Bye Bye Love (21 page)

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Authors: Patricia Burns

BOOK: Bye Bye Love
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Graham shrugged. ‘I expect so.’

‘Could you—would you remember me to him?’

Graham sighed and shifted uncomfortably. ‘I dunno, Scarlett. It’s difficult. He was pretty cut up when—you know. He still is. I don’t know that he’d want me passing on any messages from you.’

A great weight of shame, guilt and regret was pressing down on Scarlett’s chest, almost suffocating her.

‘I know. It was just—’

How could she possibly explain to Graham what had happened when she didn’t understand it herself?

‘I must have been mad,’ she said feebly.

‘That’s what we all thought. He’s a good bloke, is Jonno.’

‘I know—’ Scarlett said again.

A good bloke. What an understatement. Jonathan was the best. The love of her life. And she had thrown it all away.

She couldn’t bear to stay with Graham a moment longer.

‘I’ve got to go,’ she said.

She practically ran away from him, not stopping till she was passing under the pier. She found herself on the Golden Mile. Everything here was at its lowest ebb, the bright colours looking cheap and tawdry in the rain. The amusement arcades were shuttered, the ice cream parlours locked. Most of the Italian families had gone home for the winter. Scarlett looked at the familiar facades. There was Aunty Marge’s chip shop. There was the Mancinis’ café. She turned away from the section of the beach where she had lost her virginity to Ricky and gazed at the Trafalgar. Solid and ugly, it stared back at her. Up on the first floor were the windows of Jonathan’s parents’ flat. In three weeks he might be there, looking out of those windows at the pier and the sea. Would he be thinking of her, remembering the wonderful times they had had together? One thing was for sure, he wouldn’t be coming to see her again.

Tears streamed down Scarlett’s face, mingling with the raindrops.

‘Oh, Jonathan,’ she said out loud, ‘I’m sorry, so sorry.’

But she knew that no amount of regret was ever going to put it right. She turned the pram round and headed for home, and an uncertain future.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 

 
 

‘I
S HE
out, then?’ Victor asked.

‘Yes, he’s off playing with the band. They’ve got bookings in London,’ Scarlett said.

She lumbered after Joanne, who was trying to open the sideboard doors.

‘No, pet. Not in there. Come and play with your toys.’

The toddler screamed in protest and sat down hard on her well-padded bottom. The contents of the sideboard were far more fascinating than any toys. Scarlett scooped Joanne up and placed her in the playpen, where she rattled the bars like a caged lion cub.

‘She’s got a mind of her own, all right. Just like you at that age,’ Victor said. He returned to his first line of thought. ‘So is he back tonight?’

‘No, they’re staying over at Brian’s cousin’s place in Walthamstow, then he’s doing another one tomorrow. He’s got time off specially.’

She had told him all this only yesterday, but he had obviously forgotten.

Victor smiled and settled himself more comfortably on the sofa. ‘Nice with just the three of us.’

Scarlett had to admit that it was, as long as her father remained reasonably sober. These days there seemed to be nothing but rows when Ricky was around, and it was getting harder and harder to defend her father’s behaviour when the rows were about him. But today was her father’s day off and Ricky was away. There were plenty of chores to be done, but the pressure of getting the midday meal ready in time was off. It almost made the day into a holiday.

‘Let’s have a cup of tea in the garden,’ she suggested.

They had one rather decrepit deckchair which lived in the outside toilet. Scarlett set it up for her father and spread a spare blanket on the grass for herself and Joanne. She made a pot of tea and put the tray on top of the coal bunker, well out of Joanne’s way. It wasn’t quite Buckingham Palace, but it was fine for a little party.

The garden was a wilderness. Earlier in the summer, Scarlett had cut the lawn most weeks, doing it on her knees with a pair of shears as they didn’t have a lawn- mower. But now she was so huge with the next baby she couldn’t summon the energy to do it. It was one of the many things they argued about. Ricky hated anything to do with the garden and said that Victor ought to do it, seeing as he didn’t do anything else that was useful. Victor was clearly quite incapable of any sort of physical effort, so Scarlett told Ricky that he shouldn’t be asking an old man to do something he could easily do himself. Ricky just snorted and said that Victor wasn’t old, just drunk. In the meantime, the garden grew more and more untidy and the next-door neighbour, a keen gardener, constantly complained about the weeds growing in from their side.

But today there were to be no arguments.

‘There you are, my pet,’ she said, giving Joanne a bottle of diluted orange drink. ‘Your nana would say you had to drink it from a cup, but you’re much happier with your bottle, aren’t you?’

Joanne smiled and happily glugged away at her orange.

‘You’re a good little mum,’ Victor said, smiling at the baby. ‘Your mum would of been proud of you.’

‘Mum wanted me to stay at school and get a good job before I got married,’ Scarlett said sadly.

‘Ah, but she would of loved being a granny. She loved kiddies. Wanted more herself, but it wasn’t to be.’

‘Pity,’ Scarlett said.

How much easier it would have been if she’d had a brother or sister to share the burden of caring for her father. They were both silent for a few moments, remembering the woman they had loved so much.

‘We don’t see much of that friend of yours nowadays. What’s-her-name? Brenda,’ Victor said.

‘No. She’s got other things to do.’

She had hardly seen Brenda since Joanne had been born. Brenda wanted someone to go out dancing and chasing boys with, and clearly Scarlett was no use for that any more, so other girls had taken her place as Brenda’s best friend. And then, when she did come round, either Joanne was making a fuss or Victor was drunk or Ricky was arguing about something, so it wasn’t a very welcoming atmosphere. Scarlett missed the hours of talking about pop stars and records and films, and the gossip about who was going out with whom.

Joanne dropped her bottle and got to her feet, using Scarlett as a steadying post. Scarlett and Victor watched with pride as she toddled off the blanket, tripped on a tussock of grass, picked herself up and stumped off towards the old Anderson shelter.

‘She’s a grand little kiddie, isn’t she?’ Victor remarked.

Scarlett heaved herself to her feet and went to rescue her before she fell in the stinging nettles. As she did so, she felt a nagging pain in her back.

‘Oh, God,’ she said.

‘You all right, love?’

‘Yes.’

She knew just what it was. It was a week or so early, but the pain was unlike any other. She waited to see whether it was just a twinge or the real thing. By midday she was sure. They were coming every fifteen minutes.

‘I’ve got to get moving,’ she said.

‘What?’ Victor was dozing in the sunshine.

‘Got to get Joanne round to the Harringtons’. Good thing I got everything packed the other day.’

She had it all planned out. Much as she disliked having to do so, she had arranged to leave Joanne with her mother-in-law while she was in hospital. She looked at Victor. How nice it would be if she could trust him to take Joanne to her nana’s while she waited for the taxi. As it was, Victor needed looking after himself. She was afraid that if Ricky came home and found him dead drunk, he would turn him out. She heaved Joanne and her things into the pram, together with her hospital bag.

‘You’ll be sure to get yourself up and out tomorrow morning, won’t you, Dad?’

‘What? Are you off somewhere? What’s happening?’

Scarlett groaned with exasperation. ‘The baby’s coming, Dad. I’ve got to get to hospital.’

Victor finally realised what was going on. He got up and held her. ‘Good luck, my darling. You just get on with what you got to do. Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be just fine.’

Scarlett knew just what would happen the moment her back was turned. He would take whatever booze he had hidden about the place out into the garden and quietly drink himself senseless.

‘You’ll make sure you eat properly, won’t you? There’s milk and cereals and beans and bread. You can manage those all right.’

‘Yes, yes, don’t worry. Now, off you go.’

He was looking distinctly nervous. Scarlett guessed he was afraid she might give birth then and there. She gave him a kiss and set off, not without misgivings, but right now she had to leave him to his own devices. She had more urgent matters to take care of.

Even in this extremity, Ricky’s mum was less than delighted to see her.

‘I thought you had another couple of weeks. I’ve got my Mothers’ Union meeting this afternoon and you know I don’t like to miss it. Still, these things were sent to try us, I suppose. You’d better sit down. I’ll go next door and see if I can use their phone, seeing as it’s an emergency.’

Scarlett collapsed into the nearest chair and doubled over as a contraction gripped her. Thankfully, the taxi that Mrs Harrington had phoned for was quick to arrive. Her mother-in-law gave her an exasperated look.

‘Have you got enough money for the fare?’

Scarlett shook her head. Mrs Harrington sighed dramatically and pressed two half crowns into her hand. Joanne clung to her mother, wailing, but Mrs Harrington peeled her off.

‘That’s quite enough fuss from you. You’ve got to learn to behave yourself, young lady,’ she said, holding onto the struggling toddler. ‘When Mummy comes back, she’ll have more than enough to cope with, without you playing up.’

Scarlett felt as if she were being torn in half. She had to go to hospital, but she hated leaving Joanne with this woman.

‘Be kind to her, please,’ she begged as she plumped down on the back seat of the taxi. ‘And you will tell Ricky what’s happened when he comes home?’

She couldn’t be sure that the message would get through from her father.

‘Of course I will. Whatever do you take me for?’ Mrs Harrington asked, speaking loudly over Joanne’s screams.

Scarlett worried all the way to the hospital. But, by the time she got to the maternity ward, things were so far advanced that she had to leave it all behind her. The midwife scolded her for leaving it so late, got her into a gown and rushed her straight into the labour ward. By eight o’clock that evening, baby Simon was born.

At evening visiting time the next day, Mr and Mrs Harrington arrived with Joanne, a card and a bunch of carnations. Mrs Harrington, in full grandmother mode, bent over the bassinet to admire her new grandson.

‘Isn’t he just beautiful? What a lot of hair! Is he feeding yet?’

Scarlett answered all the usual questions and gave Joanne lots of attention. It was strange how huge Joanne seemed now. She had always thought of her as a baby, but now she was the big sister. What with coping with her and replying to all Mrs Harrington’s ideas as to who the baby looked like, it was a while before she could ask about what was worrying her.

‘Does Ricky know?’

All down the long ward, other mothers had their husbands with them, except for one poor unfortunate unmarried mother who only had a couple of friends to support her.

‘Oh…well…it’s difficult to contact him, you know. That relative of Brian’s they’re staying with isn’t on the telephone, and of course we aren’t either, as you know. He’ll be back tonight, so he’ll find out then,’ his mother said. ‘Now, we mustn’t tire you. You’ve got to get your rest and get better, so I think we’ll run along now.’

There was a big drama from Joanne, who didn’t want to be parted from her mother, and then they were gone, leaving Scarlett feeling uneasy. Why did Ricky have to go away just when she needed him? He ought to be here.

The next day Mrs Harrington came in the afternoon without her husband.

‘Is Ricky coming this evening?’ Scarlett asked.

‘Oh, yes, I’m sure he will,’ Mrs Harrington replied. ‘Joanne’s been such a good girl, haven’t you, darling? She’s eaten up all her dinner for Nana and she slept really well last night and didn’t wake Nana up till nearly seven this morning.’

‘Oh, good. That’s nice. So Ricky knows about the baby, does he?’

‘Oh, yes. And she sat on her potty like a good girl. That’s splendid, isn’t it? You want to get her trained as soon as possible. Washing two lots of nappies is going to be a handful.’

Mrs Harrington chattered on, relating every minute detail of Joanne’s behaviour. Scarlett was relieved to hear that she was not pining too much and even let herself get sidetracked into discussing the merits of different brands of teething rusks, but she still hadn’t had a straight answer to her question about Ricky.

‘Nana, when did you speak to Ricky?’

Mrs Harrington looked flustered. ‘Well, dear, I haven’t actually spoken to him as such.’

Scarlett’s head felt like cotton wool. Something wasn’t making sense here.

‘But he is home, isn’t he?’

When he got home last night and found that she and Joanne weren’t there, he would have guessed what had happened and gone round to get the news from his parents, even if he didn’t ask her father.

‘Well…er…’ Mrs Harrington looked acutely uncomfortable. She took refuge in speaking to Joanne rather than Scarlett. ‘Daddy’s not actually back yet, is he, darling? But I’m sure he will be soon.’

‘He was only supposed to be away for one night!’ Scarlett cried.

‘Well…yes…but I suppose he must have got held up somewhere. He’ll be back this evening, don’t you worry.’

Scarlett had to be content with that.

By Saturday, Scarlett had reached the tearful stage and Mrs Harrington had run out of excuses. Ricky had not been home, nor had he visited his parents, nor had he been to work. Mrs Harrington sat on the hard chair by Scarlett’s bed and wrung her hands.

‘I don’t know what’s happened to him! I sent George round to Brian’s and Alan’s parents’ houses, and they’re back, but Ricky isn’t.’

‘But don’t they know where he is?’ Scarlett cried.

Mrs Harrington shook her head. ‘Some man came to see them play on Wednesday evening, and he and Ricky went to a coffee bar together afterwards. The others waited and waited for him, then they came home to Southend, and they say Ricky turned up at about three in the morning at Brian’s cousin’s house and got his case and went with this man. He wouldn’t tell Brian’s cousin where he was going, just that he was going to…to…what did he say? Hit the big time. That was it. Hit the big time. Brian seemed a bit cut up about it.’

Scarlett had no time for Brian’s problems. ‘But he will be coming back, won’t he?’ she asked, in between sobs.

Mrs Harrington was almost as upset as she was. For once they were in accord. ‘Of course he will, dear. Of course he will,’ she said, tears starting in her eyes.

Joanne, finding herself ignored in this crisis, started wailing as well. Scarlett cuddled her close and laid her cheek on her dark hair. It was some comfort to hold her small body, but not enough to quiet the fears that were multiplying inside her.

Brenda came to see her, bearing flowers, grapes and a blue matinee jacket.

‘What do you mean, disappeared?’ she asked, when told about Ricky.

‘He was supposed to be playing in London somewhere on Tuesday evening and somewhere else on Wednesday evening, and come home Wednesday night, but instead he went off with some man who came to see them play and no one’s heard of him since.’

‘Oh, he’ll be back,’ Brenda said. She sat on the bed and put her arms round Scarlett. ‘Hey, what’s all this crying about? You’re usually the brave one.’

‘I’m sorry, I c-can’t help it,’ Scarlett sobbed. ‘What am I going to do if he doesn’t come back? What are the babies going to do without a dad?’

‘He’ll be home. He’s got to come home, he can’t just go off like that,’ Brenda said.

Scarlett managed to get the better of her tears. She was so pleased to see her friend again. Brenda was the only person she could open her heart to, and she needed to talk.

‘I don’t love him, you know,’ she confessed. ‘Not the way I loved—love—Jonathan. Not at all, really. But I need him. The children need a father. We need someone to pay the rent. If I’m left with two babies and my dad to look after, what am I going to do? I can’t leave them and go back to factory work, and I can’t take them with me. How are we going to live?’

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