that Doug had found her there. How he had perhaps followed her along the track and being so determined in his own weird way that no one should know of Ilse's German father, he pushed her in front of the train.

“It all makes sense in a way,” I said. “Ilse has described him as impetuous.”

Joyce, probably remembering what had happened to her in London, nodded.

“No wonder he wanted to scare you off.”

“I thought he was protecting his sister, which is what he told me. But perhaps, all the time, he was trying to protect himself.”

“How can anyone bear a grudge for all that time?” Joyce's mother said.

“I suppose, for some people, the thoughts just never go away, and the longer they stay, the more they fester and grow.”

“Have you told the police?”

“No. Because it's only a theory, but I think it is likely that Ilse suspects something of the sort. The question is how do we confirm everything?”

“How do we pin it on him?” Oliver added.

“Ilse is desperately embarrassed by the whole situation,” I said. “I sense she feels that if she hadn't tried to find her birth mother, Helen would still be alive to receive the inheritance you expected her to get.”

“Oh dear.”

“Bloody war!” Oliver exclaimed. “Once again, greedy, senseless, warmongering politicians have affected the lives of far more people than the soldiers and civilians killed in battles and air raids.”

He had stood up and was facing the window, tension visibly pulsing through his body.

“Because of the war, Annie met this man and had a child. Because of the war her child's adopted mother was killed in a raid. Because of the war a man's hatred for the enemy caused our daughter to die over fifty years later. It's all insane. And so unnecessary.”