A Mother's Duty (27 page)

Think a few happy thoughts
, she told herself.
Think of the miracle of new life growing inside you against all the odds.
John had been so careful but it had happened and she could still hardly believe it. This morning she was convinced she had felt the baby quickening inside her. Sooner or later she was going to have to tell him, but not yet. If he did not run away from the stark truth about her being pregnant, he just might fuss over her and insist she take things easy, and she had no time for that. Christmas was coming and although they were closing down over the festive season, people were still flooding into town from Wales and Lancashire and staying a couple of nights to shop and see a film or a show. Then they were gone and although she had taken on a couple of part-timers it still involved more work for her.

‘Hast thou a pain?’

‘What?’ Slowly Kitty turned to face Hannah.

‘Thee hasn’t been thyself lately.’ The maid’s eyes were concerned.

‘I’m fine!’ Kitty braced her shoulders and tilted her chin.

‘Thee looks peaky if thee asks me.’

‘Nobody’s asking thee!’ cried Kitty, and to her horror her eyes filled with tears. ‘Just – just come and help me lift this pan.’

‘I’m glad thee’s showing some sense by not lifting it on thy own.’ Hannah’s normally austere expression was gentle as she brushed Kitty’s hand aside and lifted the pan. ‘There’s no need to cry, missus. I’m here to help thee but the sooner thou tells that man of thine what’s up with thee the better.’

Kitty blinked back tears and sniffed, giving a good imitation of Hannah. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’

The maid smiled grimly. ‘Just because I’m an old maid doesn’t say I don’t know nuthin’.’

Kitty saw there was no use in pretending anymore. ‘I want this baby,’ she said fiercely.

The maid sniffed. ‘I suppose he doesn’t though, and that’s why thee hasn’t told him. Thou’s a fool.’ Hannah’s voice had softened. ‘If thee goes on slaving away thou’ll miscarry and that could finish thee off and where will that leave all thy menfolk?’

‘Ever cheerful,’ said Kitty, feeling a chill at her heart as she gazed at her maid from beneath drooping eyelids.

‘Yous have to face facts. Tell him. Babbies can’t be hidden for ever.’

Not for ever, but perhaps a bit longer. She had to pick her time, she thought.

Two days later Kitty fainted clean away whilst queuing up in the market. She was standing next to a Christmas tree at the time and fell into it. On regaining consciousness she was aware of the hard stone floor, a rich resinous pine-like smell and needles sticking into her palm. The stallholder, Mr Green, informed her that her husband had been sent for and insisted she sat and wait for him. He pressed her into a chair and handed her a cup of tea. It was sweet and she sipped it slowly, feeling stupid and irritable and, if the truth be known, worried. It was the first time she had ever fainted in her life.

John arrived and he sat back on his haunches in front of her. ‘What happened?’ There was a furrow between his chestnut brows and an anxious expression in his eyes.

She had almost decided to tell him the truth but now she changed her mind and lied effortlessly. ‘I went dizzy. It must be my age or hunger.’

‘What’s your age got to do with it?’

‘I’m thirty-seven, John!’ She smiled. ‘Women of my age do have fainting fits.’ She stared at him, willing him to get her meaning. He returned her stare but said nothing and she lowered her eyes and sighed. ‘I’ll probably get middle-age spread and you won’t love me anymore.’

He laughed then. ‘I don’t believe it! It’s more likely due to your working so hard. Or you could be anaemic and need a tonic. You should see Galloway, Kit.’

‘Doctors cost money!’ She concealed her alarm by smiling up at the stallholder and handing her empty cup to him. She thanked him for looking after her.

‘No trouble, luv. As long as yer didn’t hurt yerself when yer fell against that tree.’

Kitty gazed at the tree which had a couple of crushed and bent branches. ‘I’ll buy it,’ she decided. ‘The boys’ll enjoy decorating it.’

‘Yer don’t have to,’ protested Mr Green but she could see her offer had pleased him so she insisted, and ordered John to take possession of the fir tree.

‘You must be feeling better,’ he drawled. ‘Giving your orders.’

‘I do feel better.’ She paid the stallholder, who wrapped old newspaper about the tree roots and and handed it to John. She picked up her basket and slipped her free hand into her husband’s arm and squeezed it. ‘You mustn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,’ she said.

‘You still look pale.’ His gaze travelled slowly over her face. ‘You’ll do as you’re told and go and see Galloway. Go soon.’ She protested but John was not having any. ‘You’ll go if I have to drag you there by your hair,’ he commanded.

‘All right, I’ll go!’ She saw nothing for it but to do as he said.

They set the Christmas tree up in the Smoking Room. It was not often that Kitty was able to entertain her own friends or relatives but on Boxing Day she had invited the O’Neills for dinner before they went off to Ireland for the New Year, and she planned having Annie’s family for Hogmanay.

When the boys arrived home from school she handed scissors, glue and sheets of tinsel and coloured paper over and told them to get cracking. She dug out the box of candle holders and glass baubles they’d had for years and placed new candles in the holders. Several guests arrived on the scene and Kitty hurried into the kitchen to finish the preparations for dinner, leaving two of them helping the boys. At last she felt there was a real spirit of Christmas in the air and she began to enjoy herself, despite the fact that at the back of her mind she was wondering what to say to Dr Galloway when she saw him.

On the morning of her appointment Kitty washed from head to toe and put on her Sunday best. She was still undecided as to what to tell him when she arrived at the surgery. Perhaps she should just say she wanted a tonic? That she was feeling run down? It was true enough.

It was not until the door was opened by Celia that Kitty had a moment’s disquiet. With so much on her mind she had forgotten John’s god-daughter was working for the doctor. Then she asked herself what was she worrying about? The girl wasn’t to know why she was here. Celia smiled shyly, wished her a good morning and showed her to the waiting room.

Kitty thanked her and gazed about the room. There was only one other person there, whom she did not recognise, so she picked up a copy of
Good Housekeeping
and sat down. She realised she was a bag of nerves. It was a long time since she had been to the surgery. The boys were blessedly healthy, although all had suffered measles and chickenpox and Mick had had mumps. If they cut themselves or got the odd bump or cold, she dealt with it herself using concoctions passed on to her by her mother who’d had a fear of doctors and hospitals.

Kitty opened the magazine and flicked over a page. Her eyes caught the words
The Children’s Charter. An explanation of the Children’s and Young Persons Act of 1933.
She had heard of the Act, of course, and so read with interest, taking note of the hours a child under twelve could be employed, which meant not more than two hours on Sundays or school days. Those hours could not be during school hours or before six in the morning or after eight at night. She thought of Teddy who would soon be officially on her payroll.

The door opened and the other woman left the waiting room. Kitty read on. There was a conflict of opinions between the House of Lords and Commons over the birching of young boys. The Commons were against, the Lords for. Kitty mused on the issue and decided that there could be no hard and fast rule. She hated the thought of any child being beaten but crime was on the increase and that included juvenile crime and it needed to be dealt with.

Celia popped her head round the door. ‘Dr Galloway will see you now.’

Kitty was shown upstairs and into a room overlooking the street. Her legs felt shaky. Perhaps he would say she really was going through the change of life? Or worst that she had something seriously wrong with her?

The doctor was seated at a desk, writing. He lifted his head as she entered and his strained expression disappeared in a smile. Immediately her nervousness vanished and she stopped thinking of herself. This man had lost a child and could put a brave face on it, so what was her problem in comparison? He had the gentlest of grey eyes and a warm smile. ‘Good morning,’ he said.

‘Good morning, Doctor.’

‘Please sit down. I won’t keep you a moment.’

She sat and waited, thinking not for the first time how terrible it must be to lose your only child. He finished writing and leaned forward, clasping his hands on the sheet of pink blotting paper on the desk. ‘What can I do for you, Mrs McLeod? It’s not often I get to see you in here.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I’d like a tonic. I think I’m a bit run down. I – I fainted in the market.’

Dr Galloway got to his feet. ‘Let’s have a look at you.’

Kitty was alarmed. ‘You mean you’d like to look at my tongue?’ she babbled and stuck it out.

‘Very nice,’ he murmured. ‘But—’

‘My eyes then.’ She opened her eyes wide.

‘Mrs McLeod, please!’ He smiled but his expression was thoughtful when he took her wrist and held it for a few moments. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?’ he said gently.

‘You won’t tell my husband?’ She could hear the anxiety in her voice and could have kicked herself for it. ‘What you tell me will be strictly confidential.’ His voice was grave. ‘Doctors take an oath about that sort of thing, Mrs McLeod.’

‘I know that but—’ She hesitated. ‘I’m having a baby and my husband’s not going to like it.’

Dr Galloway did not show the surprise she expected. ‘Up on the couch with you,’ he said. ‘I am sure you know what you’re talking about but let’s make certain.’

A few minutes later he was confirming her diagnosis and advising her to be confined at the new maternity hospital in Oxford Street. She had never been in hospital before and had caught some of her mother’s prejudices, but perhaps the new hospital would be different. She remembered the Princess Royal coming to lay the foundation stone when the hotels on the Mount had been decorated in her honour and the pavements lined with Girl Guides. Perhaps she would not have lost her little girl if she had gone into hospital then?

The doctor went over to the sink whilst she adjusted her clothing. Then he sat behind his desk and told her to sit down. ‘Sometimes Mr McLeod and I have a yarn,’ he murmured. ‘He’s led an interesting life and it’s a pity he never finished his training after the war.’

Kitty nodded, remembering that the doctor had served in the Liverpool Scottish Regiment. ‘I suppose you discuss the war.’

‘Sometimes. Interestingly your husband and I met Captain Chavasse. A brave man. You know of him, of course?’

‘Yes.’
Who didn’t in Liverpool
, she thought. The captain had been a doctor and worked in the port before the war. He had won two Victoria Crosses and saved numerous lives at the cost of his own. His father had been a Bishop of Liverpool and was principal founder of the Anglican Cathedral. He had lost another son on the Somme. Such loss was a terrible burden to bear for any parent. ‘Sad,’ she understated.

‘Hard to lose a child at any time,’ said Dr Galloway, looking drawn. ‘Fortunately the bishop has another two sons and twin daughters. I had only the one and it is a great grief to me to have lost her. You’re worried about Mr McLeod’s reaction to your pregnancy. Well, don’t be, my dear. He’s been given a second chance at making something of his life because of his marriage to you and that can only be good for him.’ Kitty was touched. ‘Naturally he will worry about you,’ continued the doctor. ‘But I’m certain he will be pleased about the baby. Children are a blessing. I’ll give you an iron tonic and arrange about the hospital. You must eat well and make sure you have plenty of rest. If you do that I’m sure you’ll have no problems. Come and see me again in two months’ time and we’ll have a little chat.’

Kitty saw there was nothing more to be said. She thanked him and paid his fee on the way out. Celia held the door open for her and impulsively Kitty asked how she was.

‘Why do you ask?’ said Celia, two bright spots of colour appearing on her freckled cheeks.

‘I just wondered. I know how fond of Dr Galloway’s daughter you were.’

The girl looked relieved. ‘It was sad. Really sad! That’s why I’m staying on with the doctor. He says he likes to see a young face about the place. He’s having me trained to be a receptionist.’

‘I’m sure you’ll do well, Celia,’ said Kitty sincerely.

‘Thanks very much,’ said the girl, beaming at her. ‘And I hope you have a happy Christmas, Mrs McLeod. And all the family.’ She hesitated. ‘You’ll give my best wishes to Mick?’

‘I will,’ said Kitty.

‘Well?’ demanded John, taking both her hands as she entered the kitchen. It was with a sense of shock she realised he was shaking and immediately she was concerned about him.

‘I’m very well thank you.’ Her tone was confident. ‘He’s given me a tonic and told me I must look after myself because I’m not getting any younger.’

The worried lines about John’s eyes did not ease. ‘So he said everything was all right?’

‘Would I be smiling if he hadn’t?’ She twinkled at him.

He lifted one of her hands and kissed it. ‘But if you faint again you’ll go straight back there.’

‘Of course I will.’ She told herself she would tell him in the New Year. The last thing she wanted was him fussing about her all over Christmas, insisting that she rest. Rest at the moment was the last thing she could do.

‘You know the doctor’s going away for Christmas,’ said John.

‘He didn’t say.’

‘Well, he is. Which means Celia will be stuck with her mother and her fancy man, unless—’

Kitty caught on quickly. ‘Unless we ask her to do a couple of weeks’ work here, you mean?’

‘You could do with some extra help.’

Kitty hesitated, wondering whether Mick would like the idea. Should she ask him? Was it necessary? He hadn’t mentioned the girl in months, although she had sent her best wishes to him. She really
could do
with extra help and it would only be for two weeks.