You’re not a bad man, Robert, but neither are you the only one to have had the most terrible war, seeing things no man should see, hearing things no man should hear and then back in Blighty, expected to put it all behind you, to buckle up and carry on, having to live a smiling, normal life as if horror does not lurk behind your eyelids as you sleep.
Lilly paused as the breath caught in her throat, winded by the words, so raw and open. She looked out of the window, seeking the comfort of blue sky and breathing slowly as her heart lurched for all her lovely dad had quietly endured. All her mum had quietly endured; it occurred to her then that her mother might have hinted at such things years back, at her dad’s funeral, but Lilly had been too distracted to give it proper credence, thinking her mum was speaking of her irritation, as if trying to justify her leaving, but to see the words written down in the cold light of day ... How she wished they had opened up to her, both of them.
She read on, one hand clamped over her mouth.
Your nightmares, insomnia and the fortress you have built around your emotions have kept me locked out. I’ve never felt such loneliness, such despair, to see the man I love suffer and yet not let me in, not let me get close to you.
I know it’s different with Lilly-Bob. I can see how at ease you are with her and it’s beautiful. But I’m withering, Robert. I’m growing smaller and quieter and sometimes I fear I may look in the mirror and find I’ve disappeared altogether.
I have taken nothing. It’s important that Lilly’s home is intact, important she has the stability of a life with you. But I don’t know where I fit into that little life, and I want more. No, I need more, for my sanity, for my health. And I think I deserve more, and one day, I hope for happiness. I am not sure true happiness is possible without seeing Lilly-Bob every day. She is my heart, my whole heart, and the pain I feel at not seeing her is indescribable. I can be sick just thinking about it. I love her. I love her so, so much.
But I know to take her might finish you off altogether. I understand that bond you share. She adores you and I couldn’t do it to either of you, knowing neither of you would ever forgive me. This feels simpler, although there’s nothing simple about it.
But I must insist that I have access, I must see her often – anything less would killMe, finish me off! I must see her, Robert. She can have a room here, spend some time withme, talk to me. I need that – she is my daughter, my only child, and she will need that too.
I hope in time you will understand, nearly as much as I hope you find a way to stop whistling, to stop hiding behind a smile and a tune, because you deserve more too.
with love, Robert,
sincerely with love,
Jeannie.
Lilly felt her body slump against the wall, as if winded; the words had punched her squarely in the stomach.
‘I did need that! To spend time with you, to talk to you, I did need that, Mum!’
Instantly her mind fled to that first visit to the flat her mum had shared with Derek Manners on the Tottenham Court Road, could see her mum crying while smiling behind her tears.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘What would you like, love?’
‘Err ... to go back to my dad?’
‘I’m sorry, Mum!’ she wailed now into the ether. ‘I am so sorry!’
She’d had no idea that her mum wanted to see her! No idea that the thought of not seeing her was something Jeannie feared might kill her! Lilly felt the tightly packed shame of rejection leach from her bones, felt the fractures of abandonment start to knit back together at no more than the fact that her mother had wanted her – she hadwantedher!
Quickly she opened the next letter, handling the paper with less reverence than the first, devouring the words, wanting to better her understanding, desperate to know more, no matter how much it hurt.
Dear Robert . . .
... you are right. You are right. It wasn’t what I hoped it would be. She didn’t want to be here. But don’t think I will give up, I won’t! There are times in your life when you instinctively know that something has run its course and it’s time to walk away, because that is the best thing to do for a million reasons, it’s how we progress, but that will never be the case with Lilly-Bob. Never! I will keep trying ...
‘She loved me.’ The words were whispered from a mouth that trembled. ‘She loved me!’
Her whole body folded at the most longed-for sentiment so simply expressed by her mum. It was a lot to process, but certainly it threw light on the desperate loneliness Jeannie must have felt and the sacrifice she had made for her husband. Lilly knew her mum’s assumption was correct, to have taken Lilly might just have finished him off. The reasons why her dad had kept them apart, hadn’t encouraged her to see her mum or shared with her just how Jeannie felt about leaving Lilly behind, was something she would have to try and pick apart, unsure in this moment if his motivation was protection or revenge. She would never know for sure,couldnever know for sure. And did it really matter why? It hurt just the same.
PTSD, that was the trauma response her dad had done his best to hide from her, a trauma that had caused his marriage to implode. It was like solving a puzzle, as small fragments of memory dropped into place to help form a complete picture.
‘Robert ... Robert! ...Robert!’ Her mum banging a saucepan with a spoon to get his attention, after calling and calling and calling, and him practically jumping in the chair as if he had been miles and miles away ... His bad dreams thatcaused him to shout out in the night and the lingering tension on the days that followed ... His constant need to whistle or play music, as if afraid to be left alone with his thoughts, and a million other small indicators that now, in light of her realisation, made so much sense.
‘What a bloody mess!’ She rubbed her hand over her face.
Flicking through the other letters revealed much of the same. Her mum making pleas for Robert to get help, and then a line that caused her to put the paper close to her face so that she could read and re-read it.
She only told you sheThoughtshe was being watched while she was painting, not that she actually saw me. I promise I’m very discreet. I stand between the flats opposite, in the shadow. There’s an alleyway. No one knows I’m there. The last thing I want to do is alarm her, but please, please, I am begging you, do not stop me from coming to watch her. The idea of not seeing her ... I can’t do it! I won’t!
