Child on the Doorstep. Anne Bennett

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      ‘Oh so do I, Daniel,’ Angela said earnestly. ‘I had never heard your father’s voice till that Christmas Day, because after your mother died, when I was too much of a child to notice such things, he never sang again. That day he began with “O Little Town of Bethlehem”, which he said was her favourite carol.’

      ‘I used to like singing too,’ Daniel admitted. ‘My mother used to hate to hear me singing so I never sang at home.’

      ‘Why did she object?’

      ‘I never could understand it,’ Daniel said. ‘I must have had some promise because the priest wanted me to be in the church choir and the music master at my grammar school choir, but my mother vetoed it both times. She said that she sent me to school to study not sing, and my father took me to one side and said it wasn’t a very manly pursuit and I wasn’t to keep on about it and risk upsetting my mother. But now I know the truth about my parents I think my mother didn’t want me singing because it would have reminded her of how well they could sing and that I took after them. It would all be a reminder that she was keeping the truth from me – that they were hoodwinking me.’

      ‘You could be right,’ Angela said. ‘Is that how you see it now, as them hoodwinking you?’

      ‘Wouldn’t you feel that way?’ Daniel said. ‘You were told all about your parents and your siblings. Though you lived with Mrs McClusky and her family, you knew who your real family had been. If your father had lived I’m sure you would know him – even if he couldn’t look after you full time I’m sure he would have been a presence in your life.’

      ‘You are right, Daniel,’ Mary said. ‘I often felt bad that Angela had neither parents nor even one of her siblings to survive. We took her into our hearts and loved her as much as we were able and I hope she never felt that lack, but I always felt that pang of regret on her behalf.’

      ‘I never felt it, Mammy,’ Angela said. ‘You loved me totally and completely and I loved you in return. That’s all a child needs.’

      ‘Maybe it is,’ Daniel said. ‘But it must be a healthy love.’

      ‘What d’you mean, healthy love?’

      ’My mother wanted to share me with no one,’ Daniel said. ‘Not even Roger very often, for she wanted me to love her intensely and only her.’

      ‘What of Roger?’ Angela asked. ‘Did he love you too?’

      ‘Yes, I think he did,’ Daniel said after a short pause. ‘He had trouble showing it, but many boys at school had distant fathers so that wasn’t unusual. I never remember him putting his arms around me or holding me in his arms, even as a small child. The nearest he got to touching me was to give me a handshake. I was nervous of him when I was young because I thought I didn’t come up to scratch as the son he wanted. I see why now – because I wasn’t his son. At the time though, I was always trying to please him and failing.’

      Despite all the advantages Daniel must have had growing up with the Swanages, Angela saw an unhappy, lonely boy. He had a mother who loved him so much she wanted to share him with no one, and Roger, who was probably aggrieved by his wife’s preoccupation with the child and resented him. How much good it would have done the young, confused child if he had met up with his father who would have taken joy in his company. She thought of Stan and the sacrifice he had made to give his son a good and happy life, better than the one he thought he could give Daniel himself. Angela could see now it was wrong, but there was no point in this. Daniel’s life had not been the bed of roses Stan had thought it would be, but she had to concede many had it far worse; in her mind’s eye she saw the basket left on the workhouse steps.

      She was glad to see Connie come in to lighten the atmosphere a little. And with her she had Maggie and Michael who she had met on the road coming home from school. It was hard to keep someone’s appearance secret in the teeming, thin-walled, back-to-back houses, even you wanted to, so there had been great curiosity about Daniel, not least because his clothes were not the kind worn by most people in the area, even to Mass. He looked like some sort of official and, in the neighbours’ opinion, officials arriving at a person’s door usually meant trouble for those inside. Angela and Connie lost no time in telling their neighbours who Daniel was, for Angela agreed with her mother that there had been too much secrecy surrounding Daniel’s whereabouts for too long.

      The news spread like wildfire and those who remembered his birth, which had caused the death of his mother, and him being spirited away by the mother’s sister, told the newer neighbours the tale. And most looked at the fine young man they had seen striding down Bell Barn Road going to or from the McCluskys’ and thought it a shame that his true father’s body must have been another left in a foreign field, because he hadn’t returned from the war.

      Michael was one of those who knew a lot of it. Living in the same road and being three years older than Angela anyway, he remembered the time better than she did. He said he’d like to see Daniel and maybe give an account of his father’s bravery in the army.

      ‘It might help,’ said Maggie. ‘It certainly helped Angela, knowing you were there at Barry’s last moments.’

      And so when Maggie, returning from shopping on Bristol Street that afternoon, saw Daniel at the McCluskys’ door, she told Michael and the two decided to go down and say hello. Angela was delighted to see them and Daniel did appreciate Michael telling him what he knew of his father, the soldier, and that he must have done something special to earn his sergeant stripes.

      ‘And the other chaps said he was an understanding sort of man. Sergeant stripes or not, he wasn’t always bawling at the soldiers under his command. As in civvy street, he was known as a kind and understanding boss. He was just naturally considerate.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Daniel said. ‘I find it really helpful that my father was well thought of.’

      ‘Daniel, one reason your father went to war was because of you,’ Angela said. ‘He told me he wanted you to be proud of him.’

      Daniel nodded. ‘He put that in the letter,’ he said. ‘And I am immensely proud of him and the more I hear the more that pride deepens. I wish he hadn’t died and yet, if he hadn’t, I’d probably not be here, for I don’t know how long my uncle and aunt intended to go on with the farce of not only bringing me up as their own natural son, but denying my father’s existence.’

      Michael looked a bit confused. He knew nothing about the aunt’s ban on any contact between Daniel and his father, so they told him the tale, including Betty’s ultimatum that, if Stan didn’t agree to relinquish all rights to Daniel, she would refuse to look after him.

      ‘He was too anxious not to agree,’ Angela said. ‘He had to work and would have had to find some sort of care for Daniel that he knew wouldn’t be half as good as that Betty and Roger could provide.’

      ‘I wish he had survived,’ Daniel said wistfully and then asked Michael, ‘Did you see how my father died?’

      Michael shook his head. ‘Sorry, I was out of it myself for some time after the shell that killed Barry exploded. We were all having a fag – Barry, another two mates and me. We knew we were destined for the front trench the following day – that’s the one that leads the attack,’ he explained to Daniel. ‘If they hadn’t managed to silence at least some of the guns and pick off any snipers beforehand, those going over the top first would soon be well aware of it. That’s what happened at the Somme. Well, it was a bit nerve-wracking, however many times we’d done it, and we were working СКАЧАТЬ