The Other Child (21 page)

Although the whole story irritated her husband Arvid, Brian's well-being was a matter that held no concern for him whatsoever, so she could do as she wished. Nor did Chad get involved. He was at an age when he had very different things in his head. For my own part, I soon had eyes for Chad alone, and only noticed Brian because I often had to find all kinds of cunning tricks to throw him off my trail.

Apart from Emma, he had become a kind of
nobody
for everyone. After a while that was what Chad started to call him:
Nobody
.

5

In February 1941 Mum visited me in Staintondale. She had wanted to come for Christmas, but the family for whom she did the housekeeping rather needed her help, and she could not do without the extra money. It had not been a problem for me. Christmas on the Beckett farm was lovely. It had even snowed a little. I had surpassed myself in helpfulness. Whenever I could, I had made myself useful on the farm or in the house, and had saved up a tidy amount of pocket money. With it I bought Chad a sheath knife. I knew he had long dreamt of having one. When he unpacked it, his eyes shone, and when he thanked me something had changed in the way he looked at me. It was as if he no longer just saw a stupid little girl from London who just got on his nerves, but a person you could almost take seriously. That look and his smile were the most beautiful part of the Christmas festivities. And the book he gave me.

Little Women
by Louisa Alcott.

‘Because you like reading so much,' he said with some embarrassment.

I would have liked to give him a hug, but I did not dare. So I just held the book tight.

‘Thank you,' I said quietly and swore to keep the book for ever. I managed. I still have it today.

Christmas passed in a flurry of church visits, singing and good food, and there was really no need for Mum's long, guilty letter in which she explained and justified her absence. Indeed, her letter made
me
feel guilty. Mum seemed to think that I was missing her terribly and probably it would have been completely normal if I had. I asked myself why I was not homesick and why I had settled in to life on the Beckett farm within just a few weeks. I think I know the answer now. It was not just the fact that I had fallen in love with Chad Beckett. Nor was it because my mother and I had so often had run-ins, and Emma was gentler and easier to get on with. I think I had found
my home
there on the Yorkshire coast. I'm not a city person. Although I was born in London and lived there for the first eleven years of my life, I did not see its streets, its many people and high houses as my home. Whereas Yorkshire's endless fields, its dreamy little villages, the way the earth and sky merged on the distant horizon, the nearness of the sea, all the animals and its clear air gave me the feeling of being home. Even if I did not realise that at the time.

When my mother finally did come one weekend in the middle of February, she could see that I looked well. Yorkshire was not showing itself to its best advantage, but which landscape does manage that in February? There was a constant cold grey drizzle. The farmyard was muddy, and the top of the hill behind the farm had been swallowed up in the low-hanging clouds. I would still have liked to show Mum the bridge, the gorge and the beach, but she refused to follow me outside.

‘Much too cold,' she said and rubbed her arms, shivering, although we were sitting right by the living room hearth. ‘And too wet. I'm not going to go clambering over rocks, my dear, sorry. Last thing I want is to break an ankle.'

I was under the impression that she did not particularly like the Beckett farm, that she would not be able to stay half a week here. Nonetheless, it was better than the bombs in London.

‘The Germans are still attacking,' she said. ‘Not as bad as at the start, but I'm happy you're here. Safe. So many people's children have been evacuated by now.'

She still lived with Auntie Edith, which was horrible, as she told me.

‘Just too many people and not enough space. And you know Edith. She really shows you that you're getting on her nerves. She treats me like a beggar. I mean, I'm her dead brother's wife! I'm not just anybody!'

Her gaze fell on Brian who, as always, was near me. He was sitting at our feet and pushing around a little wooden car that had once belonged to Chad. As usual his play did not seem to have any recognisable sense to it.

‘Does he understand us?'

I shook my head. ‘I don't think so. He can barely speak.'

Brian had actually tried to form words in early January, for the first time since he had arrived. Emma had reacted euphorically, but I thought it was a rather limited success. To my annoyance, what he did manage to say rather clearly was the word
Fiona
. He could also say something that sounded like
come!
and
boby
. Emma wracked her brains to think what the last word could be. Chad and I were sure that he was trying to say
nobody
, the name we used when we were alone with him. But we did not let on. We knew Emma would have got rather angry if she heard.

After Mum was sure that Brian would not repeat what he might hear, she came out with the news which was probably the only reason for her trip north.

‘It might be that I won't be at Auntie Edith's much longer,' she said.

‘Is our house being rebuilt?' I asked.

‘No. That will take some time. They're clearing the rubble from the streets, but there's not much point in starting to rebuild while the Germans are still bombing.'

‘And so where will you go?'

She hummed and hawed a while before saying quietly and hastily, ‘I've met someone …'

I did not understand right away. ‘And?'

‘He's called Harold Kane. He is … he works in the docks. As a foreman!'

‘A man?' I said, not believing my ears.

‘Yes, of course a man,' Mum replied somewhat sharply. ‘Who else?'

I was stunned. I had barely been gone four months and my mother was already going courting. I was old enough to put two and two together. When she said she had met a man, and in the same breath said she would not be living with Auntie Edith for much longer, then that meant she had fallen in love with this Harold Kane and would soon move into his flat. How could it happen so quickly? Daddy was dead. England was at war. Hitler was out to conquer the world. They had needed to evacuate me. And yet even with all this happening, Mum had nothing better to do than look for a new man. I found that embarrassing and a little undignified.

Furthermore, I realised I was a little envious. My love affair with Chad was just as one-sided as it had ever been. It had not started. In the meantime, Mum had snagged herself a guy who was probably ready to marry her. It was
my
turn. I was young. Mum seemed ancient to me; she was thirty-two. She had already lived through the most important part of her life.

‘Why is he working in the docks?' I asked with a poisonous and challenging tone to my voice. ‘Why isn't he fighting in the war?'

Mum sighed. She had understood my provocation and saw future difficulties. ‘He is exempt because his work is essential to the war effort,' she explained.

I would have liked to murmur something like
shirker
, but I did not dare. I had a feeling that Mum would react very angrily if I did. It probably was not true, either. Arvid Beckett was exempt too, because he was needed on the farm, and I would never have thought of judging him for it. I would have not minded in the least if no man had to go to the front. I shared Emma's deep worry that Chad might get called up, if the war did not end soon. No doubt Mum was worried about her Harold and happy that he had been able to stay in London.

‘Well, then I won't have much of a role in your life any more,' I said darkly – a comment which Mum of course objected to in no uncertain terms.

‘You're my child!' she exclaimed, and hugged me. ‘Nothing between us will change!'

She no doubt meant what she said. But although I did not yet have much life experience, my instinct told me that something would change. A new member joining a family always changes something. And who knew how this Harold would act towards me? I could not imagine that he would be all that enthusiastic about the fact that his bride was bringing a twelve-year-old daughter into the relationship.

Accompanying Mum the next morning on the rather long walk to the main road where the bus to Scarborough drove past once a day, I wished with all my heart that my stay on the Beckett farm would be long, really long. I felt the need to return to London less and less. The paradox was that the period of my stay in Yorkshire was dependent on the length of the war, and no sensible person would hope for that to continue for long, especially as Chad was going to turn sixteen in April and then the situation for him would become critical.

Standing at the side of the road and waving Mum off, the tears started to flow. My life seemed confusing and difficult. It was dark and frightening. No one in the world gave me a feeling of security, perhaps my mother least of all.

And the following summer it happened. A few days after my twelfth birthday I received a telegram from Mum. In it she told me that she and Harold had married.

6

It was a dry hot day. The sky was that crystal-clear blue which is so typical of August. The apples were ripening on the trees. The wind carried the smell of the sea and the freshly mown grass. It was a perfect day. Holidays. Freedom. I should have been lying under a tree and reading, dreaming and lazily watching the clouds drift by above me.

Instead I was sitting on a boulder on the beach, falling apart. In my hand I held the telegram which in a few meagre words told me that the previous day I had gained a stepfather.
Stepfather!
I knew stepmothers from fairy tales. Stepfathers could not be much better.

I cried my eyes out.

Of course I had somehow known that it would come to this, but strangely I still went into shock. I felt betrayed, taken unawares. Mum should have talked to me first, instead of presenting me with a fait accompli. She should have introduced me to Harold, to find out whether he was nice to me, and whether we got on. What if he hated me at first sight – and I him? What if he ordered me about, made my life difficult, shouted at me? Perhaps she did not care. Perhaps she was so euphoric about her conquest that she was no longer interested in whether or not her child was doing well.

And at the word ‘child' I had another horrible thought: what if Mum and Harold had a child together? I supposed Mum was not too old, otherwise Harold would probably not have married her. If that happened, I'd really be only on the edge of their lives. Mum would spend all her time caring for the crying baby, and Harold would adore his little offspring, and I would just be in the way. They would put me in an orphanage with Brian. Harold would go on at Mum until she agreed.

Crying and railing against my fate, I was too taken up with these dark thoughts to notice someone approaching. When I suddenly saw a movement from the corner of my eye, I looked up in surprise.

It was Chad. He was a few feet from me and did not seem at all happy to see me.

‘You're 'ere?' he said slowly. ‘Thought I could be alone 'ere.'

‘I often come here,' I admitted.

Luckily he did not seem annoyed. ‘Right. A good place for a cry, in't it?'

I fished out a handkerchief and wiped my nose, although I knew I had swollen red eyes and a blotchy face. Probably I looked uglier than ever before.

‘Mum married again,' I said, waving the telegram in my hand.

Once again he said, ‘Right.' Then he looked around suspiciously. ‘Is Nobody somewhere around?'

He was all I would have needed right then!

‘I lost him. Don't worry. He wouldn't dare come down here on his own.'

Chad took a few faltering steps towards me. No doubt he would rather have been alone, but something held him back from just shooing me away like a tiresome fly. He had done that at first. But now I was twelve. You could not act as dismissively and impolitely to a twelve-year-old girl. Realising this, I started to feel a little better.

‘Is he disgustin'?' Chad asked, pointing to the telegram.

I swallowed. Just don't start crying again.

‘I don't know him,' I had to admit. ‘He and Mum met since I've been here with you. I haven't been back to London since.'

‘She coulda brought 'im with ‘er, when she came t' visit. If she knew 'im then.'

‘He didn't have time. His work is essential to the war effort.' At least something about Harold she could be a little proud about.

Chad did not seem to hold such work in high esteem. He harrumphed. ‘Like me Dad and t' stupid farm! There be only one place for a man in a war, at t' front!'

I felt a cold chill down my back as he said this, although it also impressed me deeply. The way he said it sounded so brave, so determined. Chad had finished school that summer and now he had to help out more on the farm. It was work which did not appeal to him. He and Arvid were always having run-ins about it. I had heard Arvid and Emma talking about it a month earlier. Emma would have liked Chad to go on to the sixth form and then perhaps university.

‘He can do it,' she had said, almost pleadingly. ‘His teachers think so too. He gets good marks.'

Arvid had cut her down.

‘Sixth form! University! What ever for, woman? Our boy'll inherit t' farm. Don't need a Higher School Certificate for that. He'll grow into the job. One day I'll pass it all on t' him. He's lucky. Not many who get a property like this just thrown int' their lap!'

However, at the moment I did not have the impression that Chad was interested primarily in a sixth form education. His goal lay elsewhere, and I found that unsettling.

‘I've just talked to me parents,' he said. His cheeks were red, probably not just from the climb down the gorge. ‘I'm sixteen. I could enlist if me Dad gave me permission! Can't understand why he's refusin'!' Sitting down beside me on the boulder, he picked up a few small pebbles and flung them angrily into the sea.