Our Time Is Gone (54 page)

‘She's found a leg,' said Mrs. Gumbs. ‘Imagine it,' and she started to laugh. She
had
to laugh. She couldn't help laughing. The next moment Mrs. Fury too was laughing. A leg. A man's leg. ‘It just shows,' Mrs. Gumbs said. ‘It just shows.'

II

There was some commotion at the dock gates. Men wearing oilskins were coming through. One carried heaving lines over his shoulder. Another swung a megaphone in his hand. A little knot of people were standing round a policeman. The word ‘
Carenia
' came to Mrs. Fury's ears. She stopped dead in her tracks.
Carenia
. Why, that was Anthony's boat. For a moment her heart fluttered.

Mrs. Gumbs looked back at her. She had gone on towards the gate, quite unaware that she had left her companion standing in the road. ‘What's the matter?' she asked, quite concerned.

The woman was simply tired out. She would be, the first day of course, a bit too much for her. ‘What's the matter? Surely you want to get home?'

Mrs. Fury hardly looked at her. She went slowly on towards the gate. The name ‘
Carenia
' came to her ears again. At that moment there was a terrific blow from a siren. She went up to the policeman. She would ask him about it. But there was no need, for already an old man was talking to him, and she heard the policeman say: ‘
Carenia!
Yes! Just coming through the lock.'

Then he went back to his hut. Mrs. Fury went up and spoke to the man. He nodded and walked away. Mrs. Gumbs came up. Mrs. Fury caught her arm. It was convulsive. ‘I can't believe it,' she said.

‘Can't believe what?'

‘My son! His ship's docking. I didn't know! He never even wrote. Oh, dear! Fancy him coming to-day. Imagine! Oh, dear me! Dear me! Listen! That's her blowing.' She became quite excited. ‘Mrs. Gumbs, you'll have to go home by yourself. I'm going to the lock to watch the ship come through. I'm going to——' and she was turning away, caught on the crest of this wave of excitement, of hope, of sudden and furious longing. But Mrs. Gumbs held her arm.

‘Don't be silly, Mrs.! Why, you're done up, woman. Come on home and have your tea and rest yourself. Hard day's work to-morrow. Running off to meet a lad who probably isn't half so tired. Come now! Why, the lad can find his way home, surely,' and Mrs. Gumbs began dragging on her arm.

‘But it's my own! You don't understand,' the woman spluttered, laughed.

‘I just
don't
understand,' said Mrs. Gumbs. ‘Well, if you will, you will.' And she left Mrs. Fury standing in the middle of the road, down and up which lines of workers were now passing. She stood isolated, unnoticed. Traffic roared past her.

Mrs. Gumbs called back to her: ‘See you in the morning then. Good night,' and then she was lost amongst the crowds of home-going men. No. She
didn't
understand. After that long day, and it must have been tough on her after that work, there she was dragging off to the ship. As if the lad were a child and didn't know his own way home. ‘She's so dead tired, that's what beats me.' But she was unaware of the fact that Mrs. Fury's tiredness had gone. It had simply fallen away from her, as would a cloak. She wasn't tired.

She was happy, she was heart-full. Nothing mattered. Her son was coming home. And as she hurried down the now dark road, her long coat flapping about her heels, she thought of her son! What would he look like? Would he have grown? Got fatter? Yet, he hadn't written about this. But perhaps he hadn't time, or he didn't even know himself? She found herself muttering: ‘Anthony! Anthony! Dear son!'

How long had he been away? Since the war began. Since when? She couldn't remember. Her head was growing dizzy with the thoughts that circled round it. When she reached the bridge she was just too late to cross. The bridge swung out over the water, whilst three coal barges passed through. She could hardly stand still. That must be the
Carenia
! That huge ship with the grey funnels. She could just make it out. There it was, coming slowly through, men hurrying along the quay carrying the bight of the hawser, and Anthony was there! On that ship. Only a few yards away, and she hadn't seen him for over a year.

The bridge swung back again, and she could hardly wait for it to get home before she was on it and hurrying across. She wanted to stand on the quay and watch it come in. Perhaps Anthony would be on the deck, the fo'c'sle-head. Of course he would be, being a sailor! Well! Well! Did she ever think she would meet him like this? What would he have to say about all that had happened?

And then a frightful thought came, blowing all others sky high. It numbed her. It had never entered her head. Now here it was, alive, bold like brass, confronting her. There was no home! She wanted to cry.

Leaning against the granite wall, quite hidden from view, she allowed that thought to circle and spread, finally to engulf her. There was no home! Only that room. She had gone from Hatfields to Hey's Alley, Hey's Alley to Edcott Court, and she had not thought of it. It had gone clean out of her mind. She had wanted to hide. She had hidden so well that she had hidden that too.

‘Good God! Where will I put my son?'

It was like a wound, a slap in the mouth. No home! No castle. No world. She had fled from the known things, the hateful ones. And now, here was her son! She cried in the darkness, against the granite wall unseen, unseeing.

The siren blew. Voices split into the night air, engines throbbed, ropes sang over bitts, the ship was halfway through! The woman moved away from the wall. The wind blew under her skirt, under her hat; the coat blew open, flapped like sails. She hoped it wouldn't start to rain. The air was alive with voices.

Then she
saw
the ship. It seemed to come right up to and over her, and she was aware of its size, its breadth, its monstrous grey mass, and as it moved slowly past her it seemed as though the darkness shook and throbbed under the weight and height of the great ship. Shadowy shapes moved about. Men were standing upon the fo'c'sle-head, upon the poop. She wanted to shout: ‘Anthony! How are you?' But she stood motionless watching the
Carenia
come quietly home to the calm of dead water after unquiet seas. Over a year. Good heavens! How the time passed.

How long would it be before she tied up? Which quay would she berth at? Would they come ashore right away? Would Mrs. Gumbs know of anybody who might put her son up, just for a night. She might make him a bed behind a curtain in her own room. Yes. She
would
do that. Must do it. She wanted him, every minute, because she had not seen him for
such
a time—and he would soon be off again.

It made her think of Denny. ‘Poor man! I wonder where in God's name he is at this moment? I wonder? The Blessed Mother look down on him.'

She walked along the quay very slowly, following the almost funereal pace of the big auxiliary cruiser. She saw guns. She smiled, thinking of Anthony behind them. The voices died down. Later, one roared through a megaphone. Men were running again with the bight of the hawser they had just hauled from the water. And at last the ship was through. In the fast-gathering darkness a man bumped into Mrs. Fury.

‘Sorry.' He looked closely at her. ‘Sorry, Mrs.——' and made to go, but she held him back. Could he tell her where the
Carenia
was going to berth?

‘Certainly, Mrs. At the other end of this quay,' he replied, and then ran off in the direction of the lock gates.

‘At last,' she said.

But now she would have to wait. She went up to a wooden skid and sat down on it. ‘Good Lord,' she thought, ‘why the last time I ever came down to these places to meet anybody, it was to meet Peter! Well! Well!' And now, here was the other son.

She could hear much shouting in the distance. This must be from the boat. She got up and went off in its direction. She hoped they wouldn't be long coming ashore. The ropes and wires were fast. The
Carenia
had docked. Already the gangways were out. She stood still. Was this a sailor coming down the quay? Why—yes—there were two of them. And as she drew nearer she saw their dark forms descending the gangway.

As the first two men passed her, she gave a gasp, turned round and walked quickly after them. She could hear them talking. They were talking about some girl whose name was Joan. Good heavens!
Her
son. Her son passed her! But he couldn't have seen her, the noise and the darkness was confusing. They walked quickly. Suddenly she began to run.

‘Anthony!' she called, ‘
Anthony!
'

The two sailors stopped dead. Both turned round.

‘Oh! Anthony!'

‘Mother! Good Lord! Mother! You! Oh, how are you, Mother? Hello, hello!'

He turned to his pal. ‘See you to-morrow at the “Ajax,” about two. So-long.' The other went off.

‘Well, I'm hanged! How are you, Mother? Good Lord! Let's have a look at you,' and he pulled the woman gently under the solitary light fixed low over the shed. He flung his arms round her, ‘Hello, Mother.'

‘Anthony! My dear son!' and she gripped his arms. ‘Oh, Anthony,' she said.

For a moment or two there was dead silence.

Suddenly he burst out laughing. ‘Why, Mother! What have you been doing at all! You're like a stoker! Black as the ace of spades. Why, what's wrong, what's wrong?' The woman was sobbing on his shoulder. ‘come, Mother,' he said. ‘Let's be moving along. The whole ship's company will be along soon and then we will look a pair. Come on now.'

‘Look at me first,' she said, and his face beaming he looked at her under the light. ‘You've got fat—no—you've got stronger! You look harder, Anthony. And you're never troubled with your chest. Really, it's wonderful. Let's get out of this,' she said, and he put his arm through hers. They went off up the quay.

She kept looking at him, but saying not a word. Somehow she wanted to make sure he was really there, at her side. She stopped again. Embraced him. ‘You don't know how happy I am, Anthony. You don't know.'

‘I can't make out how you happened to find out I was coming at all. Why, not even the authorities ashore knew. We turned back suddenly. New orders. Well! Well! This you can say, Mother! You are the only living relation down here! Here we are! Lumme! The old road. Blast my eyes, it's quaint seeing the old Dock Road again. We'll get a tram.' He stood looking up and down the road. ‘Lumme! It's twelve months since I last walked along here. Well, let's go,' he said, and they went off to wait for a tram.

There they stood waiting.

Mrs. Fury continually smiled at her son, who seemed somewhat bewildered by the change, not in his mother, for he had hardly noticed her as yet, but in the Dock Road itself. It seemed so extraordinarily quiet to him, and the absence of light. Here and there a pale lamp shone, but only the faintest trickle of light came from it. The lamps had their glass blacked over. He remarked on this. It hadn't been so dark as this. It was in fact a new road, and he felt a stranger in it.

The tram came along. He helped his mother on, and they managed to find seats on the lower deck. It was full of workers going home, but two men were willing to stand in order that the Navy man and his mother could sit down. They showed consideration for her, because her son was in the Navy. The tram set off.

Seated with her hands clasped in her lap she now began to go over the things that she must say. The explanations she must make. Had she told him of her latest move? She couldn't remember, and every yard the tram covered she knew she must begin to explain. She looked at him. He sat silent, looking right ahead. Even in the partly concealed light of the tram she saw how well he looked. Saw how he had broadened out. She admired his hat, the emblems in gold upon his sleeve, his strong bare neck, the clean collar and milk-white lanyard. Somehow he filled the drab tram with the breath, the freshness and the smell of the open sea. She put a hand over his own.

Then he looked at her, and now he saw how different she was. He couldn't take his eyes off her, he couldn't speak. She was thin, looked much older—and she was dirty. That gave him a shock. She looked worn out, yes, very old. But what could have happened? Surely his mother would not come through Gelton in that state.

‘You look well, Anthony,' she whispered, shy before all these men, yet proud to have him sitting beside her. ‘You
do
look well, son.'

He leaned against her, whispered. ‘You've got a smudge on your nose, Mother. You look so funny! What on earth have you been doing with yourself? You haven't said a word yet,' and then he glanced quickly round the tram. Perhaps it was all these men. ‘Mother,' he said, ‘What is Hey's Alley like?'

And then she knew. ‘Have I a smudge on my nose?' she asked, giving a little laugh. ‘Good heavens!'

They carried on their conversation in whispers. Nobody looked at them. Their privacy, their state of being was respected. All knew, seeing the name
Carenia
on the sailor's cap, that the ship had just docked. Mother and son united.

‘I ought to have written you before,' she was saying, ‘but I just forgot. I haven't been very well lately, and your father going off again upset me a bit. We've—I'm not at Hey's Alley, Anthony! I shifted again,' and now she tried to make a joke of it. Shifting from place to place. She was becoming an explorer. ‘Yes, I shifted a while back. I'm at Edcott Court,' she concluded.

‘Edcott Court,' he said. ‘But, Mother—oh, well—ah! you know, it's nice to be home,' and he began patting her hand. ‘I'm so glad to see you, Mother.'

She felt her hand squeezed and she lowered her head, imagining she was blushing, that her face was crimson, that her heart—yes, it was!—she could hear it thumping. ‘Anthony! You're a good son! A good child. I'm proud of you this very day. But now I must tell you something. Don't be mad with me! I've only a room now. One room! But—but——' Her tongue was clumsy in her mouth—she couldn't say another word at present. She had only a room, but at Hatfields she had a home. That
was
home.