The Clippie Girls (30 page)

The woman sitting near the fire slowly raised her head and met the eyes of the midwife. ‘A boy, you say? It’s a boy?’

Sarah nodded. ‘It is. A strong, lusty baby – thanks to your youngest granddaughter, who probably saved his life.’

She glanced at Mary. It seemed that neither she nor Letty Bradshaw had said a word to the other two women in the room. They hadn’t even told them what sex the baby was. Sarah sighed inwardly. She felt for the young mother upstairs. The girl had made a mistake, yes, as many before had done and many more after her would do. Nothing shocked the midwife, but she was saddened when a new life was not treated with joy and welcoming arms.

‘Myrtle?’ Grace raised her eyebrows. ‘What did she do? Talk it into taking its first breath.’

‘She did exactly what the book says. She held it up and smacked it sharply. It shocks Baby into breathing. Now I must go. I’ve two other calls to make, but I’ll be back later to see if we can get him put to the breast.’

As she turned to leave, Sarah noticed the girl sitting at the table shudder with revulsion, but the great-grandmother was still staring, as if mesmerized, at her.

‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’

Mary followed her. ‘I’ll see you out.’

‘No need,’ Sarah said cheerily. ‘You’d do better to go back upstairs and help that young lass. And,’ she paused with her hand on the door knob, ‘you’ll need to persuade your eldest daughter to take notice of her baby – or we’re going to have trouble.’

‘I’ll – try,’ Mary said weakly.

‘You’ll do more than try, Grandma,’ the midwife said sternly. ‘That little life depends on his mother.’

As the front door closed behind the midwife, Letty said, ‘I’ll be getting off, too, if you’re sure there’s nothing else I can do to help you.’

Mary shook her head. ‘You’ve been very good. Thank you.’

Despite the fact that she knew the whole street would shortly be regaled with the goings-on at the Booths’ house, she was grateful to Letty and more especially to her husband.

‘Please thank Tom for me, won’t you? I don’t know what we’d have done without him – without you both.’

Letty smiled. ‘That’s all right, love. I’ll see you later. I’ll go out t’back way.’

I’m sure we will, Mary thought wryly as she closed the door behind the second visitor to leave. As she returned to the living room, she was surprised to see Grace levering herself up out of her chair. ‘Are you going to bed, Mother? I’ll bring you some hot milk.’

‘No need just yet. I’m going to see my great-grandson.’

Mary’s mouth dropped open and it fell even wider when Grace turned and said, ‘Come along now, Rose. You’re to come as well.’

‘I don’t want to—’

‘You’ll do as you’re told. Mary, lead the way.’

A few moments later, Mary quietly opened the bedroom door, followed in by Grace and a very reluctant Rose. Myrtle was still cuddling the baby rocking him gently as she talked softly to him, her head bent over him.

Peggy appeared to be still asleep.

Grace moved towards Myrtle and stood looking down at her great-grandson for what seemed to the others to be an age, in which no one spoke and the only sound in the room was the baby’s snuffling.

Then Grace pulled up another chair and sat down in front of Myrtle. ‘Let me hold him.’

Myrtle stared at her and then, with obvious reluctance and not without a little trepidation, she handed the baby into Grace’s arms.

There was a long silence in the room and then, to the amazement of them all, Grace began to smile.

‘A boy! It’s a boy!’ she murmured with wonderment and incredulity in her tone.

‘Mother?’ Mary said tentatively, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing.

Grace glanced up briefly but then her gaze was fixed once more on the tiny infant in her arms. For the first time ever, Mary had seen tears in her mother’s eyes. She had never seen Grace cry before; not at her father’s funeral nor at Ted’s. She had not shed a tear at any of the births of her three granddaughters. She had merely regarded them steadily, sniffed and turned away. But now a smile trembled on her mouth, tears brimmed in her eyes and her voice was husky as she said yet again, ‘It’s a boy,’ as if that explained everything.

Mary’s puzzled frown faded as understanding dawned. ‘Oh, after all the girls, you mean?’

Grace nodded, but her gaze never left the tiny infant lying in her arms.

‘We’ve never had a boy in the family – not for years. Not on my side of the family. My mother only had two girls and my sister died when I was little. Diphtheria, I think it was. I don’t even remember her.’

With her gaze still firmly fixed on the mite, she asked, ‘What are you going to call him, Peggy?’

‘Mm?’ Peggy roused herself. She was so very tired and wished they’d all go away and leave her alone. And they could take the baby with them too.

‘What are you going to call him?’ Grace persisted. ‘He must have a name.’

Peggy closed her eyes. ‘Call him what you like. I don’t really care.’

‘Peggy, how can you talk like that?’ Mary was devastated to hear the callousness in her daughter’s tone. She had always been ecstatic at the birth of all three of her daughters, even though it had been yet another mouth to feed in an already stretched household. She couldn’t understand what was happening. She shook her head in disbelief. Peggy was rejecting her son and yet Grace was cuddling the little chap in her arms and demanding that he be given a name. Was there no end to the surprises this day was bringing? Firstly, the help of their neighbours, which had been most welcome but totally unexpected, and then Myrtle. Who would have expected Myrtle, of all of them, to take command of such a difficult situation? Young though she was, there was a self-confidence about Myrtle that none of the others possessed.

Mary’s wandering thoughts were brought back to the present by her mother’s voice. ‘Then he’ll be called Frederick after my father.’

Mary’s eyes widened as she stared at her mother. ‘But you – you said you didn’t want anything to do with him.’ The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. ‘You said—’

‘I know what I
said
, but it’s different now the little chap’s here. And maybe,’ Grace went on, analysing her feelings, ‘it’s because he
is
a boy. I don’t know, but all I know is that he’s brought the love with him. He’s my great-grandson and – ’ her head shot up and her gaze met Mary’s squarely – ‘even if he is a bastard – ’ Mary flinched at the cruel word, but the sting was taken away by her mother’s final words – ‘he’s ours. You hear me? He’s
ours
.’

Peggy groaned and turned over. The decision had been made, taken out of her hands by, of all people, her grandmother. She’d fully expected Mary would try to persuade her to keep the child, but she’d never in a million years have expected that Grace would be the one to do so.

Rose was still standing uncertainly in the doorway. She had only come up here because her grandmother had demanded it. Now she turned away, muttering, ‘I’ll make us all a drink.’ She was shocked by Grace’s sudden capitulation. They were all in there now, almost drooling over the baby. Myrtle had a silly, smug look on her face as if she’d delivered the child single-handedly. And with everyone – including the midwife – telling her that she had saved the baby’s life, she’d become even more conceited and unbearable. Rose almost stamped down the stairs. Well, she wasn’t going to give in, she wasn’t going to take any notice of the child. He was still a bastard and had brought shame and disgrace to their home.

And to make matters even worse, there was still no word from Bob.

Thirty-Five

When Hester Deeton opened the door to her knock, Rose saw at once the anxious frown on the woman’s face. Hester looked worried most of the time, but this was something more serious. Rose’s heart leapt in fear.

‘What is it? Has – has something happened?’

‘He’s been wounded,’ Hester said, as Rose stepped inside and they moved through to the back room, talking as they went.

Rose gasped and felt the colour drain from her face. Wounded, Hester had said, not killed. ‘How – bad?’

‘In his leg. He’s being sent home – back to England. Seems he was abroad after all.’

‘But he’ll be all right? He’ll recover?’

‘Sit down, Rose. Here – read his letter. You’ll know what he says then.’

‘Are you sure?’ Rose asked, not wanting to seem impolite, but her hand was already reaching eagerly for the envelope Hester held.

Dear Mam
, the letter read,

I hope this finds you better than I am at the moment. Now you’re not to worry. I’ve got a small wound in my left leg, but it’s not serious. Anyway, it’ll take a while to heal so they’re sending me back to Blighty as the lads out here still call home. Of course, I can’t tell you where I am but it’s a bit like Blackpool beach in summer. I should be back home soon and I’ll let you know then where I am. I’ll send some money for you to come and see me . . .

The letter ended with affectionate instructions for her to ‘take care of herself’ and ‘I’ll see you soon’.

‘His wound doesn’t sound too serious,’ Rose said.

‘No, but I know my Bob. He always makes light of things. The thing is I know he’s doing it, so I worry all the more about what he might
not
be telling me.’

Hester Deeton would fret whatever anyone said, Rose thought. A born worrier always found something to be anxious about, even when there was nothing. But now there was plenty. Even Rose, who normally sailed blithely through life, had turned into a worrier these days. Hadn’t they all, with this dreadful war darkening their waking hours and disturbing their sleep?

‘Where do you think he is? Blackpool beach in summer? Hot and sandy, I think he’s trying to tell us.’ Rose said. ‘Do you think he’s in the desert? Gran’s been reading bits out of the newspapers about Libya and Egypt.’

‘Possibly.’ Hester chewed her lip. ‘Will they really send him all the way back home if he’s out there?’

‘I don’t know. Probably, because conditions can’t be very good . . .’

Hester’s hands fluttered nervously and Rose realized she was only adding to the little woman’s worries.

‘He – he doesn’t mention me at all,’ she murmured sadly, changing the subject.

‘No, love, but then he’s not referred to Peggy either.’

‘True, but—. Oh, I don’t know what to think.’

‘Let’s get him back home first and then you can talk it through with him.’ Hester regarded the girl, her head tilted to one side. ‘You still love him then, I take it?’

Rose pursed her lips to stop the tears starting, but they filled her eyes anyway. ‘Oh yes,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve never stopped and I don’t suppose I ever will now. I mean, if I can go on loving him when he was going out with my sister and then – then when he asked her to marry him, I don’t think – ’ she laughed bitterly – ‘I’ve got much hope of getting over him, do you?’

‘Well, I’m glad. I just hope he comes to his senses and sees what a lovely girl you are. I’m sorry to say it, love, ’cos she’s your sister, but he’s better off without her. And as for marrying her and taking on another man’s child, well, I wouldn’t have liked that, knowing it wasn’t my flesh and blood.’

Rose thought about her own family. She was now the only one refusing to have anything to do with the child, except, strangely, the child’s own mother. Peggy was still turning her face away from little Freddie and she only submitted to him sucking noisily at her breast because Sarah Catchpole was stern with her.

Rose ran her tongue round her dry lips. ‘She – she’s had the baby.’

‘Has she? Is it – are they both all right?’ Hester was not so cold-hearted that she’d wish any harm to either of them.

Rose nodded. ‘Except Peggy won’t have much to do with him.’

‘That sometimes happens. It’s a big thing to have a baby, you know, and I expect she feels it even more because . . .’ Hester stopped, embarrassed by what she’d been going to say.

‘You don’t have to consider my feelings, Mrs Deeton. I know very well how she feels. Because I won’t have anything to do with him either. I don’t even want to touch him. He’s the cause of all the trouble.’

Hester regarded the moody-faced young woman for a moment before she said gently, ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Rose love. A boy, is it? Well, it’s not the little feller’s fault. He didn’t ask to be born, did he?’

Rose frowned, but did not answer. What was it about the birth of a baby? Even if it’d been born on the wrong side of the blanket, as the saying went, folks seemed to go all dewy-eyed when the baby arrived.

As she left, Hester said, ‘You can come with me when I go to see Bob if you want to.’

‘No – no, not the first time. I’d like to see him, of course I would and I will, but you go on your own first time and see how things are. You – you can tell him I send my love and see what he says.’

Hester nodded. ‘All right then, if you’re sure.’

Rose wasn’t – she wanted to fly to his side wherever he was – but she forced herself to nod and say, ‘It’d be for the best.’

Reaching home, she opened the front door to a wall of noise. The baby was screaming, yet at first Rose couldn’t tell where the noise was coming from. Then she realized with surprise the sound was coming from the living room. Was Peggy up then? She opened the door to see Grace sitting in her usual place, but on her lap was the baby kicking and screaming until he was red in the face. He was surprisingly strong and vigorous for only two weeks old. Grace was on her own; Mary was at work and Myrtle at school. Of Peggy – who should have been here – there was no sign.

‘Oh, Rose!’ Grace looked up with relief. ‘Give us a hand, will you?’ she said, raising her voice above the noise. ‘The midwife brought a bottle and all the paraphernalia round. Peggy’s not producing enough milk to keep the little chap satisfied. He’s a big baby, so Nurse said we must supplement him with a bottle. I’ve mixed it just like she showed me and tested it for heat, but he just screws up his face and won’t even try.’

‘Where’s Peggy?’

‘Upstairs. He’s been crying all morning and she just leaves him lying in his cradle. She’s not natural, that girl. Here, you have a go.’ Grace held out the bottle inviting Rose to try to pacify him.