The Watercress Girls (25 page)

I
n November 1960 Griff had the opportunity to retire within three months. Their longed-for trip to England could be possible in the spring. Mattie was advised by her doctor to wait for better weather, not to arrive to cold and damp conditions in the UK.

Megan, Max and Gracie had been back to the States once, two years previously, when they managed only a fleeting visit to Mattie and Griff because they were responding to sad news from Sybil, in California. ‘Please come, your grandfather is dying, and asking for you.…’ Within six weeks of losing Lloyd, Sybil had a fatal stroke. Griff, as executor of their estate, had to deal with everything. It was a stressful time. A modest legacy had come their way then, but Max and Megan were the main beneficiaries.

‘Please allow us to book your flights,’ Megan wrote. ‘Stay as long as you like!’

Mattie replied, ‘As soon as your father finishes at work.…’

Gracie hadn’t corresponded with them for several months, and Mattie realized, she’s growing up fast, almost sixteen: I’m not Mommy Mattie any more, but ‘Gran’. I must seem incredibly old to Gracie! At her age I’d left school and was a working girl.

Megan wasn’t going to upset her parents by telling tales. Gracie was becoming rude and rebellious, intent on doing all the things her mother and stepfather would rather she didn’t. She was a bright girl, but she’d skipped school on several occasions recently. Megan had been summoned by the headmistress and told her daughter would be suspended if this continued.

When Megan and Max managed to sit down with Gracie to try to sort out matters, Gracie sat there sullenly, then said: ‘Does
he
have to be here? He’s not my father. It’s nothing to do with him!’

When Megan opened her mouth to make an angry reply Max put out a restraining hand. ‘I’ve always thought of you as my daughter, Gracie,’ he said evenly. ‘We’ve had a good relationship, haven’t we?’

Gracie turned her head away. ‘I don’t like school, Mom. I don’t want to sit silly old exams. Don’t you know I can leave home when I’m
sixteen? If you don’t stop going on at me, I will!’ Then she flounced out of the room.

She was closeted in the bathroom for the next couple of hours. In the morning she appeared with a ‘don’t you dare say anything’ expression. She was wearing her school uniform, but she had dyed her hair jet black.

‘All right, I’ll go to school. I’ll do those stupid O levels, then I’ll get a job – and I’ll choose what I want to do myself!’

When she’d flounced out, Megan sat down again at the kitchen table and cried floods of tears.

‘I must go,’ Max said awkwardly. ‘Teenage hormones – she’ll get over it—’

‘Hormones? I know I was a bit of a monster at that age, but not as bad as that!’

‘Different times.’

‘What are the school going to say about her hair?’

‘Nothing, if they’re sensible. She’ll get fed up with it, if no one appears to notice.’

Max buttoned up his overcoat to go to work. ‘Why don’t you write to Evie and ask her advice – she’s had plenty of experience with
adolescent
girls, after all.’

‘I will! Max – you don’t regret taking Gracie on, do you?’ Megan’s voice was muffled by the thickness of his coat as she clung to him, ‘I
need
a hug this morning!’

He obliged. ‘I’ve never thought of it like that. You, me, Gracie, we’re a family. She’s
our
daughter. There, feel better now?’

‘Oh darling Max, I do!’

Evie’s response was by return of post. She wrote:

There was the weekend to get through first, Megan thought ruefully. After her outburst, Gracie maintained an aloof silence when her parents were around. She didn’t rise from her bed on Saturday until lunch-time, when she spoke three words to her mother. ‘I’m going out.’

‘Come away from the window, she’ll think you’re spying on her,’ Max told Megan.

‘She got into an open-top car – in this weather! Some lout sitting at the wheel, he didn’t open the door for her. Probably hasn’t got a licence – he’s got dyed hair too!’

‘How can you tell?’ Max asked mildly. ‘I gather you didn’t recognize him?’

‘No. He drove off too fast. Didn’t you hear that noise from the exhaust?’

‘Mmm. Relax, Megan. They won’t get far in all the Saturday traffic. Just be thankful she’s not perched on the pillion of a powerful
motorbike
, eh?’

‘Oh, you! You’re just like Dad with Mom – that soothing voice.…’

‘Is that so bad?’ he asked.

‘No-o. What d’you mean by “relax”?’ she demanded.

‘I’m open to suggestions,’ he said, with a smile.

She plumped down on his lap, wound her arms round his neck. ‘A kiss?’

‘That’s a promising start,’ he murmured. ‘We’re unlikely to be
interrupted
….’

‘This is deliciously decadent,’ Megan giggled, snuggling up to him in bed. ‘What a way to spend Saturday afternoon at home!’

‘It beats watching horse-racing on TV,’ Max agreed. ‘It’s rather inhibiting, you know, with a glowering teenager playing loud music on a record player in the next room. We’ve made up our minds to live permanently over here, so we ought to think of moving out of London, buying a house while we can afford it. You miss having a garden, I know….’

‘We can’t do anything until Gracie leaves school,’ said Megan.

‘Which now looks likely to be soon, eh? You could go back to teaching; that’s if you want to, of course.’

‘I do – but I didn’t like to say! Oh, I’ve enjoyed my voluntary work at the hospital, because I could fit that in round Gracie, but I know every book in that library trolley by now, and as an old patient told me ungratefully the other day, “You can’t make a decent cup of tea, gal!”’

‘That’s true – but you make an excellent pot of coffee!’

He was distracting her now, lightly caressing her throat and bare shoulders with his fingertips. ‘You haven’t worn your gold chain and pendant since our wedding day.’

‘It didn’t seem right. I – couldn’t bring myself to remove Tommy’s photograph. I thought I’d give it to Gracie on her eighteenth birthday.’

‘You still think of him? You don’t regret.…’

‘Regret marrying you? Max, it was the best decision of my life!’

‘And mine,’ he said. ‘Well, how about coffee, and cake? I’m getting hungry.’

‘You’ll have to wait! I fancy a bit more relaxing first. Then we’ll have toasted crumpets in bed. Cake makes too many crumbs!’

At just after eight in the evening, the phone shrilled. Max rolled over in bed, reached for the instrument, on his side of the bed. ‘Not the hospital,’ he hoped.

Gracie’s agitated voice almost deafened him. ‘We’re in Richmond – we had a meal at a roadhouse – the car had a flat tyre, and there isn’t a spare – we had to leave it on the roadside, and walk a couple of miles here.… We – we haven’t got enough money to pay for the meal, but the manageress took us in to her office and said “ring your father and tell him to come and get you.…” You will come, won’t you? Digby will give you directions….’

‘
Digby
,’ Max said sotto voce to Megan, who had overheard all. ‘The lout has a name!’ He said into the mouthpiece: ‘I’ll have to get dressed first, I may be some while. Why don’t you offer to wash up to cover what you owe? Put Digby on.’

‘Why have you gone to bed this early?’ Gracie demanded.

‘Tell her we’re old and need our sleep,’ Megan put in.

‘Mom? Is that you?’

‘Who else would be in bed with your dad? Where’s Digby? I’ll write down the details while Max gets ready.’

Megan filled a flask with coffee, slipped a bar of chocolate in the bag. ‘Your good deed should hopefully guarantee restored communications! Drive safely. At least you’re not going into a dust storm.’

Gracie and Digby were sitting in the reception area of the roadhouse when Max arrived some two hours later. Max noted that Digby was hardly dressed for the cold weather, in a hand-knitted tank top in lurid stripes over a summer shirt and patched jeans. Gracie at least wore over her jeans and T-shirt what she called a sloppy joe sweater, with sleeves so long, she’d pulled them down over her cold hands. Digby was
occupied
in gnawing his nails, but managed a grunt: ‘Thanks mate.’ He didn’t appear to be one of the sixth-formers at Gracie’s school, whom Gracie referred to disparagingly as ‘swots’.

The manageress had declined their offer of washing up and presented the bill to Max. ‘They offered me five shillings in coppers between them, but I said, “I expect your dad will pay – they usually do.”’

It was too dark and too late to inspect the car. ‘Your father can see to that,’ Max said briefly. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Stepney. It’s my uncle’s car.’

‘Are you insured to drive it?’

‘Yes. I drive him around, he’s disqualified. He’s in a band, so am I.’

‘How did you meet my daughter?’

‘She and her mates come to one of our gigs. I play drums.’

‘Aren’t you usually making … music … on a Saturday night?’

‘I was supposed to be meeting up with the lads later. Too late now….’

‘What a pity,’ Max said acidly.

From the back seat Gracie exploded: ‘Oh, leave it, Dad!
Please
!’

Dad
, he thought, she called me Dad. Megan will be pleased.

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

Evie came to see them on Tuesday evening. Max was working late, and Megan was busy in the kitchen, making Gracie’s favourite meat-loaf supper. This involved browned steak mince, seasoned well, spread with half a bottle of tomato ketchup (which she still called catsup) topped with mashed potato, sprinkled with cheese, and baked in the oven. She intended to stay out of the way while Evie and Gracie talked.

‘I like your hair,’ Evie said, meaning it. ‘It suits you.’

Gracie was pleased. The dye was not a permanent one, but she’d hastened the recovery process by having her hair cut fashionably short, with a gamine fringe. Her friends said she looked like Audrey Hepburn, when she’d had her hair shorn in
Roman Holiday
, that was when she didn’t wear her glasses but looked out on a misty world with those huge, dark eyes.

Gracie came straight to the point – she was her mother’s daughter after all. ‘I suppose you know I want to leave school after my exams, and not stay on for the sixth form in the hope of going on to university?’

‘Yes. I’m not here to make you change your mind. But I’d like to see you train properly for whatever job you have in mind. Any ideas?’

‘I want to be an actress. I love reading aloud, performing in school plays. But I don’t know how to go about it. My school doesn’t teach drama as such.’

‘There are stage schools. You might get a scholarship to one in
exceptional
circumstances, but your parents would probably have to pay for your tuition. Even then, they will only take pupils who have real talent, and determination. You could back up what could be a precarious living with extra training as a drama teacher. Would you like me to find out some facts about possible schools or colleges while I’m in London?’

‘Oh, I would! Thank you, Aunty Evie.’

‘I was helped to fulfil my ambitions by a friend,’ Evie said quietly, ‘My mother thought I should stay at home to care for the family. I hope I am there for them when needed, but I wanted to make my own way in life.’

‘Didn’t you want to get married?’

‘Maybe I thought about it, once or twice, but you know, it’s possible to be happy and single! It has quite a lot to recommend it, in my
experience
. I’m very fond of my nephews and nieces, which, of course, includes you! I still miss my wonderful sister Mattie. She’s founded quite a dynasty – a
female
one!’

Megan was banging a spoon on a mixing bowl. ‘Supper’s ready, you two!’

T
he United States had a brash new young President, John F Kennedy, known as Jack, warmly endorsed by the outgoing incumbent of the White House, General Dwight D Eisenhower. The Cuban crisis was about to erupt. The Americans were heavily involved in the space race with Russia. Khrushchev was negotiating a peace treaty with East Germany, American troops were fighting in Vietnam, and US Polaris submarines were based in Scotland.

Great Britain, too, had seen political changes over the last few years, but Harold Macmillan was now apparently steady at the helm. National Service was no more. There was unrest in the Colonies: the UK was making overtures to the EEC and inflation was escalating.

Mattie was nursing an unexpected bout of hayfever when the airmail arrived. Griff brought it up to her on her breakfast tray, which he balanced carefully on her knees.

Wiping her streaming eyes and blowing her sore nose, she said huskily: ‘You open it, and read it to me, there’s a dear. I really shouldn’t be so lazy, lying in bed expecting you to wait on me, you know.’

‘A retired husband’s privilege,’ he returned. ‘It’s coming up to our
thirty-ninth wedding anniversary. Next year it’ll be our Ruby wedding!’ He felt for his reading glasses in a pocket, sat on the edge of the bed, while she cracked the top of the soft-boiled egg. When Megan and then Gracie were small girls, she’d cut thin strips of bread and butter for dipping in the yolk. Griff had done the same for her. There was a pink rosebud in a second egg-cup.

She looked at him lovingly as he bent his head to decipher Megan’s large, looped handwriting. The bald patch on the crown of his head was visible, which it wasn’t when he stood up, because he was taller than she was. She was suddenly aware that he was faltering in his speech – the flimsy blue paper was wavering in his hands. As if in slow motion, he slumped forward, across her lower legs.

Mattie endeavoured to shift up in the bed, to free her trapped limbs, while the tray went crashing to the floor. She stepped over the debris and attempted to lift him to a sitting position, but was unable to do so. Trembling, she picked up the bedside phone, dialled the emergency code.

Then she knelt beside him and cradled his inert body in her arms. She heard a voice say loudly, not recognizing it was her own: ‘Wake up, darling, I’m here.…’

There was the sound of splintering wood downstairs in the entrance hall, as the front door was forced open, and then footsteps pounded up the stairs.

They tried everything they could to resuscitate Griff, but it was too late, he was pronounced dead at the scene.

‘He is sixty years old,’ she said simply, when they asked his age.

‘A massive coronary – a long-standing heart condition,’ was the medical verdict.

Mattie just couldn’t take that in. Griff had never complained: he’d cared for her and boosted her spirits during her own spells of poor health. How could she carry on without him? She could only take it day by day.

So it was that Mattie’s family came to North Dakota, instead of the way it should have been, Mattie and Griff flying home to England to be with them.

Mattie, of whom Griff once said, ‘You always seem to feel better when you’ve had a good cry,’ had been resolutely dry-eyed since the family arrived. She comforted Megan and Gracie and tried to reassure them by telling them that Griff couldn’t have suffered, because the end had mercifully been so quick. Max was kind and thoughtful in his quiet way, and took over the funeral arrangements. They could only stay a few days.

‘Mom, leave everything, and come back with us,’ Megan entreated.

Mattie shook her head. ‘I can’t just walk away from here after thirty years.’

‘You’ve nothing to keep you here now.’ Megan instantly regretted saying that.

‘I imagine I will come home for good at some time in the future, but I’m not ready to let all this go, all that your father worked so hard for. I need to come to terms with what has happened. I’m not yet over the shock.’ Mattie thought: maybe I never will be. I’ve lost the love of my life. I can’t …
abandon
him….

Easter had been at the beginning of April this year. The last excursion, as they called it, which they had enjoyed together, was the hundred-mile drive to the Peace Garden, on the border between North Dakota and Manitoba. This beautiful sanctuary symbolized the long friendship between the United States and Canada. It was also symbolic to Mattie and Griff of the link they themselves had with both countries and where they had embarked on their great adventure.

In the Peace Garden the wild prairie-rose, the State flower, designated as such in 1907, bloomed alongside more exotic varieties. It was soft pink in colour with a golden centre, and reminded Mattie of the brier roses in the hedgerows she’d loved, in her childhood in Suffolk. Griff had instantly recalled the pink costume she wore on their wedding day. ‘Your colour, Mattie.’ He sketched her sitting in the garden, with roses in the background.

Now, she said, ‘No hothouse flowers for Griff, please: just the
prairie-rose
.’

Griff hadn’t been a regular churchgoer, nor had she, since the days when she’d gone on most Sundays to the Lutheran church, while they lived at the farm. His mother, she knew, had been a chapelgoer in Wales, where she had met and married Griff’s father.

‘We’ll take him back to the prairie, to be laid to rest in the cemetery there,’ she decided. ‘It was the first place he thought of as “home” – after an unsettled childhood.’

‘I’ll drive you over,’ Max offered. ‘See if it can be arranged….’

‘We’ll all go, if Mom doesn’t mind,’ Megan suggested. ‘I’ve not been back there since we got caught in the dust storm. Gracie should see where I was born.’

‘We never went again either. I felt sad, you see, after that last visit, because I was reminded how much I loved – and still missed – the old place,’ Mattie told them. She paused. ‘I need to go there now, for Griff’s sake.’

The little township had expanded even further, people looked
prosperous
, there were more shops, but the garage was still in place, even
though it had been modernized by a new owner. The provision store was now a regular drugstore, but there was still a sign: MATTIE’S ICE CREAM SOLD HERE.

‘Same recipe, I hope,’ Megan said, as she and Gracie went to buy a cornet each. They were able to tell Mattie that the ice cream was still made in the same way from the same dairy products, by ‘Your friend Gretchen.’

They stopped off at Gary’s café, and there he was, grey-haired now, but smiling to see old friends, then concerned when he learned why they had returned.

‘Please don’t think it’s an intrusion,’ he said, reaching for his camera, under the counter. ‘I must have a picture to prove I saw you again….’

Gretchen, still blonde and braided but more buxom, was at the church to greet them, and to introduce them to the new pastor, still considered by his flock to be a relative newcomer after ten years.

‘Later,’ she said, ‘you must come back to the old place and eat with us before you journey home. My uncle and aunt have both passed away since we last met, and now we farm with the help of our three big sons. Wenche was married a year ago.’

Gracie took her grandmother’s arm as they went together to look at the dairy, and the cows lined up for the afternoon milking.

‘Let them go on their own,’ Max told Megan gently, as she made to follow.

Gracie said, as they walked slowly back to the farmhouse: ‘Oh, Mommy Mattie – how could you bear to leave all this?’

The tears rained down Mattie’s pale cheeks then. She stood
stock-still
, and Gracie clutched her in a fierce embrace. They cried together, united in their sadness.

Mattie said at last: ‘This was a dream fulfilled, when we came here. It was a great deal harder to survive than we ever imagined it would be, but Griff and I were proud of what we achieved. Those days are past. We made a good life for ourselves in the city, too, and we had Megan, and then, you. Grandad Griff and I were looking forward to a happy retirement, starting with a visit to England. We never intended to leave it so long – I regret I never saw my parents again, although we always kept in touch….’

‘Aunty Evie wants you to come, very much.’

‘Tell dear Evie, I will – but not just yet.’

‘I still miss you a lot. Mom and I – well, we clash sometimes. She doesn’t understand me, like you do.’

‘She does, but she was headstrong when she was your age, and she’s afraid—’

‘I’ll make a big mistake, like she did?’ Gracie challenged.

‘I never think of it like that! Nor must you, Gracie. Look, if you’d rather talk to the older generation, like me, go to Evie – she’ll soon put you right!’

It was a simple service, following the long, slow journey by the cortège. A lovely day, though with the need to hold on to hats and to smooth down skirts in the strong breeze. Family were joined in the church pews by those who had known the Parrys years ago, and came to pay their respects. The harmonium swelled, there was heartfelt singing, prayers, and then they followed Griff to his final resting place.

Mattie, Megan, Max and Gracie went back to the farm for
refreshments
before driving home.

As she had said, twenty odd years ago about Bert, Gretchen observed quietly to Mattie, ‘I don’t ever forget you, you see.…’ She paused. ‘I will take care of him.’

‘I know you will … Gretchen, can’t you call me Mattie after all this time?’

Gretchen smiled. ‘To me, you’ll always be “the Missus”. Did Bert ever marry?’

‘No – but he’s done well: chief engineer on the railway. Anna, his grandmother, is still alive. Bert takes care of her nowadays. I’m sure he has his memories too.’

She said goodbye to her family at the front gate. ‘Don’t come to the airport,’ Megan insisted. ‘We love you Mom!’ The taxi was waiting.

‘I know you do.’ Mattie said. She actually wanted to be alone now, to cope in her own way with her loss. She hugged Megan, then Max, and last of all, Gracie. ‘Try hard in your exams; follow your dreams,’ she whispered. She thought: Griff never achieved what he might have with his gift for drawing. I let my writing lapse, but we did follow our dream.

She looked at the weeds in the garden. It needed digging over. There were seed potatoes to plant. Griff had done all the heavy work for years now, but if she took it at a steady pace, she thought, she could do it herself. She wouldn’t be able to sort through things indoors yet, that could wait. She needed to be physically tired to be able to sleep at nights. Maybe she could grow enough vegetables to sell at the gate – the thought actually made her smile – and she could experiment with her ice-cream making. She’d have to buy a book on it, for nowadays there were all sorts of rules and regulations, but this was yet another
beginning
, and this time she had to go it alone.