The traitor turned up and it was none we were waiting for! cried Sir Edward Whitaker, his voice booming across the kitchen. Then you may just turn and go back out the gate!
What on earth, Father? Andrew blurted, stunned. Ive been away from home for twenty years and now you meet me like this!
If it were my will, Id have met you with a strap round your throat! Edward seized his own belt, then laughed. Never mind, well set things straight right now.
Take it easy! Andrew stepped back, his hands raised. Im not a child, I can speak for myself!
Theres your nature! Sir Edward snarled, dropping the belt. You pick on the weak, flee from the strong, cheat the good and serve the wicked!
Do tell, what are you truly angry about? What do you blame me for? Andrew shrugged. If any fault lay with me, its been two decades now; time has faded it and forgiven it.
Its easy to speak when your guilt is long past, Edward replied coldly. Of course you hope everyone will forgive you, but I have no pardon for you.
What have I ever done against you? In the academy I thought only of my studies, while my parents called me a deserter and barred me from returning home! You never replied to any of my letters, though I wrote countless ones.
Youre clueless, lad, Edward sneered.
Andrews bewildered stare grew louder, and before the fatherson quarrel could get any louder, their mother intervened.
Enough, you two! shouted Mrs. Margaret Whitaker, her voice sharp as a cold wind. Youre bringing shame on our family! Drive him out, Mike, and save our reputation!
Andrew froze, as still as a stone statue. Margaret added, If the good Lord gave me strength, Id tear you from your wits! I see the mischief God himself has placed upon you! She jabbed at the dark circle under Andrews eye.
Someones done a fine job! Edward chuckled, patting his own shoulder. Id give him a hand.
Whats the meaning of this, parents? Andrew shouted, his temper snapping. Have you gone mad? Ive been away for twenty years! Why this sudden welcome?
Who fed you that notion? Edward asked. Well chase you out now, and Ill thank the one who tells the tale later.
I have no idea who you mean, Andrew snapped. I was on the coach heading home when my neighbour Jack recognized me. He ran over to greet me!
Just then the coach halted at the inn, a young man bounded up, shoved me in the eye, spat in my face and fled. When I recovered, he was already gone.
An unknown hero! Edward said with a grin. Well have to ask Jack who gave you that blow.
Father, is that all you care about? Andrew cried. So because I was gone twenty years, you think I could just disappear?
And why, traitor, are you still here? Margaret asked.
Why am I a traitor? Andrew demanded.
Because shouted a voice from the back of the kitchen.
Whos this brave soul? Andrew roared.
A figure stepped into the light.
That lad over there slapped me! Andrew shouted, pointing at a lanky youth.
Well done, grandson! Edward beamed. You didnt miss a chance!
Grandson? I have no grandson, Andrew retorted, stepping back.
Here he is, Margaret said, shielding him with her body. Your son! The one you abandoned!
I have never had a son! Andrew cried, his voice shaking. Never, never! If I did, Id know him!
Remember what you fled from the village all those years ago! Edward demanded, his voice cracking.
***
Andrew never spoke of his departure as a flight. It had been planned, though he left a little earlier than intended, and there were several reasons for that.
He had to travel far, almost across the whole country, to attend a naval training college. He went early so that, besides securing a place, he could earn a little money while studying.
He received a modest scholarship, but it would hardly cover a decent life. Asking his parents for money from across the country was awkward; they could send food, not cash, and sending provisions was a nightmare.
There was a second cause. Just before his departure, a sickness spread through his home village. If he had lingered even a week or two, he might never have been able to leave at all. The village girls were all taken, and that spurred him to go.
When asked plainly, Why? he would have said:
I want my life to be bound to the sea! I cannot sit at home while my wife stays behind; Id rather not bring children into such a life.
The sea entered his life by chance. After school he first served his country in the Royal Navy, then realised that land was not his calling. When he returned, a posting to a technical college for ship engineers lay waiting in his pocket.
Before starting his studies he decided to see the world, to avoid feeling trapped.
Young men after service behave as youd expect revelry becomes their only brake, and the rest of the time is a string of exploits, whether at a tavern, in a brawl, or with any fair maid.
Andrew, once he began to understand, watched those revelers. Proud eagles from the navy came back intent on overturning the world, only to be chained to a heavy load a wife, children, a farm.
The lofty bird turned into a plucked chicken ready for the pot.
He refused such a fate. No matter how merry his nights, he kept his belt fastened and his bootlaces tightened. He even stitched his own belt before leaving, fastening the buckle with a screw.
There were difficulties in keeping his true purpose hidden, but it was better to suffer there than to be tormented all his life.
His reputation among the village maidens grew; he was young, promising, with a clear plan, and none could find any stain upon his honour.
He was besieged from every side. Invitations, feasts, promises of affection all aimed at weaving alliances through his family. To his parents, delegations came, hoping to seal a union through him.
Andrew saw the ploy. He knew he could not hold the line; either he would be crushed, or his parents would be persuaded. So he slipped away from the village a month and a half early.
As the old saying goes, Better safe than sorry.
He arrived at the port, secured a berth, lodged in a hostel, submitted his papers for the college, received his acceptance, and wrote home to say he had arrived, that he was settled, that all was well.
His parents replied with a furious letter, calling him a traitor, a coward, and every other vile epithet a piece of paper could hold.
They added that he no longer had any parents, that there was no home for him, and that a man like him belonged in the deep sea.
Andrew was bewildered, writing home for answers, yet receiving no telegrams in return.
He could have snapped, rushed back, but the studies called. He kept writing, day after day.
When he finally earned his diploma, a single, crumpled note arrived from home, barely a halfsheet of paper:
May you drown, traitor! Coward!
Signed not by his mother or father, but by Sir Edward Whitaker and Mrs. Margaret Whitaker.
It was never clear why, but it was clear that his family did not await his return.
He did not go home; he signed a naval contract and sailed the North Sea. About once every six months he stepped ashore on the mainland, sent another letter home, and went back to sea, no longer waiting for replies.
He was forty when it mattered more to discover which of his parents had bitten him twenty years earlier than to chase another posting.
The meeting that finally took place was far from loving, and filled with surprises.
***
What were you running from? What were you running from? Andrew mimicked, his voice thin. Was it because you never thought to marry me? Did you think I wouldnt see how you plotted with half the village to find a convenient match?
I saw the gifts, I heard the promises! And you knew I would go to study, yet you still schemed to corner me! Edward snarled.
We only wanted a good match for you, and you fled with Nell, the orphan! Margaret hissed. Who did you find? A waif!
She had come to us soon after I left, saying a child was on the way, asking our counsel. And we thought we were tossing our grandchild to fate?
When did she come? Andrew asked. A month after I left I wrote to you, and you told me not to return!
We were told Nell wrote to you about her pregnancy! And you told her to have an abortion and disappear from your life! Edward retorted.
Very interesting, Andrew said. And you? After you banished me from the house?
We took her in! She had no family! She carried our grandsons heart! Thats how we raised Stan! Margaret replied.
Summon Nell, Andrew demanded. Well get to the bottom of this.
Theres no one to argue with, Stan said. My mother died a decade ago. Grandparents raised me!
Wonderful, Andrew shook his head. And the son met his father eyetoeye!
Youve killed more than just me, youve abandoned my pregnant mother! Stan shouted. At least my grandparents were decent folks!
The truth is youre all right, Im the only traitor here!
And a coward! Edward added. You fled responsibility and sent a poor girl to an abortion!
Nell told us shed given birth to a son! And you called her a liar in your last letter! Margaret snapped.
Did you see the letter? Andrew asked.
Unlike you, we believed the poor girl! Margaret replied.
Then lets do a DNA test, Andrew suggested. Otherwise I cant prove my innocence, and if Im the father you can crucify me at the gate!
The test came back negative. Andrew handed the results to his parents.
Is that clear? he asked. Nell knew I wasnt the father, but she came to you.
The tragedy was not that you believed a strangers lie, but that you accepted that your own son was a coward and a traitor.
For twenty years you have not forgiven me, and now I need none of your pardon! I might have spared you pity, but I cannot. So farewell! Though you bade me farewell twenty years ago already.
Andrew left, and Stan stayed, milking the old men until the end, still claiming he was their beloved grandson, that the test was wrong, that his mother had been a saint.
And so it went.
