CHAPTER SEVEN RETURNING
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Returning
When his boat pulled into Southampton harbor, Roscoe could barely contain his excitement. He’d dreamed of being in Britain ever since he’d left, and now it felt unreal that he’d actually arrived, and that Megan was only a few hours away.
He disembarked and made his way through the city, sensing a change in the country.
He didn’t remember the gray shabbiness that seemed to press in on him, but knew, vaguely, that the Brits found rebuilding after the war slow going.
There’d been too much destruction and not enough people left to fix it.
The grayness seeped into the people and their mood.
During the war, wherever he went, people had kept up a fighting spirit and had directed general good wishes toward him as a US soldier that felt a lot like gratitude.
Being here without a uniform, with the country busy trying to piece itself back together, made for a less friendly welcome.
Now people looked at him with cautious suspicion.
Roscoe made his way to Pontypool by bus, train and bus. When he arrived at Megan’s door, Mr Davies opened it, and for a second Roscoe didn’t know if he would let him in. He had a right to act cool toward him, and Roscoe told him so.
‘I wasn’t straight with you about everything I had going on and the commitments tying me to America,’ he said. ‘I understand you’re disappointed and probably cross. I get that. But I’m here now.’
Mr Davies stuck his chin in the air and clamped his mouth shut.
Roscoe looked over his shoulder and raised his voice, hoping for Megan to hear.
‘I wrapped up my life in America and came all this way to be with your daughter. If she wants to toss me out on my ear, I’ll go.
’ He dug in his pocket and pulled out the letter she’d sent him, holding it in both hands and running his finger across the fold. ‘But I don’t think she wants me to go.’
Mrs Davies heard him and came down, flinging the door open and throwing her husband off balance. ‘Come in, Roscoe dear. It’s good to see you safely back.’ She hugged him, but with less enthusiasm than in past days. ‘We’ll talk about your slow return another time.’
She made her husband step aside so he could come on through and they left him alone in the living room waiting for Megan. When she came in and found him sitting there, she burst into tears, smacked him hard, then kissed him till he thought his lungs would burst along with his heart.
Those first few weeks, her parents stayed frosty, but Megan was still Megan, which made everything all right.
He got a job earning good money at a factory where they made cable sleeves, and the very first thing he did with his first paycheck was contact a lawyer about getting divorce papers drawn up.
Pontypool didn’t have a divorce lawyer, but he wouldn’t have wanted to hire someone so close to home, anyways.
The last thing he needed was to get the gossip wheel spinning harder.
He already had American and Negro to make him stand out; he didn’t need to add divorced.
So, he decided to travel to Bristol, a big enough city set far enough away that his business wouldn’t follow him home in whispers.
He wrote in advance and explained the situation to Matthew J.
Simpson, Esquire, who wrote back assuring Roscoe that his situation could be dealt with and set an appointment for him to come to the office.
Roscoe took a day off work, rising early to make his way to Bristol, and found the building easily.
When the lawyer came out to collect him from the waiting area, with a ‘Good morning, Mr Crane,’ he stumbled over his words, stuttering the r in Crane. He blinked four times before recovering himself and inviting Roscoe into the office to sit.
After that, Matthew J. Simpson, Esquire, was all efficiency, clarifying what needed to be done and assuring him he’d have divorce papers for Cora to sign as soon as possible. It would take a little while, but at the end of it, he’d be free to marry Megan.
Feeling light with optimism, and with a growing rumbling in his stomach, he decided to stop at a pub for some lunch before heading back to Pontypool. He wandered down the street and found the Bay Horse on a corner. He walked up to the door, grabbed the handle and froze.
On the window beside the door someone had hung a sign, taped on four sides. It read, No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs. Roscoe felt like he had been electrocuted.