Farewell To The East End

breathing was fast, difficult and noisy and his neck was so thin it looked as though it might snap. His skin was grey, but two patches of bright red colouring under the eyes made him look as if he had been painted like a clown. Thin hands rested on the sheets, and bony fingers with long nails were plucking at the bedclothes. ‘Is that you, Mrs Weston?’ he croaked. He turned his head, and his dull eyes grew wider as he recognised her.
    ‘Julia! What are you doing here?’ His voice was husky.
    ‘I heard you were ill, Dad.’
    ‘It’s nothing much. Just a passing fancy. The doctor’s been. He says I’m getting along nicely. I’ll be up and doing in a few days. Nice to see you, girl. Sit down.’
    She took a chair and sat next to the bed.
    ‘Why didn’t you let me know you were ill?’
    ‘No need to bother anyone. You’ve got your own life to lead. I do all right here. Mrs Weston comes in and does for me. I thought you were her just now when you called. I didn’t think for a moment it would be you.’
    Julia felt herself choking with emotion.
    ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I should have come earlier, long ago.’
    ‘No, no, girl. ’course not. You’ve got your own life. And you’re doing all right, I dare say. Is it still the Telephone Exchange?’ She nodded. ‘A good job, good prospects. You’ll be doing all right – your own life, your own friends – you can’t be looking backwards over your shoulder all the time.’
    Julia compared the imaginary contentment his words implied with the bleak reality of her life. She did not know what to say.
    ‘Do you get enough food?’
    ‘Mrs Weston comes in and cooks for me, but I don’t want much. Can’t seem to get it down.’
    ‘Oh, Dad. What can I do?’ Julia felt close to tears.
    ‘Nothing, girl, nothing. You get on and enjoy your own life. You’re only young once; make the most of it.’
    ‘But Dad, I must do something.’
    ‘Don’t take on, girl. I want for nothing. Mrs Weston gets me all I need, and I’ve appointed her son Terry as manager. He’ll keep the pub going until I’m up and doing myself.’
    He sank back on the pillows. The effort of speaking had exhausted him. Julia sat quietly, engulfed in remorse, regret and self-reproach. Her own father, whom she had not seen for six years, and he looked to be on the point of death. His eyes were closed, but he stretched out a limp hand towards her and whispered rather than spoke.
    ‘It’s nice to see you, lass. Good of you to come. I appreciate it.’
    ‘Would you like Mum to come?’
    ‘Your mother? I don’t know as she would want to.’
    ‘She says she will if you would like her to. She won’t push herself on you she says.’ He did not reply, but sighed deeply, closed his eyes and appeared to drift off to sleep. Julia sat beside him looking at the tragic waste of the man she had always called Dad but had never really known. A man who had always been so alive and vital, who commanded instant respect and obedience from his staff, who excelled them all in strength and energy, who ran the Master’s Arms with a Master’s efficiency.
    She knew what she must do. She would leave the telephone exchange without notice and quit her room. She need not leave her father even to collect things – her landlady could send them on, there was little enough to send. She pondered all that she would have to do – see the doctor, arrange for a day nurse, get advice on diet, exercise and how best to keep her father comfortable. She felt nervous of her own inexperience and longed for her mother to be there to advise her.
    Her father slept, so she left his side and wandered round the flat, which was big and spacious. She perched on the corner seat between the two windows where she and her brothers had sat looking down on the changing scenes in the street below. She climbed the narrow stairs up to the attic full of junk where they had played hide and seek. The same junk, which had belonged to her grandparents, was there, a bit more dust and decay, but the same. She would have been outraged if anything had been changed! She went into the big kitchen, once so full of life and nice smells enticing to a child, but now cold and unused. She went into the bedroom she and her sister had shared and decided at once that she would occupy the same room. But one of the beds must go up to the attic – she could not sleep with Gillian’s cold, empty bed in the room. She shuddered and returned to the kitchen to make a cup