Bells of Bournville Green (43 page)

She watched him for a moment, with sad tenderness. He had never once fallen asleep before while she was reading. Though she kept trying to deny that he was getting worse, she knew this was a sign. She drank in the sight of him. Here he was, still alive! How many more days would she see him for? Tears pricked her eyes as she left the room.

Downstairs she wanted to find Edie for comfort. She would not tell her what had happened. She just wanted to be with her and do ordinary things like making the dinner in the nice bright kitchen.

But she came upon another sad sight. Edie and David were sitting at the kitchen table, her arm round his shoulders, David had his face in his hands and both of them were crying. Edie looked up at her, tears running down her cheeks.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Greta said, blushing.

She went to leave but Edie said, ‘No, it’s all right love, come in. David’s just got in. You don’t mind, do you, Davey?’

David took his hands from his face, which was also wet, and he seemed rather stunned, but not embarrassed or angry that she had come in and found them like that.

‘No, come in, it’s OK,’ he said, wiping his face. ‘I’ve just got back from London. It’s been a hell of a difficult day.’

‘I bet it has,’ Greta said. She stood feeling helpless for a moment, so frantic at the sight of his distress that all her determination earlier in the day was completely lost. ‘Look – have you both had some tea? I made Anatoli some, but no one else was about.’

‘No, we’d love some, wouldn’t we?’ Edie said.

Greta took refuge in making tea but she was full of emotion.

‘It was a bit delayed,’ he was saying. ‘I felt I should wait with her but I think both of us were desperate to get the goodbyes over with. In the end she just said, “Look, Doodi . . .” His voice broke again when he used her nickname for him. ‘”Please, you just go. Let me be alone.” So we just sort of held one another and said goodbye as if this was almost normal and I would be home in a few days, like when I was in the army. And she turned and went.’ He was crying as he talked. ‘I just watched her walk down the corridor until I couldn’t see her any more. And all I could think about was the first time I ever saw her at Hamesh, out in the fields, and how she was – fierce and girlish at the same time . . .’ He stopped, unable to speak for a moment. ‘That’s what kills me – that we are estranged is bad enough, but the real thing is, what has happened to her. What this has all done to her . . . So sad, and thin and far away, when she was so alive before . . . And I wonder how much of it is me, what I have done to her . . .’

Greta spooned tea into the warmed pot, hardly able to see for her own tears as she listened to him pouring out his grief.

‘Oh, love, of course it’s not you!’ Edie said. ‘It was the explosions, the shock, losing Shimon and the baby. And there’s instability in the family – you’ve always known that. How can any of that be your fault?’

‘But it wasn’t just that – it was before. Things were wrong, as if everything was slipping away from me and we were becoming strangers – and I couldn’t seem to stop it. What happened just made it worse. It finished us off . . .’

Greta took the tea to the table and sat down.

‘Thanks, love,’ Edie said. ‘You’re a gem, you are.’

David thanked her too, and took in the fact that she was crying as well. She saw the surprise on his face, and then for a second, through his tears, he smiled.

Chapter Sixty

‘Well, it’s time I went in,’ Greta said, as they reached the gate of the Gruschovs’ house. ‘Thanks, John – I’ve had a really nice time.’

It was her third date with John in the past two weeks. Twice she’d stood in smoky pubs tapping her feet to songs by the Banana Boys and admiring John’s guitar playing. He looked good on stage with his thick blond hair and he moved well. And tonight they’d been dancing in town, leaping about to the Hippy Hippy Shakes, the Beach Boys, the Beatles . . . Greta had not had so much fun in a long time, not young people’s sort of fun! She and John had grinned with pleasure at each other on and off all evening. She was still tingling all over and could feel her cheeks glowing in the cold air. John was an easygoing companion and they’d chatted on the way home in a relaxed way about work and their families. But now things felt awkward.

Greta wanted to get inside. She liked John, he was good company and up until now he had behaved like a gentleman, but she could see he was rapidly becoming besotted with her.

‘I hope we can do this again soon,’ John said, moving closer. They were in the shadows of the tall bushes by the gate.

‘Yes, I’m sure we can. Thanks,’ Greta said, trying to step away. Things were moving more quickly than she wanted. She remembered the way she had thrown herself at boys before, the humiliating disaster with Dennis Franklin, and she didn’t want a repeat of that. She didn’t feel anything special for John. He was just nice, that was all, and not at all full of himself like Joe, the lead singer in the band. Maybe something could develop . . . But he was in more of a hurry.

‘You’re so lovely, Greta.’ His voice turned low and seductive and he put his arms round her. The light from the street lamp lit up the top of John’s blond hair, while the rest of his face was in shadow. ‘I don’t think I can stand it if I go home without kissing you.’

Greta found herself up against the gatepost, John pressed against her, his tongue pushing into her mouth. She was full of confused feelings. It was nice to be kissed again and feel desirable after all this time! She felt herself begin to respond, but thoughts came into her mind like a cold shower. This didn’t feel right. It almost felt as if she was being unfaithful, which was ridiculous – unfaithful to who? But she wasn’t going to throw herself at him, or lead him on – she was determined!

Managing to free her arms she pushed against the wooden gatepost so that John let go, startled.

‘What’s up?’ he asked huffily. ‘I thought you liked me.’

‘I do,’ she said, straightening her clothes. ‘But let’s not go too fast, eh? We hardly know each other, and I’ve got a kid, remember? I can’t just muck about. It’s been a nice evening, John, and I’ve really enjoyed myself – thanks.’

She thought for a moment he might turn nasty as she had rejected him, but he was too nice a bloke for that.

‘All right,’ he said dismally. ‘Sorry – I was pushing it. I just like you – a lot. It doesn’t bother me that you’ve got a little girl’ He turned away as if he was going to walk off, then looked back at her. ‘So d’you want to come out again?’

‘Yes,’ Greta said, relieved. ‘That’d be nice. Somewhere quiet maybe, where we could have a chat. Shall we just go for a coffee or something?’

John shrugged. ‘All right. Tomorrow?’

‘Can’t tomorrow. Day after? And John—’ She went a bit closer. She wanted to like him, she wanted to fall in love. She just couldn’t force it to happen. ‘Don’t get the hump will you? I just want to do things right.’

John looked appeased. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. ‘All right then. See ya.’

‘Why don’t you come out with us – both of you?’ she asked Pat the next day on the way to work, their breath white on the bitterly cold air. Pat had finally admitted that a young man from her church was paying her attention.

‘Oh, I don’t know . . .’

‘You can’t just stay in for ever,’ Greta encouraged her.

‘Yes I can – I think being an old maid will suit me,’ Pat said ruefully. She hammed it up, pushing her hands further into her coat pockets and walking with a stoop. ‘I’ll just stay on the shelf, thank you very much!’

‘You don’t mean that. Come on – you don’t have to
marry
him, do you? Just come out and have some fun. You could come and hear John’s band – they’re a bit like the Beatles really.’

Greta was keen to be out as many evenings as possible at the moment. She had to get over her crush on David, and stop kidding herself. David had taken Dr Ferris’s advice and gone off walking for a few days on his own. He came back saying he had taken the train to Aberystwyth, where he had been on holiday as a teenager, and walked along the coast, beside a rough winter sea. Edie told her that David also said he was thinking about going to finish his medical training somewhere else. New York, he thought, or Boston. When she heard this, Greta felt a massive stab of pain, and then a surge of relief. She was nothing to him and she could close the door on this painful, confusing time and stop thinking about him all the time. She told herself it was only because she felt sorry for him that she felt so much. There wasn’t anything else. She could see that Edie wanted to argue, to beg David to stay because she needed him, but she managed to be selfless and kind, and listened to all he had to say.

So that was that, Greta knew. He would soon be gone. She spent as much time as she could with Anatoli, but tried to keep out of Edie’s and David’s way. There was so much pain in the house that sometimes it was easier to go out and get away from it.

Pat’s date turned out to be an earnest young man called Andrew.

‘I put my foot in it straight away by suggesting we go to the pub,’ Greta told Edie later over a late-night cup of cocoa. ‘Course he doesn’t drink, so we went into town to a coffee bar instead. I mean, he’s nice enough, but I think Pat needs someone with a bit more life in him.’

‘And what about John?’ Edie asked with a smile. ‘You seem to be seeing quite a bit of him.’

‘Oh yeah – he’s nice, John is,’ she replied, carefully.

‘I know it’s selfish of me,’ Edie said, looking up at her rather shamefaced, ‘but I hope in a way he’s not
too
nice. If he is, he’ll take you away from us, won’t he?’ Her eyes filled with tears suddenly. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. What with David – and Anatoli, it feels as if everyone’s going. And poor Peter! He knows his Dad’s poorly and he asked me yesterday if he’s going to die. He’s never said that before.’

‘Oh dear,’ Greta said, feeling a lump come into her own throat. She tried not to keep thinking about how sick Anatoli was, and the reality of it hit her afresh and was almost unbearable.

Very soon it got worse. One night, when she had been out with John, Pat and Andrew, she let herself into the house after John had walked her home and insisted on kissing her goodnight. These days she felt she had to let him. She couldn’t just keep stringing him along. She crept in, trying not to disturb anyone, but as soon as she was in the hall she realized things were not quiet in the house. A door opened and closed upstairs, letting out the sound of men’s voices.

While she was changing into her nightclothes in her room, she heard someone leave the house. There was a tap on her door.

‘Gret? Sorry to bother you,’ Edie said. She was trying to speak normally but Greta could tell there was something terribly wrong.

Edie came and sank down on the edge of her bed. Greta didn’t need to ask what had happened. Edie started to shake, and the tears came.

‘He’s been in such pain. It just came on really bad, all of a sudden. He couldn’t speak with it, he was just moaning – it was terrible. I had to call Martin – he’s so good, he said to call any time – and he’s given him a higher dose . . .’

Greta sat beside Edie, an arm round her shoulders while she cried in shock and grief, her loose hair falling forward.

‘Martin said he may have to go into hospital. He said he knew we’ll do our best to look after him at home but that at the . . .’ She caught her breath, weeping again. ‘At the end, it’ll be too much for us. He’ll need drugs and proper nurses and everything . . . Oh God, it was awful. He was in agony. I’ve never seen him like that. . .’

A tight ball of pain formed inside Greta. Anatoli had hung on so long, so much without complaint, that sometimes it had been easy to forget just how ill he was, what a short time he might have left.

‘Oh—’ Edie remembered. She sat up, pushing her hair back. ‘And today there was a call – from his daughter Caroline. She’s coming to see him on Saturday.’ She added bitterly, ‘It’s a good job she didn’t leave it any longer.’

Greta answered the door to Anatoli’s daughter when she arrived at midday on Saturday, having travelled up from Brighton.

‘I don’t know if I want to see her,’ Edie said. ‘The way I feel at the moment I’m just as likely to speak out of turn.’

‘What’s she done?’ Greta asked, puzzled.

Edie sighed. ‘Ignored him for years on end. Seems to have some grudge against him about her mother.’

All Greta knew about Anatoli’s daughter, Caroline Brewer, was that she was thirty years old, married and a music teacher. But she had built her up in her mind into an imperious little madam who would put on airs with them all. How could anyone reject someone as lovely as Anatoli? she wondered. Feeling fiercely protective of him, she was prepared thoroughly to dislike his daughter.

When she opened the door she found herself looking at a slender young woman with her dark brown hair taken back in a ponytail and a thin face with a serious expression. She was wearing a brown tweed coat with the collar turned up against the cold, and she looked nervous.

‘Hello—’ Her voice was posh and clipped. ‘Have I come to the right house? I’m Caroline Brewer. I believe my father lives here.’

‘Yes,’ Greta said. ‘This is it. Come in.’

She stood back for Caroline to pass.

‘And you are?’ she enquired.

‘Greta Sorenson – I lodge with Edie and Anatoli.’

Just then Edie appeared from upstairs. Greta saw her force a smile on to her face as she came and shook hands, not hiding away after all.

‘You must be Caroline. I’m Edie. It’s good to meet you at last. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’

Caroline looked very uncomfortable in this new situation. ‘I think I’d better just go and see my father, if you don’t mind. Perhaps we could have some coffee . . .’

‘Yes, of course,’ Edie said. ‘Let’s take your coat and I’ll show you up to him.’

‘You take the tray up,’ Edie said to Greta when she’d come down again. ‘I don’t think I can stand it.’

Greta carried up a tray with coffee and biscuits on it and tapped on the door of Anatoli’s room. His daughter opened it, then retired to her chair by the bed.