The Children's Book - A. S. Byatt [354]
“We have received,” Katharina said, “a letter. It tells us our son Charles is missing. It tells us we must think he is dead.” Elsie took a sip of water. She was rigid.
“We had a letter,” Katharina said, “from him. For—for this time. He asked us—to look for you.”
“It’s true,” Elsie said, in a thin, expressionless voice. “What he told you. We were married before he went out. The vicar could show you the register. You needn’t worry yourselves. I don’t want anything. I’ll not bother you.”
Katharina said “What he said. She is very independent. Taking care of her is hard, as I have found, myself.”
“That’s him,” said Elsie. One tear rolled down her cheek. She said “I lived here with Mrs. Oakeshott and Robin and Ann. Robin was killed in France. Like Mrs. Wellwood’s Robin. So Mrs. Oakeshott went to work in a hospital in Hove, when they closed the school. The military want to have this cottage—for their staff—but I need to stay here and mind Ann. Philip’s in Flanders—my brother. Charles came back once, on leave, some time after Robin was killed, and left us some money. I need to find work. Ann is almost a young woman. She’ll have to find work, too.”
“Ann?” said Katharina.
“Oh no. Don’t think that. Ann’s sixteen. Ann’s not—not your granddaughter.”
“So you were married before?” said Basil Wellwood.
“No. No I wasn’t. Ann was—a mistake. He didn’t tell you about Ann.”
“No. He didn’t.”
“Ann were the bridesmaid when we got married. He’s very fond of Ann. Was very fond of Ann.”
They sat there, and sipped water, in a fog of suspicion.
“It’s all right,” said Elsie. “You don’t have to bother about me and Ann.”
Katharina Wellwood surprised herself. “It isn’t only you and Ann. Is it?”
“I don’t know how you can see. It doesn’t hardly show.” Katharina said “It’s the way you hold your hands, on—You have no right to keep our grandchild from us.” Another tear rolled down Elsie’s face.
“You can’t take it from me. It’s all I got of him. You can’t do it.”
“Can’t do what?” said Basil, slower than his wife.
“Can’t take it and bring it up to be a snobby lady or a posh gentleman. Oh, please go away, I don’t know what to do.”
“You are very unjust,” said Katharina Wellwood, “to think so badly of us. Charles/Karl—asked us to look after you, which is what we want to do. It is not good for expecting mothers to work in armaments factories, and we—I was going to say, we cannot allow you to, but you must understand I know you are a free agent.
“What I want—more than anything—is to take you—and of course Ann—back to our house in the country. To make you comfortable. Karl said—wait—I will read it to you—‘She is a student teacher and I would have hoped, if I had lived, that she could study more widely and deeply.’ ”
Elsie began to cry in good earnest. Katharina said
“You know—Elsie, if I may call you Elsie—we are his parents. He is—he was—our son. Not so unlike each other. Please come with us.”
“You don’t understand. Your friends will despise me and laugh at you. I’m not in your class and shan’t ever be, no matter how you dress me up.”
“I have lost most of my friends because they despise me and sneer at me because I am a German. We can survive that. It is superficial and horrible. You are the woman my son married.”
Basil made a croaking sort of sound. He said “She’s right—um—Elsie—she’s right. It will make us very happy if you come with us. And we shall be—hurt, yes, hurt, if you won’t come.”
“It isn’t right.”
“Stop arguing,” said Basil. He liked her for arguing.
Ann came in, thin, little, leggy, with a face like a will o’ the wisp. She looked as though you could blow her away, or snap her like a twig. She smiled uncertainly.
“These are his—Charles/Karl’s—mum and dad. They’ve invited us to their house.”
Ann nodded seriously.
Katharina said “We can try, Elsie. And if you are unhappy, we will think of something else.