Everyone had a different story to tell, and of course I knew Maureen’s reason for being there, and thought that was the worst story so far. That was until a fifteen-year-old told me hers. She had been abused by her dad for as long as she remembered. At first she thought it was what little girls did with their daddy, it was their little secret and if anyone else found out especially her mum they would go away and she would never see them again. Then as the years went on and she got older she knew it was wrong, but by then she was too ashamed to tell anybody, that was until she found out she was pregnant. Too ashamed to tell anyone she kept it a secret as long as she could by wearing loose baggy clothes. That I could relate to, it all sounded so familiar. One day she forgot her note to excuse her from gym, the teacher threw some shorts and a tee-shirt at her and made her go to the changing room to put them on. She was too frightened to walk out and face the rest of the girls so after a time the teacher came into the changing room and took one look at her. Straight away knew she was pregnant, and put her arms around her. For the first time she cried with relief knowing all the years of her father’s abuse had finally came to an end. Social services got involved, and her dad was arrested straight away. He was put in prison, and her mother threw her out when she found out she was pregnant by him. She was glad she forgot her note to school that day and teacher stepped in, because that’s what it took for the whole sordid affair to end. The lady in social services was good to her, and made all the arrangements for her to go into the home to have the baby, and then put it up for adoption if that was what she wanted.
When it got to my turn I told my story to the girls who were all sympathetic, and I actually cried,. Then when I looked at my situation closer I realised I was right. There was no way I could possibly keep a baby in a crowded house like ours. And definitely could not go back to Scotland and plead with Billy to take me back, because by then I really did despise him for what he was putting me through. So in the end we girls were all in the same boat; pregnant and rejected by men who didn’t want to know.
When the lights went out and all the girls had settled down, I lay there in the darkness feeling so alone. Self-pity swept over me, not because I still loved Billy but the uncertainty of the love Stan had for me, and until Saturday came that unknowing feeling never left me. I couldn’t control the tears as they poured out my closed eyes; I put my head under the blankets for the umpteenth time and cried myself to sleep.
In the morning we awoke and made our way to the bathroom with our toiletry bag and towel to have a wash and brush our teeth, then back to the bedroom to get dressed. We all waited for one another before heading down the stairs. It was like the march of the bumps.
The breakfast had to be cooked, about six loaves of bread toasted, as well as eggs boiled, large pots of tea made. Every Saturday we had a cooked breakfast of bacon and eggs. In the dining room a large jug of milk was placed on each table, and cereal boxes were place on a table as you walked in the dining room so the girls could help themselves. All this was being prepared by the expectant mothers even the breakfast trays for the private patients who paid to have their babies in the private home on the second floor. When baby feeding time was finished the girls put on white starched aprons and carried the prepared trays up the main stairway to serve the private patients. There always seemed to be an officer walking about. One would always examine the trays that left for the private patients; it was as if everything we did we were being watched. The dining room was the same always an officer on duty, I don’t know what they expected us to do, sometimes it felt like a prison. After the mothers had their breakfast in the dining room, they went back upstairs to collect the trays. From the private patients. The girls who still hadn’t had their babies were not allowed up there at all.
Looking back now I realise the Salvation Army needed the extra income to be able to run the home for unmarried mothers in the first place. After all I suppose when private patients paid to have their babies there they’d expect the best, and they got it.
All cleaning jobs were on a rota, moving along one every day: that way it stopped the monotony of being stuck in the same old job. It also gave every girl a chance to learn each chore. The girls worked in twos doing cleaning chores, making beds, brushing and mopping floors, cleaning the bathrooms, brushing the stairs and cleaning the banisters. Polishing the downstairs hall and cleaning the Brigadier’s office was the worst job. I hated that chore, and it felt as though we were being watched all the time; maybe we were.
At lunchtime we all made our way to the dining room again, where we had a light meal of different sandwiches, some meat, some egg and followed by cake or biscuits. When that was done and the tables set for dinner that night and all the dishes washed and put away, it was rest time for two whole lovely hours.
Some of the girls went into the lounge, some went to have a nap in bed, but the girls that smoked would sneak out to the outside toilets for a quick fag.
Brigadier didn’t like us smoking but we took it in turns to go to the outside toilets whilst someone kept an eye open for her. It was funny at night when everything seemed to be quiet and all the officers were finished for the night. The toilets were full of us girls all jammed into two toilets; two on a seat and three or four standing up and the reek of the cigs belching out of the door. If only Brigadier saw us half the time she would have a fit. It was like a secret service having to sneak out there. I remember one day just after lunch, Maureen and I had just stepped outside the door when we bumped into the Brigadier.
‘What are you two girls doing out here in the cold?’ she demanded.
‘Going to the toilet, Brigadier’ said Maureen.
She just looked at us as if we were mad.
‘There is perfectly good toilets indoors without going to the bottom of the yard in this cold. Now get yourselves inside before you get your death of cold.’
‘We will Brigadier, but as the toilets indoor were occupied we said we would use the outside one, and one of the mother asked us to see if the nappies on the line were dry whilst we were out there. So that’s where were going now.’ I said with my heart thumping in my chest.
She seemed to except that, and just told us to be quick about it. Maureen looked at me white as a sheet.
‘Nan you do realise the girls haven’t even washed the nappies yet?’ she said with her hand over her mouth. I just looked at her in silence; then we both burst out giggling and rushed down to the toilets.
After rest time it was time to prepare the main meal, which cook had left a list what we had to prepare, peel the veg, and leave them in large pots of cold water just ready to switch on at a certain time when the cook came in.
In the lounge at night some of the girls read books. Not me, although I love reading I also like a quiet background so I can really concentrate on the story and characters in the book. It was a miracle how they could really switch off all the background noises, and believe me it was noisy, with girls talking, the clicking of knitting needles, because half the girls in there knitted whilst watching telly; including me. Coronation Street had just started. It was funny to hear people talk on telly who didn’t have a posh voice, we all loved it, and I’ve followed it ever since. When I see some of the old episodes it brings back so many memories for me, some good some bad.
The work we had to do was like slave labour, and when I look at some pregnant girls now with everyone attending them hand and foot it sometimes annoys me that we were never pampered or respected in the same way. It was all work, work, and more work.
One of my bad memories was of a girl crouched in pain on the stair. She was escorted to a little room with a single bed where you went until it was time to go to the delivery room. After about two hours she was sent out because it was a false alarm. She continued her cleaning jobs without any complaints. After Maureen and I made the beds, we made our way to clean the bathrooms out, and as we opened the door we found her crouched up in a corner crying in pain. I rushed downstairs to get help and two off
icers rushed to her side. All hell let loose that morning as she was rushed up to the delivery room, and gave birth with minutes. I was worried about her, because she was such a quiet girl, never complained about anything, not like the rest of us who would lie awake in bed at night and whinge about everything under the sun. Even when we were all in the lounge at night we would moan about this and that, but not her it made you wonder what she was doing there. We all knew each other’s reason for being there, but nobody knew hers. All stories rumoured about her; some thought she was abused, others thought she was raped, she was too withdrawn to have any kind of friend, and too quiet to have had a boyfriend. I felt so sorry for her always sitting alone in the same chair in the corner. I tried many times to talk to her, but I could see she was blushing with her head hung low in silence, so I just left her to her own devices. I really thought she needed some kind of counselling.
On Tuesday we went down the village to the Antenatal Clinic. Before we left the house the Brigadier gave us all our pocket money so we could shop for the essentials we needed. We all stuck together, all twelve of us all wobbling down the pavement to the clinic which was about half a mile down the road. It was fun, we had a good laugh while we were there doing our exercises. There we were lying on rubber mats kicking our legs in the air, then sitting up and doing breathing exercises we did nothing but giggle all the way through until the nurse smiled and shouted, ‘I wonder if you lot will giggle as much, when you’re actually in labour.’
We had a great time that afternoon. First of all we piled into the wool shop to buy wool. As we stood there waiting to be served, I heard one old woman whisper to the shop assistant, ‘Disgusting, they shouldn’t be allowed in a shop that decent folk have to use.’
I never said anything because I could see the lady behind the counter was embarrassed with her. That was when I first got wool and a pattern to knit my very first garment, which was a little pair of bootees and a matinée jacket for my baby. I was so pleased with the results I carried on knitting, and before I left the home I knitted my little niece and my little sister a cardigan each.
After we came out of the wool shop we headed for the chemist to buy our essentials like soap, toothpaste, etc.
Around that area people knew there was a home for unmarried mothers, and as we wobbled down the street I was aware how some people were looking at us as if we were aliens. Some drew us looks others clucked their tongues as we passed. It was the first time I had experienced this and as we walked back to the home I felt uncomfortable at everybody staring at us. Norma, the Liverpool girl noticed and stopped us all in our track. She shouted for all to hear,
‘Look girls we don’t know these people, and they certainly don’t know us, so don’t let them worry you, because we have just as much right to walk down theses streets as any of them.’ I’ll always remember that, because she was right; I’m just as good as anybody else in this world; so my dad drummed into us.
Time seemed to drag that first week in the Home; one day felt like a week. It was like an eternity waiting for Saturday for the visiting to come. I felt maybe no one will come. Stan has probably changed his mind and decided that I wasn’t worth all the hassle after all. If that was true then mum wouldn’t be able to come because there was no way she would find this place without being driven by car, and I knew dad would never drive here on is own because he only had a provisional licence and would have to rely on my brother-in-law and I knew he worked on Saturdays which was his main work day. Not that he would have brought mum anyway, he was too much all for himself. He wanted everyone running after his beck and call and to hang with anyone else. In other words he was selfish, and I didn’t like him. but as long as he treated my sister all right I put up with him.
Finally Saturday came, and from the moment I opened my eyes my mind went straight to visiting time. Many girls had no visitors due to being kicked out back home, bringing shame and disloyalty to the family, few didn’t want visitors because their family and friends thought they were working away then after having the baby adopted would go back home and restart their lives. Others just lived too far away from home. I was excited and worried all at the same time, in case Stan had changed his mind and didn’t come, meaning neither could mum nor anyone else.
I did all my chores that day in a trance. I kept going back to all the things we talked about before me coming here and wondered if anything I said put him off. I remembered telling him that the week on his own would give him time to make sure he was doing the right thing by sticking by me and that I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to call it a day. I just wanted him to be honest with me, and the more I thought of it the more worried I became in case he chose not to come after all.
Two or three times Maureen spoke to me and had to bring me back down to earth. She knew my situation and kept telling me not to worry that my mother and Stan will come. She came upstairs with me whilst I got a wash and dressed. Not that my clothes were that fancy, a stretchy woollen dress with a flowered smock on top hiding my bump. When I was ready and waiting we went to the attic window that I first looked up to on my first entry to the house. Knowing that was the best view. We were there for what seemed like hours, and then we saw the blue van drive up and park outside the gate. I don’t know what was worse my heart thumping in my chest or the butterflies having a fight in my stomach.
‘I told you they’d come,’ shouted Maureen with excitement. Mum got out the van but, Stan waited in the van which I told him to, as I didn’t want them to know I had a boyfriend case they thought he was the father. I tried to look into the van but it was obscured by a huge tree.
I hugged Maureen and headed for the stairs. As I reached the bottom, I could see my mother disappear into Brigadier’s office. I wondered if she was demanding me going home with them, just for a second I hoped she had, because I was so homesick. I waited in the Lounge as there was no one allowed to loiter in the Main Hall. After a minutes the Brigadier came in and told me I had a visitor waiting in her office for me. Of course I knew it was my mum because I saw them arrive from the attic window. As I walked in the office my mum gave me a hug and told me the Brigadier has just informed her that I have settled in well and seemed to get on well with the other girls. I nodded with a wry smile on my face.
We had a lovely day in Liverpool itself. It was the first time I had set foot there. What a great place it is. We saw the Liver Building with the famous statues of the liver birds on the roof. As the old myth goes; if they had to fall off or disappear Liverpool would cease to exist, because the River Mersey would overflow and flood the entire city.
We went into the large Lewis Department Store for a nosy around and had a cup of tea and a scone in the tea room there. Mum told us to wait there as she wanted to have a look around the store on her own knowing how famous it was. We knew that was her way of giving us some time on our own. As soon as she had gone Stan looked at me as if dumbstruck.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked knowing he wanted to say something but for some reason he found it hard. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you have changed your mind about us?’
‘No!’ he quickly said grabbing my hand. ‘I’m trying to tell you how much I miss you. I never thought this way about a girl before. I’ve even come close to tell my family and all my mates the truth and had visions of asking you to come home and we can bring the baby up as ours, but, when it came to the crunch, I didn’t have the guts to even tell my mother, so it’s a good job we both agreed to stick to your plans eh?’
‘I’ve also been worried all week thinking of you having second thoughts about me and maybe changed your mind about coming today. Not that I would blame you. I’ve been thinking of you and my family more than you’ll ever know.’ I said, avoiding what he said about asking me to come home and him telling his family and friends the truth. I pretended I’d never heard his decision to choose between me and his family no matter how much I liked him. That was his decision, and his alone. I’d never force, or even mention the subject again
.
We talked for ages about the past week and how I had settled in. I never mentioned the worse times and how hard we worked, only that all the girls were great, and how we all got on so well.
‘I wish it was three months times, then you’d be coming home with us.’ he said squeezing my hand tighter.
That alone made me more at ease with everything. I told him that I was also counting the days when I would be coming home. He told me he still cycled to mums every night and that William and Winnie were asking for me. He said he kept himself busy by making me a jewellery box as a present for when I come home. As I listened to him I felt so relieved knowing that all the doubts I had over the week were for nothing because now I genuinely knew that he thought a lot of me.
Mum came back about half an hour later. We made our way back to the van and drove to a little park near the Home and spent the last twenty minutes there talking until it was time to go back. When we drove up to the Home we all got out and stood at the gate saying our goodbyes. Mum gave me a kiss and a hug then told me to look after myself and that she would see me next Saturday then she turned and made her way to sit in the van. Stan came over and gave me a deep hug and kiss, and when I asked if he was coming next Saturday he replied,
Of Different Times Page 27
