Young May Moon (20 page)

M
AY WAS OUT
of puff when she arrived at the door of the
apartment
. One of those days, she thought, as she put down her shopping, eased off her shoes and reached for her slippers. Damp and murky, no doubt foggy over the water. She’d caught the bus into the city because the estate had only a couple of shops, a newsagent and a general stores. She’d lugged home two heavy bags of
provisions
– for it was possible the baby might arrive soon, and she wanted to stock the larder. Paddy had insisted he would do the
shopping
at the weekend, and she knew he would be cross that she hadn’t stayed at home, with her feet up.

Still restless, she went into the spare bedroom and checked the baby toiletries packed into the chipwood basket she’d been given by the local shop. It still had a faint smell of apples, although she’d covered it with blue sateen after padding over the wood. She murmured aloud: ‘Vinolia soap and powder, roll of cotton wool, zinc and castor-oil ointment, card of nappy pins, bath sponge, muslin nappies to line the terry ones, baby hairbrush, and gripewater.’ The crib, which Paddy had brought with him when he collected her from Raynes Park, was the one he and his brother had used as babies and which in turn had been handed down to Cluny. May, being
superstitious
, hadn’t made it up yet, but there was a neat pile of blankets and baby clothes on the spare bed. Satisfied, she closed the door and went into the kitchen to start cooking Paddy’s evening meal.

She experienced that little niggle low in her abdomen again. The baby had been quiet for the past few days, which the midwife said meant it was almost time for the birth. ‘The fluttering,’ she advised, ‘is perfectly normal. Carry on as usual. You’ll know when to stop.’

May peeled potatoes, lit the gas and set them to boil. She shredded cabbage, scored the fat on plump lamb chump chops and heated them gently in the frying pan. Paddy didn’t like them cooked in lard; he said they didn’t need it.

I need to sit down, May told herself. She’d suffered from backache this last month. Paddy worked a long shift on Fridays; he wouldn’t be home until around seven. She was making a favourite supper, because it was also pay-day. She turned the gas low. No need to hurry the cooking.

She shouldn’t have sat in the easy chair, because once she relaxed she drifted off to sleep. She woke to darkness, because she hadn’t turned the light on in the living room. The cabbage had boiled dry, she realized instantly. A horrible smell. Even as she heaved herself out of the chair she was aware of a strong contraction, which made her gasp and clutch her middle. When the pang subsided she went unsteadily to the switch and the room was flooded with light. The fire was burning low, but her first priority was to rescue Paddy’s dinner.

The plump chops had shrivelled to half their size, the fat from them spat in the pan. She rescued the potatoes and turned off the gas rings. The cabbage was scraped into the bin, and the pan put to soak. May mopped her forehead with the tea towel; she was sweating profusely, but at the same time she felt very cold.

Another contraction; she held on tight to the kitchen table. There was the sound of Paddy turning the key in the lock, and the next moment he was beside her, supporting her and helping her towards the bedroom. ‘Stay there! I’ll have to go downstairs to ring the hospital from the hall telephone.’ He fetched a spare blanket from the airing cupboard and covered her with it on the bed, as she lay on top of the eiderdown, too exhausted to crawl under it.

‘Your dinner …’ she managed.

‘Don’t worry about that. I can heat it up later. Your bag is packed isn’t it? I expect they’ll want you in hospital right away.’

‘But you don’t have a first baby that quickly. The midwife said—’

‘Shush, darling. Save your breath. Try to relax between the pains. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

It was a short drive to the hospital, but not a comfortable ride for May, cramped in the passenger seat, hanging grimly on to her bag in her lap.

‘You must be hungry.’ She was concerned that he hadn’t eaten.

‘Please don’t worry about me.’

They were met at the hospital entrance by a porter with a trolley accompanied by a nurse. May was pushed away down a long corridor to the maternity ward, while Paddy answered the queries at the reception desk.

‘Yes, you can stay with your wife until the birth is imminent,’ he was told, ‘then fathers are banished to the waiting room until it’s all over. The nurses can’t be doing with strong men passing out on the delivery room floor. Good luck,’ the receptionist added with a smile.

May was in the bed nearest the ward door; there were rows of beds and all were occupied. She was aware of a constant groaning and bells ringing, as patients reached for the pull cord above their heads. Nurses swished by, and there was a strong smell of antiseptic, which was a reminder of where she was. Paddy was at her bedside, rubbing her back, as instructed by the midwife, who told him that May was almost at the third stage, when she would be removed to the delivery room next door.

May was trying to tell him something. He listened intently. ‘Paddy – when they – brought me here – I thought – I was in the trap – going to West Wick….’

‘Shush,’ he said. ‘It won’t be long now.’ He prayed he was right.

The rubber mask went over her nose and mouth. ‘Breathe deeply,’ a man’s voice said. The doctor had been called. Despite all her efforts, the baby was not yet born.

May seemed to float off into space. Through the haze she heard the echo of old Mr Punch: ‘
That’s the way to do it!
’ as James Patrick O’Flaherty, Young Jim, came, with a loud cry, into the world.

Paddy, wearing a white gown over his clothes, held the baby in his arms. There were tear stains on his face, for he had wept as he paced up and down in the waiting room. He’d waited a long time because there had been an emergency after the birth; May had lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion. She was the medical team’s main
concern: the baby was wrapped in a blanket and left to cry lustily, which was a good sign. Now, both he and his mother had been washed, but they remained in a side room, until May was stable enough to be moved back into the ward.

May had not yet regained enough strength to sit up, but she was smiling and talking. ‘What do you think of your son, Paddy?’ she asked.

‘He’s a champion. Did they tell you he weighs almost nine pounds?’

‘Yes. He’s dark-haired, like both of us, but maybe he’ll have curly hair like you.’

‘Are you all right?’ he asked anxiously.

‘Are
you
all right?’ she countered. ‘You need to go home, eat your dinner, and then go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, and you can ring the hospital tomorrow morning. I need a good night’s sleep too.’ She yawned. ‘Phone home, and tell Cluny she has a little brother, and that we love her very much.’

‘I will. What about the others – Carmen, Pomona, Bella, Tatiana – Henry?’

‘Send telegrams in the morning.’

‘What shall I say?’

‘Young Jim arrived safely. All’s well, love from …’ her voice faded away. Her eyes closed. She was asleep.

‘Young May Moon and Paddy,’ he whispered.

May arrived home with her baby on 8 December, a fortnight after the birth. Two days later, on Thursday the tenth, the newspaper headlines were stark and sombre. The King was to make a statement which would be read in the Commons and the Lords that afternoon. General business was first discussed, and then Mr Baldwin, the Prime Minister, presented a document to the Speaker, declaring it to be a message from His Majesty.

The Speaker read the handwritten document aloud to the hushed Commons. The King had abdicated, and his brother, the
unassuming
, hard-working Duke of York, would succeed to the throne.

Prince Edward, as he was now to be known again, made a farewell broadcast to the nation on 11 December, he spoke warmly
of his brother and the fact that the new King George was a happily married man, with a family. He ended his speech with ‘God Save the King!’

That same night the Prince left Windsor Castle and went into exile.

Young Jim spent his first Christmas with his parents in Buckinghamshire, with his greatgrandpa, and his grandparents, Brendan and Brigid. Cluny was entranced by her baby brother, and rushed to comfort him whenever he cried for attention. Dog Toby took to sitting by the pram in the garden, or lying across May’s feet, while she fed the baby. There were other visitors over the Christmas weekend: Pomona and Terence arrived on their motor cycle, and Bea and Danny, who’d been at Kettle Row, came by excursion train. They were about to begin rehearsing for a new production in January. There was another celebration meal, with a capon and a Christmas pudding saved for the occasion.

It was a time of laughter and love, May thought, and she found herself the centre of attraction, with Young Jim in her arms. The anxiety over the abdication had evaporated, and the new King and Queen were already assured of a firm place in the affections of the people, not only in the United Kingdom, but throughout the Empire.

Then it was back to work for most of the company, while May and the baby established a new routine at home in Southampton.

May told Jim little stories when she was bathing him, or settling him down to sleep in his crib. He appeared to be listening, with a solemn gaze; but sometimes he would gurgle, and she’d mop his dribbles with a muslin piece and ask: ‘What’s the joke, Jim?’ When she mixed his baby gruel and he opened his mouth like a baby bird, she scraped the bowl with the spoon and told him that Mr Punch was pleased he’d left a clean plate. She played ridiculous games, which made Paddy laugh when he caught her unawares, as she powdered the baby’s bottom while he wriggled on his tummy, on her lap, with a cry of: ‘Flour the pastry – roll it over!’ She sang, too:
Bye Baby Bunting
and
Lu-la bye byes
, when she was trying to get him to sleep.

Paddy was worried that she might feel lonely while he was a work, but she assured him: ‘How can I be lonely, when I have Young Jim?’

T
HE INVITATION ARRIVED
out of the blue. May recognized the thick manila envelope, having typed many addresses on these when she worked for the estate agents. She studied it for a few moments before opening it. Paddy was taking his turn with giving Young Jim his breakfast, before leaving for work. ‘Who is that from?’ he enquired, adjusting Jim’s bib to catch the spills.

‘Um – from my old office, the new secretary hasn’t cleaned the typewriter keys, all the “e’s” are clogged up. I’ll read it to you:

‘Well, aren’t you going to read that out, too?’ Paddy asked her.

‘It’s from the West Wick council offices. A special celebration is planned for the coronation in May! They want to revive the End of the Pier Show and the old-time beach entertainments on that day – which will be a public holiday! I am asked if Pomona and I will set up Jas Jolley’s Punch and Judy booth on the front, or, if inclement weather, in the school hall! They want to know, too, as soon as
possible, if I am in touch with – wait for it – the O’Flaherty family, and Carlos and Carmen, the flamenco dancers! Apparently, we were all named on the request list which appeared in the local paper.

‘Oh, Paddy, I must reply today. This letter is dated March, and it’s April now – it has been to several addresses before arriving here, what shall I say?’

‘Say we’ll come! Young Jim and all!’

‘Just a thought. Your family still sing, and Mum and Carlos are dancing partners once more, but Mr Punch hasn’t been out of the trunk in ten years, there’s only the wooden Toby you made that time, and can I remember the script?’

‘Dear May, the other day I overheard the version of it that you made up for Jim, and
he
was impressed. So – what are you worried about?’

She hugged him tight. ‘After those reassuring words – only that you’ll be late for work, if you don’t hurry!’

Coronation Day, 12 May. Most parts of the country woke to cloudy skies, but this was nothing unusual on such occasions. The pomp and pageantry of the London scene were to be recorded by the British Broadcasting Corporation’s fledging television service, which had been launched the previous year, in 1936, but only a minority would view the footage; the majority would gather round their
wireless
sets for the live broadcast and or the King’s speech scheduled for that evening.

Tatiana travelled to West Wick by taxi, with Carmen and Carlos. She was so delighted to have been asked to join the family members that she insisted on booking a suite of rooms for them all, in the big hotel that was recommended by her travelling companions.

‘I never imagined when I visited Mum here all those years ago that I would ever stay here,’ May said, as they settled into their room, prior to the ‘light lunch’ at midday, which they’d ordered earlier. ‘I do believe the receptionist is the superior one who was behind the desk then.’ She bounced on the bed to test the springs, laughing like the Young May Moon, while Paddy inspected the cot and then put Jim in there for safety, while they sorted out their luggage.

A tap on the door: Tatiana and co had arrived. ‘I hope you are going to wear your peacock dress?’ she asked May.

‘Not for the Punch and Judy Show, but tonight I’ll be sparkling in the stalls at the end of the pier show! Which room is yours?’

‘I’m next door to you, and Carmen and Carlos, who signed in as Mr and Mrs by the way, are in the room beyond. Your parents, Paddy, are on your other side, and Pomona and Bella are sharing a room further along with your friend Bea. Her brother and Pomona’s boyfriend will be on the second floor.’

‘A wise move!’ Paddy managed to keep a straight face.

‘That was naughty of you!’ May teased him after Tatiana left. ‘I hope Jim doesn’t make a mistake on my lovely dress, that’s all.’

‘I’ll hold him, or one of the girls will, I imagine, if I decide to be on stage with the family. Just take a good supply of muslin wipes. Did Dad tell you he hoped you’d do your jig?’

‘I’m still thinking about that. I’ll see how this afternoon goes.’ She thought, I hope Cluny doesn’t divulge our secret. I taught her the jig while she was with us over the Easter holiday in March. Of course, I didn’t know, then, about the exciting time ahead!

It was deemed too chilly to be on the beach. A notice directed the crowds to the school hall. This was a new addition to the school since Pomona and Danny had been pupils there. The booth was erected on the small stage and rows of chairs were already in place. The hall was full of excited children and parents by 2 p.m. Earlier, in the playground, the family had watched as the school children danced round the maypole: bunting fluttered in the breeze while small girls attempted to hold down their skirts, and curls unwound as hair was blown about, too.

Pomona observed that the odorous block of latrines was no longer in evidence – indoor sanitation had arrived in West Wick! She pointed out to Terence the tree in the field beyond where, on a hot day, she’d slaked her thirst with tepid water from a bucket placed in its shade. ‘I wonder what happened to the old tin cup?’

Before the performance began, the children were called by name to receive a coronation spoon, with a royal crest on the handle, from the headmaster. Brigid, who was holding the sleeping baby while his mother was on stage, overheard a mother say: ‘Just right for the jam dish.’ There were also free tickets for some of the rides at the fair, due to arrive on the green on Saturday.

‘My brother’s not well, so he’s not here,’ a small girl told a teacher, who replied: ‘I’m sorry, but the tickets are only for those present now.’

‘Seems rather harsh,’ Brendan whispered to his wife. ‘We gave mugs to every child, present or not, yesterday.’

‘Shame you had to miss today, at your school.’

‘They understood; I came with their blessing,’ he said. ‘I’ll be there for the party on Saturday.’

Pomona was not bottling today, as she had done when she was eight years old, but she helped May put the puppets in place inside the booth, then emerged to make the introduction.

‘Boys and girls of all ages, I am proud to present Professor Jas Jolley’s Punch and Judy Show!’ Then she descended the stage steps and took her place in the front row, with Terence, Bea, Danny, Bella and Cluny. The little girls were now good friends. Paddy stayed out of sight in the wings, fingers crossed. May was on her own now, but she needed to know he was near by. Tatiana sat with Brigid and Brendan, but Carmen and Carlos decided to rest back at the hotel before the big show, that night.

The curtains swished open and Mr Punch appeared with his familiar cry of:

May relaxed and began to enjoy herself. The audience was responsive, and the words came out loud and clear. She remembered all the changes, and it was if she were transported back to the days when she was, as Paddy always said, the Punch and Judy Lady.

When the curtains closed and the little play had ended she hoped that her father would have been proud of her. She was about to leave the stage when Paddy rushed forward and told her to take another bow. The clapping seemed to go on for ages.

‘You’re still a star!’ Paddy murmured, as he escorted her back to her seat. ‘Pom and I will pack it all away: I guess the applause has woken Young Jim, and he will be calling for his mum!’

‘Life is easier now he is learning to drink from a cup, and has a bottle at nights,’ May said.

‘You’ve got your figure back,’ he said appreciatively, which earned him a playful cuff on the head.

Back at the hotel, they listened to the King’s Coronation speech at 6.30 p.m. on the wireless, in the sitting room. All had gone according to plan, with the sun shining briefly in London. As the King finished speaking, there was a general chorus from all the guests of: ‘God Save The King!’

Cluny and Bella were excited about going out in the evening. ‘It’ll be midnight before we get to bed!’ Bella whispered to her friend. She was envious that Cluny would be appearing briefly with her
grandparents
and her uncle Danny, and wearing her new kilt, bought for the occasion.

‘You, Bella,’ Carmen said unexpectedly, ‘shall learn the flamenco. Surely one of my daughters shall follow in my footsteps?’

They had front-row seats, and Paddy sat next to the aisle, where Young Jim was tucked up in his pram, which was of the folding variety so easy to transport in the dicky-seat of their present motor car, which they’d bought when they returned the one on loan from Brendan. ‘I’ll take him out for a bit and wheel him around on the pier if he cries,’ Paddy promised May.

‘I don’t want him to catch cold,’ she worried.

‘He seems to be quite content, and the lights will soon go down. There’s always the emergency bottle of milk, eh?’

Some of the earlier acts were new to them. The snake woman contorted her limbs in seemingly impossible poses; the magician produced endless bunches of paper flowers and two white doves flew round the stage when he raised his top hat. A comedian with a false red nose told some rather dubious jokes, and was jerked off stage into the wings. The O’Flahertys appeared as the final act before the interval.

They came on in their green kilts, with harp and fiddle, and Cluny raised a cheer when she was led on by Danny. They performed the old repertoire,
Tea for Two
and
Danny Boy
. Then Brendan came front stage and called: ‘Are you there, Young May Moon? Please come up and join the party.’

‘Go on!’ Paddy urged her.

‘Did you know this would happen?’ she demanded.

‘I can keep a secret—’

‘Well, so can I.’

She wasn’t dressed for the jig, in her peacock blue dress, but, ‘just in case’, she was wearing her dancing shoes. ‘Follow me,’ she
encouraged
Cluny. Together, they danced, arms at sides, with raised knee, pointed toes, hopping, then three little steps back. Cluny was
sometimes
a step behind, but her enthusiasm was obvious. Feet were tapping in the audience at the lively fiddle music. The applause was deafening, and woke Young Jim. Paddy rocked the pram.

The curtains closed, and the performers joined the family party.

Carlos and Carmen were the main act in the second half. Carmen appeared years younger, partly due to skilful make-up and newly dyed hair. She embodied the free spirit – the
duende
– of flamenco, in her frilled, tiered skirt and high-heeled red shoes in which she strutted to the staccato beat. Carlos, in matador breeches,
Cuban-heeled
shoes with polished buckles, strummed his guitar and sang from the heart.

However, as the programme noted, the end of the pier show was for one night only, and would not be repeated.

May and Paddy were in their room. It was indeed midnight, as the children had predicted. They were already asleep. Young Jim had been whisked away by his grandparents, his cot wheeled into their room.

‘You two have never had a proper honeymoon,’ Brigid said to May, making her blush.

There were lovely flowers on the dressing-table, for Tatiana had arranged for bouquets to be delivered on stage to her friends. It was typical of her generosity.

Paddy enjoyed a bath, despite the late hour, but May decided to go to bed. She’d just wait, she thought dreamily, for Paddy to return in the white towelling robe provided by the hotel, then she’d ask him to undo the diamante clasps which held her dress up. She knew exactly what would happen then.