Page 44 of A Family Affair
Eventually, the need to vent took over.
‘It’s funny, isn’t it, that if you tell someone something often enough they start to believe it.’ Ernie was glad when Honey remained quiet and let him ramble on, ‘Like the colour of my hair for a start. Auburn it was, when I were a lad, just like Nora’s was in the letter. And yet they all convinced me…her, and my supposed grandparents, put it down to the Irish genes coming through.’
Ernie could hear Molly now, rhyming off the same old story. That over in Enniskillen there was a whole load of relatives with the same colour hair as him.
‘She got away with my eye colour because my dad’s…’ he stalled on that word because Walter wasn’t his dad.
Jesus, that cut him to the quick because he was a good man. It also wasn’t his fault he’d brought up another man’s son, so Walter couldn’t be held accountable or hated. Neither could anyone who wasn’t duplicitous. Right then, the only person he blamed washer, Molly, and then Beryl.
‘Not one other person in our family looked like me. I was tall and lanky, whereas dad was short and stocky. I stood out like a sore thumb at gatherings, weddings and the like, but nobody, as far as I know, questioned it. Everyone believed Saint Molly.’
A gentle nudge was followed by, ‘Well whereverweget our hair colour from, I’m glad I share it with you, or I did until yours went grey.’
He glanced at Honey and saw her nervous smile and was instantly awash with shame. This wasn’t her fault, either. And it must’ve taken guts to be the one to speak up. He might be a fool, but he was an honest one and Ernie accepted he could sometimes be gruff and spoke his mind too much about too many things. Still, that didn’t make it right to be so with Honey.
‘I’m glad too, lass. An’ I’m sorry for being a grumpy bugger but it’s knocked me sideways, has this.’ He wished Nancy was there because she’d have known what to do and made it right, and it was thinking of her that brought on the strangest sensation, like he might cry.
He wasn’t having none of that so took a gulp of his tea. The sweet hot liquid burnt his tongue and throat as it went down, but did the job, washing away the emotions that were on their way up.
‘It’s okay, Grandad. I’m used to you being a grumpy bugger and I had a feeling you’d react this way and I get it, I really do. But if we can, let’s try and keep calm and talk it through. It’s rocked me too, you know. So just tell me what you’re thinking because the worst thing you can do is bottle it all up.’
Ernie huffed out a laugh. ‘What, like I do everything, you mean. About your grandma and your dad. That’s my safety mechanism, lass. How I cope and I don’t see how being all airy-fairy and letting out my inner-mardy will help. Won’t change nowt.’
Honey sighed. ‘Okay, I get that’s your way, so how about I tell you what I think because this is about me, too, you know.’
‘Aye, you’re right… so go on. What are your thoughts on this great big mess?’ Ernie hoped that she wouldn’t try to defend his so-called mother because that would be like a betrayal of the hurt he was experiencing, a physical ache inside.
‘I never knew her – Molly – so I don’t have this physical person in my mind’s eye that I can be angry with which makes it seem weird, you know, being cross with a photo that was on Aunty Beryl’s sideboard.’
‘Only she wasn’t your aunt was she? And that woman on the photo is no better than a stranger, especially now we know the truth of the matter. So be angry with whoever you want, lass. It’s fine by me.’ Ernie took a glug of tea and let his erudite statement settle.
He took a peep at Honey who puffed out her cheeks before speaking. ‘What I’m trying to say is, it’s easy to be annoyed with someone who isn’t here, not to have to look them in the eye and tell them what we think about them. But what if that’s why Molly and Aunty Beryl… and I know you have a problem with me calling her that right now, but to me that’s who she was, and I loved her a lot.’
Ernie nodded. ‘Fair dos, carry on.’
‘What if they knew how you’d feel and were simply too scared of facing up to that? Looking you in the eye and telling you something that would rock your whole world. They might have thought it was easier, for them and you, to say nothing.’
Honey made it all sound so simple. It wasn’t, not by a million miles, and again this thing inside him surged, like a wild beast trying to claw its way out and the only way to contain it was to remain silent. Until the swell in his chest abated.
Across the way, Old Tommy was chopping wood and each time his axe fell, it was like an inaccurate marking of time, but it helped. The thud, thud, thud soothed him and, by the time Tommy had filled his basket with logs, Ernie was able to speak.
‘Thing is, lass, it wasn’t for them to decide whether I should live in ignorance or not. It was my life they both messed with. Firstthat woman, and then Beryl. They had no right to do that to me to save their own feelings, or keep their lives in order, but that’s what they did.’
Ernie turned his head towards Honey who met his stare as he asked, ‘That letter you read said so, am I right?’ She nodded and he responded with a loud tut. ‘So, they put themselves before me. Shewas scared that she’d be found out, so kept shtum. Then Beryl was lonely so didn’t want to risk tearing her family apart and me losing my temper or digging my heels in or turning my back on the little family I had. Well thanks for that, sister dear. For having so little faith in me, in the bond we’d built up over the years, that Beryl actually believed that if she told me, I’d disown her! I think that hurts more, you know. That she felt like that about me.’
‘I’m sorry Grandad. You’re right. In all of this, Aunty Beryl had the weakest reason for keeping the secret and I’m disappointed in her, even though it kills me to say so. Then again, it was a horrible thing for Molly to do in my opinion. Dump that on her shoulders just before she died and leave her to decide what to do.’
Ernie gave a loud and sarcastic humph, ‘What, just like Beryl did to you? Must run in the bloody family, being cowards and liars.’
To this, Honey didn’t respond, and through the corner of his eye he watched her fiddle with her fingerless gloves, worrying a loose thread of wool.
Ernie occupied himself by swirling the dregs of his brew around the bottom of the cup and from nowhere, remembered a trip to Morecambe with Nancy and Beryl.
They’d walked along the pier and, at the end, was a stripey tent, and inside, a woman who could read your palms and the cards and whatnot. Beryl denounced it all as utter nonsense and ushered them on. He could actually see her pulling Nancy away and rolling her eyes at Ernie. Now he wondered if Beryl was so scared of the truth coming out, that she even feared a fortune teller. And, if he’d had his tea leaves read, would Gypsy Rose have seen something that would have given him a clue?
‘We were so close, me and Beryl. She was Nancy’s best friend. And all I can think is that every day we spent with her, all that time, she was lying to me.’ Ernie threw the rest of his tea onto the path beneath his feet, a hand-jerk reaction to a spike of anger.
‘You see, I think that’s the key to it all, why she did it. From what I know of Molly, she ruled the roost and maybe because she was such a strong personality, she controlled Aunty Beryl more than you know, kind of destroyed her confidence. She told me she’d worked in the same place all her life, doing the job Molly got for her when she left school. She only had a few friends and by her own admission, her divorce left her isolated, and her self-esteem massively dented. I don’t think she dared risk losing you and Grandma, and even me and Dad. It’s as simple as that.’
