The international departure lounge was busy. Some delayed flights meant those passengers were sitting on the floor. Jane and George had managed to find a table and two chairs and were sipping their second cups of coffee. The notice board said their flight to Sydney was due to depart on time but they had arrived at the airport early and still had over an hour to wait. Jane had insisted that George have the passports and the tickets as she might lose them. The ticket-booking agent had told him what time they were due to finally land in Sydney but he was not sure what day it would be. “As long as John knows, that’s the main thing,” he thought, recalling Sarah’s suggestion that John could meet them at the airport. John had said it seemed strange to be standing at arrivals holding a board, announcing who he was, so his father would recognise him.
Sarah had made the suggestion they visit her. She had said to Jane, “now you’re retired you really have no excuse for not visiting me in Australia.” Jane did make an excuse that included a mention of George. “Why doesn’t George come as well?” Sarah had replied. “Why don’t you both come and stay with me and Norman?”
George had secretly been hoping for the opportunity to meet Sarah and the family but was not comfortable with the idea of staying with her. “I know it’s been such a long time,” he’d said when he and Jane discussed the idea, “but it would not feel right, it would be awkward.” He proposed to rent an apartment for himself for the six weeks they intended to be there. Jane could not bear the thought of George being on his own and insisted she stay in the apartment with him. “It will be like the opposite of a trial separation, whatever that’s called,” she had said, “If we are still talking after six weeks we can think about a more permanent arrangement when we return.” George felt he was being manipulated but surprisingly didn’t mind and agreed to the suggestion.
“Are you nervous?” George asked noticing that Jane appeared a little tense.
“No, not really. Well it’s more like nervous excitement. It is a bit of an adventure after all,” as she recalled the excited looks on children’s faces on the morning of school trips.
“What about you?” she asked.
George had already spoken to Sarah a couple of times on the telephone. Sarah said they should not speak for long, as the calls were so expensive. He had not mentioned his inheritance and that really the cost was not an issue, but the calls were naturally quite short as they found they did not have much to say. The first call was fine as she effectively repeated what she had said in the letter and he told her about how he met Jane and the work he was doing with the Foundation. The difficulty was that people in their position, who had not met for a number of years, would normally reminisce about the old days. George did not remember the old days. They could not start a conversation with, “do you remember when?” or ”do remember the time?”. There was no longer any connection, no shared experiences. Although they had once been lovers, a love that had produced a child, he was now to meet a total stranger. He realised it was difficult for Sarah, she remembered those days, she remembered the love they had. This was why he had to meet her. There were things he needed to ask and only she could answer.
Over the months, Jane and A.J. had tried to answer his questions about his time before the war. They told him about school, about where he played with his friends, the games they played. A.J described the family shop and the farms where they would obtain the produce. How he helped with the care of the horse and, rather painfully, some more details of his father. He was gradually building a picture of George Waterson’s life. However, this picture only contained people, places, events; he had no idea of the hopes, the fears, and the emotions of George Waterson. What made him happy, what made him sad, what were his dreams his aspirations? He hoped, talking to Sarah, she could fill those gaps. They were lovers; they would have planned for the future; for a time when they were married with children; a time after the war. What were those dreams?
“You haven’t answered my question”, Jane repeated. “Are you nervous?”
George was nervous, very nervous. Rather than flying to meet Sarah, he was travelling to meet himself, the real George Waterson. Who would he find at the end of this journey?
He held Jane’s hand, rather tighter than he intended, “We’ll be alright, you and me, we’ll be alright.”
George looked at his watch; any minute now they would hear an announcement to board the flight. He remembered Albert Hughes’ watch, the one with the inscription on the back that included Albert’s name and lead the authorities to believe George was Albert. If he had not been wearing that watch they might had done some more research and found his real identity. Why was he wearing that watch? He mentioned it to Jane.
“I know why you had the watch,” Jane remarked. “You didn’t steal it if that is what you were thinking. Albert gave it to you as a birthday present.”
“How do you know that?” George puzzled.
“Because James mentioned it in one of his letters. Just after you arrived in France, it was your twenty first birthday and the rest of the chaps you were with organised a party. Someone gave you an egg and there was a bottle calvados from a nearby farm. Albert wanted to give you something special and he gave you his watch. You didn’t want to take it but he persuaded you to keep it on the understanding you would give it back to him, for his birthday, a few months later. Of course you didn’t get the opportunity to return it.”
That well-intentioned gift had determined George’s fate for the next thirty-five years until fate ordained that a missed train and an empty station platform should deal him a new hand.
Sarah had made the suggestion they visit her. She had said to Jane, “now you’re retired you really have no excuse for not visiting me in Australia.” Jane did make an excuse that included a mention of George. “Why doesn’t George come as well?” Sarah had replied. “Why don’t you both come and stay with me and Norman?”
George had secretly been hoping for the opportunity to meet Sarah and the family but was not comfortable with the idea of staying with her. “I know it’s been such a long time,” he’d said when he and Jane discussed the idea, “but it would not feel right, it would be awkward.” He proposed to rent an apartment for himself for the six weeks they intended to be there. Jane could not bear the thought of George being on his own and insisted she stay in the apartment with him. “It will be like the opposite of a trial separation, whatever that’s called,” she had said, “If we are still talking after six weeks we can think about a more permanent arrangement when we return.” George felt he was being manipulated but surprisingly didn’t mind and agreed to the suggestion.
“Are you nervous?” George asked noticing that Jane appeared a little tense.
“No, not really. Well it’s more like nervous excitement. It is a bit of an adventure after all,” as she recalled the excited looks on children’s faces on the morning of school trips.
“What about you?” she asked.
George had already spoken to Sarah a couple of times on the telephone. Sarah said they should not speak for long, as the calls were so expensive. He had not mentioned his inheritance and that really the cost was not an issue, but the calls were naturally quite short as they found they did not have much to say. The first call was fine as she effectively repeated what she had said in the letter and he told her about how he met Jane and the work he was doing with the Foundation. The difficulty was that people in their position, who had not met for a number of years, would normally reminisce about the old days. George did not remember the old days. They could not start a conversation with, “do you remember when?” or ”do remember the time?”. There was no longer any connection, no shared experiences. Although they had once been lovers, a love that had produced a child, he was now to meet a total stranger. He realised it was difficult for Sarah, she remembered those days, she remembered the love they had. This was why he had to meet her. There were things he needed to ask and only she could answer.
Over the months, Jane and A.J. had tried to answer his questions about his time before the war. They told him about school, about where he played with his friends, the games they played. A.J described the family shop and the farms where they would obtain the produce. How he helped with the care of the horse and, rather painfully, some more details of his father. He was gradually building a picture of George Waterson’s life. However, this picture only contained people, places, events; he had no idea of the hopes, the fears, and the emotions of George Waterson. What made him happy, what made him sad, what were his dreams his aspirations? He hoped, talking to Sarah, she could fill those gaps. They were lovers; they would have planned for the future; for a time when they were married with children; a time after the war. What were those dreams?
“You haven’t answered my question”, Jane repeated. “Are you nervous?”
George was nervous, very nervous. Rather than flying to meet Sarah, he was travelling to meet himself, the real George Waterson. Who would he find at the end of this journey?
He held Jane’s hand, rather tighter than he intended, “We’ll be alright, you and me, we’ll be alright.”
George looked at his watch; any minute now they would hear an announcement to board the flight. He remembered Albert Hughes’ watch, the one with the inscription on the back that included Albert’s name and lead the authorities to believe George was Albert. If he had not been wearing that watch they might had done some more research and found his real identity. Why was he wearing that watch? He mentioned it to Jane.
“I know why you had the watch,” Jane remarked. “You didn’t steal it if that is what you were thinking. Albert gave it to you as a birthday present.”
“How do you know that?” George puzzled.
“Because James mentioned it in one of his letters. Just after you arrived in France, it was your twenty first birthday and the rest of the chaps you were with organised a party. Someone gave you an egg and there was a bottle calvados from a nearby farm. Albert wanted to give you something special and he gave you his watch. You didn’t want to take it but he persuaded you to keep it on the understanding you would give it back to him, for his birthday, a few months later. Of course you didn’t get the opportunity to return it.”
That well-intentioned gift had determined George’s fate for the next thirty-five years until fate ordained that a missed train and an empty station platform should deal him a new hand.