“And then I met you,” Rob said, turning to face me. “You’re living in that tiny attic apartment, sitting in front of a space heater trying to keep from freezing, and sharing rationed food with your landlady. The very first time I saw you, you told me you were wearing the same skirt you had worn for the last four years, but what did I think about your new red blouse? What I thought was, I’m going to take this girl back to my flat and make love to her all night long. I was falling for you even before we got to Mrs. Dawkins’s house.”
I slid along the bench and sat next to him, taking his hand in mine. I understood why Rob wanted to live in England. The British were still confronted with daily reminders, not only of what had been won, but also what had been lost. Rob wanted people to remember just how much had been sacrificed.
“Maggie, how can I plan a future with you when I seem incapable of putting together a plan for the next year, no less for a lifetime?”
I could see how unhappy he was, but I had to tell him what was on my mind. “You are hurting because you think the world has moved on when so many people are still suffering. But, Rob, people are not designed to be noble. Our basic instincts are to survive, and part of surviving is standing up, dusting yourself off, and getting on with it. Although I can’t stand in your shoes, I understand what you are feeling. I’ve visited seriously wounded friends at Walter Reed Hospital, and I’ve been to too many funerals of friends and relatives.” Taking a deep breath, I continued, “I love you. But if you are expecting me to wait until all of the hurt has passed, I can’t do that, and I won’t let you shut me out.” Because he was staring at his hands, I couldn’t gauge the effect my words were having on him. “What I’m trying to say is, we are in this together or we’re not. Either we start a life together, or we say good-bye. That’s not a threat. It’s just the way it has to be.”
I asked him to walk me to the Underground but not to see me home. I told him I loved him and kissed him good-bye, and then I went down into the station alone.
Chapter 25
The next day after work, Mrs. Dawkins knocked on my door, and I was certain she was going to tell me that fights between lovers were not allowed in her house. Instead, she asked if she could have a word with me. “You and your fellow have had a bit of a dust-up, haven’t you?”
“It’s not a dust-up, Mrs. Dawkins. It’s a breakup. It didn’t work out.” I was really depressed, and I didn’t want to have this conversation.
“Rob’s a good man,” she told me. “You don’t let the good ones get away. There aren’t enough of them around.”
Because I saw so little of Mr. Dawkins, I couldn’t even guess what their marriage was like. I did know that she ate dinner with him every weekday night at 11:00 when he came home from his shift, and because of his hearing loss, she always kept a notepad in her apron pocket to write things down so she wouldn’t have to shout at him. Sitting down on the bed, she said, “I’d like to tell you something if you’re of a mind to hear it.” This was a side of Mrs. Dawkins I hadn’t seen, and I couldn’t imagine not listening to her.
“Even though my dad had a good job, my mother always rented out this room, your room, for what she called pin money. In 1934, Mr. Dawkins moved in. His wife had died, and he didn’t want to live alone. His hearing’s quite bad because he was an artilleryman in the First War. He can’t tell how loud he’s talking, so we always kept paper in the kitchen for us to write each other notes. After he’d been here about a year, he writes me a note, which I’m thinking is how he wants his eggs cooked. But on it says, ‘Will you marry me?’” Snapping her fingers, she said, “Just like that. I didn’t even know he was interested in me.
“Now, deaf as he is, Mr. Dawkins is not a bad-looking man. He had a decent job, didn’t drink, went to church every Sunday, and paid his rent on time. But, I’m thinking, he’s twelve years older than me. I was twenty-seven at the time, a very plain girl to be sure, but I hadn’t given up all hope of falling in love. But I said ‘yes’ anyway. Do you know why?” I shook my head. “Because he’s a good man, and that’s a rare bird for sure. I’ve never had any regrets, and you’ve seen how the children run to him when he comes downstairs. I can’t give Rob a higher compliment than saying, ‘He’s a good man,’ and you are a kind, sweet girl, and you deserve him. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Don’t give up on him.”
Mrs. Dawkins was not given to displays of emotion, but when she kissed me on the top of my head, it opened a floodgate. She didn’t say another word but continued to hand me one Kleenex after another until I could finally stop crying. After that, I went to the nearest pay phone and called Beth. I told her what had happened with Rob, and she asked, “Do you want to come here, or shall I come to London?” I told her that I would prefer to get out of the city.
Beth met me at the Stepton station in her Aston Martin convertible with the top down. Handing me a headscarf, she told me to climb in. “When my father was dying from throat cancer — the cigars got him in the end — he said he was leaving me this car and asked that when I drove it to think of him, and I do every time.” Without any detours, we quickly reached the house, and Beth said, “We are quite alone. Jack has gone to Sheffield with Freddie to pick up some hardware for Montclair. So it’s just we girls.”
Beth had lunch already prepared, and I set the tray down on the coffee table in the living room where we ate bread and butter sandwiches and drank tea. I told Beth what had happened, and afterwards, I had a good cry, not just about Rob, but about being so far from home. I was missing my mother so much that I was ready to book passage to New York as soon as the ship’s office opened on Monday.
After listening without interruption, Beth sat quietly for a long while. Finally, it seemed that she had come to a decision, and then she said, “I’m not one to air my personal history unless it will serve some purpose. But Jack had problems, which I compounded, and I don’t want Rob and you to fall into the same trap. So if you will allow me, I would like to share some things that may be of help in your understanding Rob.
“When Jack came home from France, he enrolled in a postgraduate program in engineering at Manchester, and he would come home to Montclair on weekends. He was never comfortable living above stairs, and I didn’t blame him. It was a damned depressing place in those years right after the war. With Trevor, Matthew, and Tom gone, and Reed in and out of hospitals, a pall fell over the house.
“There was some joy in our lives. James was born in 1920, and Michael arrived in 1922. So we had two young children scampering around the house, but Tom’s death was an open wound for Jack. He found it impossible to heal with my mother reminding everyone of what the war had cost her personally.”
Beth looked at the clock and said, “It’s gone noon, so I’m going to have a Royal Blackla.” She poured a whiskey for herself and asked if I would like one. Even though I didn’t like the taste of the stuff, I nodded, and Beth made a whiskey and soda for me. “I don’t drink all that often, but when I do, I take my whiskey neat.”
Returning to the sofa and pulling her legs up under her, Beth continued. “Next thing I know, Jack tells me that he has been offered a job building railway bridges in India. I agreed to go, thinking the job would last for two or three years. Jack worked for the railway company for ten years.
“In ’34, he contracted malaria, and we returned to England for about fifteen months. It was a very good time for Jack and me, and the boys were so glad to be with their father. But by the time he was ready to go back to work, there was little work to be found because of the Depression. That’s how we ended up in Argentina. A large percentage of the country’s railways were controlled by British firms, and they wanted to protect their investments. Because Argentina had also been hit hard economically, the job involved mostly supervising maintenance work.