Читать книгу The Secret Orphan - Glynis Peters - Страница 7

‘Happy birthday, Mom!’

The doors of Rose’s small home burst open and her family filled the silent room with their laughter and birthday greetings. Hugs and kisses were showered upon her in abundance. Floral bouquets were thrust at her from all angles and Rose felt the love flow from each of her children and her three grandchildren who stood before her, and her heart swelled with pride.

‘You guys will be the death of me! And you, you are stronger than you look, Abraham. Snowboarding suits you. Come champ, give me another hug, but be gentle this time.’

The room erupted with laughter and shouts of affectionate banter and teasing. She held open her arms for the youngest of her grandchildren. At six-foot tall he overshadowed her by several feet, and his body was that of an athlete. As he gave her the hug she’d demanded and gripped her tight, she had another pang of nostalgia. She thought of the last time her biological father had waved her goodbye. He’d given her no loving hug farewell, no warm memories for her to hold close on a dark night while Hitler’s bombs fell around them. She realised with a stab to her heart that he and her mother had left behind only questions and cold memories. She could never recall their love.

Her teenage granddaughters found a corner of the sofa and began clicking away on their mobile phones, capturing the moment to share with whomever would be interested. Rose forgave them their modern ways. Any form of communication was a good one. They always remembered her and brought her joy. Her grandson perched on the window ledge quietly cursing his cousins each time they snapped his way. Rose fussed around her sons and daughter, offering an enthusiastic thank you for the presents heaped upon her. They in turn delighted in her expressions of gratitude as she opened each parcel, folding the paper and ribbon with care. A habit from a lifetime of going without, Rose kept many items to recycle.

‘Thank you all. You spoil me. Now, I’m famished and could eat a …’

‘Carrot, Mother?’ Her daughter quipped. And once again laughter filled the room. The joke referred to her small appetite, and the fact she’d overeaten carrots during the war and could no longer face eating them.

The banter and laughter continued throughout the family meal in Rose’s favourite restaurant.

‘You don’t appreciate half of what you have,’ Rose said when plates were pushed aside and bellies declared full.

‘You’ve never really told us much about your time during the war, Mom,’ her eldest son responded.

Rose sipped a glass of cool water.

‘There’s too much to tell, and some things are so unpleasant they need to remain buried in the past. I’ve told you about Coventry, my home, the death of my parents. That’s one lifetime of darkness and confusion, lit only by your grandma and Pops Jackson.’

‘I wonder what Gran was like when she was young,’ her daughter said.

Rose sighed.

‘I only remember her from when I was about five, the year before the Second World War started. My memories before that are all a little foggy. I can remember her brothers died and that she returned to the farm. She loved it, but not them. They were cruel to her. She missed her boyfriend, your grandfather – Pops. I think he’d returned to Canada and left Coventry. Her Aunt Maude had died; she’d been my parents’ employer, and we stayed in her house until the night it was bombed to the ground. Then I went to live in Cornwall with Elenor, who adopted me and the rest is your history.’

Everyone around the table nodded or muttered their agreement.

‘Tell us more, Mom.’

Their corner of the restaurant was empty aside from their long table, and Rose’s family sat back in their seats indicating interest in her tale. Rose rarely opened up about her past, but she’d caught their attention. Even her granddaughters stopped taking selfies and pouting out their smiles to listen.

She looked at their faces, all eyes turned her way, waiting, anticipating what happened next in her story.

‘One of Elenor’s birthdays, I remember. My birth mother, Victoria, made a cake. She wouldn’t have bothered if I hadn’t worn her down and Aunt Maude hadn’t insisted. My mother never expressed joy over birthdays. In fact, I don’t even know when my own parents were born. How about that? Their papers disappeared in the bombings, and the only birthdays I remember are mine and your grandparents’.’

‘Ah, a cake for a birthday in the war must have cheered everyone up though, Mom’.

‘Oh, it did, and I’d learned to play a tune on the piano, and your gran sang songs with me. She had a beautiful voice. It was a very low-key party, nothing like today’s affairs, but oh the joy we shared. I remember for my birthday I used to love receiving a new pencil, or a notepad …’

‘Wow, they had notepads back then?’ her grandson asked.

‘Not the sort you know, son. The paper ones are what Gran’s referring to, not electrical.’

‘Oh, right. Really? You got excited over a paper book?’ he said.

‘I did. We had very little back than and expected very little. Each gift was gratefully received and treasured.’

‘Hence the old battered suitcase full of wrapping paper and string.’ Her daughter laughed, teasing her mother with a longstanding family joke. When Elenor had passed away, they’d found wrapping paper they’d used on gifts to her for years, all neatly folded in a drawer, and Rose wouldn’t allow them to throw it away, but instead put it with her private papers in Elenor’s case.

Rose grinned at them all. ‘You have all the gadgets, and shelves full of treats but how would you cope without them? Or what if you could no longer buy soda and chocolate?’

‘I’d die,’ her youngest granddaughter declared with a dramatic sigh.

Rose looked at them all and gave a slow nod.

‘Many did die over shortages such as soda and chocolate. Merchant ships were sunk and the service men and women died to get any types of food to us, and we still went without.’ She said. ‘I was luckier than most due to the farm in Cornwall. Thank goodness for the kind heart of Elenor, or I could have been in an orphanage and not had the pleasures of limited foodstuffs and fresh air.’

A silence fell around the table, and Rose let her words linger in their thoughts. She had no intention of lecturing them, but felt it was good to remind them of how much in the way of material goods they were lucky enough to enjoy.

‘Anyone for another drink? No? I’ll call for the bill then.’ Rose’s eldest son said, and she watched him walk away from the table. The rest of the family shuffled in their seats.

‘Thank you all for a wonderful day. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my war talk.’

‘Hey Gran, no. We mustn’t forget that stuff. We learn it at school and forget you were part of it all. Besides, we love that you enjoy everything we give you, right down to the pretty ribbon on a gift. It’s kinda cool.’

Rose looked to her daughter who shrugged her shoulders. ‘I think it was a compliment,’ she said, and Rose laughed.

Once everyone had left her apartment with promises to call and visit, Rose kicked off her shoes and placed her brooch into its box. She slipped off her dress and wrapped herself in the new fleece dressing gown, a gift from her daughter. She fetched her reading glasses and read the simple picture by picture instructions on how to use the new coffee machine – a gift from her sons – and after following each one, she eventually poured the contents of the jug into a new mug that shouted out to the world she was the best grandmother. Sitting on her favourite chair, Rose settled down for the evening. She flicked on the TV from the remote control and selected a programme about purchasing a new home. It was an imported programme from the UK. Rose loved to step inside with the presenter and listen to couples deciding whether to purchase or keep looking. Some enjoyed browsing properties abroad, making the bold step to leave all they knew behind.

Rose sipped her decaffeinated coffee and nodded her approval when one couple opted to buy a property on the coast of Cornwall. With a sigh, Rose set down her empty mug, sat back and watched the credits role as the programme came to an end. She leaned back in her chair, yawned and allowed her eyes to droop into a semi-sleep as she recalled the day they’d all left England.

The sounds rattled over her head. The large ship sitting in dock blew its horn and people shouted to one another from ship to shore. Elenor had guided her one way and then another. Jackson had hailed a porter and offloaded their bags. Rose knew they wouldn’t lose their luggage because she’d been given the important task of writing their names and new address on the labels Jackson had given her. She’d used her best handwriting and when it came to writing Canada, British Columbia, she took extra care creating neat capital C’s.

Her new father had looked over her shoulder and gave it an affectionate tap the afternoon she wrote out each label. His praise still made her smile.

‘My word, well done little Rose. Those letters are sure proud and round.’

Her new mother gave her a hug.

‘She’s a clever little button, and this mummy is extremely proud of her.’

Once the porter had loaded all labelled suitcases onto his trolley and headed towards the ship, her father had lifted her high onto his shoulders. The view was incredible. Everyone looked like ants scurrying about their business.

‘I can see for miles! There’s hundreds of children. Do you think they will play with me?’

‘I’m sure they won’t want to play with a little scallywag like you,’ her father had teased, earning himself a tug of the ears.

They came to a standstill near the entrance to the ship. Her father had explained the gangway might sway as they walked up it to the ship’s deck, but that they were perfectly safe.

‘I’ll take you to a suspension bridge in Vancouver, the gangway will give you a sense of what to expect. Now stand here my little Rose while I give your mom some last minute instructions.’

Rose knew he meant kissing. They’d done a lot of that since their wedding day. She stood patiently and looked around at other couples embracing loved ones. Soldiers, sailors, airmen, women in uniform, women in everyday dress, and women in fine outfits were all squashed together in the crowd. Class separated no one when it came to saying farewell.

She took hold of her mother’s hand and received a warm smile.

‘Elenor. I’m scared,’ she said.

‘Afraid? We’ll be fine. What an adventure. Canada, here we come. We will be all right, you know. Besides, we have Jackson for good luck.’

Rose nodded, and she looked to the man who gave her his love unreservedly, who made her laugh and made it easy for her to love another father. He reached out and tucked one of the little blonde curls of hair struggling to break free back into place behind Rose’s ear.

‘It will be fine, honey. I’ll be with you all the way. Isn’t it a big ship? I wonder which cabin will be ours.’

As the ship left shore with her horns blowing, Rose’s legs trembled, and her bladder threatened to let her down. She knew life would never be the same again. She stood between her new parents and knew whatever their reasons for leaving Tre Lodhen and moving to Lynn Valley, they were the right ones.