The Roots of the Tree Page 2

  One by one the family members tossed a single rose on top of the coffin and it was time to go.

  Annie had insisted on a traditional wake at the house. ‘It’s what he would have wanted,’ she said. ‘He was always the life and soul of any party and he would be really cross if we didn’t give him a good send-off.’

  The rest of the village would appear to agree. It seemed to Suzie as if the entire population of Lower Chaddington had been crammed inside the church and had opted to return to the house, spilling out onto the terrace and into the garden.

  The caterers had done a great job with large platters of sandwiches, smoked salmon rolls and quiches, and Suzie and Marie ensured glasses were kept well topped up while Annie circulated and thanked family and friends for coming. Suzie watched her mother and sister capably looking after their guests. Annie looked composed and elegant in a simple black suit with a dark-purple, silk blouse underneath. Her neat, fair hair was cut short these days in a sort of bob and any hint of grey was carefully tended to at the local hairdresser’s at a regular, monthly appointment. Only someone who knew her really well would notice that her smile wasn’t as spontaneous as usual, as though it was requiring an effort to keep it there rather than a natural reflex. In contrast, Marie appeared quite relaxed and happy. Suzie envied her ability to take most things in life in her stride, with a ‘what will be, will be’ attitude. She didn’t dwell on what had happened or what might have been. She didn’t believe in wasting valuable time with regrets. To Marie, life was about the future, not the past. She looked immaculate as always, in a black dress, very high heels and a close-fitting, black jacket with a dark-green trim. Her long blonde hair was tied back with a matching dark-green ribbon. In contrast, Suzie felt dull and drab in her hastily thrown-on outfit of black trousers and long-sleeved T-shirt-style top with a wide leather belt. Her chestnut-brown hair badly needed the attention of a hairdresser but between looking after her family and working she never seemed to find the time – or maybe it just wasn’t top of her priorities, she thought, as, emptying the last of the bottle of white wine she was carrying into the vicar’s empty glass, she returned to the kitchen to collect a replacement. Closing the door of the refrigerator, Suzie turned and bumped straight into her father.

  Jack Yates was tall and trim with wiry dark hair just slightly flecked with grey. He looked ill at ease in the dark suit that had replaced his usual denim jeans and casual work shirt as a mark of respect to the man who had been his father-inlaw. Jack and Annie had separated several years before, recognising that somehow, over the years, they had grown apart. They no longer had shared interests or shared visions and after Suzie and Marie left home, this drifting apart became acutely apparent as their lives appeared resolutely set on different tracks. They were still friendly, however, and met occasionally in the company of mutual friends or for family events. As the doting grandparents of Suzie’s son, Daniel, this usually involved birthdays, Christmases and helping out with childcare during school holidays.

  ‘You made me jump,’ Suzie said, hugging him. ‘Have you seen Mum? I’m sure she would be pleased to know you came.’

  ‘Not yet. I thought it best to give her some space. I’m not the first person she is going to turn to for emotional support any more. Frank was a kind man, strong and fair. I had a lot of respect for him. He always looked out for her, you know, and in many ways I never managed to live up to that. Who’s going to look out for her now?’

  ‘Mum’s tough; she doesn’t need looking after,’ Suzie laughed.

  ‘She’s going to take it very hard, love,’ said Jack. ‘They were very close.’

  ‘I know, but he was old and it wasn’t exactly unexpected. I know Mum’s a big softy underneath but she’s been on her own for years now. She’s already coped with Grandma’s illness and death and she’s been nursing Grandad for years, too. I know it’s not going to be easy, it never is, but once we get today over with and she can start to look forward and move on, she’ll be fine.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ replied Jack. ‘So, where’s your sister and my beautiful grandson?’

  ‘Marie’s over there,’ said Suzie, pointing to the orchard where she could see her sister in conversation with Aunt Emily. ‘And I think Daniel is too young to attend a funeral so he’s gone to Debbie’s overnight so David and I can stay here with Mum.’

  ‘Right, well, time to do the rounds, starting with your mum. See you next week.’

  ‘Bye, Dad,’ she said and arming herself with two new full bottles of wine, she continued to circulate, topping up glasses as she went. It’s funny how weddings and funerals bring people together but they still persist in huddling in their own little groups, she thought. His domino-playing companions from the local pub had set themselves up at a table on the far side of the patio. One of them had produced a set of dominoes and a serious competition was being held in Frank’s honour; they had intense looks of concentration on their faces. Former work colleagues – the few that had outlived him – were mostly indoors. Annie’s work friends were in deckchairs on the lawn and the few family members were standing around in the orchard. Close friends of the family were sharing memories and anecdotes from parties – mostly New Year and birthdays – over the years on the opposite side of the patio to the domino players. Neighbours and more casual acquaintances from the village stood around awkwardly, wondering how long it was decently necessary to stay before they could make their excuses and go home.

  Several hours later, after all the guests had left, the house had been tidied up and Suzie and David had retired to bed, Annie sat at the kitchen table and fought back the tears. ‘He was the only man in my life who never let me down,’ she whispered. Her words were heard only by her large ginger cat, Marmaduke, who sat, purring contentedly, in her lap.

  2

  A Battle Lost

  February 1942, Singapore

  Private Edward Johnson of the 6th Battalion of the Royal Norfolk Regiment, serving with the 53rd Brigade of the 18th Infantry Division had seen more than enough death and killing to last him a lifetime. He had only been involved in the war in the Pacific for a few weeks, sent as part of reinforcements and attached to the Indian 11th Infantry to help the effort in mainland Malaya against the Japanese. It had been a grim and bloody few weeks, during which the regiment – that once-proud unit of strong, young men – had been torn apart, pushed to the limits in the steaming jungle and outwitted by the enemy forces that were clearly more at home with jungle warfare than they were. Battalions were isolated, cut off and frequently lost in the physical geography of the jungle and the Japanese found it all too easy to pick them off, unit by unit. The jungle was like a hungry beast, remorselessly falling on its victims, trapping them, refusing to let them go and ultimately triumphing in their destruction.

  The battle, Edward felt, had been lost before they even arrived. Now, having been forced to retreat into the stronghold of Singapore, the Allied Forces were facing defeat. The Japanese had entered Singapore, taking advantage of the Allies’ thinly spread defences along the 30-mile length of the island’s coastline where it was separated from the mainland by just 1 mile, crossing the straits, infiltrating through inlets and creeks, displaying once again their superiority over land and air in spite of being disadvantaged in numbers.

  With the other surviving members of his brigade, Private Edward Johnson watched in disbelief as just days after the Japanese had landed in Singapore, General Percival surrendered the Union Jack. Waiting for further instructions, Edward’s thoughts turned to home and he wondered if he would ever see his family again as he prepared to face the remainder of the war, however long that would be, as a Japanese prisoner of war.

  3

  Picking Up the Pieces and a Discovery

  June 2004, Lower Chaddington, England

  Annie was finding it difficult to adjust. The void left in her life by the death of her father felt like a black hole and she could not imagine how to cross it. The only child of Elsie and Frank Barratt,
Annie’s childhood had been dominated by her strict and at times, overbearing father. Nevertheless, she adored him and he clearly took a great delight in his young daughter. They were a team and he loved to encourage her, from helping her to climb the old oak tree that dominated the small back garden for the first time, and her delight at discovering the tree house he had built for her, to walks to the bridge over the river to play Poohsticks, which she always seemed to win, to learning to ride her first ‘grownup’ bicycle without stabilisers on a long walk one Christmas Day morning.

  ‘We’ll not be back for lunch until she’s mastered it,’ her father cheerfully announced to Elsie, his wife and Annie’s mother, who was already busy in the kitchen peeling potatoes, wrapping sausages in bacon and preparing enough vegetables to feed a small army.

  Sure enough, a few hours later, they returned, a smiling Annie proudly riding her ‘new’, faded pink bicycle that Frank had bought from a second hand shop, gaily ringing the bell to announce their arrival and taking a cautious look over her shoulder to make sure her father was still right behind her as the bicycle wobbled slightly beneath her.

  It was Frank who had done extra overtime to find the money to buy the necessary uniform when she had won a scholarship to the grammar school, had cheered her on when she scored her first goals in the school’s hockey team and made sure she stuck to her work to get the best grades she could. It wasn’t that Elsie didn’t care, or couldn’t be bothered, but having lost both her parents she found herself, as the oldest of six children, suddenly responsible for the upbringing of her youngest siblings; Emily, Freddie and Joe were all under ten years old when they lost their parents and the youngest, Joe, was only 2 years older than Annie herself. To say Elsie had her hands full was an understatement, so she was delighted that Frank was happy to spend so much time with Annie.

  Frank was also responsible for scaring off plenty of would-be boyfriends, Annie remembered. She had resented it at first, but Frank had reasoned with her, ‘If they are going to run a mile the moment I bark, they are not going to be strong enough for you, my girl.’ Annie knew she couldn’t argue with that, because she was strong and wilful, passionate in her beliefs and very sure of her brilliant future – doing what, she was not so certain, but she never doubted her future would be brilliant.

  It wasn’t until Jack came along that anyone had been a match for her father. He was not fazed by Frank’s straight-talking and forthright manner, nor was he daunted by the loud, booming voice. His abruptness simply bounced off Jack who was also very confident and sure of his brilliant future. Unlike Annie, however, he did have some idea of how he was going to achieve his great ambitions. He was already two years into an apprenticeship to become a cabinet maker, working for a small firm where he could clearly see that a hard-working, gifted young man could carve out a successful career.

  On their wedding day, Annie, dressed in a gown of pure white satin and lace, walked down the aisle at her father’s side. Frank felt as though his heart was both bursting with pride and breaking with the sure knowledge that he had lost his little girl. He then proceeded to get thoroughly drunk and no one who was at that wedding reception will ever forget him dancing on the tables before slumping down in a corner, singing ‘Danny Boy’ to himself in a flat and tuneless slur.

  Frank soon discovered that he may have lost one little girl, but he quickly gained two more, as Annie had Suzie, followed a couple of years later by Marie. Frank became the doting grandfather. He was there when the first steps were taken and it was him and Jack on a subsequent Christmas Day morning taking both Suzie and Marie for a long walk on new bicycles, leaving Annie and Elsie in the kitchen preparing Christmas Day lunch.

  Not only was he the doting grandfather, he became less of the hard taskmaster that he had been as Annie’s father and more the one who could easily be twisted around the finger of a pretty three-year-old granddaughter. As any grandparent knows, it is much easier to be a grandparent than a parent; you can enjoy all the good parts and fun of the children without having to worry about being responsible for their behaviour, education and moral development. But it didn’t end there because, of course, many years later, Daniel was born and Frank became a great grandfather. Although not as active as he once had been, he was still a much-adored and powerful figure in young Daniel’s life, always a willing conspirator in raiding the biscuit barrel, or illicitly watching Bob the Builder or Thomas the Tank Engine after Suzie had declared that was enough TV for one day.

  And now he was gone.

  For the last ten years, Annie had devoted much of her time to looking after one and then another elderly and infirm parent. When Elsie had been diagnosed with cancer and Frank’s weakening heart meant he could no longer look after her, they had sold their home. Annie, by then separated from Jack and with both her daughters having left home, had found herself rattling around her too-large, five-bedroomed house alone and had converted three of the downstairs rooms into a self-contained annex with a simple kitchen, living room and bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. It had its own front door but also an inter-connecting door into the front hallway of Annie’s house. This arrangement meant she could look after them without having to travel, which made it easier to cope with her job as a PA to a very successful local entrepreneur who had built a considerable business empire importing cheap electrical goods from the Far East and supplying them to Britain’s high streets.

  She often felt as though she had made a straight swap between children who needed constant attention and for whom she had to shop, wash, cook, clothe and provide a taxi service, to parents who were becoming increasingly childlike in their needs, their behaviour and their inability to provide for themselves. But Annie didn’t mind; after the break-up of her marriage to Jack, it helped fill the gap left in the empty house when Suzie and then Marie left. She was used to being constantly busy, always needing to do something for someone; there was always food to prepare, beds to change, clothes to wash and iron, cleaning to do and check-ups at the surgery and hospital to attend. There was always someone there to go and have a coffee and a biscuit with, play cards with on a long winter’s evening or talk about what vegetables to plant in the garden in spring. Life was busy and then overnight it all just stopped.

  With just herself and Marmaduke to worry about, life was very quiet. Annie felt like a character in a horror film, stumbling into a room, obviously recently abandoned in a hurry by its inhabitants, leaving everything unfinished – half drunk mugs of coffee on the table, a fire burning in the grate, radio or TV playing to an empty room. She felt that sense of abandonment, of waiting to see what would happen next, waiting for the characters to return and normality to be restored and at the same time knowing that was not going to happen. She caught herself sitting alone in the evenings, staring into space, or drifting away into a dream world of her own memories during the day when she should have been managing her boss’s busy work schedule. She needed to keep busy. She needed to take hold of her life, give it a good shake, like she would when splitting bulbs in the garden, and get it back under her control.

  Alone in the house, she wandered from room to room, looking for cushions to straighten, bed covers to smooth, old magazines to tidy or discard, but everywhere was immaculate. And then she was drawn to the annex and suddenly knew what she needed to do.

  ‘I think it would help me to start feeling better if we sort out your grandparents’ belongings,’ Annie explained to Suzie on the phone later that evening.

  A little surprised, Suzie said, ‘Are you sure it’s not too soon for you yet, Mum?’

  ‘No.’ Annie was very definite and her tone was one that Suzie remembered well from childhood. It was the tone Annie reserved for occasions when she was not to be argued with. Like the time she had grounded a fifteen-year-old Suzie for a month after catching her adding vodka to a bottle of lemonade to take to a school disco.

  ‘I need to do it. Look, I am not about to fall to pieces. I’m sure your father thinks I am and I admit I am
finding life a bit difficult at the moment. I’ve got a lot to adjust to. I’ve lost my father, but I can’t just sit around doing nothing. Work is good for me, but I’ve got to rebuild my own life, too, and making a start sorting out their stuff is the right thing to do. I would appreciate some help, though.’

  Two days later, Annie and Suzie unlocked the door from the hallway of Annie’s house into the annex. It wasn’t just Grandad’s personal belongings that they needed to sort through, but all of the joint possessions of their married life. After Grandma died they had removed her clothes, shoes, handbags and other such personal items, but all the photographs, ornaments and paraphernalia of more than fifty years of shared lives remained.

  The atmosphere in the annex was strange – cool, gloomy and unlived-in – quite unlike it had ever been before. Suzie looked around and among the framed photographs adorning the mantelpiece, one of her grandparents taken on their fiftieth wedding anniversary in November 1989 by the local newspaper, the Barminster Chronicle, caught her eye. She remembered that day well. They had all gone out for dinner in the evening, a rare occasion when the family had all been together, before Dad had moved out. Suzie, who was doing a year’s work experience at the Barminster Chronicle as part of her degree course, had organised the photograph and the special mention in that week’s edition.

  In a glass-fronted display cabinet to the left of the fireplace, her grandmother’s collection of Royal Doulton Old Country Roses still stood proudly. Plates, cups and saucers, vases, a photo frame, bowls, decorative figurines; Suzie remembered contributing several items to that collection over the years and after her grandmother died her grandfather had refused to hear of any of it being removed. They might be pretty, but they were dust collectors as far as Suzie was concerned. Maybe they should all choose a memento from the collection for themselves and sell the rest. It seemed wrong, though, somehow. It had been her grandmother’s pride and joy and Suzie felt sure she would have wanted them to look after it intact. Annie seemed to follow her thoughts.