by Gwyn G B
She was one of those little pin women, a thin and shapeless body topped by a small round head with an indefinable short hair cut. There wasn’t a trace of makeup on her face, instead her cheeks glowed rosily in the wholesome knowledge that she spent her life doing the Lord’s work - even if that included at times having to suffer her husband’s drunken baboonery and immature tantrums. Now the first women had been allowed to be ordained as Vicars, Emily Dent was starting to consider if their roles should be reversed.
The elderly couple, Ben and Mary Thompson, were a great pair of characters. She didn’t stop talking and he never stopped trying to interrupt her, usually unsuccessfully. The only time they shut up was when their dinner was served and then they hoovered up everything in sight as though food was about to go out of fashion.
At the end of the meal, Margaret stood up to make a speech and announce the raffle.
‘Before we go on to make merry this evening, I’d just like to thank you all for coming and ask you, for just one minute, to think about God’s poor children in Romania, seemingly abandoned and without hope. I’d like to think that by holding this simple little party we’d given at least one child the chance of a better future. It’s so easy at Christmas for us to forget the real meaning of this special time of year,’ at this Margaret regally nodded and smiled at Simon the Vicar, who nodded back and gave a beaming alcoholic grin.
She went on to thank people for their various donations, and then basked in the “spontaneous” applause as she was handed a bouquet by a little girl for her role in organising the evening. Alison thought that if they carried on much longer, from the look of martyrdom on Margaret’s face, she’d be applying for a Sainthood.
The Thompsons won second prize in the raffle, which turned out to be, appropriately enough, a large hamper. They spent the next hour sifting through it, taking each tin, jar and bottle out, inspecting it, discussing it and then putting it back only to ten minutes later go in search of it again as the conversation drifted between soups, tinned meat, wines and fish. The investigation proved to be such hot, demanding work that they were even forced to take off their matching green cardigans which looked like they’d been knitted by the same pair of hands, no doubt a friend or relative as a Christmas present.
By midnight, Alison was tired and ready to get off home, Sophie was looking all pink and creased in the face, a combination of tiredness and the small amount of wine she’d been allowed to toast in the New year with. Alison did the rounds, made her excuses and left. As they drove back to the house with the crisp fresh air waking her up again and the black sky splattered with twinkling stars. Alison thought how lucky they’d been to find such a lovely village with such kind people and how happy they were going to be in their new home - all three of them.
32
Mary Leggett packed her blood pressure monitor back into its bag and sat down at Alison’s kitchen table to drink the cup of tea she’d just poured for her.
‘Still as fit as a fiddle,’ she said to her host, who was easing herself and the large mound of her stomach into a chair. ‘Not long to go now,’ she added, smiling at her awkwardness.
‘Good. I just want it out now,’ smirked Alison as she dunked a Hob Nob Cream biscuit into her tea. ‘Go on Mary, try one of these. They’re really yummy.’ The biscuit began to dissolve and the cream was melting, so Alison quickly popped it into her mouth.
‘OK then, they do look rather tasty I must say,’ said the nurse looking on, and she copied Alison’s example and gave the biscuit a hot bath. ‘Now is your mum definitely going to be able to come and help out once the baby arrives?’ Mary, who wasn’t as practiced in the art of dunking, lost a little of her biscuit into her tea and watched as a greasy film spread across the top of her drink from where the buttery cream had melted.
‘Yes. She is working hard at the moment, but as soon as I go into labour, I’m to call and she’ll come and stay. Martha is going to take care of Sophie while I’m in the hospital and until mum gets here.’
‘That’s good,’ replied Mary, but she was wondering about Martha. She didn’t know much about the woman, but she’d certainly not made many friends in the village, it was odd the way she had taken such a liking to Alison and Sophie. But at least it meant Alison wouldn’t have to worry about her daughter. ‘Has Sophie come round to the idea of a new brother or a sister yet?’
Alison sighed, ‘No, not really. I’m hoping that after it’s born she’ll realise I don’t love her any less.’
Mary nodded. She was remembering the trouble Alison had trying to get Sophie to go and look around the Maternity Unit with her.
‘I’m sure she will, and I don’t think we are going to have long to wait. As I said, your cervix is slightly dilated - about three to four centimetres and definitely beginning to soften, not to mention the fact the baby’s head has just about engaged. We’ll be sitting in the kitchen dunking biscuits with you breast feeding the new baby in no time.’
‘Any estimate so that I can warn mum?’
‘I’d say in the next week, but as you know, it’s difficult to tell, these babies come when they’re ready.’
‘Well it doesn’t matter because everything is ready.’
Mary took a last gulp of her tea and was re-acquainted with the very soggy piece of biscuit she’d lost earlier.
‘Good, and I nearly forgot, I bumped into Margaret St Romaine yesterday, told me to send her regards and say that she’s going to pop round in the next couple of days to bring you something for the baby and to see how you are.’
‘Oh that’s sweet. Mind you, having to listen to Margaret for more than ten minutes might well be enough to bring the baby on. Either that or it won’t want to come out.’
Both women laughed.
‘Yes she’d talk the hind leg off a donkey as my mother used to say. Right, I’d better be off now. Tom should be hearing whether or not he’s got his scholarship for University today. It would be a nice bit of extra cash for him if he gets it.’
‘Wish him luck from me,’ replied Alison hoisting herself out of the chair to let Mary out.
‘I will and don’t forget any problems just give me a call, I’ll come back anyway in a couple of days and check everything is still OK.’
‘Thanks Mary, see you then - if not before.’
Mary set off on foot back to her home in the centre of the village. She always walked wherever possible, at her age the exercise was invaluable to keep her fit and in trim. She really did hope Tom had got his scholarship. She was so pleased he’d finally decided what it was he wanted to do, although she did have to admit she was certainly going to miss him. She wasn’t relishing the idea of living on her own, but kids grow up and you have to let them fly the nest. She quite envied Alison with her new little baby to take care of.
Ten minutes after Mary had left, Alison’s doorbell sung out its chime again. Presuming Mary must have forgotten something and come back, she went to the door. Instead of the nurse’s small frame Alison was greeted by a very tall, slender youth with a grubby navy uniform on.
‘Registered letter for Mrs K. Swift,’ he proclaimed at her hello.
‘Oh right, thank you,’ she replied, taking the small form and pen he proffered and signing in the box his dirty fingernail pointed to.
‘Cheers love,’ he said once she’d given her autograph and he handed her an official looking envelope.
As she closed the door she scanned her mystery envelope for any clues as to its contents. It was unyielding, except for a London postmark and she was forced to waddle back to the kitchen where she used some scissors to cut through the tape which bound it.
‘Faraday and Nelson Solicitors,’ proclaimed the heading on the letter. Alison frowned quizzically and her heart beat a little faster. What on earth was this?
‘Dear Mrs Swift, We have been asked to contact you on behalf of our client Mr Charles P. Simpson, with regard to the matter of visitation rights for his child.’
Alison couldn’t beli
eve it, she nearly fell back into the chair and clutched at her stomach in horror. Apparently, Charlie claimed he’d written repeated letters to her regarding visitation rights and she’d ignored them all, so he’d had no choice but to seek legal recourse. She couldn’t believe it, she’d never received a single letter from him, not even a postcard. How could he do this? Why was he doing this? She also couldn’t believe how her heart had betrayed her. When she had seen Charlie’s name it had given a brief flutter - how could she have any feelings left for a man as callous as this? She read the letter over again. They wanted her to arrange a meeting to discuss the matter, didn’t he realise she was about to give birth at any moment, she couldn’t just drop everything and travel to a meeting with a bunch of legal experts to talk about him seeing a baby which hadn’t even been born yet.
She could feel her heart beat racing and her neck and shoulders tensing up so she took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down. The solicitor who’d dealt with the buying of her house had been very good, she’d contact her and ask for guidance. So Alison headed off up to the study where she kept all her administration files, her blood boiling at the audacity of it all. How dare he try and pull a stunt like this, lying about letters after he’d already wrecked their relationship by cheating on her. She’d soon show him up for what he really is, she was damned if he was going to come anywhere near the baby now and she had a good mind to ring him up and tell him so herself. She didn’t though, the bastard would probably tape the conversation and use it against her. Instead Alison rang up Sue Weaver and told her the whole story.
Sue reassured Alison that everything could be sorted out amicably so she shouldn’t stress herself. She said she’d need some time to contact Faraday and Nelson to check out exactly what it was Charlie had said and what he was after. She promised to get back to Alison asap, but in the meantime, ‘don’t worry.’
Tired from all the upset Alison had gone to lay down on the bed to contemplate the possibilities, soon drifting off to a troubled sleep. There was a phone right by her bed, so she was confident that should there be any news it would wake her. There wasn’t and the next thing to pull her out of the land of sleep was Sophie calling out to her.
‘Mummy, I’m home.’
Martha had started to meet Sophie from the bus stop so that Alison didn’t have to do the walk every day. She’d always pop in for a cup of tea afterwards and a chat.
‘I’m upstairs,’ Alison shouted back, ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’ She sat up and felt her head swim a little, she’d got up too quickly. She also felt some mild discomfort in her stomach, a bit like the twinges she got from period pains. It was as she dragged her rotund form to the side of the bed that she felt an involuntary rush of fluid through her vagina. She tried instinctively to tighten her muscles and hold it in, but of course it was impossible. The liquid seeped through her panties and the dress she was wearing and onto the bed clothes.
‘Martha, Sophie,’ she shouted, ‘my waters have broken.’
It was incredible how fast Martha negotiated those stairs for a woman of her age. She was up them and with Alison before she’d even had a chance to stand up.
‘Are you sure?’ she said, rushing into the room.
‘Yep,’ replied Alison, although she needn’t have bothered. Martha could see the evidence. Sophie had followed the old lady and now stood there silently in her school uniform behind her.
‘Right,’ said Martha, ‘contractions?’
‘Just beginning,’ replied Alison, ‘we should have plenty of time, Sophie took twenty hours.’
‘Well you sort yourself out my dear and I’ll go and make a cup of tea for us both.’
‘OK thanks Martha,’ Alison waddled into the bathroom, she was quite calm but certainly appreciated Martha’s presence. It was nice knowing there was somebody else there to take charge should it be necessary.
Martha waited until Alison had gone into the bathroom and then went to the phone by the bed. She followed the lead down from the phone to where it entered the wall socket. It went under the bed.
‘Quickly,’ she whispered to Sophie, ‘take the phone out of the socket.’
Sophie hesitated, she was torn, were they still doing the right thing?
‘Come on,’ barked Martha in a much hoarser whisper now, ‘don’t go all lily livered on me now, you know what must be done.’
Sophie nodded and fell quickly to her knees, crawling halfway under her mother’s bed and taking the phone lead from the socket. Martha grabbed it from her and within seconds ripped the wire from its plug by twisting it sharply like she was ringing the neck of a chicken. Sophie watched as she then pushed the severed wires back into the tiny plastic plug. It didn’t look any different and she handed it straight back to Sophie. The little girl took hold of it carefully and replaced the plug in the wall socket.
‘Is it in?’ questioned Martha.
‘Yes,’ came the timid voice from under the bed. Martha picked up the receiver and listened, then she pressed her finger on the cradle buttons a few times. She nodded.
‘Nothing. Good. Now you run quickly and get Michaela, and make sure she lets her father know it has started.’
Sophie nodded back and ran off without another word. They’d been talking about this moment for months, but now it was here she was a lot more frightened. She hoped her mother wouldn’t be cross with her, they were only doing this for her and Sophie’s benefit. She was halfway down the stairs with her thoughts when Martha called her back.
‘You’re not going yeller on me are you?’ she asked.
’No,’ came the timid and not terribly convincing reply.
‘You know it’s what’s best. It’s what YOU wanted,’ Martha continued well aware that Sophie was having second thoughts.
‘Yes, but are you sure mummy won’t be cross,’ she asked almost too afraid to look Martha in the face.
‘Was she cross when we got rid of Charlie?’ asked the old woman, ‘didn’t she just see him for what he was and aren’t you both much happier now he’s gone?’
‘Yes,’ Sophie agreed, that was most definitely true.
‘Then we must also get rid of his child otherwise it will try to take your place and you don’t want that do you?’
‘No,’ agreed Sophie beginning to get upset at the thought of it all.
‘Right, well then off you go. Find Michaela and make sure she doesn’t come in the house. Make her wait outside the back door.’
Sophie nodded and was gone. Martha was right, things had been so much better since Charlie had gone and her mother seemed very grateful that he wasn’t around anymore. She’d feel the same way about the baby once it had gone too and then they could all live happily together as Martha had promised.
Once Sophie had gone, Martha went to stand just outside Alison’s bathroom door, the sound of running water meeting her ears.
‘Are you alright love?’ asked Martha, ‘the kettle’s on.’
‘Yes, fine thanks, just having a bit of a wash. The contractions are coming a little faster now though, I’m a bit concerned things might happen a little sooner than I’d thought.’
‘Well you take it easy my dear and we’ll see how things go.’
‘OK,’ said Alison to the door, although she was beginning to worry a bit, the pain was building up now, she’d have to lie down soon. She exited the bathroom and was met by Martha’s concerned face. ‘I think I’ll just lie down a few moments,’ she said.
‘I’ll go and get that tea. You relax now, don’t you worry. By the way I took the liberty of trying to phone Mary Leggett for you to let her know things have started, but it seems the phone by your bed doesn’t work,’ continued Martha.
‘Damn, really?’ Alison picked up the receiver, it was dead. ‘I’d been expecting a call, perhaps I didn’t hear the phone and there’s a message on the machine.’ She heaved as though she was going to get up again. Martha put her hand on her shoulder.
‘You stay right where you are. I’
m not having you going up and down those stairs unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’ll go and check, if there’s anything there I’ll let you know and then you can move. OK?’
‘OK thanks Martha, you’re so good to me.’
The old woman disappeared off and Alison flopped her head back on the pillow. The contractions were getting more frequent and painful plus her back was hurting too. Her water had broken just fifteen minutes ago and she was beginning to think that perhaps this was going to be a much faster birth than Sophie’s had been. Maybe they should call an ambulance now, perhaps she’d be better off in hospital, you hear about these really quick labours when people give birth on the way in taxis and things.
Martha returned shaking her head.
‘Nothing on the answerphone I’m afraid, how are you doing?’
‘Well to be honest Martha, the contractions are getting quite strong, I think I’d better head to the hospital, could you call me an ambulance please?’
‘Certainly,’ Martha went as if to head back out the room.
‘Oh Martha, did you manage to get through to Mary Leggett?’
‘I’m afraid not m’dear, it was constantly engaged.’
‘Drat, probably Tom ringing everyone about his scholarship news.’
‘Well I’ll keep trying, but you just lie back and stop fretting,’ Martha walked over to the bed and fluffed up Alison’s pillows. ‘If the worst did come to the worst, you can rest assured that I’ve helped deliver a few babies in my time.’
‘Oh really?’ Alison was interested, one thing she’d always wondered about, was whether or not Martha herself had wanted children.
‘Yes, three of my mother’s and two of my older sister’s.’
‘Did you ever…?’ Alison left her question vague and open, not wanting to upset the old woman in case it was a touchy subject.
