Alice wrote to her aunt and uncle in Baildon, asking if she could come and stay with them for a little while. She did not say why, and they did not enquire any further, her aunt replying and saying that of course they would be pleased to see her again. They had exchanged Christmas cards and an occasional letter, but they had not met since she left after the birth and adoption of Alice’s baby.
Winnie did not try to dissuade Alice. She guessed why her friend wanted to return to Yorkshire although Alice had not actually told her the reason. Winnie had noticed that Alice was preoccupied and, at times, seemed very sad. She had become very close to Joseph, and Winnie knew that her friend was thinking more and more of her own son and longing to know what had become of him. Winnie tried to put herself in the same position and knew that this was exactly how she would feel.
Alice’s Aunt Maggie and Uncle Fred welcomed her unreservedly although they could not help but wonder why she had come to see them, after so long. Alice had told a white lie.
‘I’ve not been too well,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a bad attack of gastric flu’ – it was really more of a tummy upset – ‘and it’s left me very dispirited. I thought the country air would do me good.’
‘Well, you stay as long as you like, love,’ said Maggie.
Alice nodded. ‘Thank you. I’ve got a fortnight off work …’
The smallholding that her aunt and uncle owned had prospered since the war years. They now reared a few turkeys as well as hens and geese, and cultivated more garden produce, vegetables, fruit and flowers which were sold to a wide area in West Yorkshire. The couple were well into their sixties now, but very hale and hearty with no intention of retiring for a while.
It was Alice’s cousin, Sally, in whom she confided her real reason for returning to Yorkshire. Sally still lived in the same house in Baildon with her husband and two children who were now in their teens.
Alice went round to see Sally one afternoon soon after her arrival in Baildon. She knew that Sally would be on her own, her husband being at work, and the children – though not really children any more – would be at school. Alice wanted the information that she felt Sally might be more willing to disclose than would her aunt and uncle.
‘It’s great to see you again, Alice,’ said Sally, greeting her warmly with a hug and kiss. ‘Long time no see! You are looking well … hope that you are feeling better,’ she added, looking at her a little more closely.
‘Yes, I’m well again now, thank you,’ said Alice. ‘Life goes on, you know. I have a good job at the GPO in Blackpool now. I enjoy it although it’s pretty hectic there at times. Queues a mile long and all kinds of customers to deal with. Still, it’s been good for me, keeps me busy …’
They exchanged family news over a cup of tea. There was a moment’s silence as their chatting came to an end and Alice decided that it was now or never. She must try to broach the subject that was uppermost in her mind.
Sally was looking at her thoughtfully. ‘There’s something on your mind, isn’t there, Alice?’ she said. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
Alice sighed. ‘Yes, I did have another reason for coming here. It’s true – partly true – that I’ve not been well, but … I can’t forget, Sally, about … what happened. I’ve tried, really tried, to get on with my life, but it’s still there, all the time.’ She told her about Joseph, that he was the same age as her boy would be, and she knew that she had to discover, if she could, what had happened to him. ‘I’m sure you must have some idea, haven’t you?’ she said to her cousin. ‘I do remember that it all happened so quickly. The baby … he was taken away from me, and I always felt that my aunt and uncle – and you – knew something about it.’
Sally looked a little uncomfortable. ‘He was adopted, Alice,’ she said. ‘You knew that would happen and you agreed to it. I know it’s hard, but it’s been ten years. It’s too late now to have second thoughts. He is happy and settled in his home … at least, I’m sure he must be …’
‘So, you do know something, don’t you?’
‘I’m sorry, Alice. It wouldn’t do any good to tell you. Surely, after all this time, you don’t want to confuse the boy? It could cause all sorts of trouble if you appear on the scene, if you try to contact them …’
‘I won’t, I won’t!’ Alice cried. ‘I don’t … I know I can’t have him back, but I want to know where he is, just to satisfy myself that he’s well and happy. And I know you could tell me … couldn’t you?’
‘I’ve been sworn to secrecy, Alice. We all have. Yes, Mam and Dad did know where … where the baby was going, and they knew he would have a good home. Can’t you be content with that?’
‘No, not really. Could you?’
‘That’s an impossible question, Alice. I understand how you must feel, but it might upset you even more if you find out.’
‘Then that’s a risk I will have to take. Tell me … please, Sally.’
Sally was quiet for a few moments before she replied. ‘I know you will not leave me alone until I tell you. But you must promise that you will not cause any bother, or upset your little boy, or his adoptive parents.’
‘Of course I won’t,’ said Alice. ‘I just want to know. I want to see him, if possible. Yes, I know it may be heart-breaking, but I’ve got used to that, and I don’t think it can make it any worse. Where is he, Sally? Please tell me.’
Sally sighed. ‘Do you remember Mr and Mrs Fielding?’ she said. ‘They had a farm a couple of miles away – well, they still do – and are friendly with my mam and dad.’
‘Yes, I think I met them while I was staying here,’ said Alice. ‘Go on …’
‘Well, they had – have – a son, Ted, who married a girl called Mary. They had been married for a few years and were desperate to have a child, but … nothing happened. Anyway, you can guess what I’m going to say – they heard about you and that your baby would be adopted, and so … it was all arranged. Nothing “hole in the corner” about it: the folk in charge were pleased that the baby would be going to a good home.’
‘And where is he? Still in Baildon?’ asked Alice, her voice breathless with emotion.
‘No … Ted used to help his father on the farm, but when they adopted the baby – they called him Jonathan – they moved to a smallholding of their own, in Bingley. Just outside the town, I believe.’
‘And they are still there?’
‘Yes, as far as I know. Mam and Dad are still friendly with the Fieldings and they hear news of Ted and his family occasionally. It was very strange really – very nice, though – because a couple of years after they had adopted Jonathan they had a baby of their own. A little girl – they called her Pamela – but that’s all I can tell you, Alice. I haven’t heard any more about them, not for years. Mam and Dad felt that they had done the best they could for all concerned: for you and the baby and the Fielding family. Now … are you satisfied that I have told you?’
Alice nodded. ‘I’m glad to know that he is in a happy home. Jonathan … that’s a good name, one that I might well have chosen myself. And he has a little sister, that’s nice.’
‘Yes, we thought so too. Apparently it’s not uncommon. Looking after a baby seems to make a woman more fertile, somehow. Anyway, that was what happened.’
‘Thank you for telling me,’ said Alice. ‘And I promise … I won’t cause any trouble.’
She thought seriously about it, and it was all too irresistible. She knew where her son was living, so why should she not go there to see for herself? She persuaded herself that it would be enough to see him and to know that he was having a happy life. It was possible that Sally would be very annoyed, but what did that matter? It was Alice’s decision and she knew she would not be satisfied until she had seen her son.
She did not tell her aunt and uncle what she had discovered. She told Sally, however, the next time she saw her what she had decided to do. As she had expected, Sally was shocked and rather annoyed.
‘Alice … you promised me you would not do anything. I told you all that in the strictest confidence.’
‘I didn’t say that I wouldn’t do anything; I said I would not cause any trouble and I promise you I won’t. But I must go there; I must see for myself …’
‘You mean … to go there for a day?’
‘No, to stay there for a while, till I see how I feel. I’m sure I would like to live in Yorkshire again. I’m certainly not too happy in Blackpool now.’
‘But what about your job in Blackpool? You have a good position at the post office there, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but I’m sure I could get a transfer.’
‘What? To Bingley? I doubt there’s a main post office there.’
‘But there is in Bradford. I’m sure I could get a transfer to there. It’s not far away, is it?’
‘No, just a few miles. Buses run to and fro all the time … but I think you’re being very foolish, Alice. It might be too much for you. You could get very distressed.’
‘Then that’s a risk I have to take. It’s no use, Sally. It’s what I must do.’
Finally, when she could see that her cousin could not be dissuaded, Sally decided to give in and help her. Sally, of course, had to tell her parents of Alice’s plan. They were far more philosophical about it but agreed that they would not say a word to their friends, the Fieldings, whose son and daughter-in-law had adopted Jonathan.
Alice returned to Blackpool, telling her mother and Lizzie that she intended to move to Yorkshire to start a new life there. She did not tell them the real reason, just that she was ready for a change, and that she felt that Yorkshire was where she belonged. It was where she had been born thirty-five years ago, and she felt that her roots were there.
It was easy enough to get a transfer to the main post office in Bradford, and Sally, as she had promised, helped her to find lodgings in Bingley with an old school friend of hers.
Sally’s friend, Iris Shaw, had been widowed when her husband was killed in the Normandy landings, and she had never wanted to remarry. Her son had married and moved away and so she had converted her semi-detached house into two flats. She felt that she would, therefore, not feel entirely alone or isolated with another person on the premises. Her previous tenant had recently left, so she was glad of Alice’s presence in the upstairs flat and, of course, of the income which supplemented the wage she earned as a shorthand typist.
Alice could not believe how easily everything seemed to turn out just right for her. She took to Iris straight away. She knew the woman would not be a close friend to her, as Winnie had been, nor did she really want her to be. Alice knew that she had to keep her real reason for returning to Yorkshire a close secret to everyone she met. Words spoken in confidence might so easily reach other ears, and Alice had given a promise – to her aunt and uncle and Sally, and to herself – that she would not cause any disruption in the family that had adopted her son.
She settled down happily to her work at the main post office in Bradford. It was but a short distance away and the bus service was very good, with bus stops near to her new home and her place of work.
But how was she to find the Fielding family? Sally had been pretty sure that they were still at the same place but Alice had no idea where that might be. She broached the subject, quite casually, with Iris.
‘I’d like to get some pot plants,’ she said. ‘You know – begonias, indoor roses, geraniums, that sort of thing – to make my living room a bit more homely. There’s such a lovely wide windowsill and they’d look lovely there. Do you know of anywhere I could get some? I love mooching round garden centres where they have a good variety.’
Iris smiled. ‘Are you green fingered then? I’m afraid that I’m not. Jack – my husband – was the gardener, then my son, Jake, did what he could, but now … well, it’s as much as I can do to keep it tidy. My next-door neighbour kindly mows the lawn for me and I put in a few bedding plants in the spring and hope for the best. Anyway, I just asked but I didn’t give you a chance to answer – are you green fingered? I’d welcome some help in the garden if you feel like it. And you know you’re very welcome to sit out in the garden, to sunbathe or to sit and read.’
‘Yes, actually, I do quite enjoy gardening, although I haven’t done any for ages. When I lived with my friend Winnie in Blackpool, her husband did all the gardening; he was quite an expert and I knew he didn’t need any help. Winnie just left him to it. But I stayed with Sally’s parents for a while, during the war … they ran a market garden, you know. Well, they still do, and I enjoyed helping out there.’ She stopped abruptly, wondering if she might have said too much. Iris was unaware of her history, so it would be best not to say any more.
‘Anyway, that’s ages ago. I was asking you if you know of a garden centre where I could have a mooch around.’
‘Actually, I do. There’s one not very far away from here. It’s run by some friends of mine; well, more acquaintances really. We attend the same church and we’re all in the choir there. Ted and Mary Fielding, they’re a nice young couple – well, youngish, you know, about our age. They have two children, Jonathan and Pamela.’ She laughed. ‘But that doesn’t matter – you don’t want to know their life story! I’ll take you there if you like, perhaps on a Saturday afternoon, then you can have a mooch around as you say … and maybe we could buy some bulbs – daffs and crocuses – to plant in the garden, seeing as you’ve offered to help. Like I say, I’ve never bothered much before.’
‘Yes, I’d like that,’ said Alice. ‘It’s always nice to see the spring flowers after the winter. I’ll plant them for you; I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.’
Alice was finding it hard to speak in a normal voice; she was so amazed at the coincidence and her heart was beating so loudly, to her ears, that she was sure Iris would hear it.
‘Well then, what about next Saturday?’ said Iris. ‘No time like the present.’
‘Fine by me.’ Alice tried to steady her voice. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
‘And there’s something else,’ said Iris. ‘I mentioned the church I go to … I was wondering if you’d like to come along? I don’t want to put pressure on you. I’m not a “God botherer” and I know some people are not interested. But we’re a friendly crowd and you’d be made very welcome if you’d like to join us.’
Alice could scarcely believe what she was hearing. ‘Yes, I’d like that,’ she answered a little breathlessly. ‘I’ve not been for ages, though, not regularly. When I lived at the boarding house we were always too busy, though Mam made sure that me and my sister went to Sunday school. Then, well, I’ve sort of … lapsed, but I do believe … in God an’ all that.’
‘Will you come then, on Sunday morning, and see if you like it? Like I said, I sing in the choir, but I’ll introduce you to some friends, and then after the service we have a cup of tea in the church hall. You can just try it and see how you feel. If it’s not your sort of thing then fair enough.’
Alice was almost too flabbergasted to reply. She could not believe how easy it had been to trace the whereabouts of her son. And the following weekend she would be seeing the couple who had adopted him and … maybe … the boy as well.