A Daughter's Courage

by Kitty Neale

  ‘Dottie, you can be so bloody naïve sometimes. I’m telling you, you’re well rid of that man. He’s a blinkin’ criminal who can’t keep his trousers zipped up.’

  Dorothy felt a surge of strength and stood up defiantly. ‘You’re wrong, Nelly. You know what your problem is, don’t you? You always want to see the bad in people, to give you something to gossip about. You won’t have it that Robbie did this for me because he loves me and wants the best for me. Well, I’m sorry, but if you refuse to accept that my fiancé is a good, decent man, then you can go to hell!’

  With that Dorothy stormed from the room, in no doubt that she’d left Nelly gobsmacked. She cared a lot for her friend, but if Nelly wanted to say such malicious things about Robbie, then she had no regrets about calling her a gossip.

  She rubbed both hands across her face as her mind reeled. Her mother had been right to make her come to work, and now at least she knew the truth. Robbie had been forced to go on the run, and it was all her fault. Oh, Robbie, her mind cried. When will I ever see you again?

  Chapter 8

  It was the same thing every day and had been going on since Robbie had left. Dorothy would rush home from work, run straight to the kitchen and ask if there was any post for her. Alice knew that her daughter was desperately waiting on news from Robbie, but there were no letters. Each day she saw the disappointed look on her daughter’s face, yet Dorothy still held out hope, which was more than Alice did. Though Dorothy had kept it to herself, gossip had reached Alice that Robbie had been involved in some sort of robbery, and if that was true her daughter was better off without him. It also explained why he’d done a runner and she doubted they’d see him in these parts again. Of course, eventually Dorothy would have to accept the fact that Robbie had gone for good and wasn’t coming back to marry her, but she was dreading the day when the truth finally sank in and she would be left to pick up the pieces of her daughter’s broken heart.

  Though it was a cold November day, Alice was wet with perspiration as she heaved out the next load of washing. Mrs Pierce had given her a large bag of dirty bedding and, as Alice sorted through the laundry, she noticed bloodstains on one of the sheets. It didn’t faze her – she was used to dealing with women’s menstrual mishaps – but all of a sudden reality hit. Alice gasped and dropped the dirty sheet. She felt giddy and reached out to the kitchen table to steady herself, just as the door flew open and Dorothy walked in.

  ‘Hello, Mum. Anything for me from the postman?’

  Alice couldn’t bring herself to look up at her daughter, let alone answer her.

  ‘Mum … are you all right?’

  She drew in a long breath. Maybe she was mistaken. Perhaps she had just missed the signs but there was only one way to find out. Her voice was grave, slow and steady as she stood as tall as her bent back would allow and asked, ‘Dottie, when did you last have a period?’

  The colour drained from Dorothy’s face as she looked at her mother, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

  ‘I thought as much,’ Alice said scathingly. ‘You’ve gone and got yourself in the family way.’

  ‘No … Mum. I can’t be … but … but …’

  ‘But? What’s that supposed to mean, Dorothy Butler? Don’t you “but” me, young lady! Are you pregnant or not?’

  ‘I don’t think so … but … oh, Mum, I think I may have missed a period. No, no, I can’t be pregnant … I just can’t be!’

  ‘Did you give yourself to that Robbie?’

  Dorothy didn’t answer.

  ‘Well, did you?’ Alice shouted and saw Dottie’s body flinch. She wasn’t usually one to raise her voice, but the thought of her daughter being an unmarried mother … oh, the shame of it.

  ‘Yes,’ Dorothy answered quietly, her head lowered.

  ‘Then of course you could be pregnant, you silly girl. Oh, Dorothy, I thought you knew better. How could you do this to me? That’s it, you’ve ruined your life, and how will we manage? You’ll lose your job, and once the street hear about this they’ll stop giving me their washing.’

  ‘I … I’m sorry.’

  Alice pulled out a rickety chair from the table, slumped onto it and buried her face in her hands. She thought she might burst into tears but found that she was too angry to cry. Instead, her head snapped up as she said, ‘Sorry? Huh! What’s the good of saying sorry? No man will want you now … a woman with a child out of wedlock. You’ll have a terrible reputation round here. You’ll be shunned and no doubt I will be too.’

  Dorothy turned and fled the room whilst Alice shook her head in disgust at the thought of the child in her daughter’s stomach. Robbie had run off so he wouldn’t be doing the right thing, nor would he be any sort of a father to his baby. What were they going to do? Alice knew she would have to think fast before her daughter began to show any signs of her pregnancy.

  Dorothy studied her stomach in the cracked mirror on her dressing table. Could she be pregnant? She reached under her bed and grabbed her diary before frantically flicking through the pages.

  In mid-September, she had lost her virginity. She hadn’t had a period in October … and now it was November. Her mother was right, she was pregnant. But they had only made love on the one occasion and it was her first time. Robbie had said that you couldn’t get pregnant the first time …

  There were no tears as Dorothy sat on her bed in disbelief. She had never seen her mother look at her like that before, but she could make everything all right if only she could get word to Robbie. If he knew she was going to have his baby, he would come back to marry her, just as he’d promised he would.

  It was dark outside at 6.30 that evening and bitterly cold. Adrian had no plans for going anywhere, so he settled down in front of the telly with a whisky mixed with water and a large slice of fruit cake that his neighbour had kindly made for him, though it would inevitably add to his paunchy belly.

  There was a knock on the front door. With a sigh, Adrian got up and opened the door, and was surprised to find Dorothy on the step. She was visibly shaking, and it didn’t look like it was due to the cold weather. ‘Dottie, what’s the matter?’

  ‘Can … can I come in, please?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ said Adrian as he pulled the door open wide and ushered Dorothy through to the lounge. ‘Here, take a seat by the fire. Can I get you a drink or anything?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s really important I get in touch with Robbie. Have you heard from him?’

  Adrian should have known this would have something to do with his brother. ‘No, I haven’t. I don’t know where he is and you’re not the only one looking for the scoundrel.’

  ‘Who else is looking for him? Is it the police?’

  ‘No, not that I know of. If Robbie wasn’t seen when he robbed the jeweller’s, the police won’t have him down as a suspect. It seems he’s got away with it, which surprises me considering the gossip.’

  ‘Gossip isn’t proof and anyway, people round here aren’t grasses,’ Dottie said with a sniff.

  ‘He’s been lucky then, but he’s still in trouble because the men looking for him aren’t the sort you’d want to pull a Christmas cracker with. It’s just as well he’s out of their reach.’

  ‘But, Adrian, it’s really important that Robbie knows something … something that’s happened. I have to speak to him.’

  ‘As I said, I honestly don’t know where he is now, but if he does get in touch, I promise I’ll let you know.’

  Dorothy’s bottom lip began to quiver and Adrian could tell that she was about to cry. His heart went out to her and he said soothingly, ‘Don’t get upset. Robbie’s not worth crying over.’

  ‘But you don’t understand. I … I’m pregnant … and … and Robbie is the father.’

  Taken aback, Adrian picked up his glass and downed his whisky. Yet more mess his brother had left behind, and as Robbie had moved on from Myra’s he really had no idea where he was now. But poor
Dorothy, this was a terrible situation for her to be in, and as usual he would have to step in to sort out Robbie’s chaos. ‘Here,’ he said, feeling ineffectual as he offered Dorothy a handkerchief.

  ‘What am I going to do? I can’t be an unmarried mother. My mum is so ashamed of me and how will I support my child without a father?’

  ‘What has your mother suggested?’

  ‘Nothing yet, but I won’t give up my baby or go and see any backstreet murderer.’

  Adrian could see that Dorothy was verging on hysteria. The girl was right to be worried though. It was going to be very difficult for her to raise a child alone. Then he had a thought.

  ‘Dottie, this child will be my blood too. I’ll be its uncle and, though Robbie may not be around to help, I am. I can help financially, make sure that you and your family are looked after, so please, calm down and we’ll work this out.’

  Dorothy drew in juddering breaths and appeared to settle down a little, but then her tears resumed flowing and her nose started running, ‘I’ll still be labelled as a tart … and … and my child will be born a bastard!’

  There wasn’t much Adrian could say to console Dorothy. It was true that she’d be labelled, yet if people knew what his brother was really like they would see that the pregnancy wasn’t this poor girl’s fault. As far as he was concerned, Robbie was the only bastard.

  Chapter 9

  It was a cold December morning and Robbie’s head was banging. There were no curtains at the window and the sunlight streaming in was hurting his eyes. His mouth felt furry and he rolled over on the thin mattress as he tried to recall what had happened last night.

  He had vague recollections of getting involved in some sort of drinking game with three miners, but couldn’t remember leaving the pub or getting home to the house he shared with two other families. At least he had a room to himself, not like the poor buggers with several kids between them, all crammed into one room per family. He was also thankful that he hadn’t woken to the sound of screaming babies again. His head was pounding enough without all that screeching adding to it.

  He had moved out of his sister’s large house, glad to get away from noisy broods. Her place had been all right at first, but he was peeved when, to make money, his sister let two sets of Irish immigrant families move in without even consulting him first. Annoyed, he’d packed his stuff and left, but now it looked like he was no better off, because this boarding house was just as noisy.

  Robbie had a sudden flashback to the night before. The miners had set a table up for cards. He had no memory of playing but thought he would have joined in. After all, it wasn’t like him to turn down a game. Suddenly he sat bolt upright in the bed, swore and scrambled for his trousers that were lying in a heap on the floor. He anxiously searched his pockets, turning them inside out. There was nothing in them, not a single penny. He couldn’t even remember it happening, but with a cold sense of dread he realised he’d lost all his money.

  Had he lost it fair and square at the card table? Or did those miners rob him? Robbie couldn’t be sure, but either way he was in dire straits. The rent on this room was paid up for another two weeks, but he had nothing, no money for food or tobacco. He couldn’t even go back to Myra’s as he didn’t have the fare to get there.

  Robbie sank to his knees, feeling hopeless. All the money he’d stolen had gone through his hands like water and he had nothing to show for it, just a sore head and a crappy room in a squalid house with no heating or hot water.

  He needed money and fast. There was no way he would go back to working for someone else, slogging his guts out for them to reap the profits. It was a mug’s game. He’d have to do another robbery, and though it would mean more risk, this next one would be bigger and better than his last.

  Alice put a few more lumps of precious coal on the fire before she sat in the armchair next to her husband. She’d heard Dorothy vomiting again that morning, but her daughter was never one to moan; instead she’d simply got ready and gone to work quietly. The whole business still worried Alice. It was a relief to know that Robbie’s brother had promised to help them out financially, but that didn’t take away the fact that Dorothy was unmarried.

  ‘Oh, Bill, the shame of it,’ she said softly to her husband. ‘Dottie won’t be able to hide her bump for much longer and then the tongues will start wagging.’

  Alice didn’t expect any reaction from Bill, but it didn’t stop her talking to him. Every afternoon at one-thirty she would pour them both a cup of tea, and then sit and chat to him about the weather, or the neighbours, or whatever sprang to mind. Recently, the main topic of conversation was Dorothy’s unwanted pregnancy.

  In some ways, Alice was pleased that Bill was apparently unaware of the situation. It saved him the pain of knowing what a terrible mistake his beloved daughter had made. He would have been devastated, she thought to herself, but at least this way he was oblivious to it. But at the same time she missed having her husband to share her worries and woes.

  ‘I know we’ve always been so proud of our girl, Bill, and don’t get me wrong, I will always love her, along with that unborn grandchild of ours, but if only she’d had a bit more sense. I mean, fancy getting herself in the family way. I thought I’d taught her better than that.’

  She looked at her husband’s blank face. There had been a time when he would have loved to have a new baby bouncing on his knee, especially if it was a boy. Bill had always wanted a son, but after Dorothy was born Alice had never conceived again. Now a grandchild was in the picture and she could just imagine it: Bill kicking a ball around with his grandson in the back yard, making little boats to float on the lake in the park, or building a go-kart from a wooden crate together.

  As she rose to her feet and went back to the kitchen and the next load of washing, Alice hoped against all odds that if one good thing was to come out of Dorothy having a baby, it would be that Bill’s lost mind would find its way back from whatever murky place it had wandered to.

  The bell in the bakery chimed for lunch break and Dorothy was so grateful to hear it. Her stomach was completely empty, most of its contents down the toilet. She was beginning to feel a little weak and light-headed so was looking forward to tucking into the bread and cheese that her mum had packed for her. It seemed daft that with all the bread, cakes and pies they produced they had to bring their own food, but you could never rely on Mr Epstein’s moods. Sometimes he would let them have any imperfect bakes, but at other times he would refuse and if they didn’t bring their own lunch they’d be left hungry.

  Food preparation was the last thing Dottie could face first thing in the morning, especially after braving the freezing cold of the outside lavvy, and since her morning sickness had begun she was grateful that her mum had taken over making her lunch. She knew Alice was still upset about the pregnancy, but had noticed that she’d begun knitting some little matinée coats and booties. She wondered if, as with her, there was a tinge of excitement setting in. Alice had warned her that, once the pregnancy was out in the open, she should expect a barrage of abuse from the locals, but Dorothy didn’t care any more. She was blinded by love for the baby growing inside her and couldn’t wait to meet her daughter or son. She was sure her mother was beginning to feel the same way too.

  Dorothy eagerly grabbed her wrapped sandwiches from her locker and joined her friend in the small staff room. She was desperate to tell Nelly her secret, but had promised her mother to keep quiet for as long as possible. ‘I’m absolutely famished, Nelly. I could eat a horse,’ she said, eagerly unwrapping her sandwich before her bottom was properly seated.

  ‘Blimey, Dottie, slow down or you’ll give yourself a bellyache,’ Nelly said, then looked at Dorothy’s stomach, her eyes narrowing.

  Dorothy looked down too, and saw she had a bit of a bulge. Half of her wanted Nelly to cotton on, but the other half was reminded of Alice’s warnings.

  ‘Dottie, don’t take offence, sugar, but I’ve gotta say … you’re getting a bit of a
tummy on you. You might want to slow up on that bread and cheese. I mean, you don’t want to end up looking like me!’ Nelly said and laughed a big, bellowing chuckle as she patted her wobbling stomach.

  Dorothy didn’t laugh along with her friend, but instead gave her a knowing look in the hope that Nelly would guess the truth. Slowly, as the penny dropped, Dorothy could see it dawning on Nelly and the woman’s laugh turned into a look of astonishment.

  ‘My God, Dottie … have you got a bun in the oven?’ Nelly whispered.

  Dorothy nodded her head. ‘Please don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.’

  ‘Oh, blimey! I won’t say a word, I promise. I assume it’s Robbie’s?’

  ‘Of course it is. Who else would it be? But he doesn’t know anything about it. I still don’t know where he is, and neither does his brother Adrian.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Dottie, what are you going to do? You ain’t married so surely you can’t keep it.’

  Dorothy noted the look of horror on her friend’s face and felt disappointed. She’d hoped Nelly would be as excited about the baby as she was. ‘If you’re suggesting adoption, forget it. I’m keeping my baby, and until Robbie shows his face Adrian is going to help us out. You’ll see, Nelly, once Robbie knows I’m pregnant he’ll come back to marry me and everything will be all right.’

  ‘Yeah, you live in cloud cuckoo land if it pleases you,’ Nelly said sarcastically, ‘but I’m telling you straight, that man will never marry you. Never in a month of Sundays.’

  ‘I don’t care what you say. I know Robbie loves me, and he will come back. When he does he’ll love his baby too,’ Dorothy retorted, but then her tone softened. ‘Nelly, please, I don’t want to fall out with you about Robbie again. I’m really happy about this baby and I hoped you would be too.’

  After a long pause, Nelly finally answered, ‘I can’t believe you’re happy with being up the duff without a husband. I think you’ve got a long, hard road ahead of you, but if you’re determined to have this so-called love child then you’re going to have to toughen up ’cos you know what people are like around here. You’re going to need a friend and I’ll be that friend, but I don’t want to hear no more nonsense about that Robbie.’