Honour Thy Father Read online

  Anne was blissfully unaware that her family had been critical of John and believed that Grandma’s concern was due to her great age.

  Julie’s health improved as the weather grew warmer and at last she began to put on weight to everyone’s delight. Gerry’s arm healed well and soon the traumatic day in May seemed to be forgotten by everyone except Laura. Even for Laura the memory was buried by other events, two birthday parties to which she was invited and a happy weekend spent with her grandparents and her great-grandmother.

  On 26 May the general election took place and, in spite of the efforts of John and other Labour supporters, the Conservative Party was returned with a majority of fifty-nine seats. John was less disappointed than the family expected because he was so caught up in the protests against the nuclear programme.

  He had evidently heeded the words of his grandmother and once a week he and Anne went to the cinema or the theatre. Babysitters were always available to them and often Joe, who was a teacher, brought marking and did it while babysitting.

  John and Anne took the children on an outing to New Brighton on a Sunday in early June. They all enjoyed it although Julie seemed nervous of the crowds as they boarded the ferryboat so the next Sunday they took a picnic to Sefton Park.

  John took Gerry in a rowing boat on the lake while Anne and the little girls fed the ducks, then lay on the grassy bank in the sunshine. Later they went to the Palm House and the children were fascinated by the bananas and other tropical plants growing there.

  ‘This is like the jungle, isn’t it?’ Gerry said. ‘Some lad in our class said his dad fought the Japs in the jungle.’

  ‘Don’t say “some lad”,’ Anne corrected him automatically but she shivered in spite of the humid heat. ‘This makes me think of that poor man Michael,’ she said to John in a low voice. ‘The son of Grandma’s friend Peggy. Y’know, the one who’s in the mental hospital. He never got over being a prisoner of war with the Japanese.’

  John squeezed her hand. ‘I know, love, but at least he’s all right physically now. His mind might heal too.’ He called Gerry and they left the Palm House but Gerry stopped before a statue of Linnaeus which stood outside it.

  ‘Someday I’m going to be famous like him,’ he boasted, ‘and I’ll have my statue in the park.’

  ‘That’s right,’ John encouraged him. ‘You can do anything you really want to do. Just work hard at school and you’ll go far. You’ve got a good brain, son.’

  Anne looked exasperated. ‘He’ll have a big head too if you don’t stop praising him,’ she exclaimed.

  John was unrepentant. ‘Nothing wrong with ambition. We should encourage it,’ he said.

  A protest march was organised when Britain and the United States agreed to cooperate on developing atomic energy and Anne wanted to join John on the march. John suggested taking Gerry with them but he was overruled and Gerry stayed with Sarah and Joe.

  Laura hoped that her mother might suggest taking her instead but it was arranged that she and Julie should stay with their grandparents and great-grandmother. Laura was happy to spend more time with Sally and both girls enjoyed being petted and indulged by their grandparents, Cathy and Greg Redmond.

  Greg Redmond was a quiet, gentle man, like John in appearance but very different in character and the children loved him. After lunch they all went into the garden, Laura weeding with her grandfather, while her grandmother helped Julie with a magic painting book.

  ‘Look, Lawwa,’ Julie called excitedly when colours appeared as she painted the page with water. ‘It’s magic.’

  Laura was about to tell her that it was not magic and explain what happened but Greg touched her then put his finger to his lips and gave a conspiratorial wink. Laura smiled at him and only said, ‘Yes, it must be.’ She looked again at her grandfather and giggled then carried on helping with the weeding, feeling close to him and grown-up because of their shared secret.

  In September the class to which Laura and Rosaleen belonged was moved up to the Junior Girls School. There was some reshuffling of pupils and Laura found herself sharing a desk with a girl who was unknown to her.

  Eileen Unsworth was an adored only child and although school uniform was compulsory her doting mother had dressed her hair to make her stand out from the rest. Two large white bows adorned the top of the girl’s head and two even larger were on the ends of her plaits.

  Eileen sat preening herself beside Laura for a while then, unable to bear her indifference, she whispered, ‘Do you think I’m pretty?’ Laura examined her then said bluntly, ‘No, you’re not.’

  Eileen burst into loud sobs and the teacher hurried over to them. ‘What is it, dear? Is it a pain?’ she asked Eileen.

  The girl pointed at Laura. ‘It’s her, miss. She said I’m not pretty,’ she sobbed.

  ‘That was unkind, Laura,’ the teacher said, then told Eileen to stop making so much noise. ‘The rest of you get on with your work,’ she told the class. ‘You must tell Eileen you’re sorry, Laura,’ she went on.

  Laura scowled. ‘But she’s not pretty,’ she protested. ‘She asked me and I told her she wasn’t.’

  ‘Er, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ the teacher said reprovingly. ‘It was unkind to say such a thing.’

  ‘But it was the truth,’ Laura insisted. Fortunately the bell rang for playtime. The teacher sent Eileen out with the rest of the class but kept Laura with her.

  ‘You must try to be a little more tactful, dear,’ she said, and when Laura gazed at her blankly she explained, ‘Just say yes to a question like that. That’s what you are expected to say.’

  ‘But it’s not true. She’s not pretty.’

  ‘You didn’t think so but other people might not agree with you,’ the teacher said. ‘Eileen’s mother, for example.’

  ‘But it was me she asked,’ Laura said stubbornly.

  Suddenly the teacher lost patience. ‘Think of how the other person feels before you speak in future, Laura,’ she said crisply. ‘Otherwise you’re going to be very unpopular.’

  She departed to the staff room and Laura joined Rosaleen in the playground, still scowling, but Rosaleen only laughed about the incident. ‘Fancy asking you of all people,’ she giggled. ‘She must be daft. Come on, it’s your turn in the rope.’

  Laura joined in the game and the incident was not mentioned again but after playtime Laura found that she had a different deskmate. Eileen had been moved to the other side of the room and Laura thought darkly that Mary Morgan, her new deskmate, had better not ask her any soppy questions. If she did she would get a truthful answer no matter what Miss Turner said.

  Fortunately it seemed unlikely that Mary would ever ask Laura’s opinion on anything. She was a dreamy girl who paid little attention to anybody around her, living in a world of her own.

  The twenty-first of October was the second anniversary of the death of Patrick Fitzgerald, the father of Tony, Joe and Anne and of their two sisters and two brothers who had left Liverpool. It was also the anniversary of the death of their mother who had died ten years before her husband. Tony, Joe and Anne and their families attended seven a.m. Mass and afterwards, unwilling to part, went back to Anne’s house for breakfast. Those old enough to receive Holy Communion had fasted from midnight so they did full justice to the meal prepared by Anne, Sarah and Helen.

  As Anne went through from the kitchen where the children were eating to the dining room the post arrived and she carried the letters through to the dining room.

  ‘A bumper post today,’ she said, looking at the postmarks. ‘Two from Canada, one from Runcorn, one from Ireland. Nothing from Maureen.’

  ‘It might come later,’ said Joe. ‘Although it must be very difficult to get letters off at all from where she is now and practically impossible to time them for a special day.’

  ‘I know, Joe. I wasn’t moaning. I just hope she got my letter today.’

  ‘Did you write to her? So did we,’ said Sarah.

  ‘And so did we
,’ Tony chimed in. ‘Let’s hope she gets all the letters from home today. She deserves to.’

  ‘She does indeed,’ the others agreed.

  Maureen, their unmarried eldest sister, had cared for their father until his sudden death when she closed the house and went to work for Sue Ryder with displaced persons, particularly the orphaned and abandoned children in devastated Europe.

  ‘I’m amazed that the others have timed their letters so well,’ Sarah said. ‘Sit down, Anne, and enjoy them. Helen and I can see to everything.’

  Anne opened the letter from Ireland first. Her other sister Eileen was living in Wicklow with her second husband Martin O’Hanlon and the letter was warm and loving, recalling happy times with Pat Fitzgerald when all his children were young.

  Eileen had gone through a bad time when her RAF husband Whitey was killed within a month of their marriage and the family were delighted that she was now happily married to Martin, a kind and gentle man who was a bookbinder in Dublin.

  One of the letters from Canada was from their bachelor brother Terry and the other from another brother Stephen and his wife Margaret. Stephen had emigrated to Toronto to join Terry. Both letters recalled the gentle giant Pat Fitzgerald who had been a loving father to all of them and their dear mother who still lived in all their hearts.

  Anne wept as she read them and then passed them on as there were messages in them for Tony and Joe but she laughed aloud when she read the letter from Runcorn. It was from her cousin Theresa with a note enclosed from her widowed Aunt Carrie who now lived with her daughter Theresa and her husband Jim, and their six boisterous children, in Runcorn New Town.

  ‘Theresa’s a case,’ Anne exclaimed. ‘She never changes, does she?’

  ‘Remember her and Eileen when they were young?’ Tony said. ‘The things they used to get up to.’

  ‘And the fellows they went out with,’ Helen laughed. ‘They left broken hearts all over Liverpool but they didn’t give a toss.’

  Everyone was laughing and Anne said impulsively, ‘Wouldn’t Mum and Dad be pleased to see us all here having a laugh together?’

  ‘I was just thinking that,’ said Tony. ‘Mum and Dad would be pleased to see us all still so close even though some have had to move away. With the letters, I mean,’ and everyone agreed.

  A few days later a brief but loving letter came from Maureen and Anne was delighted to learn that her letter had been included in a batch delivered to the camp a few days before the anniversary. ‘I wanted to keep it until the twenty-first,’ Maureen wrote, ‘but I couldn’t resist opening it. It gave me strength for that day.’

  She spoke about the sufferings of the displaced persons among whom she worked and Anne determined to redouble her efforts to raise money for the cause, if only in thanksgiving for her good fortune in having been born in a loving family in Liverpool.

  She felt that she had much to be thankful for. Gerry’s arm had healed perfectly and Julie seemed to grow stronger every day. She was eating more and had been free of colds for several months. Their savings were growing and John talked of buying a family car, although Anne was quite happy with their outings by train or bus or ferryboat. Laura was doing well at school and she was perfectly healthy and happy, thought Anne, blissfully unaware of the problems which Sally Ward could see so clearly.

  Anne’s peace of mind was soon shattered, however. Laura, who had always had a good appetite, suddenly decided to be faddy about her food. It started one Sunday dinner time when Laura refused to eat cabbage.

  ‘But you’ve always liked cabbage. Eat it up, love. It’s good for you,’ Anne pleaded.

  ‘Eat it,’ John said impatiently. ‘I’m not having good food wasted. Plenty of children would be glad of it.’

  ‘They can have it,’ Laura declared. ‘I don’t want it.’

  John slapped her arm. ‘Don’t be so hard-faced. Eat it up, every bit of it.’

  ‘You always liked cabbage before. This is just the same,’ Anne said.

  ‘I don’t like it now,’ Laura said, her lip out-thrust mutinously.

  ‘Eat it!’ John suddenly roared and banged on the table. Julie broke into loud frightened sobs but Laura only clamped her lips firmly together and glared down at her plate.

  ‘Look what you’ve done now. You’ve upset your little sister,’ John shouted as Anne tried to comfort the child.

  Laura shot a look of contempt at her father then stared back at her plate. He upset Julie, she thought, and he’s trying to blame me.

  Anne had managed to calm Julie by taking her on her knee and now she said pleadingly to Laura, ‘Eat it, love. Just for me. You don’t want to upset Julie, do you?’

  ‘I didn’t upset her,’ Laura muttered.

  She would have eaten the cabbage to please her mother if her father had not ordered, ‘Give it to her every meal until she’s eaten it, Anne. She gets nothing else until it’s eaten. When I think of the starving children in the world.’

  He doesn’t care about starving children, Laura thought angrily, clasping her hands beneath the table. He just wants to make me do what he wants and I’m not doing it.

  Laura sat with her head bent, making no effort to eat and Anne said helplessly, ‘The rhubarb tart will be ruined, John.’

  ‘Serve it then, love,’ John said. ‘Laura can have hers when she’s eaten her cabbage.’

  Anne put Julie on her chair again and brought the rhubarb tart and a jug of custard to the table. Julie refused the pudding and Anne felt unable to eat any while Laura sat glowering at her cabbage so only John took his portion and began to eat.

  Anne knew that he might as well have been eating sawdust but she was at a loss to know how to resolve the situation between her husband and daughter, both equally stubborn.

  Gerry, who might have caused a diversion, was out training and his meal was being kept hot for him so it was a relief to everyone when the door banged and his loud cheerful voice was heard.

  ‘How did you go on, son?’ John asked eagerly when Gerry had plumped down beside Laura.

  ‘Great,’ Gerry said as his mother placed his meal before him. ‘I was the fastest even on the sand.’ He began to eat, then glanced at Laura’s plate from which she had eaten everything but the cabbage. ‘Gosh, don’t you want your cabbage?’ he asked and when she shook her head he snatched up her plate and emptied her cabbage on to his own plate. ‘I’ll have it,’ he said boisterously. ‘I’m starving. Doesn’t half make you hungry, running.’

  It all happened so quickly that for a moment everyone at the table was stunned and the silence seemed to strike Gerry. ‘What’s up?’ he asked cheerfully.

  A smile twitched the corners of Anne’s mouth as she said, ‘Nothing, son. Nothing at all.’ She collected Laura’s plate and put a portion of pie and custard before her. ‘Would you like some more, John?’ she asked.

  ‘No thanks. I’ll make a pot of tea,’ he said, disappearing into the scullery and Laura ate her pudding with even more enjoyment because she felt that her father had been outwitted.

  Later, when Laura had gone to Sunday school with Rosaleen, John grumbled to Anne, ‘She thinks she got the better of me over the cabbage, y’know. She’s a stubborn little faggot.’

  ‘Yes. I wonder who she inherited it from,’ Anne teased him. ‘Thank God for Gerry’s appetite.’

  ‘Yes, he solved it that time,’ John said, still angry. ‘But I’m not having it, Anne. Refusing good food for a whim.’

  ‘All children go through these phases,’ Anne said but she tried to avoid another confrontation between Laura and her father.

  John was often late home and Anne tried to have the children’s meal over before he arrived but it was not always possible and Anne grew to dread Sunday dinner when all the family ate together. Cabbage disappeared from the menu but that incident had been only the opening round in the battle between Laura and her father.

  In vain Anne tried to persuade John to ignore Laura’s fads and to coax Laura to eat the food she was given.
The vegetables that replaced the cabbage were refused by the stubborn little girl and at every meal there was a scene between Laura and John. Nobody, least of all Laura, realised that it was an unconscious effort by her to gain the attention that was lavished on Julie when she was unable to eat.

  Anne was in despair and felt that the only person she could confide in was Sally Ward, partly because she was discreet but also because she loved and understood both John and Laura.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she told Sally. ‘I try to serve meals at different times but sometimes we have to eat together and there’s a row every time. I’ve tried giving her different veg and I only give her tiny portions but she won’t even eat that and now she’s started refusing meat.’

  ‘All meat?’ asked Sally.

  ‘So far only lamb. She says she doesn’t like the veins in it. John says she must be given nothing else until she eats it but I can’t let her go hungry. I know how stubborn she is.’

  ‘So you give her other food?’ Sally said.

  ‘Only jam butties or a sandwich. I feel awful about going behind John’s back but I can’t let her starve. I can’t eat myself while this is going on but of course that doesn’t worry John,’ Anne said resentfully.

  To her surprise Sally agreed with John. ‘If it was just one thing that she really baulked at it’d be wrong to force her to eat it but it sounds as though you do your best to humour her and she finds something else to be faddy about,’ the old lady declared.

  ‘Yes, I’m at my wits’ end,’ Anne said. ‘Gerry solved it the first time and saved face for both of them but now neither of them will give in and they’re both so stubborn.’

  ‘Good God, girl, you’re talking about a child of nine and her father,’ Sally exclaimed. ‘Don’t put them both on the same level. John’s entitled to respect from his children.’

  ‘I can see both sides,’ Anne confessed. ‘I thought you might advise me, Grandma.’

  ‘Tell John you’ll handle it,’ Sally told her, ‘and deal with Laura’s fads yourself. Tell her you know that it’s not that she can’t eat but that she won’t and you’re not having it.’