Chris Curran - Her Turn to Cry

Joycie drained her cup. She couldn’t be too long, didn’t want to miss the last train and get marooned here. ‘But you didn’t see her in ’53?’

Susan was rocking the little boy back and forth, his eyes closed, thumb in his mouth. The girl made a sudden run to her side and leaned against her, huge brown eyes fixed on Joycie. ‘No, she just wrote and said she was fed up. Said things were happening that weren’t right. Hoped our dad would let her stay here till she got on her feet. But if not she’d get a place nearby. She never came though and we never saw her again.’

‘What about her bloke, the man she left us for. Did she say who he was?’

‘She didn’t mention anyone else. Just said she had to get away. And, like I said, she was going to bring you.’

‘Well she obviously changed her mind. Decided to go somewhere else and leave me with my dad.’

‘See, I can’t believe that. Like I said, our dad was a difficult man so we always thought she changed her mind about coming here. Scared he would still be angry with her. But she loved you so much, said so all the time in her letters. I just can’t see her leaving you.’

‘Did you try to locate her when she didn’t turn up?’

‘Mam wrote to the last address we had for her, but it was Charlie who wrote back.’

Joycie leaned forward. He hadn’t told her about this. ‘What did he say?’

‘Just that he was sorry, but Mary had left him and he had no idea where she was. He didn’t mention you so we thought she’d taken you with her. And soon after that Mam got ill and died. Then Dad’s mind began to go so …’ She sniffed and rubbed her nose. ‘I had to look after him for the next few years and by the time he died I was too busy with the kids to worry about anything else for a while. But my husband’s got a big family and I started to miss Mary again because she’s all I’ve got. And I wanted my kids to meet their auntie and their cousin.’

She put down her cup. ‘I’ve just thought, there’s a photo.’ When she stood and headed for the door the little boy still clung to her and a forgotten memory came to Joycie. Her mum, lifting her and spinning her round, then clutching her close and dancing to the gramophone playing some old dance tune. Joycie’s feet dangling in the air as she pressed her cheek to Mum’s soft face, the powdery scent of her, an earring tickling.

While Susan and her son were out of the room the little girl stayed, staring at Joycie with those big brown eyes: so still it was unnerving.

‘Hello,’ Joycie said. ‘Your name’s Carol, is it?’ A nod, the child’s eyes still fixed on her. ‘Mine’s Joycie.’

When her mother came back Carol clutched her skirt, but Susan pulled her hand away as she sat down and laughed. ‘Don’t pretend you’re shy now.’ She looked at Joycie. ‘Can’t shut her up normally.’ She handed a silver photo frame to the little girl. ‘Go on, give that to Joyce.’ Carol ran at her, thrust the frame into her hand and rushed back to her mum. ‘That’s me and Mary, only picture I’ve got.’

Two girls, one a slender teenager the other much younger, still a little girl, but the likeness was obvious.

‘That was taken the summer your mam met Charlie, just before the war. 1939 it was. Last holiday we had together,’ Susan said. ‘Mary would have been sixteen and I was eight.’

The photo was a holiday snap taken on the prom at Blackpool. Mary and Susan smiling in the sunshine, but holding onto their hats as their skirts swirled in the sea breeze. Joycie touched the glass that covered her mother’s face. She looked so young and pretty.

Susan was still talking. ‘Sid and Charlie were in a show there. We wanted to go, but our dad wouldn’t hear of it. Then we were on the pier, just me and Mary, and Charlie was there too. He started chatting to us and bought me a candyfloss.’ She smiled at Joycie. ‘I expect that was to keep me quiet so he could talk to Mary. We were only there for a week, but they saw each other every day. Dad would probably have taken her straight home if he’d known.’

‘But they didn’t get together properly till ’41 when Dad was in the army, did they?’

‘They’d been writing to each other all that time. I remember thinking it were so romantic. She had a picture of Charlie in his uniform. He looked like a film star to me, although he would only have been nineteen or so. He came to see her when he was on leave and Mam took a real shine to him. But they kept it quiet from Dad.’

‘And then I happened.’

‘Yeah, and, of course, she had to tell Dad she was having a baby. But Charlie wanted to marry her and was getting compassionate leave so they could do it right away. She was still only eighteen, though, and Dad refused his consent. That was when she ran away. And we never saw her again.’

They were both silent. Joycie praying that Susan might say something that would explain it all. Instead she shook her head. ‘I just can’t understand her leaving you as well as Charlie. Or why she’s never been in touch.’

All Joycie could say was, ‘Nor me, but I’m going to try to find out what I can, and if there’s anything you think of that might help …’ She looked at her watch and pulled on her coat. ‘I’m sorry, I need to go or I’ll miss my train. Can I leave you my address and phone number?’

Her aunt followed her into the hallway and scrabbled in the drawer of a little table, handing Joycie a notepad and biro. ‘There are letters from Mary to Mam in the attic. I’ll send them to you.’

Joycie scribbled her details. ‘Thank you. It’s been good to meet you.’

In the doorway Susan moved towards her then back with a tiny cough. She was smiling, a smile that was so like Joycie’s memory of her mum’s it sent a charge through her. As another memory tugged, Joycie’s eyes filled and she had to rub her hand over her face.

Susan touched her elbow. ‘Look, Joyce, whatever happened with Mary she loved you, really loved you, and I know she would never have left you unless she had no choice.’

After they said goodbye Susan stayed in her open doorway with the little boy, Joycie’s cousin, clinging to her leg and Joycie could feel their eyes on her as she walked away down the silent street.

Checking her watch for the umpteenth time Joycie paced up and down by the bus stop. This was definitely where she’d asked the taxi to pick her up and she’d given him a big enough tip that he surely wouldn’t let her down. But if he didn’t get here soon she’d miss her train.

She moved closer to the kerb as she heard an engine approaching, but it was only a kid on a moped. He stopped right next to her and she stepped back to lean on the wall of the terraced house, looking at her watch again and then into the distance, pretending she hadn’t noticed him.

He climbed off the bike. ‘Hello, darlin’ you’re outta luck you know.’ His accent was so strong it was difficult to make out the words. She didn’t look at him. ‘No bus due for ages,’ he said.

‘I know.’ She brushed at her coat, still avoiding his eye.

‘I can give you a lift if you like. Plenty of room for a skinny bird like you on the back.’ He let out a wobbly laugh, as if his voice had not long broken.

‘No thank you, I’m waiting for someone.’ But now with a rush of air she seemed to be surrounded by boys on pushbikes.

‘Eh, Sammy, got a new girlfriend, have ya?’ A heavyset lad bumped his bike onto the pavement, coming so close she could feel the heat steaming from him.

‘Yeah, and she’s dead posh.’ Moped boy leaned over and pushed Joycie’s arm. ‘Go on, doll, say something for him.’

Joycie felt rather than saw a net curtain twitch in the house behind her. This was ridiculous, they were just kids. ‘Look, go away and leave me alone, will you? I’m waiting for someone.’