A Teacup and a Locket.

Cradling the bone china cup in her hand, Helen looked out over her garden. It was twelve months ago that she had swapped the rural English landscape for the seascape of Strangford Lough. In the distance, a kaleidoscope of little boats was anchored off the shore, bobbing gently on the incoming tide.

A knock at the door broke her chain of thought, and she gently placed the cup down on the table in front of the kitchen window.

“Hello, yes can I help you?” a stockily built man with greying hair, stood in the doorway.

“Hello,” his voice just more than a whisper, “Yes, sorry,….. do you recognise this locket?”

Helens eyes widened with amazement, “Yes, I do. That used to be my mother’s locket. Where did you get it?”

Remembering her manners, “Please come on in, would you like a cup of tea, the water has not long boiled?”

Helen studied the man’s reflection carefully in the kitchen window. He was about 5’ 9”, in his late seventies, smartly dressed, with deep blue eyes. His greying hair was thick, and just had the faintest resemblance of colour left. He sat down on a stool at the breakfast bar, and fidgeted uneasily with his navy blue tie.

Instinctively placing an arrangement of home baked biscuits, and chocolate cake on a plate, Helen waited for the visitor to speak.

“I came upon the locket about six months ago. I had the opportunity to visit the house in which you grew up, and was saddened to hear of your mothers passing, and that you had left the family home to move to Northern Ireland. I have some news for you, I knew your mother, and your father many years ago, the man in the locket is my brother, James. Oh please accept my apology, my name is Stanley.” He stood and extended his hand in greeting.

Helen smiled, “I am sorry, I don’t understand. I never knew my father growing up.” She gazed fondly upon the silver locket, and gently traced the fleur de lys design that had been engraved on the front of it.

Overcome with emotion, “It is beautiful isn’t it?” she said almost to herself; the tears teetering precariously on her lower eye lashes until they fell to the table top in front of her, like little exploding water bombs.

Stanley offered her a crisp white handkerchief,

“I am sorry; let me explain further, this must come as a shock for you. I met your mother many years ago; it was after the end of the Second World War. She was volunteering in the Women’s Royal Army Corps, and my brother and I were stationed close by. We were both serving in the American Air Force.” He paused long enough to take a gulp of his tea.

“We used to hustle back then to send money home to our loved ones. Your mother was a regular. She loved the stockings.” He smiled from ear to ear, and gave a little chuckle to himself before continuing.

“She was a proud woman, always smart, and always well presented. Over time, my brother got to know her very well. James gave her this locket as a leaving present before we were deported back home to the states.”

“I don’t remember my mother speaking much about her time served in the Women’s Royal Army Corps, but I do recall her telling me about the dances that she and her friends would have attended in the local dance hall. She did mentioned a USA Army man though, who had a pet spider monkey that he had rescued from a boat docked in the harbour at Portsmouth.”

Stanley began to laugh, “That sounds just like my brother, and he was a real sucker for a pretty face, even one of the animal kinds.”

Helen began to relax; she had an unexplainable affinity for this man with the broad American accent. She took a sip of her hot tea, and smiled.

“Do you mind if I smoke, I know it is a filthy habit but I am a bit too old to be worried about it now?” Stanley coughed to clear his throat, as if almost on cue.

Helen reached for an ashtray from the kitchen window sill, and placed it on the breakfast bar in front of him. She watched in amusement as he took a thick cigar from his jacket pocket, and proceeded to draw on a light from a silver cigarette lighter. The thick, sweet smelling smoke almost entirely engulfing him.

“This little locket carries the story of one of the most precious love stories known to man,” he winked, smiled, and paused just long enough to pull a little piece of tobacco from his top lip before continuing.

“Your mother definitely was a stunner, and that is no exaggeration, she could have had the pick and choose of any man that she ever wanted. Her thick auburn hair and sky blue eyes could hold any mans attention, and there was many a man who wished it was his, but she chose James. Now James was not a bad man,” he continued with a wry smile,

“Albeit a Jack the Lad at times, but he failed to tell her that he was married; and he had a family waiting for him back in Kansas. James and your mother became inseparable, and eventually she became pregnant. James was thrilled, and all his intentions where noble, it was only his commitment to his wife and family which overshadowed his happiness.”

Helen watched as Stanley continued to talk. She studied his facial expressions, and found herself wondering if he was like her father in any way. His description of her mother and his brother was colourful, if in the least.

She recalled the first time she had ever come across the locket. She had been playing in her mother’s bedroom, and had nosily taken a look in the top draw of her dressing table. Wrapped in a silk handkerchief, embroidered with the letter “J” in the corner, was the locket. She starred at it momentarily before curiously opening it. On the left hand side, was a photo of a man with sandy coloured hair and blue eyes, while on the right side of the locket was a lock of auburn hair, which she recognised to be her mother’s, but the man in the photo was not known to her.

“Those dance halls kept many a secret rendezvous. It was a little bit of respite in an otherwise lonely existence for the servicemen and women. I was fairly good at the old Jitter Bug myself.” Stanley reminisced, and took another sip of his tea,

“You look like your mother; you have the same eyes and beautiful auburn hair.”

Helen shifted uncomfortably on her chair. It felt strange talking about her mother with a stranger, and yet she knew that his words were not intended to be an intrusion on her mother’s memory. She found herself studying his actions, the way his eyes curled in the corners when he was amused, or the way that his nose dipped down when he laughed. He was not an unattractive man for his years, and she found herself drawn to him.

“Please tell me some more about my father,” she asked.

Stanley reached for a shortbread biscuit from the plate in front of him, and dunked it into his hot tea.

“James and I returned to the states in early April 1946, and your mother was heavily pregnant at that time. James did the right thing and told your mother of his wife and family, and although she was devastated, she decided that the correct thing to do was to leave all behind them. She had no desire to split up a happy family, and they made a tryst not to see one another again.”

Stanley cleared his throat and continued,

“James had bought the locket from a silversmith close to the harbour, and along with a few pounds that he had saved for your birth; he gave them to your mother on our departure. He never did try to see your mother again, until last year when his health began to deteriorate. He wanted to make amends for his neglect of you, and he set about trying to find you. Sadly, time caught up with him, and he passed away in his sleep on August 12th.”

Helen could see the emotion momentarily pass over Stanley’s face, and he reached into his pocket and produced a white envelope.

“He wanted you to have this.” Standing to pass Helen the envelope, he smiled gently.“It will not make up for the past, but it may help you understand who you are, and what your future holds. It was his dying wish that I found you, and gave you this envelope.”

Helen tentatively took the envelope from him and starred at the handwriting on the front. It read.

‘To my beautiful daughter Helen, I am sorry that I never met you.’

“Now my dear,” Stanley rose to his feet, “You can contact me at this address when you are ready,” he passed Helen a business card with his name and address on it. She blinked hastily as she read, ‘Mr Stanley Harrison, Private Detective.’

Extending her hand, Helen suddenly had the urge to hug him, and so she did, “thank you, I will be in touch.”

Helen felt some excitement, but mostly she was confused. She could not understand why now this information had come to light. She had asked questions of her mother many times, and was always told the same thing.

“You will never meet your father; I will carry his memory to my grave. All you need to know is that he was married. Let that be the end of it.”
Helen had often wondered why her mother had never married, maybe now she would understand why. Over the years, she had come to accept that meeting her father would never be an option, and had continued to live her life without giving him another thought….. that was until now.

Taking a sharp intake of breath, she tore open the envelope and started to read.

‘My beautiful daughter, Helen,’

My biggest regret in life is never having had the opportunity to hold you in my arms, or the chance to bathe a bleeding knee after you had fallen off your bike. I never watched your excitement on Christmas Day, listened to your laughter at your birthday party, or watched you take your first steps.

I hadn’t had the opportunity of being the proud father when you graduated from university, or walked you down the aisle when you got married. I could not tell you how much happiness you had brought to my life when you had your children, or to tell you how much I loved you, but believe me when I say this, “I was there.”

Years passed, and you grew into a beautiful woman, and I shared every milestone with you. Now that I am gone, I have asked my brother to find you, and give you this envelope which contains memories of our moments. Although your mother and I never met again, she always kept me abreast of the important events of your life.

This key is the key to a lockup in Portsmouth; in there you will find every birthday and Christmas present and card that I bought for you. You will also find some special memorabilia and letters that I want you to have. Once you have found the courage to search this lockup, I hope that it will give you some peace of mind, and also help you to understand that circumstances are often never as they first appear.
You where produced from my loins, but always had a place in my heart.

Your loving father,

James.

Helen started to cry, her body racked with emotion as photograph after photograph fell from her hand onto the floor beside her, and from out of nowhere, a large white feather floated by.

“Thank you mum,” she whispered “I miss you.”

Lifting the locket, and the small Yale key, Helen gently placed them in a tea cup in her pottery display cabinet, and she gazed once again over her garden to the beautiful seascape that greeted her. It was a befitting moment as the clouds turned grey, and the thunder rolled. As the lightning flashed, she looked skywards, and smiled. It was true; often things are never as they first appear.