Waking with a start, Ruth found that she had her arms around Tommy. She was glad that she’d decided to put him in with her, the boy finding comfort in being cuddled. But what had woken her? Had someone knocked on the door? She glanced blearily at her bedside clock, saw it was only just after six and frowned when there was another loud knock. Who the hell was calling this early on a Saturday morning?
She eased herself away from Tommy and threw on her dressing gown, still cursing as she went downstairs. ‘Andrew!’ she cried, stepping back as she registered the anger on his face.
‘You lied, told me it was a false alarm. Why?’
Ruth shot a look over her shoulder. ‘Please,’ she begged, ‘keep your voice down. You’ll wake everyone up.’
‘I asked you a question and I’m waiting for an answer.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Don’t act the innocent. I can’t believe I didn’t see it immediately. Does she know?’
‘We need to talk, but please, not . . . not here,’ Ruth stammered, her eyes wide with fear.
His face suddenly softened. ‘Ruth, don’t look at me like that. I’m not a monster and I’m sorry for shouting, but this has knocked me for six. Look, Denis isn’t up yet and I doubt he’ll surface for some time. Why don’t you get dressed and come next door?’
‘All right, give me ten minutes.’
Ruth closed the door quietly and crept upstairs, relieved that she was the only one awake. It was amazing that her mother hadn’t heard the racket, but so far there wasn’t a sound from anywhere in the house. She dressed quickly, snuck back downstairs, and left a note on the kitchen table in case anyone got up before she returned.
At her soft knock, Andrew opened the door immediately, and when she followed him into the kitchen, he handed her a photo. ‘My mother,’ he said. ‘And as you can see, the resemblance is remarkable.’
Ruth studied the face, her voice quaking. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t notice straightaway.’
‘Something niggled at me as soon as I saw her, but I just couldn’t figure out what it was until I saw that photograph. It’s obvious that she’s mine.’
Ruth did her best to explain, often faltering as she tried to find the right words. ‘When my husband came home on leave and found me pregnant with your child, he . . . he begged me to stay with him, and promised to bring her up as his own. I didn’t know what to do, Andrew. Ours was a brief affair, and though I thought the world of you, Ken was my husband.’
‘I still had a right to know.’
‘I did what I thought was for the best. You had a wife and child of your own, and whether I was having your child or not, you’d still have gone back to them after the war.’
For a moment he was quiet, but then he said, ‘I couldn’t have left my wife and son, but I still had a right to know about my daughter. I could have seen her occasionally, watched her grow up and been a part of her life. She’s beautiful, Ruth.’
‘Yes, she is, and I can only say I’m sorry. I did what I thought was for the best, but it turned out to be the biggest mistake I ever made.’
‘Why, Ruth?’
‘Ken never accepted Sally as his own and he made both our lives a misery.’
‘My marriage wasn’t happy either.’
‘Wasn’t it? I’m sorry.’
His face softened a little, and he said, quietly, ‘Does Sally know that your ex-husband isn’t her father?’
‘She does now, but I didn’t tell her the truth until he left me.’
‘And when she found out, did she ask about me?’
‘Yes, but I knew so little about you. I knew what regiment you were in during the war, but that was all. It wasn’t enough for her to trace you.’
‘It sounds like you didn’t want her to find me?’
‘I had no idea how you’d react, or even if you’d accept her, and Sally had faced enough rejection. Not only that, how would your wife and son have felt if she’d turned up on your doorstep?’
‘I wouldn’t have rejected her, but as for my wife, you have a point. I doubt she’d have taken it well. However, things have changed and there’s no reason why I can’t get to know her. Please, Ruth, tell her who I am. I think you owe me that much.’
Ruth stared into Andrew’s eyes, saw his plea, and knew she owed it to both him and Sally. ‘All right, come on then. There’s no time like the present.’
Sally had only just got up when her mother came in, Tommy’s uncle with her. She looked at them, saw that her mother’s hands were shaking and asked, ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Her mother hesitated, looked at Tommy’s uncle, and then said haltingly, ‘Sally, I . . . I have something to tell you. Andrew is your . . . your father.’
Sally couldn’t believe her ears, and astounded she squeaked, ‘My . . . my father?’
‘Yes, Sally.’
She found herself dumbstruck, waiting to feel something, but she just felt numb. Ever since she’d found out that Ken Marchant wasn’t her real father she had dreamed of this moment, dreamed of finding her dad and being swept into his arms.
Why couldn’t she react? Why couldn’t she move? He was looking at her, his expression soft, and a spark of recognition ran through her. She could see it now, see this man’s resemblance to both her and Angel – and it wasn’t just his red, curly hair. My God, he’s Angel’s grandfather!
She stiffened as he began to walk towards her, but then his eyes seemed to fill and with a watery smile he held out his arms. Sally didn’t know how, but the next minute she was in them, being held tightly as his soft voice murmured in her ear, words that made her own tears fall. ‘Hello, my bonny lass.’
‘Why are you cuddling Sally?’
They pulled apart, both now looking at Tommy. His hair was standing up like a brush, and suddenly the family connection and all it entailed, hit Sally. Laura Walters had been her aunt, and this little boy, the one she had once rejected, was her cousin!
As if reading her thoughts, Ruth said, ‘Sally, don’t say anything for now. There’ll be enough time later.’
Sally still couldn’t take it all in, and finding she was gripping her father’s hand she turned to look at him, his smile making her heart leap.
His kindness became obvious too as he released her hand and squatted down in front of Tommy. ‘Now, lad, you can’t blame a man for cuddling a beautiful woman. Tell me, how are you?’
‘I’m all right, but where’s me dad?’
‘He’s still asleep, but you’ll see him soon. In fact, why don’t you get dressed and we’ll see if he’s up and about?’
Tommy nodded, and as he ran from the room, Ruth shook her head worriedly. ‘I’m only just beginning to see how difficult this is going to be. There’s going to be a lot of explaining to do.’
‘Yes, but for now I’d like to concentrate on my daughter. Are you all right, lassie?’
‘It’s been a bit of a shock, and my head is still spinning.’
‘I hope it’s been a pleasant one. You and I have a lot to catch up on.’
‘I’ll have to tell my mother,’ Ruth said. ‘In fact, I’ll see if she’s awake.’
She was about to leave the room when Angel burst in. ‘Mummy, tell Tommy! He won’t let me in the bathroom and I want to pee!’
There was a stifled, choking sound, but then Andrew’s laughter rang out, filling the room. Sally found it infectious and grinned, whilst Angel stood hopping, her face indignant as she said, ‘Mummy, it’s not funny. Tell Tommy!’
Sally took her daughter’s hand, still hearing Andrew’s laughter as they went upstairs. My father, she thought. That man’s my father, and suddenly it was wonderful.
When Andrew finally stopped laughing, Ruth said, ‘You do realise that Angel is your granddaughter?’
‘What did you say?’ a voice boomed.
‘Mum! I was just coming to see you.’
‘Did I hear you say that this is Angel’s grandfather?’
‘Yes, he is. Sit down before you fall down, Mum, and I’ll tell you all about it.’
Ruth only just had time to tell her mother before Tommy dashed back into the room, and hoping that Sadie would have the sense to keep quiet, she said hurriedly, ‘That was quick, love. Are you ready for your breakfast?’
‘Can me uncle have some too?’
Andrew shook his head. ‘I think Ruth has enough mouths to feed. Have your breakfast, lad, and then come next door. I’m sure your father will be up by then.’
‘Can’t I come now?’
Andrew looked at Ruth and seeing her quick nod he said, ‘Yes, all right. I’m sure I can rustle up something for us both to eat.’
Ruth accompanied them to the door, whispering, ‘Thanks, Andrew. My mother’s still in shock and I don’t trust her to keep her mouth shut.’
‘They’ll have to be told.’
‘Yes, and soon, but give me time to draw breath first.’
‘Told what?’ Tommy asked.
‘Little pigs have big ears,’ Ruth said, smiling down at the boy.
‘I ain’t a pig!’ Tommy said indignantly.
‘I know you aren’t. Now go on home with your uncle and I’ll see you later.’
‘Ruth, we’ll talk again soon,’ Andrew said, ‘but Denis and I have got a lot to sort out today. The funeral,’ he silently mouthed. ‘Will it be all right if I send the boy back in about an hour?’
‘Yes, of course it will,’ she said, hiding her worries as she closed the door. It had gone well, and Sally had taken to Andrew immediately, yet as she had watched their growing closeness, her mother’s words came back to haunt her. She was right – girls did cling to their fathers.
Ruth remembered her own father, her devastation when he died, and now shivered. Andrew would be going back to Scotland soon, his home a long, long way from London. Had she set Sally up for more heartbreak?
Andrew was glad he’d got a little food in and after scrubbing a saucepan and then doing the same to the grill pan, he managed to rustle up beans on toast. He chatted to Tommy as the boy cleaned his plate finding that he was a nice lad, a bit rough round the edges, but his intelligence shone through. In some ways he reminded him of his own son at that age, both having the same quick mind.
He wondered how not only Donald, but his parents too, would take the news about Sally. He wanted her to be a part of his life, to make up for all the missing years, and not only Sally, his granddaughter too.
It was another half an hour before Denis got up, scratching his head, his face showing the ravages of drink when he walked into the kitchen and said hoarsely, ‘Any tea in the pot?’
‘Yes, but I doubt it’s still hot.’
Denis didn’t seem to care as he poured himself a cup, then asked, ‘Did Ruth send you home, Tommy?’
‘No, Uncle Andy came and fetched me.’
‘How come you know Ruth?’ Denis asked.
‘It’s a long story. We’ll talk about it later.’
‘You fobbed me off yesterday. What’s wrong with now?’
‘I said later, man. For now we’ve got a lot to sort out, arrangements to make, so I suggest you get ready to go out.’
‘Yeah, yeah, all right.’
‘Can I come wiv you?’
‘No, you flaming well can’t,’ Denis snapped.
Andrew ruffled Tommy’s hair. ‘We won’t be long, lad, but for now run on back to Ruth.’
Tommy hesitated and Denis yelled, ‘Do as you’re told!’
‘There was no need to shout,’ Andrew said, as Tommy ran out. ‘You seem to be forgetting that the boy has just lost his mother.’
‘Yeah, well, he’s better off with Ruth for now,’ Denis said, ‘and as I asked before, how come you know her?’
Andrew decided that with Tommy out of earshot he might as well get it over with. ‘I met Ruth many years ago, in fact during the war, but haven’t seen her since.’
‘I see, like that was it? I’ve heard stories about the things that went on during the war. What was that little ditty? Oh, yeah. “When their men were away, the wives went out to play.”’
‘Shut up! It wasn’t like that. Ruth hadn’t heard from her husband for a very long time and thought he’d been killed in action. You have no idea what it was like. Bombs rained down almost every night and Londoners were going through hell. Many thousands were killed or lost their homes, and with strict rationing they were on near-starvation diets. All right, Ruth and I met, and yes, we had an affair, but those were desperate times. People lived for the day, knowing that it might be their last.’ Andrew stopped speaking, annoyed with himself for justifying what happened.
‘All right, keep your shirt on, mate.’
‘That isn’t the end of the story, and when you hear the rest I don’t want any more derogatory remarks.’ Andrew took another steadying breath. ‘You see, Ruth’s daughter is my child.’
‘What! Sally Marchant is your daughter! Blimey.’
Andrew watched as Denis digested the news and waited for him to take on board the implications.
He didn’t have long to wait as the light dawned in Denis’ eyes. ‘Bloody hell! This means that Tommy is related to the Marchants. I can’t believe this. It’s amazing.’
‘Listen, I don’t think Tommy is ready to hear any of this yet. He’s just lost his mother and it would be too much for him to take in.’
‘I dunno. He’s very fond of Ruth and it might help him to know that he’s a part of her family.’
‘You may have a point, but do you mind if I consult with Ruth first? Angel will have to be told too, and maybe Tommy at the same time.’
‘It’s funny really. This makes me Sally’s uncle and she must only be a few years younger than me. I know I’m not her blood relative, but Laura was. Laura would have loved that.’
Andrew’s stomach tightened with guilt. Once again he knew that despite their differences he should have kept in touch with Laura. Instead he now felt he’d abandoned her. All he could do now was to see that Laura had a good send-off, a decent funeral, and urged, ‘Come on, get yourself ready now. We’ve got a lot to sort out today.’
Once the arrangements had been made, Andrew would have to ring his parents. They weren’t in good health and wouldn’t be able to undertake a journey to London, but they would want to send flowers. It had been so hard to tell them about Laura’s death, the news hitting his mother and father hard.
Now Andrew had other news to break, but he felt it best to tell them about Sally face to face. How would they take it?
That same day, Joe was sitting in his car, his eyes fixed on the street door through his wing mirror. He’d been adding things up and was determined to check up on Patsy, sure that she wasn’t all she pretended to be. He found her finances a mystery, a mobile hairdresser who didn’t seem to work that many hours, yet who could afford the rent on her flat, along with expensive clothes. Then, when he’d given her the elbow, she had set her cap at Arthur. If she was looking for a meal ticket, why make it difficult for herself by choosing a married man? Was it that she saw Arthur as an easy target?
Joe had hoped that the break-up between Sally and Arthur would be short-lived, that Arthur would come to his senses and finish with Patsy, but the opposite had happened, Arthur had turned it all on Sally.
With a glance at his watch, Joe worked out that Patsy had been in the house for nearly half an hour, but with no idea how long it took to do a woman’s hair, he settled back to wait.
Only ten minutes later the street door opened, and adjusting his mirror, Joe stared uncomprehendingly at the man who was seeing Patsy out. He was bald, totally bald, and at least seventy years old. Joe had intended to follow Patsy, to see just how many clients she had in one day, but now waited until she was out of sight before getting out of the car. There had been something strange in the old chap’s attitude towards the girl, something almost intimate.
Joe straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket before approaching the house. He then knocked on the door, wondering what on earth he was going to say to the man when he opened it.
As soon as the old chap saw him standing on his step his face showed alarm. ‘Yeah, what do you want?’
‘I’d like to ask you some questions about the young lady who just left.’
‘Blimey! Are you CID?’
Joe blinked, wondering what made the man think he was a police officer, but quickly realised he could use it to his advantage. ‘That’s right and I’m investigating that young lady’s activities. Now, as I said,’ he stated officiously, ‘I’d like to ask you some questions.’
‘I won’t have to come down to the station, will I?’
‘I could interview you in your own home, but it depends on how cooperative you are.’
‘Come in,’ the man invited, obviously eager to avoid a trip to the station.
Joe followed him down the narrow hall to a room at the back, and took a seat, still trying to sound officious. ‘Can you tell me why the young woman was visiting you?’
The man’s face flushed crimson. ‘If you’re investigating her activities, surely I don’t have to spell it out.’
‘I’d still like you to tell me.’
‘She . . . she’s a prostitute. Look, I don’t know anything else about her. I’ve got her phone number, passed on to me by a mate, but that’s all.’
Joe felt the colour drain from his face and fought to hide his shock, only managing to murmur, ‘I see.’
The man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Here, hold on, I’m not sure you’re CID. Show me your warrant card!’
Joe rose quickly to his feet and before the man could react he dashed down the hall and out of the house. Then, almost leaping the last few feet to his car, he jumped in and drove off, his hands moist with sweat as they gripped the wheel.
As he drove a little further, Joe had a thought and chuckled, berating himself for running off like that. After all, it was unlikely that the old man would complain to the police – not after entertaining a prostitute.
He still couldn’t really take it in. Patsy a prostitute! Who’d have thought it? Yet somehow it all made sense, Arthur a meal ticket to get her out of the game. Somehow he had to break the news to him and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
With most of the arrangements made, Andrew and Denis returned to Candle Lane. Denis was maudlin, saying he needed a drink and soon after went off without thought of going to see his son.
Andrew was hungry and went to a nearby café to have an evening meal before going to Ruth’s, warmed by the pleasure he saw in her eyes when she let him in. ‘I know we can’t talk in front of the children so I waited until I felt they’d be in bed,’ he told her.
Sally greeted him with a huge smile and then asked, ‘Did you manage to sort out the funeral?’
‘Yes, it’s on Friday.’
‘No, no, it’s Tommy’s birthday on Friday,’ Ruth protested.
‘Are you sure? Denis didn’t mention it.’
‘I can’t believe that the man forgot his own son’s birthday.’
‘Nor can I, but we’ll just have to hope we can change the date.’
‘What about your parents?’ Ruth asked. ‘Will they be travelling down?’
‘I’m afraid not. They aren’t in the best of health.’
‘Have you told them about me? About Sally?’
‘Not yet. I’d prefer to tell them face to face.’
‘I’ve just realised something,’ Sally said. ‘They’re my grandparents.’
‘Yes, that’s right and you are very much like my mother. I rang my son too, but as his wife is close to having a baby he needs to stay with her and won’t be able to attend the funeral.’
‘Your . . . your son,’ Sally gasped. ‘But that means he’s my half-brother!’
‘Sally, I’m sorry. Of course . . . you don’t know about Donald. I should have thought before I spoke.’
‘Stone the crows! This gets more and more complicated,’ Sadie said. ‘I’m beginning to lose track.’
‘Andrew,’ Ruth said, ‘I think it would help Sally, and my mother, if you tell them about your family.’
‘Yes, I think you’re right,’ he agreed. ‘Now, where shall I start? My father, Duncan Munro, was a surveyor and I took over the firm when he retired. My mother’s name is Jane, and she was a McFarland before she married my father. They had two children, myself and Laura, and we grew up in a hamlet just outside of Edinburgh.’
‘And Donald?’ Sally asked.
‘I married Moira and we had one son. My wife died just over a year ago.’
‘Is Donald older than me?’
‘Yes, he was born in nineteen-forty.’
‘Do . . . do we look alike?’
‘No, not really. Donald takes after my wife, though he does have auburn hair. In fact, it’s rather like Tommy’s.’
‘Blimey,’ Sadie said. ‘I wonder what your son will make of having a skin and blister?’
‘Skin and blister?’
‘Yeah, it’s cockney rhyming slang for sister. There are lots of them. Apples and pears for stairs and—’
Ruth broke in, ‘Andrew, have you told Denis?’
‘Yes, and he wants Tommy to know that you’re related. What do you think?’
It was Sadie who answered. ‘I don’t think it would hurt.
Kids are more resilient than we give them credit for. While he’s just lost his mother, it might help him to know he’s got other family.’
‘I think my mother’s right,’ Ruth said. ‘I’m very fond of the boy, and since Laura died he’s clinging to me.’
‘All right, if you think it’s for the best, perhaps we can do it tomorrow. Is that all right with you, Sally?’
‘Yes, it’s fine.’
‘Sally, I hope you don’t mind me mentioning this,’ Andrew said, ‘but I haven’t heard any mention of Angel’s father?’
Sally started hesitantly, telling him why her marriage had broken up, and Andrew was unable to miss how wounded she looked. He was angry that Sally had been driven out of her home and said, ‘He should have been the one to move out, not you.’
‘I couldn’t live there again, not after seeing him with Patsy. When Mum gets re-housed, if there’s no room for me I’ll find another flat.’
‘Re-housed! What do you mean?’
It was Ruth who took over then, telling Andrew that Candle Lane was scheduled for demolition.
‘When are you moving?’
‘We don’t know yet.’
‘I just hope they don’t stick us in one of them bleedin’ tower blocks,’ Sadie exclaimed.
While walking around with Denis to make the arrangements for the funeral, Andrew had seen the council estates and nodded in agreement. ‘I can’t imagine anything worse, it’s a shame you have to live around here. There are parts of England that are lovely, and of course Scotland is beautiful.’
‘I’ve never been out of London, not even during the war and I don’t intend to leave it now. What part of Scotland do you come from?’
‘Edinburgh and it’s a bonny place.’
‘You . . . you live so far away,’ Sally said and paling she fled from the room.
Andrew was dismayed and rose to his feet to follow her, but Ruth’s voice stayed him. ‘Leave her, Andrew. She’s only just found you, and now she has to accept that soon you’ll be leaving again.’
Andrew sank back onto the chair, realising that Ruth was right. They lived so far apart, and he too was saddened.