Page 73 of A Family Affair
Levi sighed and rolled his eyes but when she saw him pull the keys from the ignition, Honey knew she’d won.
The sound of the telly blaring in the front room was joined by the sound of the doorbell when Honey gave it a long hard push then waited. Levi was stood to her side but one pace back, her free hand in his. When she saw the blurry shape of her grandad through the panel of bubble glass in the door her heart did a giddy forward flip.
‘Only me, Grandad,’ she shouted and hoped he would hear above the telly.
The twitch of her lips meant the nervous giggles threatened but were soon banished the second she heard the slide of the safety latch. Next, a gust of warm air escaped from the hall as Ernie opened the front door and stood on the step, wearing a tea-towel tucked into his shirt front and a surprised expression.
‘Honey, what are you doing here? I’m ’avin me tea. An’ I thought you’d gone to a party.’ He then gave Levi a cursory nod and a quick once over. ‘Alright lad. ’ope you brought me some cake?’
Honey sucked in the cold November air and blurted out, ‘Grandad, we had to come and see you because,’ she looked at Levi who with stretched eyes, told her to get on with it, ‘we’ve got the most amazing news ever.’ Honey paused and waited for him to react then in a moment of madness, wondered if he thought they’d got engaged or something.
In his usual unimpressed way, Ernie gave them a grunt and as he turned, said, ‘Well come on in then. Don’t stand there letting all the bloody warm out. I’ll finish me tea while you tell me this amazing news, unless you want to stick the kettle on, and I’m reet disappointed you’ve not brought me some cake. I like a bit of birthday cake, I do.’
As he shuffled off back to the lounge with a very noticeable tut, they both stepped inside and Levi closed the door, at which point their eyes met and the nervous giggles took hold of them both. Once she’d composed herself and Levi nudged her along the hallway, Honey decided it’d be best to let her grandad finish his tea rather than annoy the grumpy old bugger. And then, all being well, she’d be able to make up for not bringing him a slice of bloody birthday cake.
CHAPTER55
ELEONORA
She’d held many babies in her arms over the years. There’d been a time, however, shortly after she’d lost her own, that Eleonora didn’t think she’d ever be able to look at, let alone touch a baby ever again. For a while she’d been consumed by such terrible envy whenever she was unfortunate enough to glimpse a pregnant woman, a pram even, and she trained herself to spot the enemy and take evasive action.
There’d even been anger, at having been saved and forced to live by Rory who refused to let her go. It would’ve been so much simpler if she’d been left to drift away, and then she could’ve been reunited in the afterlife she’d once believed in. Or if not there’d have been an end to the missing and wishing.
But she couldn’t stay cross with the rescuers and Rory for long. Not once he’d told her about his wife and Eleonora accepted that by saving her, he’d saved himself, and she couldn’t begrudge him that no matter how much she hurt inside.
It was his children who cured her. Wiped away the fear of allowing herself to love someone as much, even for a few short hours, as she’d loved her baby boy.
Iris, who would sleep in her arms for hours even though everyone told her she was making a rod for her own back, but Eleonora didn’t care. Her arms were full once more. And the little things, more precious than diamonds. Iris’s face lighting up at the sound of Eleonora’s voice, first thing in the morning when she peeped over the cot.
And then there’d been Ian. A whippetty-whirlwind who’d stolen her heart in a heartbeat by asking her one simple thing at the end of a perfect summer day when they’d first met.
He was three years old, doe-eyed like his father. Shyly standing by her side in his clean pyjamas he’d kissed her goodnight, soft as a butterfly on her cheek, his hair damp on his forehead, the clean smell of coal tar soap on his skin.
‘Will you tuck me in and read me a story, please.’ His little round face, nervous. Chubby fingers twiddling his pyjama button. How could she have refused?
And ever since both he and Iris had wrapped her round their fingers. Their lives became hers and she’d thanked the stars, that after losing one baby she’d been gifted two in return.
Eleonora had loved them like her own; they were her own and she’d ploughed her all into them and Rory and their life together. A full life at that. Where her husband had given her the freedom to be who she wanted to be. To believe in and support, to rail against whoever and whatever she chose.
And still, even when she’d been blessed by all that, there’d always been a hole. One that nothing and nobody could ever fill.
Every 22nd December brought with it such bittersweet memories that were embellished by images. For Eleonora, her son still lived in her mind where he grew and laughed and lived, because she simply couldn’t let him go. So she’d survived on what-ifs. Making it up.
Her little boy looked so smart on his first day at school. And when he learned to read he would tap each word while his tongue poked out from the corner of his lips. He’d sat under a Christmas tree and opened his big present, a train set, that’s what he’d have asked for. And he won so many trophies and when he got his first job, bought her a bunch of flowers with his wages. And he was married, happily with lots of children.
It was her secret and had seemed so ridiculous but as she waited patiently in the day lounge, with Iris and Zoë furtively watching her and the clock, Eleonora wondered if it hadn’t been a sign. Had someone been trying to tell her something? Perhaps that night, when Molly had swapped their babies, her inner psyche, a part of her that kept vigil as she verged on death, had witnessed it all and for all those years had been screaming,He’s still alive, don’t give up.
Tutting at her own fanciful notions Eleonora told herself it was nothing of the sort, just love and a deep well of sadness that had conjured up a son to see her through the worst times, and in some ways it had worked. She had performed magic because he really was alive and any minute she would get her wish and see him, hold him, touch him one more time.
All she had to do was breathe, keep that heart ticking for a while longer. She’d waited this long so a few more minutes were a doddle. Even though the hand of the clock seemed to move in slow-motion ever since Zoë had given everyone a brief rundown of events. Following gasps and ‘Well-I-nevers’ her guests had kindly taken the hint. After waving from the door, one hand holding cake wrapped in a serviette, they’d left the family in peace.
When Levi rang to say that they’d told Ernie, Eleonora held her breath as Zoë related the conversation in real time.
‘He’s in a bit of a state, a happy state, and couldn’t wait to get his shoes and coat on. We’re setting off straight away and should be here within the hour, sooner depending on traffic. He can’t wait to see you, and says he’ll be with you soon.’
Zoë had burst into tears the second she put the phone down and then Iris joined in. Eleonora just straightened her back and waited. Like she’d been doing for eighty-three years.
Car headlights on the windows diverted all eyes from the clock that said 8pm, onto Eleonora. He was there.
