MY LIFE © - Chapter 40 - THE DISCRETE GENERATION.

Here is a chapter that truly something that surprised me.
I had been going out steadily with a local young lady since 1968. Differences between us were considerable and pursuing this relationship was going to prove difficult. Neither of us wanted to give up. Her parents realising that as long as we both lived in the same city especially a city like Gibraltar, virtually an island since the frontier was completely closed, decided to send her to London to stay with a distant cousin of her father, a Mr Mendoza.
Mr Mendoza was one of these who was sent to London with his family during the evacuation in the early 1940s. He had married an English lady and settled in London, in Streatham in fact. And it was there that my girlfriend lodged.

Meanwhile back at the ranch......

I found it impossible to live without her, but nor could I find it possible to find a reason to tell my parents I wanted to go to London after her. And here is where destiny stepped in. Somehow or other I got a very serious kidney infection which had me out for quite a while. As part of the treatment, I was pumped full of penicillin until the infection cleared. However, as can happen with all medications, I had been overdosed with penicillin and did not want to continue with the local doctor. I insisted to my parents I wanted to go to London for treatment.
Yes of course I exaggerated my symptoms, it was just a heaven-sent opportunity to chase after my girlfriend and see if we could patch things up.

With the optimism of youth and a broken heart, I started asking her friends if they knew where she was. London after all is a bit bigger than Gibraltar (?)..... but that did not deter me.

At the time I did not know she was living with the Mendozas. They had no links with Gibraltar other than a distant “cousin-ship” with my girlfriend’s father. I knew she lived with them, but there were several Mendozas in the London phone book would you believe....... and in any case, they had surely been warned about me.

"Si se acerca el de TEO .... no la deje ni que hable con el!"
("Don't even let her talk to the TEO guy!")

Through a friend of a friend of a friend .... as the saying goes ... I managed to find and the shop where she worked in as a sales assistant, BUS STOP, a contemporary of BIBA's but which kept a lower profile and so lasted longer than BIBA.

As you can imagine that had taken me at least a month in London, undergoing outpatient treatments and working at the Army and Navy stores in Victoria for my own upkeep. The A&N department store was impressive, but even then, a rather dated one. Faking a dentist appointment I made my way to Streatham, to the BUS STOP branch there. Cool as a cucumber (but made of jelly inside) I sauntered into the shop and waited until she saw me. We had been separated for about 6 months by then.

"David!" ...instant tears

"Chris!" ....instant embrace

We kissed ...and, even if only in our heads, we could hear the full London Symphony Orchestra playing "Lara's Theme" from Dr Zhivago.
(YOU TUBE LINK provided later: "Somewhere My Love (Lara's Theme)" from the movie Doctor Zhivago ~ Omar Sharif, Julie Christie ( Classic Movie) 1965 Greatest movie ever made in my opinion. This movie has it all! Drama, Action, Romance, Beautiful)

Love at that age is sweet beyond words.

London had changed her…for the better!
New hairstyle, tip top fashion clothes, mini skirt showing off her fabulous legs (yes, I am definitely a "legs man")  I remember the platform boots which brought me up to my own 5 foot 10, and the startling Mary Quant makeup…. hers!

It was love at ….second sight… I suppose.

I had done my best to present myself appealingly. I too had had a haircut, (which after paying 2/6 in Gib for one, the £15 I had to pay at Scissors in Kings Road, dented my miserable weekly wage of £17.18s.6d horrifically!) and a slim fit, League of Gentlemen suit.

Success as regards the reunion .... but where to take this from there?

Bentata was ... “persona non grata” ....at “Fortress Mendoz”!

Chris was quite resourceful. Through a combination of sweet smiles, copious tears, and soft words, she managed to convince her "uncle" that I was not such an ogre after all. Somehow or other she piqued his interest ....
What kind of a guy was this David after all?

"David..." from a phone box, obviously ....

Click ... Beep Beep ... clunk, as the coins were fed in....

"My uncle has invited you to come to dinner tomorrow night. He wants to meet y..."

"Great, yes, lovely, of course ...." ...were the words out of my mouth.
"Shit shit shit...what the hell am I getting into?" were those in my head.

Taking a bus the next day, I arrived and knocked on the door, carrying a box of CAILLER's SWISS chocolates.
This David guy may be an ogre, but I did have some style! Certainly, KitKat or Lion's Bar would not do.

Mr Mendoza was a charming gentleman, ...around mid to late 40s, I'd have said. No sooner had he welcomed me in, we sat on the sofa and he looked me I to eye, and said:

"Don't worry David, it's going to be alright."

"Thank you, I am grateful for your invitation."

"No, David .... IT IS GOING TO BE ALL RIGHT!" he enunciated this pointedly.

Okaaaayyyy ... ? ? ?
So he was not going to grill me about my intentions with Chris, was that it?

As if reading my mind, he said:

“What you came to London for ...... the tests, they will come out negative, so you have nothing to worry about."

It was true in that my test results from the doctor where expected the next day but I had told no one about this, least of all Chris. Perhaps he worked in the hospital???? No... that would be too much of a coincidence ....
So how could he know?

Not knowing what to reply, I smiled and said nothing.
Over a cold beer and crisps, he asked me what my intentions were with Chris. I told them the truth. The depths of my feelings for her, as well as my fears regarding complications of two people of different religions, different cultures, different upbringing..... the odds were heavily stacked against us. History would prove my fears to have been correct, but that but only came some 15 years.

I cannot remember much of the details of that conversation. We sat at the dinner table, had a pretty good meal though I was only allowed one more beer. Then we went back to the lounge where sitting next to me, he said:

"Tu estas pensando que soy un poco tonto, no?"
("You think I am a bit of a nutter, no?")

Rhetorical question I am sure, but I hastened to tell him that was not the case.

"What happens between my niece and you is in your hands, both your hands, more than in the hands of anybody else, including your parents or hers. So, it is for you two to decide the way forward."

"Yes, we are aware of the difficulties, me much more than her. But we love each other and that will see us through!"

Oh the inane platitude of Hollywood brainwashing!

LOVE .... the magic potion which would make everything right!

But I was not there to philosophize with him. After hearing his decision, which essentially gave Chris and I carte blanche despite her parents dire warnings ..... let alone mine had they known then...
All I wanted to do was leave and plan some cosy arrangement for us while we were both still in London.

Mr Mendoza and I had never met. Nor did we know of each other till then.

"David, I am telling you it is ok, everything will come out fine."

"Well, yes, thank you. I hope so."

"No, no ... I am not talking about Chris and you."

"No?"

"No!"

"So.....?"

" I am talking about your Guardian Angel"
(Enter sound track of "the Twilight Zone"!)

"My ... guardian angel....?"

"Yes ... I can see him now, he is behind your left shoulder..."

The temptation to turn my head was immense! But I had to keep my cool. Two people in The Twilight Zone at the same time, in the same room was just a bit too much to handle.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Errrr .. yes ... if you say so...." What else could I reply?

"He is your brother."

"My brother?"

"Yes....You have got yourself into all sorts of scrapes in your young life, am I right?"

"I suppose so...."

"And yet you always come out safe. He is guarding you all the time."

This is where I mentally strapped on my life jacket and decided to float on his words rather than drown in an argue. I have no brother. I have no sister either. I am an only child. But good manners stopped me from ridiculing these prophetic pronouncements.

"He is younger than you, about 3 years younger, and his name is Sammy."

There was not much more I could say to him so we shook hands, kiss cheeked Chris and Mrs Mendoza, cool for the latter, red hot for the former, and made my way out into the drizzly, dark night.

A lot of things happened after that evening.
Indeed, my test results came out negative. Yet even by then, barely 48 hours after “the Prophecy”, I hardly thought of Mr Mendoza any more. Chris and I were together again and that was the most important thing in our minds.

 She returned to Gib a couple of months after that. I followed her back here 3 months later and we started making arrangements to get married. No, no, I shall not continue on that part of the story. Those who know us know the story each from their own perspective. There is nothing I can say here that is conducive that aspect of our lives.

Instead let me fast forward to about 10 years after this.

It was Passover.

We had married and had had two of our three children by then. As is customary families get together for Jewish Feasts, and especially so on the first two nights of Passover.

Incidentally this is what the Christian Last Supper is all about, but that indeed is another story though definitely not mine.

We were sitting at the table recounting the Exile from Egypt, reading from the Haggadah, where the story is written and has been repeated, re-sung, re-told for the last almost 3000 years.

At the table, my parents, the older generation, having been born in 1912 and 1913, Dad and Mum respectively.

My wife and I, and two very sleepy children (Haggadah Nights do tend to go on and on a bit), the next two generations which history would show were the forerunners of the generations of today, where all is talked about, made public, discussed openly ... in fact where the word "discretion" was laid to rest.

Somehow or other the conversation of that evening in Streatham came up. My parents had never heard of this Mr Mendoza. Dad stayed here during the war and Mum and her family were evacuated to Madeira. They were therefor strangers to each other, more than that, virtually unknowns.

"....and then her uncle told me I had a guardian angel ..."
We sniggered at the thought...." ... and that he was my brother who was 3 years younger than me and his name was Sammy..."

My mother went white.
The blood drained from her face. She looked at my father then both looked at me.

"He said that?"

"Yes, Mum. I did not have the heart to tell him I had no brothers or sisters...."

Mum got up from the table and left the room, dabbing her eyes.

"Dad .... que pasa?" ("Dad, what's up?")

When Mum returned, her eyes were red, but she was calm.

This was the generation which knew when things were worth being talked about, and when things were better left unsaid.

That night was the night to say what had never ever been mentioned after 1949 when this had occurred.

"David, three years after you were born, I fell pregnant again. I was under treatment to get pregnant as I had .... woman troubles ... (talk about "discretion") ... Unfortunately, I had a miscarriage. It was a boy ... and he would have been named after my own father .... Samuel"