The Pearl Locket (15 page)

Ali was amazed, and touched that Jason’s mum had done so much for Betty, without ever revealing who she was. ‘That’s so sad, and so selfless. Your mother must have been a wonderful woman. Look, we found this in a box in the cellar.’ Ali fetched the photo of the three girls in the chequered school frocks and plaits. ‘That’s Betty, that’s my Gran, and that’s Joan. Your grandmother.’

‘Oh my word. That is the first photograph I have ever seen of my grandmother. Oh, how Mum would have loved to have seen this!’ Jason took the photo and gazed at it in awe.

A thought struck Ali. ‘Gran—who’s not at all senile, by the way—said her father had forbidden them to speak of Joan. We guessed there must have been some kind of scandal but Gran didn’t want to talk about it any more the other day. I wonder if this was it—perhaps she was ostracised because she got pregnant?’

‘Who was pregnant?’ Kelly had come downstairs and was standing at the kitchen door, still in her dressing gown.

‘You’ll never guess,’ Ali said, and quickly filled her in on what Jason had said.

Kelly sat down at the table. ‘Wow. Why didn’t Great-gran tell us Joan had a baby? Do you think perhaps she didn’t even know?’

Ali considered. ‘Hard to keep that sort of thing secret, I’d have thought. And even if Joan was sent away to have the baby, Gran said they were close, and so Joan would have told her. I think Gran did know. Something more to ask her about next time we see her, if she’s feeling up to it.’

‘Mum, do you think Jack might have been…’ Kelly glanced over at Ali.

She realised what her daughter was hinting at, and got up to retrieve the other photo they’d found in the cellar—the one of Jack in his uniform. ‘This man was Joan’s sweetheart. It’s possible, I guess, he may have been your grandfather.’

Jason took the photo and studied it. ‘There was no father’s name recorded. It could have been this chap but we’ll never know.’

‘What was your mother’s date of birth?’ Kelly asked.

‘January 1945,’ Jason replied. He was still holding both photos, looking from one to the other.

Kelly counted back on her fingers. ‘April 1944. That fits with when Jack came home on leave.’

Jason stared at her. ‘What do you mean? How do you know the dates?’

‘There were some letters in the box as well,’ Kelly told him. ‘Letters from Jack to Joan. It does all tie in—I think Jack McBride was your grandfather.’

‘My word,’ Jason said, quietly. ‘I thought I’d be astounding you with this news, but you’ve managed to go one better. Do you know what happened to either of them? All I know is that Joan died young. I don’t know when or how.’

‘I knew she must have died young,’ Kelly said. ‘I think Great-gran ought to meet Jason. He’s her… What relation is he to her?’

‘Great-nephew. I’d love to meet her, if you think that would be OK, Ali?’

‘Yes, I think you should meet her eventually, but I’d like us to ask her more about Joan first. I kind of think it’d be better if she told us herself about Joan’s pregnancy before we go springing Joan’s descendents on her.’ That didn’t come out quite as she’d intended. She shrugged and put her hand on Jason’s shoulder. ‘If you see what I mean.’

‘Of course. I’ll leave it up to you to judge when the time is right.’ Jason smiled reassuringly at her. He was definitely a good bloke. Ali felt a rush of pride that he was her cousin. She’d never had any siblings or cousins, and now she had the nicest one ever.

‘Mum, I’m desperate to hear more from Great-gran. Especially now we know about the baby. When can we see her again?’ Kelly was bouncing around like a five-year-old at a birthday party.

‘Well, I’m fetching her here on Friday,’ Ali said. ‘For tea and cake. We’ll have a chat with her then.’

‘Yes!’ Kelly punched the air. ‘At last we’ll find out what happened to them.’

‘It’s Halloween on Friday,’ Jason said.

‘Yes. And Ryan’s asked if he can have a few friends for a sleepover that night as well. We’ll have a full house.’

‘Sounds like fun,’ Jason said. He picked up the two photos again. ‘She’s so pretty. He’s good-looking too, in his way. I wonder if they were very much in love.’

‘Definitely. Head over heels, judging by those letters,’ said Kelly.

‘How old do you think she was, when she had my mum?’

Ali considered. ‘She was about seventeen when she met Jack, Gran said. I suppose eighteen by the time the baby came along. Yes, because Gran said her birthday was January the first. So if your mum’s birthday was also January Joan would have been just eighteen.’

‘So young. I guess that’s why she couldn’t keep the baby, and why her father thought it such a scandal.’

‘They were horrible back then, weren’t they? I mean, if I got pregnant, you wouldn’t chuck me out and refuse to ever speak of me again, would you?’ Kelly took a gulp of coffee and stared at Ali over the rim of the cup.

‘Of course we wouldn’t. Though please don’t. You’re a bit young for all that.’ Ali put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. The idea of a pregnant Kelly was too much to contemplate. They didn’t have enough money to cope with a baby in the family. Besides, at forty-two Ali felt far too young to become a grandmother.

Kelly snorted. ‘I’m hardly likely to. Haven’t even got a boyfriend, have I?’

Ali was about to say something about it being Kelly’s fault she had no boyfriend—her forties obsession having pushed away the lovely Matt—but at the last minute thought better of it and pressed her lips together. She noticed Jason raise his eyebrows at her, but he too said nothing.

‘More coffee?’ Ali said, to break the tension.

‘Not for me. I should go and get on,’ Jason said, as he stood to leave. Then he seemed to change his mind, and turned back to them. ‘I’ve just had a thought. My mum is buried in the cemetery. Would you, I mean, are you at all interested in seeing her grave? I was going to go and put some flowers on it today in any case.’

‘I’d love to,’ Kelly said. ‘I want to find out all I can about Joan and Jack. Even more so now that I know they had a baby. Can we go today?’

‘Why not? I’ll drive us,’ Ali said. ‘You’ll need to get dressed first, though.’

An hour later Kelly got out of her mum’s car and the three of them went through the cemetery gates and threaded their way along the neatly tended paths. It was a blustery autumnal day, sunny but with occasional clouds blocking the sunlight. Crisp brown leaves blew around, settling on graves as though to provide winter warmth for the occupants. Kelly felt a strange excitement at the prospect of seeing Joan’s daughter’s grave. Joan, that strange presence that seemed to be always with her—was it Joan’s influence making her feel excited to see a grave?

‘She’s over here,’ Jason said, clutching a hastily bought bunch of carnations. Kelly followed him, scurrying to catch up. Cemeteries were weird places. To think of all those dead bodies lying under the earth, slowly rotting away. She shivered a little.

‘Are you cold?’ asked Ali.

‘No. Stop fussing, Mum.’ Just a bit spooked by this place, Kelly was going to add, but thought better of it.

Jason’s mother’s headstone was made of Purbeck limestone, a pleasant mid-grey colour. It bore a simple inscription:
Constance Bergmann, beloved mother and wife, you will never be forgotten. 12th January 1945 – 3rd February 2014.
Kelly watched solemnly as Jason laid the flowers gently down on the grave, and bowed his head for a moment’s quiet contemplation. Never forgotten. Yet Great-gran, her aunt, had never mentioned her existence. And she and her mum, Constance’s relatives, hadn’t known she was even born until earlier that morning.

Maybe that’s what Joan’s ghost wanted. To not be forgotten. To be remembered by her relatives. Kelly fingered the pearl locket that as always was around her neck. It felt warm to her touch, despite the chill of the autumn day. Yes, that was what Joan wanted. For her story to be known. Recognition. With Great-gran coming on Friday for tea, then surely she’d be able to find out the end of Joan and Jack’s story? Especially now that they knew the big secret of Joan’s pregnancy. That had to be the scandal Great-gran had alluded to. There couldn’t be anything more, could there?

Chapter Fourteen

April 1944

Joan stood on the platform anxiously awaiting the incoming train. She was scanning the faces of the other waiting people, hoping no one she knew, or rather, no one who knew Father, would arrive. She’d managed to keep Jack’s letters secret—they’d all been delivered via Mrs Atkins, so it had been easy to bring them home smuggled in her coat, and read them in private in her bedroom. Only Mags knew of their correspondence, and had even brought a letter home from the WVS once, when Joan had been sick and unable to go to work.

And now he was coming home! He’d be here on the next train, her Jack, in the flesh again at last! How the weeks had dragged since he’d joined up. He’d written about his training, about his friend Mikey and the other lads in his platoon, about the rations they received, the duties they had to perform. And then he’d written to say he had three days’ leave, before his next posting. Three whole days! Joan would have been excited at the prospect of just one hour in his company. With luck they’d be able to see a lot of each other. She’d managed to have a whispered conversation with Mags about it, who had agreed to cover for her where possible. And the wonderful Mrs Atkins had told her to take as much time off from the playgroup as she needed. Someone else could run it for three days. It was more important for Joan to spend time with her sweetheart, for you never knew what was just around the corner. She’d smiled and hugged Joan, and there’d been the tiniest glint of a tear in her eye as she sent Joan off to the station.

The sound of a train whistle brought her back to the moment. It wasn’t far away now. There was an air of excitement on the platform—women with small children in tow telling them to look for Daddy’s train; middle-aged couples awaiting the return of a son; young girls like her, lipstick in place, best stockings on, waiting for their sweethearts. Finally the train rounded the last corner and pulled into the station with a squeal of brakes and a whoosh of steam—the engine dark and fierce, swathed in steam like a fire-breathing dragon. The olive-green coaches were dusted with soot, and the soldiers were already hanging out of every door, waiting till the train slowed enough for them to jump out. Joan looked up and down the platform, peering at each man who jumped out and ran into a woman’s arms. Whether the woman was wife, mother or girlfriend, the emotion was the same. Fierce hugs and a plethora of kisses bestowed, tears dashed away, and children scooped into loving arms. Where was Jack? Her arms ached, her lips tingled, she longed to be the next one to be kissed. Where was he? Oh, what if he’d missed the train, or his leave had been cancelled? She bit her lip, wondering how she would cope with the disappointment.

‘Penny for them?’

She spun around, and into his arms. ‘Oh, Jack! I thought perhaps you weren’t on the train! I was looking and looking…’

‘I was in the last carriage. Fought my way through these crowds—so many people on the train! God, it’s good to see you, Joanie. I’ve missed you so much.’ He bent down, and covered her face with kisses.

She no longer cared who might be watching and reporting back to Father. It felt so good to be in his arms. ‘I’ve missed you too, Jack. So very much! And now you’re here again. I can hardly believe you’re real!’ To her surprise she found tears were streaming down her face.

‘Sweetheart, don’t cry. I’m here now, and I have three full days. Don’t think about the time we had apart; don’t think about me leaving again. Just think about the here and the now, and let’s make the most of every minute we can be together.’

He kissed away her tears, and she smiled up at him. ‘You’re right. The here and now.’

‘The only place and time we can ever be.’

‘So let’s get going. Let’s get away from all these people.’ He hoisted his kit bag onto his shoulder, took her hand and led her out of the station. She walked proudly by his side—her young, handsome soldier, now fully trained to fight for his country.

Out of the station, it had begun to rain heavily. Joan grimaced as raindrops trickled down her neck. ‘Oh, that’s a shame. I’d hoped we could walk to your aunt’s house. I suppose we’ll have to get the bus now.’

‘She’s not expecting me till later. She’ll be out at work right now. Why don’t we go to the pictures while it’s raining? What time do you need to be home?’

Joan grinned. ‘Not till ten. The parents think I’m at the WVS this evening. Mags and Mrs Atkins will cover for me.’

Jack put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. ‘Thank goodness for Mags and Mrs Atkins, then! Right, off to the cinema. What’s on, do you know? It’s ages since I was able to go.’

‘
Rhythm Serenade
is on at the Odeon. It’s got Vera Lynn in it.’

‘Perfect!’

Joan linked arms with him and they ran from the station to the cinema. Thankfully it wasn’t too far, and the main feature hadn’t started when they arrived. Jack bought two tickets and they crept in while the newsreels played, and chose seats at the back, far away from the other cinemagoers. Joan hadn’t sat at the back before. She and Mags had giggled at the girls who did, and wondered just exactly what they’d got up to with their sweethearts, under the cover of darkness. Well, she hoped she was about to find out. She already knew that Jack was the love of her life. No matter what, she wanted to be with him. Now and always. And whatever he wanted to do with her, she wanted it too.

The film was wonderful. Uplifting and warm, and with Vera Lynn singing some splendid songs. At least that’s the impression Joan left the theatre with, although she couldn’t have said much about the plot. She’d snuggled up against Jack, and spent the entire time breathing in his warmth, relishing the strength of his arm around her shoulders, enjoying the many kisses they shared. One had been particularly deep and lingering, and afterwards Jack had groaned and pulled himself away from her for a moment.

‘It’s all right. I don’t mind, whatever you want…’ Joan had begun.