LITMIR.BIZ

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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 out some tactics. One of the chaps had got hold of a crude map and we were working out areas of cover to advance in. Barry suddenly gave a wave and said to us to hang on a minute, he’d seen someone he knew. I had my back to whoever it was and I did turn, but with the mist of the day and the billowing smoke from the guns it was hard to see who it was. Then one of the other chaps pointed out a clump of bushes on the map. It was hard to see how big it was from the rough map, but if we managed to get out of the trench without injury and slither under the wire, we decided to make for there and decide on our next move.

      ‘I was concentrating on what my mate said and all around us was noise. And there was the stink of cordite in the air and I didn’t see or hear the shell till it was too late. I heard Barry give a frantic yell and only seconds later there was a massive explosion and I was knocked clean out.

      ‘Days afterwards I came to to find I was minus a leg and my other two mates had copped it. People say Barry launched himself at this chap. No one seemed to know who it was, but I would imagine there was a state of confusion because I was told a barrage of shells followed that first one. One chap said that though it was obvious Barry was dead, the one he tried to save didn’t look in great shape either so he might have died too. That was the war over for me.’

      Angela, thinking of the pictures of the Somme she’d seen, could well imagine the scenario, with whining shells exploding all around the frightened soldiers as they desperately searched for cover to save themselves to fight another day. Daniel would probably have no idea of what battlegrounds were like – neither had she before the photographs from the Somme – but he turned to them all and said:

      ‘I feel I’ve got to thank you all. I came here with some shadowy idea of a father who didn’t care for me at all, a man who would leave me money when he was dead,

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