The Pearl Locket (26 page)

‘Yes, my lovely Vera. She died five years ago, and I still miss her every day. Could you take this tray through please? I’ll follow with the teapot once it’s brewed.’

Ali was glad he’d found someone else and had obviously been happy. She would hate to think he’d spent the last seventy years alone and mourning Joan. Back in the sitting room, the others had been chatting quietly. They looked up expectantly as Ali and Jack returned.

Tea poured and cake handed round, Jack gazed round at them all. ‘So, then. Margaret, you and Joan and your family all thought I’d copped it, out in France?’

Gran nodded. ‘Yes. That dreadful telegram came. It said “missing presumed killed” but we all took that to mean you were lost. Father said that’s what it meant. Even your aunt, who came round to tell Joan, assumed the worst. And when we never heard anything more from you, even after the prisoner of war camps were liberated near the end of the war, Joan lost all hope. I don’t think she ever thought you’d survived. She told me that two days before the telegram came, she’d felt a jolt and a pain, and knew that meant you’d been shot.’

‘I was shot. In my shoulder. It brought me down, but didn’t kill me. I passed out, then woke up later, bleeding, with my dying friend beside me. I lay there for hours. I couldn’t leave him. I kept thinking my squadron would come soon. They’d find us and get us both back home. Poor Mikey, to die in a French field like that. But it was the Germans who found us. Mikey was dead. They kicked his body. I shouted at them to stop, have some respect. They hauled me to my feet, my arm was hanging uselessly and my uniform was drenched in blood. They dragged me away, put me on a truck with a few other captured British soldiers and drove for days until we reached a prisoner of war camp. I kept thinking they’d shoot us. With all that was going on, I was amazed they didn’t. But thankful, too. All I could think of was Joan.’

He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. Everyone was silent. Kelly had tears running down her face. Ali knew it must be painful for him to recount all this, after seventy years. ‘Stop if this is too hard for you,’ she said, quietly.

If he’d heard her, he ignored her, and continued speaking. ‘I was moved several times, ending up at a camp in Germany itself. My camp wasn’t liberated until right at the end of the war, and then it was another two weeks before I could get back. I wrote to Joan, and to my aunt, as soon as I could, on that glorious day when the gates of the camp were flung open. It was the ninth of May 1945.’

‘The day after,’ Gran whispered. ‘The very next day. Oh, Joanie, why didn’t you hold on? Father must have thrown away the letter. He never said anything about it. But it was too late anyway. Oh Joanie!’

‘Shh, Gran,’ whispered Ali, hugging her close. On the sofa opposite, Jason looked stricken, too. His mother had already been adopted by then. But perhaps Joan might have fought to keep her baby if she’d had any hope that Jack was still alive. Things could have been so different.

‘When I got back to England, the first thing I did, before I even went to my aunt’s, was to call at your father’s house. He told me what Joan had done to herself. It, well, as you might imagine, it devastated me.’ He paused, and drew a deep breath.

Gran gasped. ‘I never knew you’d called!’

‘I only saw your father. I suppose he kept my visit secret from the rest of the family. He looked like a broken man, not at all the disapproving ogre he’d seemed when I’d met him before. He blamed me, for not getting in contact. But I couldn’t—the POW camp I was in didn’t allow us to write home. Well, they let us write letters, and then they’d hang them in the lavs, to be used as toilet paper. I couldn’t listen to him. I ran from there, ran, down to the beach, and along to a bench on the prom we’d called “our” bench. I sat there and, I’m not ashamed to say it, I sobbed and sobbed. I had loved her so much. Hours, I sat there. People tried to help but I shrugged them off. Eventually a policeman was called, and he got my name and address, and fetched my aunt. She hadn’t known about Joan’s death. The family had put it out that Joan had gone to live in the country with a relative.’

‘Yes, that was the story Father concocted. And later, if anyone asked after her, he said she’d died while she was away, of pneumonia. She was cremated. I don’t know what he did with her ashes.’ Gran fumbled in her handbag for a tissue. ‘We didn’t even have a funeral service for her. He was so ashamed. You know, her suicide note said she was going to look for you.’

‘I was going to ask you if there was a grave I could visit. But it seems not.’ Jack shook his head sadly. ‘I moved away soon after. I took a job with an engineering firm up here. Threw myself into my work to try to forget. There were many, many times when I wished I’d died in that field in France. Then I met Vera in 1953 and married her a year later. If it doesn’t sound disrespectful to Joan, I’d say I found a new happiness. You never get over losing someone you love, but in time you can learn to live and love again. Vera was my saviour.’ He whispered the last words.

Gran smiled at him. ‘Joan would have been glad you found someone else. Did you have a family?’

‘No, we weren’t blessed with children, unfortunately.’ He finished his cup of tea.

Ali looked at Jason and slightly raised her eyebrows. Was this the right moment for him to tell his news? Jason shuffled in his seat as though he was about to speak, but before he could, Jack spoke again.

‘Well, that’s my story. Your turn now, Alison, if you would. How did you find me, and what prompted you, after all these years?’

Ali told him about Betty’s death, and how she’d inherited the house.

‘Then on the wall in my room, under the wallpaper, we found some writing. Joan loves Jack,’ Kelly cut in.

‘Oh my. I can just imagine her doing that,’ Jack said, with a small chuckle.

‘And in the cellar there was a box. It had your letters to Joan in it, and a couple of photos. We asked Gran, and she told us about Joan. Until then, I’d had no idea she had a third sister,’ Ali continued.

‘Father, and then Betty, insisted we should never speak about her,’ Gran said. ‘I wish I’d ignored them. It’s been difficult, but in many ways it has been lovely to have her memory brought back to the surface again.’

‘Kelly especially was interested in finding out more about both of you,’ Ali said. ‘So we researched all we could. As we thought you’d died in France, I spent hours online going through the Commonwealth War Graves website, looking for you. When that didn’t work I contacted your old regiment, which I knew from your letters, and they were able to tell me that you were still alive. I found you in the end by using Google. You popped up on a website for a hospice, on a page thanking people for helping at their summer fundraising event. There was enough detail about you to be sure it was you. Then I just looked you up in the phone book for this area.’

‘Vera died in that hospice. They were wonderful to her in her last weeks. I was glad to be able to give something back. To think you found me on the Internet! Well, well, well. Modern times, eh?’

‘I love the Internet,’ Ali said with a smile. ‘I must admit, I was terrified when I rang you. What if you didn’t want anything to do with Joan’s family, after so many years?’

Jack reached over and patted her hand. ‘I was astounded, but delighted, when you telephoned and said who you were. I’ve felt quite alone since Vera died. I had no brothers or sisters, neither did she, and of course we had no children. So although you and I are unrelated, because you are related to my dear Joan it feels as though you are almost my family. And may I say I am very, very pleased to meet you all.’ He beamed round at the party.

This was the moment, surely? Ali looked at Jason. He nodded at her, and cleared his throat.

‘Jack, um, there’s something else we need to tell you,’ he began. He’d been quiet up till then. Jack looked at him with surprise. Everyone else held their breath. ‘The thing is, I don’t think you were aware, but when you left to go to war, Joan was, well, she was pregnant.’

Jack gasped, and clapped his hand over his mouth. ‘Oh my word. It was just the once, only the once, and we were engaged after all…’

‘Her father forced her to give up the baby for adoption. It was a girl. Her name was Constance.’

‘I have a daughter?’

‘I’m so sorry; Constance died a couple of years ago. But she married, and had a son.’ Jason’s face was beetroot red by now. How hard it must be, thought Ali, finding the right words to break the news.

‘A son?’

‘Your grandson, Jack. That’s me. Constance was my mother. Which means you, sir, are my grandfather.’

‘Oh my word,’ said Jack quietly. He stared down at his clasped hands for a moment, as if to let everything sink in. Ali held her breath. The room was totally still, the atmosphere tense, as though everyone else was also holding their breath. Just the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the mantelpiece broke the silence.

When Jack looked up he was grinning broadly. ‘Jason Bergmann. Well I never. My grandson! Come here, lad, and give your old granddad a hug!’

The two men stood and embraced, holding on to each other tightly as if to make up for the lost years. Ali let out the breath she’d been holding and found she had tears streaming down her face. She glanced around and realised she was not the only one. Even Pete was sniffing and gulping. Ryan, too cool to cry, started clapping and cheering, and soon everyone joined in.

‘This is splendid,’ said Jack, when at last Jason let go of him and he was able to sit down again. ‘Now I have a grandson, a nearly-sister-in-law—you would have been, of course, if Joan and I had the chance to marry,’ he said, looking at Gran, ‘a nearly-great-niece, her husband and her two lovely children. And only this morning I had no one. I am rich indeed. Kelly, my dear, I cannot get over how much you look like Joan.’

‘Great-uncle Jack, do you recognise this?’ Kelly went to kneel at his side, and pulled the pearl locket out from under her jumper. Jack leaned in close to inspect it, and gasped once again.

‘Yes, I most certainly do. It was my mother’s. I gave it to Joan when we became engaged. There was no time or money to buy a ring. How did you come by it?’

‘It was in the box, in the cellar. I’ve worn it ever since we found it. You know you say I look like her, well, it’s funny, and they don’t believe me, but I always felt as though she was still there, in our house. Right from when we first moved in.’ Kelly reached to the back of her neck and unclasped the locket. She handed it to Jack. ‘I think you should have this back.’

Jack turned it over and over in his hand. ‘Oh, no, my dear. You keep it. It looks so pretty on you.’

‘No,’ Kelly said, firmly. ‘You must have it. It’s like we’re giving Joan back to you. I believe when we go back home I won’t feel her presence any more.’

‘Kelly, all this talk of a presence, it’s not—’ began Ali. She hoped Kelly wouldn’t spoil the reunion with her fanciful ideas.

‘Mum, I tried to talk to you about it. I know you think it’s rubbish, but some people are more sensitive to the spirit world than others. Maybe I’m one. Anyway, it’s been doing my head in. That’s why I wanted to stay at Matt’s.’ She turned back to Jack. ‘I really hope you’ll keep the locket. I think she’ll then stay here with you.’

He smiled, and kissed her on the forehead. ‘It’ll be lovely to have her back with me. Of course I’ll keep it.’

Kelly hugged him, then went back to her seat on the sofa. Ali watched her. She seemed noticeably more relaxed now. Maybe there was something in what she’d said. Who knew?

‘Well, I think that’s probably enough surprises for one day,’ Ali said. ‘Jack, may I help clear up? We’re staying in a hotel nearby for tonight. Perhaps we can take you out for lunch tomorrow before we head home?’

‘Sunday lunch with my whole family. I should like that very much indeed,’ Jack replied, grinning broadly.

Chapter Twenty-Four

December 2014

Ali had just finished putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree. The house had such a lovely big hallway they’d decided to go for a huge nine-foot tree, and had placed it in the stairwell. The top of the tree reached the newel post on the half landing, where Ryan had hung his skeleton at Halloween. This was a much better use of the space, she thought. She took a step back to admire her work. In the oven, Christmas shaped cookies were baking. In the study, Pete was filling in a job application. Upstairs, Ryan was playing online games, having borrowed Ali’s laptop. Little did he know he was getting his own for Christmas. And Kelly, bless her, was in her room doing homework, getting it out of the way before Matt came round.

She was so glad Kelly had gone back to college. As soon as they’d got home after the trip to meet Jack, Kelly had announced, much to Pete and Ali’s relief, that she was giving up the nursery job and returning to college. The nursery had only wanted a week’s notice, as it had been understood the job was on a trial basis only. She’d stopped wearing the 1940s clothes too. And Matt was back in her life. Things were back to normal.

The letterbox clattered and Ali went to collect the post. One envelope caught her eye. Thick cream paper, with a handwritten address in a careful, old-fashioned script. She went through to the kitchen and sat at the table to open it. It was from Jack.

Dear Alison,

It was so wonderful to meet you and your family, and my grandson, Jason. I am so grateful to you for tracking me down. You have made an old man very happy, and I am very much looking forward to seeing you all again in the New Year.

I met with my solicitor last week. Thinking I had no relatives, I had intended leaving my estate to a selection of charities. I have now drawn up a new will, and I would like you to be aware that while the charities will still get a substantial legacy each, the bulk of the money will be shared between your family and Jason. I hope it will help you in the future.

I would also like, if you will allow me, to put aside some money now to help Kelly and Ryan through university. You said it was your dream for them to go, and I understand how expensive it is. Rather than have them left with a large loan to pay off at the end, I’d consider it an honour to be able to help. Consider it an advance on what you will receive when my time is up.