Fraser's Line (6 page)

One Sunday that stayed very firmly in her memory was when they went to Brighton. They took the train early that morning and spent the whole day there. First they wandered about The Lanes. Then they spent a happy hour or two on the pier. After that they clambered over the pebbles down to the water’s edge and stood, like children, sending spinning stones into the sea, trying to make them bounce. A mischievous wave broke higher on the beach than its predecessors and started swirling about their feet. Laughing they tried to avoid soaking shoes, jumping back up the beach, but Marjorie somehow lost her balance, tottered and fell. Allan tried to grab her but was too late.

‘You’re not hurt, are you?’ Immediately his smile was replaced by a look of concern. He held her hands, drawing her up on to her feet, and the depth of feeling she saw in his eyes turned her knees to such jelly she was in danger of falling down again.

‘I’m quite alright – really I am.’ She began brushing her clothes free of the damp pebbles and sand.

‘I don’t ever want you to be hurt,’ he said, suddenly very serious in his manner. ‘I want to look after you so that you do not get hurt. I want to be your husband so that I can always care for you. Marjorie, please, would you be my wife?’

The proposal took her completely by surprise, but she answered without hesitating for an instant.

‘Yes, I would like that.’ She didn’t feel she had said quite enough, so she added, ‘Thank you.’

‘Oh, it is for me to thank you! And I shall thank you every day of my life!’ He snatched off his cap and hurled it high in the air. As it soared upwards he shouted out triumphantly, ‘She said yes!’ and spun round in a circle.

By then the cap had started its descent, but the wind had changed its path so that he had to lunge forward to catch it. In doing so he slipped and now it was his turn to find himself lying on the pebbles. They began laughing and he sat up looking rueful.

‘It is true, what they say, that pride comes before a fall – for I am the proudest and happiest man on the whole earth!’

As they left the beach, with their arms wound round each other’s waist, Marjorie thought she had never known that such intense joy existed.

They had a quiet wedding – just her parents, and a few other relatives, and guests – his neighbours, an elderly and very sweet couple, and the greengrocer who had a shop next door to his.

Initially her parents had been shocked when she had announced that she was going to marry a man she had met in a shop three months previously. But by now they realised that when she had set her mind to something there was little point in trying to dissuade her. In any case, when she took him to meet them they saw for themselves how much the young people meant to each other, and they liked what they saw in him.

He decided to close the shop for a week, so that they could have a honeymoon. They took the train down to Torquay, where he had booked a small hotel. As the train puffed its way round the South Devon coast, in and out of the tunnels, and past the little towns of Dawlish and Teignmouth, they drank in the sight of the sea through the train window and were as excited as children going on holiday.

That week was a little bit of paradise for both of them. The first night they lay in each other’s arms, not wanting to lose physical contact for a moment, and Marjorie was amazed at the depths of feeling his tenderness awakened in her.

At one point she whispered, ‘Why me? And when did you know?’

‘I knew from the first moment you came into my shop,’ he answered. ‘You stood there looking a little worried, your golden hair standing out against your dark nurse’s cape – you were so beautiful – and I saw such spirit in you, and yet a vulnerability as well. I wanted to take you in my arms then and promise to look after you.’

‘You might never have seen me again.’
‘I had to make sure I did. So I’m afraid I resorted to a little trick, and now I feel so bad, because I want only to be completely honest with you.’

‘A trick? Oh, I know – the jam! So that wasn’t true at all, about trying it out?’

‘No, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t think of anything else at the time. Please say you forgive me. I was desperate to have you come back.’

‘Of course I do, silly. It worked, as you know. Anyway, I had to take a firm grip on myself or I would have run back to your shop the very next day! I think if you hadn’t done your jam trick I would have thought up some reason to come, like making the cake.’

‘Ah yes,’ he said, ‘the cake. I had to marry you after that – it was so delicious. But please tell me when you knew, and, if I may ask, why did you want to come back?’

‘I knew that very first day,’ she said. ‘It was like a bolt from the blue. I was bowled over.’

‘I think, my dearest one, that was not me. That was the small boy.’

‘You were so kind – and you had such lovely eyes, and attractive smile – I thought I had never met anyone who was so handsome.’

‘Now I am blushing,’ he said. And they laughed and held each other closer.

When it was time to go back she went to live in his house, having given up her little rented room. He said she was welcome to do whatever she would like to make it more homely, and she happily set about adding some feminine touches, such as curtains and rugs, and some pictures and ornaments. To begin with she tried to continue nursing, but she found her heart was not in it in quite the same way, and in any case, within four months she knew she was pregnant.

When Fraser was born Allan was so overjoyed he could not stop beaming. He had been concerned throughout her pregnancy, and especially when she went into labour, and had given her all the support he could. In those days fathers were not at all welcomed during the birth, but the minute he was allowed to he rushed to her side and held her, tears of relief and joy on his face. Then he turned to look at his son.

‘He’s wonderful!’ he said. ‘May I pick him up?’ He cradled the tiny baby and could not speak for a moment – his happiness and pride were boundless.

‘What shall we call him?’ he asked.

‘Please, Allan, may we call him Fraser? I have always loved the name. And his second name must be Allan.’
‘It shall be just as you like,’ he said. ‘Fraser is a very distinguished name. I am sure with that name my son will grow up to be a brilliant surgeon.’

‘Oh, I thought it was a rather cosy and comfortable name,’ she said, ‘rather like an old slipper.’

‘Now I am confused – I do not know whether he is to become a surgeon or a slipper!’

‘Perhaps we don’t need to worry – he will probably choose for himself. But, whatever it is, with a father like you he is bound to become a very fine man.’

‘And he will be so proud when he finds out what a beautiful and wonderful mother he has.’

He had been a good father. He shared in all that had to be done far more than was usual. He would change nappies, and bath the baby, and when the pains of teething transformed the once placid infant into a bundle of screaming rage he would pace round the room with him on his shoulder, talking soothingly and sometimes singing little songs – some in Polish, which he dimly remembered.

Eighteen months later Margaret was born.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘we are a complete family. What a clever wife I have – and so beautiful, even though she has had to go through all this twice.’

She thought she had no right to be so happy – to be loved, and cherished all the time was almost too good to be true. It seemed nothing could mar this bliss.

But the jackboots had begun to march across Europe. First Austria fell, then Czechoslovakia. It was clear Poland would be next.

‘My people are enduring the most terrible sufferings,’ he said. He did not need to say any more. She knew what he was thinking.

For two days he neither ate nor slept. He paced round the house and garden, and she knew his torment. She also knew what he would decide.

At last he came to her.

‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I cannot ignore my countrymen when they are enduring such terrible things.’

‘But what can you possibly do?’ she cried. ‘You are not strong enough to do anything on your own. You will only get killed!’

‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I am so very sorry.’

In order not to prolong the agony he made his arrangements speedily. On the last night they lay clinging together as though both their hearts would break. There were tears, but then they tried to be strong for each other.

She stood at the door to watch him walk away down the street – a solitary man, carrying a small, light suitcase but weighed down by an unbearably heavy heart. She watched until he had gone out of sight, and even then she did not move for a long time. Finally, she turned and went back into the house.

She never saw him again.

Fraser arrived about 11 o’clock on Sunday morning and greeted his mother warmly. She looked very frail, and it tore at his heart strings, but her smile was as warm and lovely as ever.

‘Hello mother, darling! How are you?

‘Well, thank you, Fraser dear. I’m well.’

‘What about those swollen ankles? Has the doctor been able to suggest anything?’

‘Oh, I’d forgotten about them. They really don’t trouble me.’

Fraser was about to say something but Marjorie cut in to stop him. ‘Now don’t fuss, please Fraser. There’s nothing wrong except that I seem to be getting more muddle-headed than ever. Do you know what I did yesterday?’

‘Tell me,’ said Fraser, settling into the armchair opposite her, and immediately making the room look cosy.

‘You’ll think me very silly. Well, I thought of two things I needed from the shops, and as it was such a nice, bright day I thought I could manage to go round to the corner shop. I do so love the little corner shop, even if it is difficult to find what you want. So much better than those huge supermarkets. Anyway, Celia, my neighbour, does my shopping there for me once a week. Isn’t it kind of her? She’s so good to me.’

Fraser nodded. He’d heard this refrain many times before.

‘There were just two things I wanted, and I knew perfectly well what they were when I set off.’
‘Did you write them down – the way we discussed before – to help you remember?’

‘Of course I did, dear. I always try and do what you tell me. But when I got to the shop I couldn’t find the piece of paper. I must have left it behind. Well I knew what the first thing was – that was butter – but I could not think of the other thing, no matter how hard I tried. So I wandered about the shop, pretending I was looking at the displays, and then suddenly I found myself in front of a tin of treacle – and so I knew!’

‘You wanted some treacle?’

‘No, of course not, dear. Whatever would I want treacle for?’
‘I thought you said…’ Fraser wasn’t sure he was following.

‘It was the T – that was what I wanted, Tea!’

‘Oh!’ cried Fraser. ‘How clever of you! I don’t think you’ve been a silly muddle-headed lady at all!’

‘Well, yes I was, because you see, when I got home, I found I hadn’t got the butter. So I bought the thing I’d forgotten, but I must have forgotten what I’d remembered.’

‘Yes, I see, I think. Never mind, mother, I’ll slip out and get you some now. It won’t take long.’

‘Get me some what?’

‘The butter you came home without yesterday.’

‘Oh no, you needn’t trouble yourself doing that. I’ve got plenty of that.’

Fraser gave up. Before he could say anything Marjorie spoke again. ‘Dear Fraser,’ she said. ‘It always makes me so happy to see you. You are such a good, kind son. No mother could ask for a better.’

‘I wish I could do more, mother. It does worry me that I am not on the doorstep.’

‘You mustn’t worry so. I know how to contact you if I need to, and you have your own life to lead.’ She almost asked about Edie, but some flash of memory saved her. ‘How are your two lovely daughters?’ she enquired.

‘Fine, I think. I had lunch with Sarah and Michael, and the twins yesterday. George, Kate and I spent a happy afternoon playing with the train set. I haven’t actually heard from Joanna for a few days – I think she may be finding the loss of her mother very hard, since she’s on her own, and she’s rather younger and a lot less mature than Sarah. I wish she was more settled in life. She seems so restless, and doesn’t really know which direction to go in. But look, I don’t want you to trouble your head about that.’

‘And what about you, dear? How are you?’ Marjorie looked at him anxiously.

‘Oh I’m managing all right, although of course I do find it difficult without Edie. Still, I went to a party yesterday evening, at Marion’s.’
‘Did you really? Oh I am so glad. That’s made me feel really happy.’
‘Margaret said it would please you.’ He did not add that it was the only argument that had carried any weight when he was deciding whether he could manage to go. ‘I can’t pretend I’d have gone without Margaret’s gentle persuasion. Nor can I pretend I enjoyed it enormously. However, it was made rather better by a strange woman who appeared from nowhere, and unlike everyone else, seemed to know what to say. Now, Mother, you said there was a reason why you would like me to come today.’

‘Yes, in fact I have two things I want to talk to you about. One’s good, and the other isn’t so nice.’