The woman went to the kitchen, leaving Isaac and Wendy alone with the baby. Wendy, a sucker for children, leant down close to the infant and played with its toys, much to the delight of the child.
‘You’ve got this to look forward to,’ Wendy said, looking over at Isaac.
‘I suppose I have,’ Isaac’s reply, not willing to admit that he was, although it wouldn’t be a boy. Jenny had asked and been told that the child she was to deliver would be a girl, which appealed to Isaac.
Gabbi Gaffney returned, poured the tea for all three.
‘You seem to have embraced England,’ Wendy said.
‘Now, but it wasn’t always so good, but then, that’s why you’re here.’
‘Analyn?’ Isaac said.
‘Yes, I know her. But first, my story and how I came to be married and in Oxford.’
‘In your own time.’
‘Analyn and I are not unique. A lot of women from poor villages with no hope of a good education or a good life are left with only the opportunity of toiling on the land, living a rural life.’
‘Prostitution?’ Wendy said.
‘When life is desperate, people will do what is necessary. The men will turn to crime, the women to selling themselves. It’s happened in England in the past.’
‘We’re not judging,’ Isaac said. ‘My parents came from Jamaica for a better life; ended up trapped by racketeer landlords, living in slums, labouring at whatever menial jobs they could get.’
‘I found a man, an English man. He was older than me, in his late thirties. I was nineteen at the time, almost twenty.’
‘Your husband?’
‘My husband is much older than me, but it wasn’t him. This man, attractive for his age, generous with his money, appealed to me. Some of the women are not so lucky, but financial security other than love is often a reason for marriage. And if the man is not who you wanted, as long as he looks after you and helps your family, then that’s fine.’
‘And this man did?’
‘He came to the Philippines on three occasions, and yes, he was kind, and he did give me money for my family. In the end, I agreed to marry him.’
‘And then?’
‘There was a delay while he organised the paperwork for me to stay in England permanently.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘I don’t know. Let me continue.’
‘Please do,’ Wendy said.
‘I was in England, a small place in London, a good man for a husband. But after six months, I saw him less and less, and when he came home, he was uncommunicative, not wanting to tell me about where he’d been. Accused me of being the same as English women, always trying to control, whereas he had expected me to be subservient, do what I was told.’
‘Not an uncommon story,’ Isaac said.
‘Anyway, after eighteen months, maybe longer, he tells me that he no longer wants me and I’m to leave.’
‘Violent?’
‘Not really. I think he was involved in crime, although not sure what sort. There were other women, although he never told me and I never asked, but I used to wash his clothes.’
‘Crime?’ Isaac asked.
‘He kept guns in one of the rooms upstairs. Not that I saw them, nor did I ask. Once or twice he’d take one out with him of a night time.’
‘His profession?’
‘He told me he was involved in import/export, but I never saw any sign of it. Believe me, all I wanted to be was the dutiful wife, and he was looking after my family. If he had other women, not that I liked it, what could I say? We hadn’t married for love, not the sort that you would understand. It wasn’t hatred either. I was desperate, he was lonely.’
‘As we’ve said, we’re not judging,’ Isaac said. ‘Why did Mary Wilton give us your name.’
‘So I can tell you about Analyn. Her story is similar to mine.’
‘You were friends?’
‘Not really. We had a similar background, a shared history, that’s all. We kept in touch by phone, met up occasionally. England was difficult, and as much as I am glad to be here now, it wasn’t always so. In the Philippines, I had my extended family, the weather was hot, not cold and wet. It took time, but now I like the cold nights and rainy days.’
‘We were told that Analyn ended up at Mary Wilton’s. Did you?’
‘Analyn had no option, I did. My husband gave me some money, and I found a job, a bedsit to live. It wasn’t a great time, but I managed. Analyn left with nothing, so she took the only option. I told her not to, and I offered to help her out for a few weeks, but she was a proud woman. She had taken charity once from a man; she wasn’t going to take it from me.
‘I was working in a shop when my present husband came in. He wanted to talk, and he had travelled a lot, been to the Philippines, and he knew where I had lived. I agreed to meet with him, and in time my first husband had divorced me, I found my present husband, Mike’s his name, a person to be with. I even grew to love him.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He’s a teacher of geography at the local grammar school. His wife had died young, and his children had left home. I was one of the lucky ones, and we married, and I moved in here with him.’
‘Analyn wasn’t?’
‘She had gone back to her husband.’
‘You’ve heard from her since?’
‘Two months ago. She said she was fine.’
‘A phone number?’
‘On my phone. Is she in trouble?’
‘We don’t know. Her husband?’
‘I never met him. She told me that he rarely socialised, preferring
