Faded Glory (28 page)

“We’ve got a lot to catch up on, Danny,” said Albert steadily.

“We have, Grandad,” agreed Danny, catching hold of Albert’s hand with tears in his eyes. “We have.”

OVER the next few weeks Danny visited his new grandfather every day. Lenny came too, although Danny was not really convinced if the visits from Lenny were for Albert, or for the nurse from Lenny’s home town of Kingston, Jamaica, who always seemed to be on the ward.

When he’d got used to the idea of having Albert as his grandfather, Danny steeled himself to call Wendy. He hadn’t seen her since that strange day at Rosie’s house, and he had no idea how she was going to take this news.

“You’re joking,” Wendy said when Danny called and told her. “You’ve taken too much of something.”

“This ain’t just wishful thinking, Wendy. It’s true. Will you come to the hospital with me so Ruby can meet her great- grandfather?”

“I’m not ready to take you back, Danny,” warned Wendy. “Not yet. I need to see a change. A big change. I ain’t seen it yet.”

“I understand that. But this is for Ruby, Wend. Will you come? Please?”

“Fine,” said Wendy after a moment. “Tomorrow afternoon at the hospital. I’ll be there at two o’clock.”

“I can give you a lift if you want,” said Danny hopefully.

“We’ll get there by ourselves. Don’t be late.”

At two o’clock, Danny waited anxiously outside the hospital for Wendy and Ruby to arrive. When he saw them turn the corner, he ran to meet them.

He wanted to hug Wendy and pick up his little girl and hold them close, but Ruby looked at him like a stranger and there was still a coldness in Wendy’s eyes.

“Thanks for coming,” he said awkwardly. “Can you believe this?” He smiled at Ruby, hoping she might warm to him. “Do you want to meet your great-grandad, Ruby?”

Ruby looked up to her mother for approval. “Grandad,” she said. “Yes.”

“Come on then,” Danny said.

Wendy and Ruby followed Danny to Albert’s ward. Ruby seemed fascinated by this new and strange place, waving to almost everyone she passed. Danny showed her which button to push in the lift, which pleased Ruby no end. Not quite a breakthrough, but a smile to Danny melted his heart.

“Oh my goodness,” said Albert as they came into the ward. “How wonderful to see you, Wendy. And you, look at you, Ruby, you big girl!”

“Why is your leg up in the air?” asked Ruby.

“That is a very good question,” said Albert. “The nice nurse said it would make it better.”

“Oh, better,” Ruby replied.

Albert looked at Wendy. “She’s beautiful,” he said. “You’re doing a great job, Wendy, it can’t be easy.”

Danny flushed, but Wendy smiled.

“I got a new dolly called Pinky,” Ruby announced.

“What a nice name,” said Albert, returning his attention to the little girl. “Is pink your favourite colour?”

They chatted for a while about dolls and colours, animals and the weather and Albert’s bandages. Danny watched, and wondered if he’d ever get to chat to Ruby that way again.

“Hope you’ll be back on your feet soon, Albert,” said Wendy at last, taking Ruby’s hand. She glanced at Danny. “Bye then.”

“Do you want me to show you the way out?” Danny asked.

“We’ll find it,” said Wendy.

Ruby looked back as they reached the door of the ward. Albert blew her a kiss, and she blew one back. Danny got a wave too. It was a start, he thought. Definitely a start.

*

Albert was slowly on the mend, uplifted by recent events, and Danny’s visits were frequent and often. He loved hearing the stories of his late father’s adventures as a scallawag in East London.

“Your father was fearless,” Albert told him. “Him and his mate Charlie used to swim across the Thames trying to race the Woolwich Ferry. That was until he got a clip round the ear from a copper.”

Danny fell quiet. “Do you know where Dad’s buried?” he asked after a moment.

“In a war cemetery in France.”

“Whereabouts in France?”

“A place called Brouay,” Albert answered, “along with many others.”

“Have you been there?”

“A long time ago,” said Albert. “Just after the war, I went with the wife: your grandmother and the love of my life. I doubt if I’ll see it again.”

Danny smiled. “What was my nan’s name?”

“Vera. And she was beautiful.”

“Was my dad interested in boxing?”

Albert nodded. “He was, and he was a decent little fighter. But football was really his first love.”

“Why did you lose contact with my mum?” Danny asked. “You knew she’d had me.”

“These things happen,” Albert said.

Hearing the pain in Albert’s response, Danny put the question on the back burner.

When Danny told Rosie that Albert was his grandfather, the colour seemed to drain from her face.

“How do you know?” she asked faintly.

“The photo of Albert’s son is the photo of Dad.”

Rosie sat down. “Oh my gawd,” she said.

“I should have worked it out quicker,” said Danny. “His surname’s Kemp, same as Dad’s.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Rosie. “I haven’t seen Albert for what? Over twenty-five years.”

“I know,” said Danny. “He told me.”

Rosie became defensive. “We didn’t get on,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think he ever liked me,” Rosie said. “He never thought I was good enough for his son, especially after...” She stopped.

“I know you went off with my step-dad soon after Dad was killed,” Danny said. “Albert was upset about that.”

“It was hard on me own,” Rosie said plaintively. “And perhaps Albert was right. Perhaps I wasn’t good enough.” She leaned against the kitchen table, looking tired and sad. “Albert Kemp,” she said, almost to herself. “Dear me.”

“Perhaps you can meet up,” Danny suggested. “Talk about Dad.”

Rosie’s face closed up. “Too much water under the bridge,” she said. And Danny couldn’t push her any further on the subject.

*

It wasn’t long before Albert was up and hobbling impatiently around the hospital corridors with the aid of a crutch, dressed in a new pair of tartan pyjamas and some slippers with pom poms on that Wendy and Ruby had bought for him. He actually looked, for the first time, like a grandad.

He was ready to go now, more than ready to leave. He made his feelings known to nurses and doctors alike whenever one came by. After wearing the medical staff down to a ravelling, he was finally given the green light.

Hobbling and bobbling as fast as his plaster cast let him, down the familiar brown and cream corridor, he almost collided with a grumpy lady being wheeled along in a wheelchair on his way to the phone kiosk in reception.

“Clifton Garage,” said Lenny, after what felt like an eternity.

“Hello, Lenny,” said Albert. “I’ve got this broken-down wreck that needs picking up.”

Lenny laughed. “So, you got me cake with the file in it that I sent you?”

“Yeah, it worked a treat,” Albert replied, grinning. “I filed through the iron bars and I’m free. Do you reckon you could pick me up?”

“On my way,” answered Lenny. “Tell that pretty Kingston girl Nurse Madeline that lover boy will be there soon.”

“Tell her yourself, Casanova,” Albert said. “Just bloody hurry up.”

Danny had threatened to hold a little homecoming party for Albert at his house in Chigwell if Wendy agreed but, thankful as he was to be welcomed by his new family, Albert didn’t need the fuss and told Danny not to bother. He was going home and that was that.

With a little help from Nurse Madeline, he packed his bits and pieces into his holdall and sat waiting for Lenny on the end of the bed, thinking about how things might have changed since he’d been away. Lenny had assured him he’d been feeding both Rocky and the ducks in the park, so that was one less thing to worry about. Danny, on the other hand... Danny, with his mood swings and temper, was a worry, that much was certain.

Albert was a lousy patient and had detested being immobile. The pain from the broken ribs he could cope with, but the plaster cast on his leg had to go. He had borrowed a knitting needle from a lady patient to scratch the itchy bits he couldn’t reach, a valuable piece of kit that he made sure he packed in his bag. He thought about going back to work at the Live and Let Live, and about managing the stairs to his flat. He had been practising up and down some stairs in the hospital and had developed a nifty sideways action using the crutch as a lever, not unlike Long John Silver and with the same gusto. It was all going to be fine.

“You’ll be home in time for the football,” smiled Nurse Madeline, packing his final bits and pieces.

Albert was puzzled. He had been cut off from the outside world for weeks and had no idea what the nurse was talking about. “What football?” he said.

“The World Cup!” said Nurse Madeline. “Didn’t you know, England is in the final?”

“No,” Albert exclaimed. “Blimey, who they playing?”

“Germany, I think,” said the nurse.

Albert’s personal feelings about Germany still ran pretty high, even now in nineteen sixty-six. World War Two and the Blitz on East London had left scars, and a World Cup Final against the old enemy would feel like a re-run of the war.

Albert couldn’t wait.

Lenny arrived, looking sharp in his cream suit and wearing a red carnation in his lapel.

“About time too,” said Albert. “What you done up like an ice cream for?”

Lenny beamed at Nurse Madeline. “Nothing but the best for my Kingston girl,” he said with his very best smile. “You’re looking good, Nurse Madeline. I bet you’re pleased to get rid of him.”

The penny dropped. Lenny’s suit was nothing to do with Albert’s homecoming, and all to do with “the angel from home” as Lenny called her.

“No, we’re gonna miss him,” said Nurse Madeline. “I understand that nobody likes to be in hospital, though.”

“Are we going or what?” said Albert, growing impatient with Lenny’s flirting.

“Just give me a second,” said Lenny as he guided Madeline out of Albert’s earshot. A couple of minutes later he was back, a massive smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

“Right, champ,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

At the car, Lenny, the good Samaritan, tried to help Albert into the passenger seat, with limited success thanks to his unbendable leg in plaster.

“You’re hurting me, you silly sod! Stick me in the back seat, there’s more room, and put the passenger seat forward.”

“Hey Albert,” chuckled Lenny. “This is like one of those Laurel and Hardy films.”

“Yeah, and I know who’s getting a slap!” Albert retorted.

“Where to? Your flat?” Lenny asked as they finally set off.

“Did you feed Rocky this morning?”

“Yes I did. I did the ducks yesterday too.”

Albert eased up on him. “Good man, I appreciate it,” he said. “It’s the World Cup match today, ain’t it? The final, between us and the Jerries. Wembley would be good, but let’s go to the pub and watch it on telly.”

“The Live and Let Live it is.”

It was about two-thirty when they reached the pub. After a few grunts and contortions Albert emerged from the back seat. Greeted like the returning prodigal son in the saloon bar, he acknowledged the warmth of the welcome with a wave of his good arm and did his best to avoid the fuss and concern.

Lenny grabbed a couple of seats from the willing locals and they sat down to watch the match.

Very few of the folks that packed the pub had televisions, so the pub’s TV was a magnet: the next best thing to being at the game. There was palpable pride in the house as the traditional
Abide with Me
was sung by the packed stadium.

“A great occasion,” said Albert.

“Yes indeed,” agreed Lenny, even though it wasn’t cricket.

They watched the teams line up for the respective National Anthems. Albert struggled to his feet and sang
God Save the Queen
at the top of his voice. Like most East Enders he was fiercely patriotic.

“Look at that, Lenny,” said Albert as the camera panned across the teams. “Three West Ham players! Come on, you Irons!”

With the preliminaries done and dusted, the match kicked off with shouts of “Come on England!” from everyone in the pub. Wembley was jam-packed from the look of things, ninety-six thousand spectators roaring their teams on.

Too soon, English hearts were broken as in the twelfth minute Germany scored. It took the wind out of the sails of both the English supporters and the folks in the pub. But with so much time to go in the match, all was not lost.

“Plenty of time yet,” said Albert optimistically.

In the seventeenth minute England struck back. A free kick was taken by West Ham and England captain Bobby Moore, a beautifully weighted ball into the German penalty area. West Ham’s Geoff Hurst managed to get on the end of it and powered in a fantastic header. One all.

As the ball hit the net, Albert shot to his feet, as did most of England. He would have gone flat on his face, hampered by the plaster cast, if it hadn’t been for Lenny’s quick reaction, grabbing him before he hit the deck. Albert recovered his balance and led a chorus of
I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles
to celebrate the goal made by West Ham.

The contest went on, accompanied by quite a lot of nail-biting and a few choice swear words. The match was pretty even, but Germany were looking dangerous. Half-time came and drinks were replenished in preparation for the second half.

“It’s crazy!” said Maria as she helped pull the pints. “Italy should have been in the final.”

The second half was tense and the folk in the bar were reasonably quiet as they were drawn deeper into the drama. Then, in the seventy-eighth minute, Geoff Hurst took a shot at goal which was partially blocked by a German defender, only to fall at the feet of another West Ham player. Martin Peters took the chance and walloped the ball into the German goal. Two one to England.

Delirium followed. The cheers of happiness rang out the length and breadth of England and beyond. The locals were hugging each other in the bar. Stranger or friend, it didn’t matter. England were winning with just twelve more nerve-racking minutes to go.