The tree-lined street looked extremely inviting. With the classic London brick terrace and immaculate wrought iron fences, it reminded me of the houses in the Mary Poppins film, and as I walked past the yummy mummies clad in Lululemon activewear, I half expected to come face to face with Julie Andrews, who would probably have replaced her magical umbrella with a yoga mat.
I turned my face towards the sun to revel in the warmth and shucked off my denim jacket, tucking it over the top of my bag. The idea of Lydia living on this street now was something I struggled to picture. She hated anything too trendy, although, I thought with a rueful grin, that was before she suddenly decided to buy up half of All Saints in her quest to change her entire life. It was quite possible that this street and everyone that lived in it would now be her idea of bliss.
Peering over the top of my sunglasses I searched the houses for number 26. With their uniform black doors, it was quite hard to pick out any distinguishing features, but as I got about halfway down the road I saw the house Becki had told me was her grandmother’s. Walking up the stone steps, I rapped the brass knocker firmly and braced myself for whoever answered the door. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait for very long, as just a few seconds later a woman a few years older than me with a bright smile and blonde hair opened the door.’
‘Becki?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Erin,’ she replied warmly, welcoming me inside.
I stepped into the narrow hallway, framed with black and white prints of what I guessed were family members, and followed Becki down the corridor towards the back of the house.
‘Thanks so much for talking to me today,’ I babbled. ‘I’ve been trying all sorts of things to find Jack and wondered if I ever would.’
‘Oh, you’re welcome,’ Becki replied warmly ‘It will be nice for Gran to relive old times. She’ll be back soon; she’s just gone out for her coffee morning at the club on the corner. In the meantime, I thought we could chat in the kitchen, it’s cosier than the rest of the house.’ She pushed open a large white door that exposed a bright white kitchen.
‘Very trendy, your grandma, isn’t she?’ I said admiringly, taking in the gloss white kitchen cupboards, Corian worktop and large, American style fridge.
‘To be honest, although this is my grandma’s house, she very kindly gave it to me and my husband Nick when we got married,’ Becki admitted a little sheepishly. ‘She lives with us now and, I still think of it as her house.’
‘Generous grandma,’ I murmured.
‘I know.’ Becki fired the bean to cup coffee machine into life. ‘But you didn’t come all this way to talk about me and my gran’s living arrangements.’
‘No,’ I replied, reaching into my bag for the photos of Jack and Lydia I had brought with me. ‘I’ve brought some pictures that I thought might help jog your gran’s memory.’
I pushed them across the table towards Becki as she placed a large cappuccino in front of me. Taking a grateful sip, I watched Becki’s face break into an affectionate smile.
‘These are wonderful,’ she beamed. ‘They’ll definitely help. Actually, I meant to say to you when we spoke on the phone the other day, don’t be surprised if Gran gets a bit confused.’
As Becki made a face, I chewed my lip trying to understand what she was getting at. ‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean, Gran has Alzheimer’s. ‘It’s one of the reasons she gifted us this house and one of the reasons we moved in. We help take care of her, or at least I do.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I said quietly. ‘Listen, I don’t want to cause any problems for her.’
Becki smiled at what I imagined was my stricken face and shook her head. ‘Not at all. If anything, it’ll do Gran good to talk about the old times, it brings her back to life a bit, you know.’
I nodded, not really understanding, but wanting to. ‘How long has she had it?’
‘About three years.’ Becki wrapped her hands around her own mug. ‘At first we thought she was just getting forgetful but then there were other things too.’
I took a sip of my coffee. ‘Like what?’
‘Like she would suddenly fly off into rages or suddenly become very aggressive.’ Becki sighed. ‘When she started losing her eyesight, it was her optician that suggested she be assessed for dementia. After a series of tests, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, meaning it. I didn’t know much about Alzheimer’s but I knew it was a difficult condition for all those affected and I felt even more grateful to Becki and her grandmother for taking the time to help me with my search for Jack.
‘Don’t worry, though,’ Becki said confidently as she took a sip of her coffee. ‘Today’s been a good day for Gran so you’ve come at just the right time.’
Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed down the hallway closely followed by the sounds of footsteps coming towards us.
‘Hi, Gran,’ Becki called loudly, ‘we’re in here.’
‘Well, I didn’t think you’d gone to Timbuktu,’ I heard a clear North London accent shout in reply before a head appeared around the door.
I got to my feet and smiled at the older lady. With a wide, welcoming face and brown eyes, she looked friendly and I was hoping she would be able to help. ‘I’m Erin, Erin Matthews. Thank you so much for meeting me today, Mrs Elwood.’
‘Sit back down, love.’ The old woman smiled as she kissed Becki on the cheek and took a seat at the table opposite me. ‘And it’s Vera, not Mrs Elwood, that was my mother-in-law, God rest her. You getting me a cuppa or am I gonna die of thirst, darlin’?’ Vera asked her granddaughter cheekily.
Rolling her eyes affectionately, Becki got to her feet and made her way to the kettle. ‘Don’t show me up when we’ve got company, Gran!’
Vera chuckled under her breath and winked at me. I giggled back. There was something incredibly warm about Becki’s grandma, Alzheimer’s or no Alzheimer’s.
‘So, what is it you want to talk to me about?’ she asked. ‘Are you here about them drains outside love? I called you lot up the council all last week, not one of you took a bleedin’ bit of notice.’
I opened my mouth about to explain who I was when Becki jumped in, ‘I told you yesterday, Gran. Erin’s here to talk about Anna Harrison and her son Jack.’
‘Oh yes, of course,’ Vera replied, mollified. ‘Now, what do you want to know about Anna and Jack? You know, of course, his mum went to her grave thinking her poor son had died.’
I nodded, all too aware of the sad story. ‘That’s sort of why I’m here. My friend was engaged to him but she too believed he died up until recently. She found a letter in her attic that he sent to her years ago begging her not to marry again. She only just found it and is understandably upset.’
Vera looked at me wide-eyed in surprise. ‘Bloody hell! Sounds like something from EastEnders! This a cock ’n bull story?’
‘Gran!’ Becki admonished as I slid the photo of Lydia and Jack across the table to her. Picking it up, she examined the photo and smiled in recognition. ‘Oh, it’s little Lydia Day and Jack Harrison. . Those two were so in love it made you pig sick.’
‘You remember her then?’ I asked eagerly.
‘Only too well.’ Vera smiled, setting the photo down on the table. ‘In fairness she was a lovely girl, Lydia, broken-hearted when she found out what had happened to Jack. I thought she’d never get over it, always had a face like a busted clock and eyes full of tears after she discovered he’d died. Tell you the truth I was relieved when she moved so I didn’t have to look at her miserable face every day.’
‘Gran! That’s a horrible thing to say,’ Becki said, setting her tea down on the table and turning to me. ‘I’m sorry, Erin, please forgive Gran, she doesn’t mean it.’
Vera’s cheeks flushed with irritation. ‘Don’t speak for me, girl. I might be losing my marbles but I can still string a sentence together.’ She turned to me then and looked apologetic. ‘Sorry, love, I shouldn’t have said that. I dunno what’s up with me sometimes, my mouth opens before I’ve had a chance to think about what it is I’m going to say.’
I waved her concerns away, not wanting to break her concentration. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said soothingly. ‘But you do remember Jack then?’
‘Course I do. I was about five years older than him when he came back. Torn apart he was, like those bags of broken biscuits they used to sell up Woolworths. Devastated to discover his mum had gone and Lydia too with no forwarding address. Up and down the houses he went trying to find out where she’d gone.’
I took another sip of my coffee. The irony that I was following in Jack’s footsteps by asking the neighbours where he had gone was not lost on me.
‘But you didn’t have an address for her?’ I quizzed.
Mrs Elwood shook her head, ‘Lydia and me weren’t that close really, being older than her we weren’t exactly friends. I knew she’d gone back down to the West Country which is what I told Jack, but I didn’t know anything else. He went off like a mad March hare, turned it into his own private mission he did, trying to track her down, but I don’t think he ever did and I don’t think he ever got over what happened neither. It was a relief when he met Liz Penway.’
‘Jack got married?’ I gasped.
‘In the church on the corner,’ Mrs Elwood confirmed. ‘Must have been about seven years after Lydia left. I think he accepted he was never going to find her so he moved on. She was from Bromley way I think, so they moved over there, but he still kept in touch with my brother, God rest his soul.’
‘Your brother?’ I frowned.
‘Yes, Jack and Freddie were great mates, right up until Freddie died last year. Jack came over for the funeral, he hasn’t half aged. Still, I s’pose we all have,’ Vera sniffed.
My heart was banging so loudly against my chest at this new piece of information, I was sure Becki and her grandmother could hear it.
‘Jack’s still alive then?’
‘Very much so,’ Mrs Elwood said. ‘We had a letter last week off him, didn’t we Becki?’
‘Yes of course, I completely forgot!’ Becki mock-smacked her head against her hand. ‘Let me get it.’
‘Do you hear from him a lot then?’ I asked, unable to believe my luck that Jack Harrison wasn’t only still alive, but that there was an address for him too.
‘Not really,’ Vera said. ‘He sends the odd note, enquiring after my health, that sort of thing. But now Fred’s gone, it’s not the same and of course Jack’s got his own crosses to bear now Liz is dead.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘Ten years ago or so now,’ Vera replied sadly. ‘Breast cancer got her in the end. She was a lovely girl, Liz. Jack couldn’t bear to be without her, so he ran off, nobody knew where he’d gone or why. Certainly not his family or our Fred who was worried sick. But then he turned up right as ninepence. France, would you believe?’
I leaned back in my chair and regarded Mrs Elwood cautiously. Was she sure she had the right end of the stick?
‘Don’t you look at me like that young lady,’ Mrs Elwood snapped. ‘You wait ’til you’re my age. You think you’re so smart now with all your bleedin’ faculties, well, I was like you once. I had the pick of the fellas and looks to die for. Then one day I woke up and I saw an old crone staring back at me. You might look at me with pity in your eyes now, but you’ll be me one day, and don’t you forget it.’
I shrank back in my chair. ‘I’m sorry,’ I began. ‘Truly, I didn’t mean any harm.’
Just then Becki reappeared and looked at me in horror, ‘Gran, come on, don’t be mean to Erin.’
To my horror I saw tears pool at Vera’s eyes. ‘Sorry darlin’, I dunno what came over me. I think I need a lie down now, Becki, I’m ever so tired. Sorry again, love.’
‘I’ll help you,’ Becki said quietly, reaching a hand out to her grandmother to ease her out of the chair.
‘Won’t be a minute.’ She smiled apologetically as she passed me. ‘I’ll just settle Gran down for a nap. In the meantime, I’ve scribbled down Jack’s address.’
Gratefully I took the notepaper and I checked the address. Maison Retrait, Paris. I took a photo of the paper with my phone as a back-up, and then stuffed the address firmly in my purse. Finally, we were getting somewhere. Jack Harrison had been found and was very much alive.