Half True

Half true

Falling in love is like being on the best ride.

Falling out is what happens when you get off.

As the bus drew close to the American airbase drop off point, nineteen-year-old Lottie applied another layer of Strawberry Potion to her lips. Earlier, she’d sneaked out of the home she shared with her strait-laced parents in a village a few miles away telling them she was staying over to watch tv with an old school friend. The staying over part was true but she wasn’t sure her mother believed the rest.

“Just because you’re a grown woman doesn’t mean you can’t get into trouble.”

For once Lottie was going to dial down the volume on her mother’s warnings. She dreaded ending up like her parents, married to their grocery business rather than each other.

She knew she wanted more out of life than that.

Appealing brown eyes were overshadowed by the vibrant blue makeup considered all the rage at the time. However, Lottie avoided the thick mascara of her peers because it always turned messy by the end of the evening. Determined not to appear what her mother called “cheap,” she wore an orange floral jumpsuit and a pair of white platform shoes she’d spent weeks saving for. In case her shyness overcame her, she also kept a pair of disco sunglasses in her bag. She dreaded not being asked to dance.

The atmosphere at the Club was electric. In the event, Lottie needn’t have worried about spending the evening like a wallflower at one of the “sit out” tables near the door. Almost as soon as she’d stepped inside, an American airman came out from the bar and headed her way.

“This young lady is with me. I’ll sign you in,” he announced.

Lottie couldn’t believe her luck. Signing in meant she wouldn’t have to pay for the club’s entrance fee. “That’s if you’re agreeable to the idea, ma’am,” he quickly added.

“Thank you.” Lottie was bowled over by the man’s twinkling eyes, warm smile, and distinctive blue uniform with its shining buttons and epaulettes. Being both handsome and charming, he simultaneously took her breath away and made her feel at ease. Her nerves dissipated as the evening progressed, and she began to feel at home. Everything about the club seemed fresh and exciting, and she adored the whisky and vermouth cocktails that came with a cherry fixed to the side of the glass.

Between drinks, the pair learnt about each other’s lives. She told Ben her parents owned the village grocery where she lived above the shop. He remembered visiting it but not having the pleasure of seeing her there. “I must have been slaving away in the back,” she said without a hint of irony. Back home, Ben’s parents had a similar kind of set up, though on a bigger scale. When the pair danced beneath the glittering disco ball, Lottie felt she was floating. With Ben, she felt she could go anywhere, be anyone. She wanted the night to last forever.

***

A long time later:

Had it not been for my grandson’s carelessness, it’s unlikely I’d ever have come across the photo.

When mum cleared out the attic after my stepdad passed, Toby insisted on carrying one of the suitcases to the charity shop himself. At ten, he was going through a phase of showing how strong he was by displaying his arm muscles at every opportunity. When the lid burst open, mum’s dust-collectors including her miniature Wade figurines painstakingly wrapped in newspaper, and a collection of my stepdad’s saucy old seaside postcards, spilled onto the pavement.

“That case is useless!” Toby muttered, poking out a bright pink gobstopper tongue. “Can’t think why grandma didn’t get rid if it before now!”

To be fair, he had a point. The case was a dark green 1950’s affair with a white handle and a rusted metal clasp which had been gathering dust too long.

“There’s no need for rudeness, Toby,” I admonished. “Those things were once prized possessions. The case may have had sentimental value.”

Whilst bending to retrieve these bits and pieces, my eye landed on an old photograph and my world turned upside down. The picture was of a man in military uniform, maybe in his mid-twenties, with his arm round a pretty young woman. The pair were laughing into the camera, seemingly without a care in the world. On closer inspection, I recognised the young woman as my mother, and my stomach did another flip.

“What’s the picture of, grandad?” Toby asked.

“Nothing particular.” Needing time to process what I’d just seen, when Toby turned away, I slipped the photo into my back pocket.

**

Later that evening I showed my wife, Jenny, the picture.

“That must be your mother when she was young. She looks so happy.” She squinted to get a better view. “The man with her seems familiar somehow.” She kept looking at the picture, then back at me. “Do you think? Could it be…”

“What?”

“Could this be your dad, Martin?” she asked.

“Well, I… it does look…”

“But I thought your dad had died!”

“Mum told me he had.”

“That’s weird.”

The pennies were starting to drop faster than the ones you see in those arcade coin pushers.

“Unless…”

“Unless what?” I had to sit down to steady my thoughts.

“Unless what she told you was only half true.”

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you say you once asked your mum for a picture of your dad, but she told you she didn’t have one; that it had just been a fling.”

“She always clammed up whenever I tried to bring him up. It was easier not to ask.”

“What if he’s still alive and she’s kept it from you all this time?” Jenny asked.

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know. She might have thought she was doing the right thing.”

Before long, my wife who is a wizard at digging out information on the internet was gleaming triumphantly from her laptop.

“I think I’ve found him, Martin!”

“Found who?” A foolish but perhaps understandable question given the circumstances.

“A man who fits your dad’s description. He’s called Ben Anderson and he’s American.”

“Really?” The fact he might exist at all seemed incredible.

“According to this, he was born in 1944 in Minneapolis but now lives in a town in Minnesota. As we suspected he spent time in England serving at the air base as part of the USAF squadron during the late 1960’s, early 70’s” She named an airbase about 50 miles away, no longer in use.

Thinking of it, it all made sense. The Americans had used the airbase until it was decommissioned in the late 90’s and when Mum was growing up, she’d lived in a village close by.

“Anyway,” Jenny continued, “he now lives with his family in Minnesota.”

“Isn’t that where Little House in the Prairie was set?”

“That’s right.”

“Wow!” I tried to take in the fact that my “dad” lived another continent away.

Jenny was watching me intently. “The question is what are you going to do about all this?”

“Honestly? I think I’m going to send a new friend’s request on Facebook.”

Closing the laptop, Jenny came and sat beside me. “Are you sure about all this, Martin? It’s a big step to take. You can’t tell how these things might turn out.”

“You mean he might not want to know. It’s been nearly fifty-six years and I’m not getting any younger!” Then another thought struck me. “Maybe he knew about me all along and didn’t want to be involved. Maybe Mum told me he was dead to protect me from getting hurt.”

I got up, thoughts spinning like whirligigs.

“You’re going to have all these questions, and you may not like the answers you get,” Jenny said, ever practical. “Truthfully, it could be like opening a can of worms. Can you deal with the possibility things might not turn out the way you want? I mean, what about your mum? Were you planning on telling her about all this?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. At least, not until I find out more. No point telling her if it comes to nothing.”

“Whatever way you look at it, it’ll be a journey of discovery,” Jenny said.

“He may not even reply.” 

“Well, then you’ll have your answer,” she said.

***

It must have been a shock for Ben to discover he had a middle-aged son living in England who wanted to get in touch. Even more of a surprise that he responded quickly.

At first, there was a certain reticence to our communications; I didn’t press it when he stuck to safe topics such as my work and family, rather than saying much about himself. When I suggested flying to America to meet him, he said he’d been planning to visit England to meet up with some old pals from his Airforce days and it would be a chance to meet me too. When he said he’d booked into the hotel at the Pike and Trout, it seemed apt. It’s always been one of my favourite haunts.

**

The Pike and Trout is a quaint eighteenth-century hotel with bars, restaurants and reception rooms. Not far from the airbase, its main attraction is a fishing lake. Leading on from the main oak bar are a series of dimly lit rooms in need of renovation. These rooms with their nooks and crannies and lumpy sofas lend an antiquated charm. Supping half a beer in one of these nooks, I waited for my “father” to appear.

Not seeing me right away, I observed a smartly turned-out older man step into the bar and order a whisky. Even with his back to me, it was like seeing an older version of myself. As I rose to greet him, he stepped forward smiling.

“Hey, it’s you.” Hardly knowing how to act, we half shook hands, half embraced, laughing awkwardly.

“I see you’ve nearly finished your beer. I’ll get you another one,” he said.

“I can’t. Im driving.”

“Ah! A bitter lemon, then?”

“Thanks. That would be great.”

Like me, my father was tall, with similar facial features. Not surprisingly, he had lost a good deal of what I guessed must have once been thick dark hair. But then, so had I.

“You made it.”

“I was worried you might not turn up too.” His voice sounded a bit like mine but with an American accent.

“Pleased you made it,” I repeated, not wanting uncomfortable silences.

“Just about.” He mock-grimaced. “I’d forgotten how narrow the country lanes are round here. I hired a car and nearly had a serious misunderstanding with a farm vehicle when I first arrived.”

“You have to watch it. The bends are tight.”

“You betcha.” Hearing him laugh was even more disconcerting. “And people like you to say please and sorry a lot. I’d forgotten about that,” he added.

“That’s true.”

For a while we excelled in small talk. It was surprising just how long two people could hold a conversation about the conditions of the roads and the absurdities of navigating the countryside. At least he had a good sense of humour. Then I asked if the hotel bedroom room was comfortable, and we talked at length about that. I dare say we could have gone on like this forever, but the man who was my father suddenly broke out with, “You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”

“I do?”

“You do.

“Yes.”

“Er. How is your mom?”

“Mum’s been going through a difficult time lately. My stepdad died six months ago, and it hit her hard.”

He took a slug of whiskey. “Ah, that can’t have been easy.”

“That’s partly why I haven’t told her about meeting you.”

“Oh, right.”

I gulped down my bitter lemon. “Erm, she actually told me it had been a brief thing, and that you had died. I only seriously questioned it when I accidentally came across a photo of the pair of you. You kind of… looked good together.”

“I’m afraid she was really mad at me the last time we met. At the time, I had no idea she was pregnant.”

“Right.”

He took another gulp. “This is probably gonna be difficult to hear. I admit it wasn’t one of my finer moments. You’ve got to remember I was young at the time. I thought I knew it all back then, but I didn’t. You see, when I met your mother, I was already spoken for. Promised to a childhood sweetheart back home. So, I found myself in quite a pickle. When I told your mother about the girl, she didn’t want anything to do with me. Can’t say I blamed her.”

“And the other girl?” I asked.

He exhaled loudly. “I’m still married to her. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we’ve stuck together, and I don’t regret it. We have three grown up daughters. In fact, the oldest is couple years younger than you.”

“I have sisters?”

“You do.”

“Wow!!” So, all this time there’d been another family I’d known nothing about.

“Does your wife know about me?” I asked trying to rearrange the shelving in my head.

He studied his whisky glass extra hard. “No. I haven’t told my family about you yet.”

“I see.”

But I wasn’t sure I did see. “Why not exactly?”

“I guess I wanted to meet you first to, you know… get the measure of things. To be honest, my mind has been in a whirl since you got in touch.”

“Mine too.”

“But I’ll definitely tell her as soon as I get back,” he promised. “I’d really like you to be part of our lives. That is – if you want to be.”

“Three sisters! I shook my head in disbelief.

“Yeah. They’re great women. Two have grown children. They’re definitely going to want to meet you.”

***

Before leaving, my father suggested taking a walk round the grounds to clear his head.

We were standing by the fishermen’s lake when he suddenly turned to me with an anguished look. “It’s no good Martin. I’ve gotta level with you some more. I need to tell you everything.”

A dry laugh emerged from the back of my throat. “You mean, there’s more?”

Searching in his pocket, he found a photograph and handed it to me. “That’s you as a baby. The truth is I did know about you. Your mum wrote telling me she was expecting when she was a few months into her pregnancy. By then, I was married, and Ada was having a baby too. My! Oh.” He covered his face. “It was quite a situation I’d gotten into! I don’t suppose it’s much consolation, but I never stopped thinking about you. I’ve spent years regretting not being in your life.”

“Woah!” The only word I could find to get a handle on things.

“I’m really sorry. I should’ve told Ada at the time. One thing I did decide was if you ever got in touch with me, I’d respond right away, no matter what.”

“Well, you’ve done that alright,” I said.

Before he left, the man who was starting to feel more like my dad with each passing second said, “If you do decide on letting your mom know about meeting me, tell her I’m sorry. I wish things had been different.”

Later, sitting in my car alone, I felt overwhelmed. There were so many questions I still needed to ask; having found my father, I was scared of losing him again. I don’t know how long I sat there reflecting over our meeting. I now get what people mean when they talk about emotional rollercoasters. But I also know whatever new truths I discover, this is one I’m going to keep riding..