The Captain's Daughter (37 page)

‘If God is calling him for a priest who are you to say nay?’

‘I’m his papa, I say no son of mine will join the Church.’

‘Well, I’m his mamma and I say he will.’

Once the illness had struck hard, taking the wind out of all these arguments as he struggled for breath, there was no time to worry about any of it.

Angelo was stuck in a bed made from two leather armchairs, looking out over the street, watching the horses and carts, listening to the honking horns of automobiles, putting on a brave face while he waited for the priest to call for the last time. He sat staring at his little box of photographs of Maria and the baby he never got to meet. And of course that little shoe.

They all knew the story of the
scarpetta
, the one Angelo was convinced was his first daughter’s bootee. ‘She lives,’ he smiled, waving towards the street. ‘Out there . . . my Alessia. I know it.’ He would point to his heart and the tale of the
Titanic’
s sinking was repeated over and over again until the whole family knew every detail by heart. How he’d been on the building site when the news came, how he’d waited at the dockside but Maria and Alessia hadn’t appeared, how he’d gone to the White Star offices every day and seen for himself their names on the list of missing passengers.

Kathleen would calm him when he started to cough and splutter, getting upset. ‘If she’s out there, one day she’ll find you . . . and if not, she’s with the saints and waiting for you.’

One day the doctor called, accompanied by a colleague from the hospital, who pounded Angelo’s chest and made him take deep breaths. ‘What he needs is good sea air away from the city – mountain air,’ was his verdict.

Angelo laughed. ‘Have we won the lottery? There’s a family here who needs feeding, or haven’t you noticed?’ he sneered at Gianni Falcone, a good man but not living in their world. ‘I’m a goner. Just give it to me straight, how long?’

The man ignored his question. ‘You lost your wife on the
Titanic
, every one knows. There is a fund still going, and a chance that you could qualify for some financial compensation. And you lost your health in the army, yes? Two cracks at the whip, Angelo.’

‘I ain’t no charity case.’

‘No, listen,’ Kathleen said, pleading, flashing those magnificent eyes. ‘With that money we could get you away, give you a chance to heal. There are medicines we could buy.’

‘You can’t heal what I’ve got, they’ve already told me.’

‘Not so fast before you order your shroud; things have moved on since the war.’

‘Where could I go, out west?’ he asked, suddenly feeling hope surging through his veins despite himself.

‘Better than that, Angelo.’ Kathleen waved a slip of paper into his face. ‘How about Italy? The sea air, the mountain breezes of Tuscan hills, a chance to see your parents before they pass from us? I have sent off a form for a special grant. The doctor will sign it.’

‘But the children, it’s a long way . . .’

‘They stay with me. This is your trip. It’s you who needs the cure. I don’t want to lose you. We love you.’

Angelo felt the tears coursing down his cheeks. ‘You are a good woman.’

‘I know, but I need you around for years to come. I’ve lots of work for you to do. Don’t you think it’s worth a try?’

He nodded, seeing how serious her face was, and after they’d gone, he sank back with relief at the thought of seeing his old country once more.

Akron

Celeste dressed with care for this most important visit of her life.

She was nervous, having sat for hours on the train dreading the thought of returning to a place where she had been both happy and sad. Only the thought of seeing Roddy again made her determined. She’d wired ahead, hoping someone would meet her because she didn’t know where their new house was. It was a grey cloudy day, in keeping with her mood. What if this visit was a disaster?

As the train drew in, she caught a glimpse of factories and chimneys, wide roads busy with trucks, all the industry of the town. Akron was growing prosperous. It had left her behind almost fifteen years ago. She picked up her suitcase and parcels, trying not to shake. She was all fingers and thumbs today.

Then on the platform she saw him: her son, no longer a chubby boy in knickerbockers, but a lanky youth crowned with a flock of blond hair, wearing jacket and flannels. He had come himself; a good sign. She choked at the sight of him, so tall and handsome. ‘Oh, Roddy! I’ve missed you so much.’

She wanted to hug him but sensed he would be embarrassed by any public show of emotion. She’d seen it so many times when parents left their boys in her care to escort them back to boarding school: the little ones clung, the older boys always swallowed and coughed and pretended it was all very easy.

‘You look neat,’ Roddy smiled politely holding out his hand to her. ‘Have you had a good journey? Grandma has made tea for us. You’ll love the house.’ He carried her case and took her arm. She could have cried with the pain of being separated so long and this excruciating politeness. Who was this young man? Celeste suddenly felt afraid.
I’ve lost him. Things will never be the same again.
And another fear sprang to her mind. How was she going to survive after these precious days? But she was here now, a dream at last fulfilled, and nothing could or would spoil this reunion.

The house was ridiculous, an ostentatious facsimile of an Italian villa, all turrets and fancy stonework. It had a formal front drive and wide iron gates, which were flung open. Harriet stood at the door, a shadow of her former self, shrunken and wearing a deep grey long skirt and a fussy ruffled blouse of the old pre-war style. She was now quite white-haired and had to wear spectacles.

‘So you’ve made it,’ Harriet said with a coolness that couldn’t be mistaken for manners.

‘Yes, I’m here, I can’t believe how Roddy has grown.’

‘Grover is away on business. So we have the house to ourselves for a while. Roderick will show you to your room. Tea will be in the sun room at four. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up and rest for a while.’

This was going to be harder than Celeste had hoped, but she was relieved Grover was away. She looked up at the brightening sky. ‘What I’d really like is a brisk walk; I’ve been sitting so long on the train. Roddy, could you recommend us somewhere to get fresh air?’ She turned to her son. The chance to spend some time alone with him was uppermost in her mind.

‘Cuyahoga Falls. The riverbed walk is good but not in those shoes,’ he smiled, looking down at her. She couldn’t stop marvelling at his height.

‘Give me five minutes to unpack and change. I’ve got just the pair,’ she said, forcing herself to sound casual yet bullish.

‘Tea at five, then, Grandma?’ said Roddy.

‘If you must,’ Harriet sighed, ringing the servants’ bell. ‘But don’t be late.’

‘When am I ever late?’ Roddy joked and his face broke into a wide grin. Celeste felt herself relax. A spring of hope bubbled up inside her. If this visit worked it would be a springboard for others to come. And then maybe, just maybe, he’d come home.

Roddy couldn’t believe his mother was here, striding out across the river path as if they’d never been apart. She filled him in on all the news: Uncle Selwyn’s new mission to help war veterans, Ella’s first term at college, Mr McAdam teaching class and playing cricket for the Theological College.

He created pictures in his mind of the tree-lined road to Red House, with the conker tree and the gate to the canal bridge at Streethay. He could see the cathedral lit with candles and the choirboys in their stalls. It felt so real but so far away. It was another world, a world he’d left behind all those years ago. Mom asked him about school and what his father had planned for him next: Harvard or Akron University in town? He didn’t know why she was asking this. He’d once dreamed of going to Oxford, when Mr McAdam told him tales of river punting, boat races, the stone colleges and rugby games, but that was before he moved here.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask her about home, and so much he sensed she wanted to ask him. He was sure she’d want to know why he had deserted them but it was safer to stay on casual topics for now, idle chitchat. He took her in the direction of the Portage Path and the Indian statue.

‘I used to walk here before you were born,’ she smiled, staring out over the view. He’d forgotten how pretty she was and how her hair gleamed like gold in the sunshine.

‘Why did we leave here?’ He blurted out the question troubling him for years now.

‘Because your father and I couldn’t agree on lots of things.’

‘You know he has a girlfriend called Louella? She’s very pretty but she’s not much older than me. Why does he hate you?’ He saw her flinch at his bluntness.

‘Because I defied him and refused to do everything his way and he doesn’t like being crossed.’

‘Did he ever hit you?’ Roddy asked.

She stopped and turned, shocked at his directness. ‘Who told you that?’

‘No one, but I saw him hit Grandma once. She was too slow with finding something so he pushed her and she fell. Why does he get so angry?’

‘Has he ever hit you?’ He heard the ice in her voice.

‘Only when I cheeked him a long time ago. He doesn’t like people very much, does he?’ Why was he talking like this to her? He felt himself blushing.

His mother paused again, trying to read his face. ‘Roddy, you mustn’t stay in that house. I wish you’d told me before.’

‘How could I tell you? I feel it’s all my fault somehow, all of it . . . in leaving. I’m sorry I upset you all, what with Grandpa dying.’

‘You were only a young boy. What did he say to make you leave us?’

Roddy shrugged, embarrassed. ‘Nothing. He just assumed that that was what I had come to him for in London. We went to the embassy and the theatre. I fell asleep and when I woke up we were at Southampton docks. He’d booked it all in advance.’

She stroked his head, all thoughts of embarrassing him forgotten. ‘Poor boy, you must have been so confused. No one has ever challenged him. I think he is sick.’

‘Don’t say that,’ he protested. ‘He’s my father.’ Roddy didn’t want to hear her saying those things, even if they were true.

‘A real man doesn’t have to beat people into submission. Walk away from him or come back with me . . .’ she offered tentatively.

‘No! I’m fine. I like it here. I’m used to it now. Ohio is a great place for hiking and camping. I’ve made friends and Granny is kind to me. I wouldn’t know anyone in Lichfield now.’ He watched his mother stop to lean on a rock, winded by his words.

‘I just want you to know I took you away when you were small because Grover’s got a cruel streak. How else do you think he got you back, but by deceiving you and drugging you? He couldn’t risk you saying no and coming back to me. I’m sorry, we’ve made your life so complicated. You’re right, of course, having to choose isn’t a good idea. I’ll not ask that of you again. You must go your own gait, as May says. I just want you to be happy and fulfilled. I’m being selfish, I know. I’ve lost so much of you these past years but it’s wrong of me to want you to choose between us. It’s not fair. I see you are quite capable of making your own decisions when the time comes but don’t get browbeaten into anything you don’t want to do, promise me?’

Suddenly everything between them had become serious. He was in no mood for this lecture. Things were being said, awkward things he wasn’t prepared to hear. He would be fine staying where he was in Akron. He wanted for nothing and there was a future in the factory if he wanted it. Right now he didn’t want to go back to Lichfield but her words unsettled him. He didn’t want to be part of their quarrel. It was nothing to do with him, and yet in a way it was. He just wanted to change the subject.

Why people married and then just fell apart over stuff, he couldn’t understand. He wanted to be left alone and not have to worry about what was happening around him. True, he didn’t like the way his father needled Granny Harriet. He felt responsible for her in a funny sort of way. His mother had managed without him. She had her brother, May and Archie.

He wanted his mother’s visit to go well. It was a relief to know they were still friends. And yet part of them was estranged too. Seeing her again brought back longings and memories, but this was where he belonged now and this was where he was staying.

November 1926

May could sense a figure hovering over her bed but she could hardly open her eyes. What was happening to her? She was lying in bed, exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Every breath was a struggle. They were nursing her night and day when all she wanted was to be left alone to sleep.

Poor Ella was going to have to manage on her own. Celeste wouldn’t desert her but she was so far away. How she longed to see her friend’s kind face, to hold her hand for comfort. There were things she needed to get off her chest. Before it was too late.

She wasn’t winning this battle. She didn’t need any doctor to tell her that. But she wasn’t sorry. Now she was going to join Joe and Ellen at long last. It wouldn’t be long, she reckoned as she dipped in and out of sleep.

She’d lived a lie and she wasn’t going to her Maker without making a confession to someone she trusted. The vicar or doctor wouldn’t do. It had to be someone who’d help sort this out for her one way or another. There was only one person she could trust. Poor Selwyn visited every night with a concerned look on his face as if he really cared, but he wasn’t the one.

He was a good man. If she’d been smarter she might have made a better play for him but he wasn’t her class and it wouldn’t have been a good match. Besides, she’d had her chance of happiness with Joe.

Oh, dear Joe. Sometimes she thought she caught a glimpse of him at the end of the bed in his shirtsleeves, just come from the mill, smelling of sawdust.

She was done with fighting the pain and sickness and the terrible headaches that made her feel like her brain was being squeezed in a vice. No point in hanging around. Ella was better off without her. She’d make a go of her life now. She’d only be holding her back with her rough, uneducated ways. Ella could mix in grander company, make a name for herself without having to worry about her, she sighed. That was the rub. The girl wasn’t her Ellen, and though there’d been a bonding of sorts, was it enough to last a lifetime?