Elisabeth Jones - Gold Beach

Birmingham, June 25th 1944

Dear diary,

I've just got back from hospital. This morning, when it was my turn to check the lists of the deceased on the front, what I've dreaded all this time happened. I saw his name. My legs flagged and I fell on the floor. Two men lifted me up while I kept on crying hopelessly. As I regained my strength I ran out of there barely thanking them. I didn't hear it. No one heard it. Sirens failed to warn us. Only as I flew through the air and collapsed on the floor we heard the blast of the bomb that had fallen on the city. Eileen let my aunt know that I was in hospital. I think she came to check if I was dead at last. The doctor that saw me told us that miraculously I just had several bruises that would heal soon and that regarding the baby we should wait to see what happens over the next few days. I'm pregnant with Elwyn's child. We just arrived home. My aunt has told me to leave, that she won't feed and raise anyone else's child. I don't know where to go. If I wasn’t carrying his child inside me, I would take my own life right now.

The beating of my heart rang in my ears like drums setting the rowing pace. My breath raced and a cold sweat began to spring from my forehead. Everything was getting out of hand. I couldn’t manage to believe that what I had just read was actually my mother's life. Now I could understand those moments where she seemed to be absent. Who could forget and overcome such a past? As a result of what I had read I began to be haunted by endless questions with no answer. What had happened on the 6 thof June? Did my mother give birth to that child? Did she lose it after the explosion? Where did she go when her aunt threw her out of the house? First I thought that somewhere not far away I had a brother, but it seemed impossible to believe that my mother had abandoned him. Immediately after that, I figured that child was never actually born. When did my father come on the scene? When did they meet? When was I conceived? I went through the dates again and as I counted the months that elapsed from that event until my birth on my fingers, I came to the painful conclusion that I could possibly be that child.

Betty started to bark excitedly. I didn't even look through the window to confirm whether it was my mother or not. I put the notebook in its place, the photographs exactly as they were and put the false bottom back in position. I closed the trunk carefully, patted my pocket to check I had the lock in safekeeping and grabbing my loyal guard's collar, we went down the stairs as if the devil himself was chasing us. As we reached the entrance hall my mother came in.

‘Philip, darling, you scared me! What's wrong, sweetheart? You look pale.’

I ran to her arms crying. My desperation was absolute. I couldn't tell her that I had discovered her secret, I couldn't ask her to explain what I had read, I couldn't ask her who my father really was.

‘Calm down darling, Isobel is fine. The poor child has suffered a lot but the painkiller I gave her will let her rest a while. Geena will bring her everyday for treatment, but unfortunately I won't be able to prevent her skin from being marked forever. Luckily, the boiling water didn't touch her face, but her neck and right breast are injured.’

My mother pushed me away a little to hold my face and look at my eyes. She rubbed away my tears with her thumbs. ‘Promise me that from now on you will do your best to keep her from feeling lonely. I want you to be her best friend. You promise?’

‘I promise Mum, and I also promise I'll take care of you and do my best to make you happy.’

My mother gave me a look of surprise. ‘What's this all about, Philip? I am happy. I've got you.’

I hugged my mother again tightly, unable to stop crying. She held me in her arms and started to kiss me to soothe me. At that moment my adventure began.

Moffat, Scotland, June 6th 1959

Isobel's accident almost made her forget which day it was. She was so worried about what had happened that she was moving around as quickly and lightly as any working day. Fortunately, as was usual on that date, we didn't have any tenants. That Saturday we didn't go walking by the river with Betty either. However, the candle kept burning for the whole day until it burnt out by nightfall.

As my mother headed for the kitchen to make breakfast, I went up to my room to have a wash and get dressed, but most of all to leave the lock and key in a safe place. In my mind, I kept praying to heaven that my mother wouldn't notice the swap, so I would be able to return to that past she kept locked up any time I wanted. Before I went down I stopped in front of the mirror. I looked at myself thoroughly and desperately in search of the slightest resemblance of the man I had until then thought was my father, but I only found the dimples I shared with this Elwyn who I had just met. My curly chestnut hair was nothing like John's wavy black hair. The pain that was crushing my chest got so strong that I could hardly breathe. That was the first of a great many times that I hated having opened my own Pandora's Box, but it was too late to back out. I had started the unimaginable. My mother called me from the kitchen to come down for breakfast but I felt unable to hold back my tears or eat anything. On the one hand I wanted her to get out of the house so I could go back as soon as possible to that story I had just discovered, but on the other hand I wished I had never discovered it at all. Unfortunately, the events of the day didn't allow me to return to the attic until well into the night. When she called me again I dried my tears with my hands, sighed and headed for the kitchen using Isobel's misfortune as an excuse.

That day, on which I would have appreciated my mother's corresponding silence, she kept on talking all the way through breakfast. My monosyllabic answers made her smile more than once, mistaken about the true reason.

‘I didn't know you were such a close friend of Isobel's,’ she said, smiling. ‘You had never mentioned her before, but I'm glad you get on so well. In a couple of hours, Geena will bring her to stay here while she's working. She told me that she’ll pick her up at night but I think they would rather sleep here, that way if something happens I'll be on hand to take care of her. You don't mind, do you?’

‘No,’ I replied, keeping my eyes on my plate even though I couldn't help wondering whether that unexpected visit would hinder my plans.

‘I would teach you to treat this kind of wounds but I don't think Isobel would like that.’

‘I can imagine,’ I said without going into detail.

I was answering out of habit, not because I was actually listening. My mind kept going over the photographs I had seen and what little I had read. I needed some answers. I couldn’t hold back in the trenches any longer the battle that was being fought inside me. It came out without thinking. I didn't even consider the consequences. The first question I asked her marked the beginning of my adventure.

‘Mum, why don't you ever tell me anything about the time you lived in Birmingham? You hardly talk about my grandparents. I only know their names and that they died many years ago,’ I said with a calm voice and a steady gaze.

My mother gave me a look of surprise as her smile began to disappear from her face. After a few seconds she slowly swallowed and answered me.

‘You're completely right, Philip. I should talk about them more often. They don't deserve to be stored away among my memories as if they had never existed.’

Her answer reassured me because I figured that she wouldn't mind talking about her past. The door was just open. I was ready to cross over and start walking.

‘Was it Birmingham where you met my father?’ I asked fully aware of the way I had put the question.