My London Day

Mum said she had some bad news.
And that she doesn't want to talk about it.
Dad said she was over reacting again.
Dad said she always over reacts. But that he has to do as she says.

Last week a man came to their door professing to be my dad's nephew. This man said his name was 'David' and that he was the son of my dad's sister Pauline. Neither me nor my parents have seen or heard from Pauline since about 1974.

Being a Londoner and living in flat on the sixth floor my dad didn't ask the man inside, instead he talked through an open bathroom window relaying the information back to a frantic mum. She said he wasn't to come in and that if dad did let him in then she'd walk out.
The man stayed on the balcony.

After a lengthy conversation 'David', who was in his forties according to dad, said that he'd been looking for his mum for many years and could they give him any information on her whereabouts.
No was the short pitiful answer.

My dad hasn't seen any of his sisters for 28 years, the last time they all came together was for the two-faced funeral of my paternal Grandad. And after the mock sorrow affair in 1981 all communication was voluntarily severed.

Over the roaring traffic noise 'David' said he'd recently found out that one of my dad's sisters, Shirley, had died. She was about 68. Was about 68...That's rather sad isn't it? Not knowing that your sister has died and being unsure about her age.

He went on to name the other sisters and as dad went back and forth from the bathroom to the living room telling mum all this she still insisted that this man must not come in.
He didn't come in.
What he did was say how lonely he was and that he'd like to keep in touch. He handed over his address and mobile number and said it'd be nice if they kept in touch.

Today Dad sat on the arm of the armchair spilling out all this stuff whilst gently condemning mum for not allowing the stranger in.
He knew the names of all of dad's sisters and the name of Shirley's husband. He knew facts about where they'd all previously lived, street names, town names etc...Mum was vehement that absolutely no contact must be made with anyone. No phone calls or emails or anything like that
I asked dad what happened next. And what happened next was that 'David' returned a few days later with more information and still the door was closed on him.

About Pauline:
I only met her a few times when I was growing up. She had hair as black as coal and had her son son adopted...At one time she was in Holloway nick and at other times she was at Butlins. She got involved with an older Spanish man who was quite smitten with her. At my cousin Patsy's 18th birthday party Pauline told the Spaniard to "go and get me a colour telly you bastard. She was the salt of the earth. She got her telly.

About Shirley:
Shirley was my aunt, and despite being my aunt I never really knew her. All I remember was that she was loud and loaned money to people for a price. She went to the bingo with her housekeeping money and cooked a lot of sausages. She was a lazy woman who never did a days work in her life and in the late 1960's moved house because she'd fallen out with a neighbour over an apple tree. She liked her two sons but slapped her daughter around the head a lot. Her daughter Patsy, my bubbly cousin, died suddenly a couple of years ago of a brain haemorrhage. She was 50, we found out about this via an old family friend.

When mum was making some tea I asked dad if he'd contact 'David' he said he'd send him a Christmas card.
Would you?