Wartime Friends, page 25
Returning only seconds later, she said, ‘Phyllis is making tea, but I’ve brought you a glass of water. I think it’s better for you.’
Beryl drank gratefully. ‘I’m so thirsty. Thank you.’
Eve’s anger and disgust rose again, especially when Beryl asked, ‘Is she still here? I thought she must have gone home. I’ve been shouting and shouting and she didn’t come.’
Eve said nothing – for the moment. Now was not the time to start an almighty row and that’s what it would be.
‘Oh, ooooh . . .’
‘Just try to relax, let yourself go limp and ride with the pain. It’ll not be long now and Mr Frank should be back with the midwife very soon.’
But it was another half an hour before Eve heard the welcome sound of voices in the kitchen and footsteps coming upstairs.
‘Now then, lass . . .’ A large, round-faced woman with a beaming smile, dressed in navy blue and carrying a bag, bustled into the bedroom. ‘Oh hello, Eve. Mr Frank said you’d be here though I’m surprised to see m’lady hanging around downstairs. Anyway, let’s get to work. Eve, love, get me some hot water in that bowl on the washstand and some more towels wouldn’t go amiss. Now – Beryl, is it? My name’s Mrs Wing, but you can call me Kath.’
Swiftly and expertly, she examined Beryl. ‘Eeh, you’re well on, lass. I should have been called a couple of hours back. But not to worry. All is well and going normally.’
Now that both Eve and the midwife were with her, Beryl felt much better. She could even withstand the pain, for the fear had gone.
‘Now, love, I want you to do exactly as I tell you. I’m going to tell you to push when a contraction comes and then to stop pushing and to pant. Can you do that, d’you think?’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Good lass. Right, now here we go . . .’
It wasn’t very long, though it seemed an age to Beryl, until Kath said, ‘The head’s born, lass. One more big push when I tell you and he’ll be here.’
Beryl heard a mewling cry and both Kath and Eve laughed. ‘My word,’ Kath said, ‘he’s making his presence felt already. Ah, now here we go. Push, lass. Push now.’
Beryl felt the baby slide out of her with a great whoosh and then the cries grew stronger.
‘You have a beautiful baby boy, lass. Eve’ll get him cleaned up and wrapped up warm while I see to you and the afterbirth and then you can hold him.’
‘I don’t want to.’ Beryl squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I don’t want to see him.’
‘Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to, love,’ Kath said briskly. ‘You’ll need to feed him. Poor little mite won’t survive, if you don’t.’ She glanced at Eve, before adding, ‘You’ve got some lovely friends to help you, I can see that. And you can’t shock me, lass. I’ve seen it all. Babbies born out of wedlock, babbies born in wedlock but they’re not the husband’s. And there’s been a lot more of both while this wretched war’s been on, I can tell you. Poor little mites who are number seven or eight in the family and aren’t wanted. Mothers fair worn out with childbearing. Now, can you cough for me?’
Beryl opened her eyes and looked up at Kath standing beside her. ‘Cough? Whatever for?’
‘It helps the afterbirth come away. Just give it a try.’ Beryl coughed weakly. A pause and then Kath said, ‘That’s a good girl, here it comes.’ After a few moments, while she examined the afterbirth, Kath said, ‘That’s lovely. All in order. You’re all set to have more babies.’
‘There won’t be any more,’ Beryl said grimly.
‘Oh, you’ll feel differently when you meet a nice young man and fall in love.’
‘I thought I already had,’ Beryl said piteously and then the tears came.
Thirty-Eight
‘Dad,’ Eve began as they sat together later over a small glass of sherry to ‘wet the baby’s head’, as Frank said. There were only the two of them in the kitchen now. Phyllis had gone home soon after she’d heard of the baby boy’s arrival. Eve was thankful she hadn’t seen her again; she wasn’t sure she would have been able to hold her tongue. One day, Phyllis Carter, she promised herself, you and me are going to have it out. But for now, she sat with Frank.
‘We’ve got a problem with Beryl.’
‘Have we, love? I thought Nurse said everything was fine.’
‘It is – physically. Everything went well and the baby’s fit and healthy. Eight pounds, Kath said.’
‘Then . . .?’
‘She won’t have anything to do with the little chap. She turns her head away and won’t even try to feed him.’
‘That’s serious,’ Frank said worriedly.
‘All she’ll say is that she wants to have him adopted. Before you took her home, Kath said that if Beryl’s really serious, she can put her in touch with someone who arranges such things.’
‘Aye, but not for a few weeks at the earliest. She’s got to feed and care for him now.’
Eve sighed heavily. ‘I’ve tried everything I can think of, Dad. Perhaps you can have a go.’
‘I most certainly will.’
He got up as if to go and speak to Beryl that minute, but Eve said, ‘She’s sleeping now. Leave it until she wakes up. Baby’s asleep too so there’s no problem for the minute. Let me get you something to eat. You’ve had no tea, have you?’
Frank gave a wry laugh. ‘D’you know, lass, I never even thought about it, but I am a bit peckish, now you mention it. But I’ll be fine, you’ll be wanting to get back home.’
Eve waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘They’ll be fine, Dad, they’re big enough to look after themselves for one evening. And the girls are there. They’ll look after Harold and Adam. Now, let me find something for us . . .’
After an hour, leaving Eve to do the washing-up, Frank tiptoed into Beryl’s bedroom and sat down beside the bed, determined to be there when she woke up. He didn’t have long to wait before Beryl stirred and opened her eyes.
‘Now, lass,’ he said kindly, ‘how are you feeling?’
‘Not bad. A bit sore. And . . .’ Embarrassed, she stopped, but Frank guessed her meaning.
‘Aye, them’ll feel as if they’re bursting, but once you feed the little man, they’ll be better.’
‘I don’t want to,’ Beryl blurted out. ‘I’m not going to.’
‘Well, that’s a shame.’ Frank still kept his voice low, his tone mild. ‘Young ’uns need their mother’s milk, ’specially the first feed.’
‘Can’t he be fed with a bottle, like we fed that lamb?’
Frank wrinkled his forehead as if thinking. ‘We could, but it’s not the same and, if you remember, the reason we had to feed that lamb with a bottle was because the mother couldn’t feed three young ’uns. And then we lost a ewe too, didn’t we, so hers had to be bottle fed? Now, you’re fit and healthy, so the nurse said. There’s no reason why you can’t feed him.’
‘I’m going to have him adopted.’
‘Well, if you still feel that way in, say, six weeks’ time, then I’ll help you do it.’
‘Six weeks! You’re saying I’ve got to look after him for six weeks?’
‘About that,’ Frank said as calmly as he could. ‘As I understand it, if you’d gone into a mother-and-baby home, you’d have had to look after him for about that time until they found some adoptive parents.’
At that moment the baby began to whimper. Frank made no move to go to him and as the minutes passed by, the child’s whimpers became pitiful cries. At last, Beryl said, ‘What’s the matter with him?’
‘I expect he’s hungry,’ Frank said, forcing himself to sound casual and still remaining seated.
Beryl gave a huge sigh. ‘Oh all right, then, you win.’
Frank almost leapt up. ‘I’ll get Eve. I don’t want to embarrass you, lass.’
He hurried out and only a couple of minutes later, Eve came into the room, went straight to the cot and lifted the baby out. Wrapping him warmly in a blanket, she laid him in Beryl’s arms, his head crooked against her breast.
‘Try him on the left side first. There . . . Ah look at the little mite, he’s that hungry he’s nuzzling you already. Oh bless him, he seems to know exactly what to do. Some babies can take an awful lot of encouragement before they feed properly. Adam was a nightmare when he was born.’
As the baby sucked and pulled at her breast, Beryl looked down into the bright blue eyes staring up at her. He had wispy blond hair and fair skin. He resembled her and for that she was grateful. Her fear had been that he would look like Jeff and be a constant reminder. The child waved his arm as he suckled. With a tentative gesture, she put her finger into his palm and his tiny fingers closed around hers. And still, he gazed up trustingly into her face.
‘Oh Beryl,’ Eve said in a husky voice. ‘He’s perfect. What are you going to call him?’
‘Call him? Shouldn’t I leave that to his adoptive parents?’
‘Well, no, love. He has to be registered. It’s the law. You’ll have to give him a Christian name and he’ll be given your surname to start with. You can’t put the father’s name on the birth certificate unless, of course, he agreed to it.’
‘He wouldn’t and, besides, I wouldn’t want it.’
When the child finished feeding, Eve showed Beryl how to wind him and to change him. ‘You put him back in his cot,’ Eve said, pretending to be busy tidying away the baby paraphernalia. Beryl laid him gently in the cot and then stood looking down at him for a few moments. Then, wordlessly, she got back into bed and lay staring at the ceiling.
‘Now,’ Eve said, ‘I’m just going to pop home and fetch an overnight bag. I’m going to stay here for a couple of nights until you’re stronger.’
‘I’ll be all right, Aunty Eve. I’m sure I’ll sleep through the night.’
Eve laughed. ‘You easily might, but his lordship won’t. He’ll be awake and hungry in three or four hours.’
Beryl sat up and stared at her aghast. ‘Three or four hours? All through the night?’
‘’Fraid so.’
‘And how long will that go on?’
‘It depends. Some babies start to sleep through the night in about two or three months or so. Some take longer.’
‘Two or three months? Oh well, that settles it, then. He’ll be gone in six weeks and you can tell Mr Frank that right now.’
Beryl settled back against her pillows and closed her eyes. The conversation was at an end.
Phyllis arrived the following morning at her usual time. She lingered at the gate when she saw the postman cycling along the lane towards the farm, wobbling unsteadily on the rutted ground.
‘Morning, Mrs Carter,’ he called cheerily as he neared her. ‘Nice day.’
‘It is, Mr Taylor.’ She stretched out her hand. ‘I’ll take those in for you. Save you the trouble.’
‘That’s good of you. Thanks.’ He handed her a bundle of letters. ‘Shall I give you yours now, an’ all?’
‘You can. Save you a trip up my lane, won’t it?’
He sorted through the mail and handed her two white envelopes. ‘I see there’s one from your Peter. Writes to his mam regular as clockwork, doesn’t he? He’s a good lad.’ Then he winked at her. ‘I see there’s one in his handwriting, if I’m not mistaken, for the young lass who’s staying here. Beryl, is it?’
Phyllis stared at him and was about to say, ‘I certainly hope not,’ but then she thought better of it and just smiled weakly at him.
‘I expect they’ve got friendly, have they? Well, best be on me way. Morning to you, Mrs Carter.’
As he pedalled away, Phyllis stepped back behind the hedge that bordered the yard and rifled through the letters. There were several bills addressed to Frank and then she found the white envelope with Peter’s handwriting addressed to Beryl.
The little slut, Phyllis thought. How dare she? And how could he be so stupid? His visits to the farm when he’d been on leave hadn’t been so innocent after all. Helping Mr Frank, indeed! She separated the letter from Frank’s mail, put it with her own and slid it into her coat pocket. It would never reach Beryl; Phyllis would burn it, but first she would read it to see just what exactly was going on. She pulled in a deep breath. Before that, though, she had to plaster a smile on her face and act the concerned neighbour.
She let herself in by the back door. Eve was in the scullery washing up breakfast pots.
‘I could have done that, Eve. There’s no need for you to have come across this early.’
Eve turned her head and Phyllis saw her eyes were glittering with anger. ‘I’ve been here all night and I’ve no intention of leaving her to your tender mercies until she’s a lot stronger.’
Phyllis pretended to frown and tried desperately to look concerned. ‘Nowt wrong, is there? She was all right when I left.’
‘Aye she was, but no thanks to you. You’d left her yelling out in agony and hadn’t even bothered to go and sit with her.’
‘Well, they all make a lot of fuss and noise, these young lasses.’
‘Do they now? And how would you know?’
Phyllis’s valiant efforts to show empathy died. Her face twisted. ‘It’s no more than the little slut deserves. She had her pleasure, now she’s got to pay for it.’
‘Look, Phyllis, go to the dairy and do your work and then go home. I won’t have you in the house again.’
Phyllis folded her arms across her chest. ‘Oh aye, and who’s going to make me, eh? It’s not your place to order me about.’
‘Mebbe not, but I know I’d have Mr Frank’s backing. So, I suggest you go to your work and then leave. I’ve no wish to be vindictive, Phyllis, and I wouldn’t want you to lose your job or your home, but you’re not welcome in here while you treat that lass as you have been doing.’
‘What’s so special about the little trollop, I’d like to know.’ As she moved, Phyllis felt the rustle of Peter’s letter in her pocket; she could hardly wait to get home and read it.
She turned to leave but as she did so, Eve called after her, ‘Oh and I’ll be staying until Mr Frank gets back this afternoon and I’ll be here in the morning before he leaves.’ Eve said no more but her meaning was clear. As she’d said, she had no intention of leaving Beryl alone with Phyllis.
Phyllis slammed the back door and marched across the yard to the dairy. But she was smiling grimly. She fingered the letter in her pocket. She’d put a stop to that nonsense. She didn’t know quite how, yet, but she’d do it. She didn’t want her Peter mixed up with the likes of Beryl.
Thirty-Nine
That same evening, Tom was late home from school and Lilian was becoming anxious. He hadn’t arrived by the time Eddie came in from work.
‘Where can he be?’ Lilian said, meeting her husband at the door. ‘He never stays this late.’
‘He’ll have stayed behind with his mates, or maybe he’s gone to Mr Fox’s. I shouldn’t worry, love.’
‘But he’s due to do his two-hour stint on the wireless soon. He wouldn’t miss that.’
‘Ah, I see. Well, you do have a point there. But if I cycle into town, I don’t know where to look for him. He could be anywhere.’
‘You could ask Dad if he’d let you borrow the truck to go and look for him.’
‘Yes, I’ll do that, but let me grab a bite to eat and a cuppa and then I’ll go.’
‘Oh, all right,’ Lilian said, though she couldn’t hide the reluctance in her tone. She wanted Eddie to go and look for Tom that minute. ‘You get washed at the sink. I’ll dish up your tea. It’s all ready.’
Eddie was just wiping the last of the gravy up with a slice of bread when a knock came at the back door. They glanced at each other. That couldn’t be Tom; he’d have walked straight in.
‘Oh my, something must have happened,’ Lilian gasped as she hurried to answer it.
A tall, broad policeman stood there. Before he could speak, Lilian blurted out, ‘Is it Tom? Has there been an accident?’
‘You are Mrs Holmes, I take it?’ he said in a gruff voice. ‘You’re Thomas Holmes’s mother?’
‘Yes, yes. What’s happened? Is he – is he hurt?’
‘Your son is quite well, Mrs Holmes. He’s at the station being questioned and we need either you or his father to be with him as a responsible adult. He is only seventeen, I believe?’
Lilian and Eddie glanced at one another. They’d been worried that Tom was approaching the age when he could be called up. Even though they had been assured at the start of his wireless operations that this was unlikely because of the work he was doing here, they were still uncertain. Tom was due to sit his Higher School Certificate this summer and then he would be leaving school. In normal times, he would be applying for university, but the family had agreed that the work he was doing was far more important. Very soon he would be sitting crouched over the receiver for longer hours than he had done up to now.
‘I’m sure there’ll be schemes for young men like you to go to university after the war,’ Eddie had said. Lilian had said nothing; what her son was doing was keeping him safely at home and that was all she wanted at the moment.
But now, as they faced the young constable on their doorstep, they both wondered if the time had come when the authorities would demand that he be called up as soon as he was old enough, and that was only four months away.
Eddie had come to stand behind Lilian and he now asked, ‘Questioned? What about?’
‘That I can’t say at this point, Mr Holmes, but if you would come with me to the station . . .?’
‘I’ll go, Lilian,’ Eddie said. ‘You stay here. I’ll just get my coat, officer.’
The man nodded and turned away to go back to the police car standing in the lane.
‘Oh Eddie,’ Lilian clung to his arm for a moment, ‘whatever can have happened? Surely he’s not in trouble. Not our Tom. He’s a good boy.’
Eddie patted her hand. ‘Try not to worry, Lilian love.’ And with that, he was gone.
The hours that followed were torture for Lilian; it was terrible just waiting and not knowing what was happening.
In the police car, Eddie tried again to find out what the trouble was, but the constable either genuinely didn’t know or he wasn’t telling. ‘The inspector will explain it all to you, sir,’ was all he would say.
