A Longer War 74

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CHAPTER 74
I left the church feeling far more optimistic than before my entry. Ruth (“My dad was the Reverend, Gerald”) was far from the stuffy man I remembered from our old family church, seeming more like the Padre we had fought next to over the Channel. She had depths to her that seemed to show that history of some complicated sort lay behind her smile, and more than that she made me feel good about and happy within myself.

I made a promise to that self, that I would spend more time with her, perhaps see her at work, sing the old songs, say the prayers that were bringing clear sight back to me. I actually found myself singing when I drove back to the boatyard.

“Someone’s happy!”

“Aye, Doreen. Got some news for lass—she about?”

“Aye, down at shop, looking at some more of that tat she gets in”

“Tat that makes us a good living, love. Don’t knock it”

She grinned. “Wasn’t going to, Mr Barker! She’s turned this old place upside down, but that’s no complaint. Her and the bus man both. Now, I’ve had call from Legion while you were out. That telly thing”

“Aye?”

“Well, lads say they want to make it a proper night when it comes on. Almost like being at pictures, big screen and all. Just better food. Doing it as a fund raiser for Club”

“And?”

“Well, guest of honour, you, that is. Not me. You and that Ernie fellow. Oh, and lad says as could you see if Officers would be free”

I felt a little spike of anxiety just then, for it would obviously mean meeting Matthew again so soon after our embarrassment over the phone.

“I’ll let them know, Doreen. Now: owt else to sort?”

“Not really. The lass has cleared the decks right well. Just got one thing, that new cruiser we’ve had on order. They can drop it by next week”

“And?”

“And young Darren’s already got it in hand. Cradle’s cleared, berth’s set aside, and he’s set two of the lads to get the insides fettled”

I shook my head, smiling.

“You feeling a bit like a spare part yourself, Mr Barker? I’ll put kettle on. Still stuff from accountants to sign. You’re not out to grass yet, you’ll have some time to relax when you retire”

“Ah, how could I ever leave you lot? Like second home here”

I settled down to pick through the letters the girl had left for me, and ten minutes later she was back in with a bundle of cloth and Darren in her slipstream, for it did feel as if she was moving like some high-speed train.

“Gerald! What do you think?”

Darren was chuckling. “Place gets more and more hers every day, if you take my point, Mr Barker”

“Doreen says new boat’s due, and you’ve sorted fettling”

“Aye. Get it in cradle first; don’t trust dry gaskets and that. Give undersides a good look-at. Then she goes in at number six; the one there now’s due off to do Ring tomorrow. That’s what Susie’s at”

“Aye?”

She held out the cloth bundle. “What do you thin

It was a number of towels, pillow cases and wash cloths, all with an arty and stylised picture of a narrowboat and the words “Dobson and Barker” in copperplate lettering. Susie was in familiar mode just then, that defiant expression on her face along with the stance that shouted simultaneously ‘Don’t hit me…’ along with ‘Go ahead and try!’

“And? Problem?”

“No, just wondering what brought it on”

“Marketing, that’s what”

“But they’ll just---“

“Just what, Gerald? Nick linen? We take deposit off them, we already do, and we just take cost back if there’s owt missing. So if they take summat, they’ve already paid for it, and it sits at their home as a reminder. Ey up, our Freda, remember’t great holiday we had on’t boat? And then they come back, or their mates see a towel, and ask, and word goes round. We get another booking”

The lad was laughing out loud now. “Mr Barker, remember how she were when she first came? Proper out of shell now!”

I smiled back. “Aye, I remember. Now then, got a minute, my girl?”

Her face fell, and all at once I saw how fragile she really was, how the fear never actually left her.

“No, good news, Susie. Can you two give us a minute?”

They popped out for whatever reason they could find, and I sat her down.

“I were talking with Andy, lass. About venue”

“Venue?”

"Oh for… Church, love. I went and had a look at the places he suggested and I’ve got an offer from the vicar at St Mary’s”

“What? Up at Taddy? That place is gorgeous! You’re serious?”

“Absolutely. Vicar says they’ll keep dates free for you”

“How much?”

“No idea, and not important”

“No. Speak to Mam. You don’t pay for all of that stuff. It’s my day, mine and Andy’s. Family”

I took a deep breath, fighting back the need to confess all in a great purge.

“So I’m not family, then? I know you’ve got your Mam, but, well, you know how I feel about you”

She looked straight at me for nearly a minute, wordless.

“How do you feel, Gerald?”

“I… I had a daughter, Susie. A daughter I lost, with the woman I loved, and still do. I know I’m old, I know the hair’s gone, all the rest of it, but I never stopped being a man”

I took a couple of slow breaths. “I never stopped being that young man in love, aye, in love with his beautiful wife, finest woman I have ever known, aye? And it were all gone, all lost, and then there you are, and name, aye? Name calls to me, and I never had chance to see my flesh and blood grow, and fall in love, never got to see her down aisle, hand her over to decent lad to see her own family grow, and here I am with you, and aye, I know you’ll say it, you’re not my daughter and…

“And I know that, but as far as I am concerned you are just that, and if you will allow me, I will see you wed, as any Dad would, and I will walk you down the aisle, and I think… I really think you’ve got a decent lad there. How was it you put it? Got a problem?”

She did, and it was tears, and a rush to the toilets for a couple of minutes before she came back in just as much a hurry to throw her arms around me and sob into my shoulder. It took a while before she could speak properly, but she was clear when she did, and it was right and proper.

“We call Mam, now, Gerald”

The phone rang six times before Valerie answered, and Susie seemed barely able to gabble out the news before stopping to listen, occasionally making grunts and uh-uhs before handing me the little device with a slightly puzzled look.

“Wants a word with you, Gerald”

“Aye?”

Valerie’s voice was surprisingly clear for such a small speaker.

“You’ve been busy, Gerald”

“Er, aye. Something needs sorting, best sorted soon as possible”

“Not what I meant, and you know it. Why now? Look…”

She took a long, slow breath, letting it out in a sigh.

“I will talk for both of us so she can’t hear. I didn’t think I could ever do this, but someone knocked my head against wall, slapped sense into me about my child, and that were you. I could never see her for myself. I couldn’t lose sight of my son, like, and then you shoved her right in my face and, well… It were that lad an’ all, that Andy. He can see her, and the more I see them together, the realer she is, and the more sense she makes. Are you with me, Gerald?”

“Aye, I am”

“He’s a good lad, that Andy, and we talk”

“Oh”

“Aye. ‘Oh’ is bloody well right, and he told me about his cousin. Now, there’s an odd thing there, cause she’d been seeing all those letters that were going out about you, all that stuff about booking scans, and then, all of a sudden, nowt. Not a sausage. Not an appointment, not a note on calendar, but there you are, still seeing doc”

Her next breath was strangled, but she got the words out.

“How long have they given you, love?”

That word of Bob’s again. “Er, vicar says she’s got dates through summer she can give us”

A sob, but she had strength, as much in her as in Matthew, I realised, and she brought it to bear.

“So not that long, then. And you’d see her wed before you go”

“Aye, That’s right”

“Gerald… Gerald, my love, there is no fucking justice in this world. Sorry, shouldn’t use language. You are a wonderful man, Mister Barker. We’ll talk. Got to go”

She hung up, and I passed the telephone back to her daughter.

“Right, lass, we need to sort out this Legion thing. Get hold of Rodney, dinner at Club to watch the telly show. You and Andy up for that?”

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Comments

Length of the Journey

I have witnessed most of what this story has followed & understand that the journey must come to an end At times I've had a difficult read following the Yorkshire dialog (Not too many people in Ontario, Canada speak "Yorkshire") ;but the effort was worth it to feel again the emotions of the years. Thank you for a splendid effort to remind us what life is all about. Brian 77

Thank you

This has had to be an emotional tale, and I have tried to avoid too much hackneyed Yorkshire speech. That tends to drift into the realms of the mickey-taking in't story, appen as like, reet gradely wi'oot mithering, ah'll go to't foot o't'stairs---etc. In my view, that just looks silly. I do something similar with Jimmy Kerr and Geordie, but to a large extent that is for comedy purposes, and allows me to write lines like "Pardon? I'm from London, we hear funny"

So the Yorkshire aspect I tried to depict as simply as possible, by leaving out the definite articles a lot, which I think (hope) gives the speech that rhythm that makes Yorkshire conversation distinctive without tumbling into cliché. Interestingly, I have had a number of discussions over the years with people who complain about 'jargon' when something is depicted that is in any way different to their own rather circumscribed world. I am expected to immediately grasp such terms as fifth grade, sophomore, senior, etc, while they struggle with such exotic turns of phrase as 'horses for courses'. GIYF!

As for the story, I feel very deeply for Gerald as a character. As is my wont, I was writing two stories at once, but both Elaine and Gerald are so fully alive in my head that for once I found it too difficult to settle into both voices at once. I will finish Sisters after Gerald's story concludes

Made a big mistake this morning......

D. Eden's picture

And read this while I was on the phone with one of my sons - broke down in the middle of the call. Try explaining that one, lol.

This has been, and continues to be one of the stories that I look forward to the most. The amount of emotion you are able to stir within me, the reader, is a true tribute to your talent.

D

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

Val's Not Dumb

joannebarbarella's picture

So much for patient confidentiality. An absence of information can be just as big pointer as an excess. She put two and two together and came up with the sixty-four dollar answer.

I did not shed quite so many tears over this episode, mainly due to Gerald's positive attitude and his desire to make things right for those whom he loves. I sense maybe three more episodes before the inevitable conclusion but I could easily be wrong. I will sorely miss him but I can always reread this story as many times as I need to. Susie is of course one of the other characters I love here and also Gerald's comrades in arms both past and present.

While I am an admirer of all your stories this is the one which has wrung the most emotion from my heart.

Thank you so much ,

' and Joanne has said it all for me ,just wonderful .

<em></em>

Timely

Podracer's picture

The bottom of the page arrived just in time as I was going to close the screen window for a minute or two. Not necessarily at the dark situation for Gerald, but at Val's reaction and love.
The dialect rhythm reads only slightly strange to me (Yorkshire born and bred, Dad was from West Riding) as the missed articles are usually expressed as a sharp pause in the breath, almost a grunt; " 'E's in / back yard". So often written as a "t' " but no "tuh" sounded unless for theatrics.
So Ginge has decided to make an end, gather some rosebuds as it were, and give some out too. Good for him. Cheers Steph, never needed to find the tissues while commenting before..

"Reach for the sun."

I should mention

...that Podracer and myself have met, so we both know exactly how we speak, as well as our tastes in beer. In Yorkshire, no less, where they were serving an ale called "Viking DNA". I do love independent breweries.

I am glad the dialect reads only slightly wrong, but I did want to get a flavour of the different way that Tykes speak without the silliness of the usual text for Ilkley Moor. It's rather like the explanation I gave years ago for 'aye' in my Welsh people, that rising grunt/eh that ends so many sentences. It's a rather more traditional version of 'lahk' or 'innit'.

I keep saying it, but Gerald is and will remain one of my favourite creations. I said, once again years ago, that I can't write twisty plots, and so I do my best to write people. I met a Gerald when I pulled him out of the Ouse in the late 70's, but that wasn't the man I write. He's real to me and unlike John/Laura Evans, he hasn't been a chore to write. You all know how this ends, but for once the old adage about the journey, not the destination, is, I hope, true. The hardest thing for me as an author is always 'disposing' of characters who simply have to go for the sake of the story. It's one of the reasons I started 'Sisters', so that Jo and Becky could get a few more moments of life. I really wish I could have saved Bob Wainwright, but for that same story he had to go.

I am not putting myself forward as a fantastic writer. I am, no false modesty, reasonably good at what I do, which is something that has surprised me. I started StD as a way of coping with a great deal of unpleasantness following my transition, and didn't foresee how hard the bug would bite. Those of you who have met me know how difficult my journey has been, but I am here, I am able to smile, and the people around me (and the law) see me as I should have been assigned at birth.

That is partly why I started this story. All my other work has been navel-gazing, obsessed with transition, with trans women. Here, Susie remains almost a minor character. I have almost gone mainstream!

Thank you all for your kindness. I know what my last words are in this tale, and I promise to give Gerald grace in his leave taking.

Grace

Emma Anne Tate's picture

Yes, he deserves that. “A man of suffering, and acquainted with grief,” he has nonetheless lived a life of grace and charity.

Emma