Remember Me (34 page)

Anna and some helpful neighbours had prepared a funeral meal beforehand at the Murphys’ home; and the same neighbours were there to welcome them to a warm house with the curtains drawn back, the inevitable cup of tea and a goodly spread of sandwiches, savouries and cakes.

It could not be said that Anna was cheerful, but she was well in control of herself and able to speak of Thomas without dissolving into tears. It was commented upon, afterwards, by her neighbours and friends, that she made constant reference to her son – her elder son, Daniel, who was training to be a priest; they were never allowed to forget that – and what a tower of strength he had been to her over the last few days. They felt sorry for Joe, the younger son, whom they all agreed was a grand lad. He worked jolly hard in the boarding house, and had always done so, whilst the other one had had his head stuck in his books and worked in a fancy gents’ outfitters before going off to college. Sure enough, Anna had been distraught that time when Joe had had his accident, but she seemed to be giving him scant attention now, poor lad.

Daniel wondered how long it might be considered reasonable for him to remain at home. Father Vincent had said as long as was necessary, but he was not sure how long that meant. Another week? Another two weeks? He noticed that his
mother did not mention his returning. It was almost as though she was regarding him as a permanent member of the family again. As for her state of mind, she seemed quite composed. He knew she was a strong woman and, financially, she was not too badly fixed. The boarding house was proving to be quite a profitable business, although she would, of course, no longer have his father’s wage.

It was a full week after the funeral when the two of them sat together in the family living room; Joe had gone out with his girlfriend as he did on several evenings.

‘I’ve been thinking…’ began Anna. ‘In fact, I’ve been doing a good deal of thinking lately, Daniel. And I’ve realised that I haven’t been fair to you.’

‘What do you mean, Mammy?’ he asked, feeling the first stirrings of unease.

‘Well, you never really wanted to be a priest, did you? I forced you into it. You told me so at the time, but I wouldn’t listen. And now… Well, I think that it might not really be right for you. You are not truly committed to it…are you?’ She was smiling at him in a pensive way, as though pleading with him to agree with her. But he knew her of old, and her determination to have her own way. If she had now changed her mind about his calling it didn’t mean that he had to do the same.

‘Now, wait a minute, Mammy,’ he said. ‘It was what you wanted. You’ve just admitted it. Right from the time I was a little boy you tried to
convince me that it was what I must do. And – no – I wasn’t keen on the idea at first. And – yes – I changed my mind and decided that it was not for me. But all hell was let loose, wasn’t it, when I told you about… Madeleine?’

Anna hung her head. ‘Yes…I know,’ she agreed in a surprisingly humble voice. ‘I’m really sorry about that now, Daniel.’

‘I don’t know what is going through your mind, Mammy,’ he continued, ‘but whatever it is, you must understand that I have made my choice now and there can be no turning back.’ He made a sudden decision. ‘I will be going back to college next week.’

‘But I miss you so much…’ He could see tears in her eyes now. ‘And I’m willing to admit that I was wrong, so very wrong. And now that your father’s gone, however am I going to manage?’

‘The same as you always do, Mammy. You are a strong person. You’ve run this boarding house without any help from Daddy and you will go on doing so. A lot of the boarding houses in Blackpool are run by widows. Besides, you’ve got Joe…and Myrtle too.’

‘Yes, I know I’ve got Joe.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘But he’s not like you. He’s not intelligent and interesting to talk to, like you are. I can’t have a proper conversation with him. I miss our little chats, Daniel.’

He was beginning to feel angry. ‘He is your
son…Mother, just as I am. And you love him; you know that you do. Remember when we nearly lost him? You were frantic with worry. And God was good to you. He made Joe well again. And he’ll get married, maybe sooner than you think; most likely he will marry Myrtle. Then you will have grandchildren to look forward to. Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself, Mother.’

‘I’m not…I’m not! I’m just telling you that I know now that I was wrong, and I want to put things right.’

‘You mean you have changed your mind and you want me to do the same. No, I’m afraid I can’t. I was homesick at first when I went to Rothburn, but I got over it, just as you will get used to me not being here. And now…I’m looking forward to going back and following the path I have chosen. Yes, the path
I
have chosen, Mother, not you.’

She looked at him sorrowfully for a moment, then she said, ‘I remember the time you met that girl…Madeleine. I was wrong about her. I’m sure you were very fond of her…’ Goodness, she was crafty! She knew just where to find his Achilles heel. He tried never to think of Madeleine, but he was forced to do so now. Yes, he had been very fond of her. He had loved her, and he believed, if they had been allowed to stay together, that he would eventually have married her. But what was the use of thinking of her now?

‘That’s all in the past, Mother,’ he said. ‘I was
forced to part from Madeleine and I have no doubt that I hurt her very much. I hope she’s happy now. She deserves to be. She is a lovely girl, but I know that I mustn’t think of her anymore. It has been…quite a long time now.’

Anna smiled. ‘She’s here in Blackpool,’ she said. Her words hit him like a thunderbolt.

‘What do you mean? Madeleine is…here?’

‘The Melody Makers are performing for two weeks at the North Pier Pavilion,’ said Anna, ‘where they were before. But that was in April as I recall. They’re here for the first two weeks in February. I’ve seen the posters.’ She smiled slyly as he went on staring fixedly at her. ‘She’s still billed as “Yorkshire’s own songbird”. Why don’t you go and see her?’

He observed her shrewdly for a few moments. He could scarcely believe what he was hearing, nor the lengths she would go to, to get her own way. She had decided that she wanted him at home and so, once more, he was expected to give way to her selfish desires. In a sudden movement he stood up. ‘I can’t, Mother,’ he said, as he walked out of the room.

The temptation, however, proved too great. He decided he would go to the Saturday afternoon performance. There could be no harm, surely, in seeing her just once? He decided, at first, that he would watch her performance and leave it at that. Then he could carry in his mind for all time the
memory of her beauty and her glorious voice. Perhaps he had been wrong to try to banish all thoughts of her? Memory was a precious thing, and he was strong now in the path he had chosen. It could do no harm to remember her.

He chose a seat about halfway back in the auditorium, from where he could not easily be seen, should she happen to glance in his direction. The show was very good, much more polished than the one he had seen two years ago, and there were some new acts. Freddie, the conjuror; he was a very talented young chap; Daniel remembered meeting him when he had visited Madeleine in… Halifax, was it? The ventriloquist, and the new soprano, Dora; Barney and Benjy, as dashing and sprightly as ever; Nancy’s clever little dogs, possibly not quite as agile as before; they were all superb. But there was only one act that he really wanted to see.

Madeleine stood in the spotlight, as lovely as ever. The light shining down on her flowing golden hair and her shimmering silver-white dress gave her an ethereal appearance. And her voice was truly the voice of an angel. The number she sang unaccompanied was one that he remembered.

He felt tears misting his eyes. Her final song, though, in the first half of the show made him smile as she sang, ‘I wouldn’t leave my little wooden hut for you!’

He could hardly wait for her appearance in the second half. Her last song, ‘Silver Threads among the Gold’, was particularly poignant.

He felt a spasm of sadness and pain that was almost too much to bear. The words were so true; Madeleine would always be young and fair to him because he would never see her again after that day. They would not be able to grow old together; he would never see the silver threads in her golden hair…

He knew then that he had to speak to her, just once more. Surely he owed her that? He would wait for her after the performance. He would tell her how sorry he was about the way they had parted; that it had been cowardly to write to her instead of telling her face to face that he could not see her again. It would be good to know that she still regarded him as a friend.

He stood at the pier entrance, knowing that she must come out that way, through the pier turnstile. He waited for what seemed ages. All the members of the audience had gone, and then he saw some of
the artistes: Nancy with her two little dogs, and her husband, Pete; Susannah, with Frank, the ‘Music Man’. He averted his face, looking out towards the sea; Susannah was one who might recognise him.

And then she was there, Madeleine, dressed in a russet-brown coat with a fur collar and a little fur hat that partially covered her golden hair. She was laughing as she came along the pier, and then he noticed that she was laughing up into the face of Freddie Nicholls, the young conjuror…and they were holding hands. They drew apart to go singly through the turnstile, and that was when Daniel turned away. He felt a sharp stab of anguish. It had been a mistake to come. He had seen her; he could tell that she was happy and that was what he had told himself he wanted. He had not realised, though, how much it would hurt. Now it was time for him to go, but she must not see him.

He took a few steps away, then he heard her voice, ‘Dan…Daniel…!’ He turned back, knowing that he must speak with her. ‘Dan…I thought I was seeing things.’ Her smile was as radiant as ever. ‘Have you been to see the show? You weren’t going to go without saying hello to me, were you?’

‘I…I thought we might have a little chat,’ he stumbled. ‘But…I can see that you’re busy.’ She and Freddie were holding hands again.

She turned to Freddie. ‘You remember Daniel, don’t you, Freddie?’

‘Yes, I remember him,’ said Freddie. The two
men nodded at one another and murmured, ‘How do you do?’ Freddie actually held out his hand for Daniel to shake, which Dan thought was very noble of him. Then he said to Madeleine, ‘Off you go, love, and have a chat with Daniel; and I’ll see you later, back at the digs.’

‘Are you sure?’ she asked.

‘Of course I’m sure,’ he smiled, giving her a friendly little push. Then he walked away, leaving them together.

She and Dan stood and stared at one another for a few moments, then he said, ‘Freddie’s your boyfriend, is he?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, he is. But apart from that he’s a very good pal, and he takes care of me whilst we’re travelling around.’

‘That’s good,’ said Dan. ‘I’m glad you’re happy. I can see that you are. I am sorry about…what happened between us. That is what I’ve come to tell you. I know I must have hurt you…and I hope you have forgiven me?’

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘A long time ago… Come along, Dan. I don’t know why we’re standing here getting cold. Let’s go and have a cup of tea.’

They crossed the tramtrack into the town and found a little café on Bank Hey Street, behind the Tower. Maddy was aware that her heart was beating twenty to the dozen. It had been ages since she had set eyes on Dan. She had wondered why he was there. Did he have an idea that they might be
able to get together again? And then he had seen Freddie? For a moment her heart had leapt on seeing him again, then she realised that he had, in fact, come to make his peace with her.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, when the waitress had brought them a pot of tea and some toasted teacakes. That would be all that Maddy would need before the evening performance. They usually had a late meal on Saturday, following the show. ‘I presume you are at college now, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I’ve been there – up in Northumberland – since September.’ Dan went on to explain that his father had been killed in an accident and that he had been given extended leave from the seminary. ‘I shall be going back sometime next week,’ he said.

‘Oh…I’m so sorry to hear about your father,’ said Maddy. ‘It must have been a great shock to you all. Your mother…how is she?’

‘She’s bearing up quite well,’ said Dan. ‘My father’s death has affected her quite badly, of course. But she’s a strong woman and I know she will be able to cope with the boarding house and everything. And my brother – you remember Joe? – he works like a Trojan for my mother, he and his girlfriend, Myrtle. Yes, our little Joe has a lady friend now; she’s what you might call a “maid of all work” at the boarding house. I’m not sure that my mother has always appreciated all the work they do, but no doubt she will come to realise it now.’

‘I’m sure she misses you…’ observed Maddy.

‘Yes…so she does,’ he replied. ‘But it was what she wanted, wasn’t it?’ How easy it would have been for him, at that moment, to admit that his mother, in fact, had changed her mind about his calling. And to admit that he, too, had felt such a pang of regret on seeing Madeleine again that, for a short time, he had been tempted to stay, even to ask if they might resume their friendship. And then he had seen her with Freddie and he had known that she had moved on. And so must he.

‘My mother and I have reached an understanding now,’ he said. At least he trusted that they would have done so before the day ended. ‘She was wrong to pressurise me into becoming a priest, and I’m sure she knows that now. But in the end…I know I have made the right decision.’

‘I am pleased that you’re happy about it now, Dan,’ she said. ‘About being a priest, I mean.’ She would never know how regretful that made him feel as he looked at her sitting across the table from him, so lovely and desirable. But he knew he could not tell her how he felt. ‘I realise you’re not happy at the moment,’ she went on, ‘losing your father so suddenly. But in time you won’t feel quite so sad about it.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Who am I to be preaching to you? I do remember, though, how sad I was when my mother died. And we had a bereavement in the family not long ago; well, last summer. My Grandfather Isaac died.’