‘You want to come back here to live, is that it? Of course you can. Danny and Marion will stay on with Mrs Amos now, that’s obvious, and I don’t like all those empty rooms. But you can’t sleep in a single bed for ever.’
‘I don’t really mind, we just cuddle up.’
Jessie smiled. ‘That’s good, but you ought to buy that double bed you’ve been promising Kathleen ever since you married.’
‘I’ll go to town tomorrow. And I’ll take Ollie with me to the brickyard every day; he’s a bit of a handful still, isn’t he?’
‘Well, our old Bob can only tolerate so much fur-tugging and playfulness, so he’ll probably be relieved. My dear boy, I’ve missed you more than I can say.’ She gave him a little push. ‘Go and give Kathleen the good news. I suppose Heather’s room will become the girls’ room now, eh?’
Kathleen was lying on the bed nursing the baby. ‘Kitty’s dropped off to sleep. Can you put her back in her cot, Sam?’
‘Yes, of course,’ he replied, lifting her up in his arms. Kitty was growing fast, he thought; she was bigger than Heather at that age, who would probably be petite like her mother. ‘She’s a contented baby,’ he observed. ‘She’s smiling even though she’s asleep.’
‘Let’s get an early night – I’ll just look in on Heather and tuck her in, then I’ll be back.’
He noticed that she hadn’t rebuttoned her blouse. Dare he take this as a good sign? ‘Mother agrees: we’re welcome to move back home,’ he said. ‘I hope you’re pleased?’
She turned at the door. ‘Oh Sam darling, I am, I am! But you will take me back home one day to County Clare, where I was born, won’t you?’
‘I promised you that on our wedding night, remember? I’ll take you home again, Kathleen . . .’
‘My dada used to sing that song to my mother and me,’ she said.
He was already in bed when she returned. ‘Hurry up,’ he urged. There had been no intimate moments since Kitty’s birth three months ago, but tonight they would again throw caution to the wind, despite the hard, narrow bed.
*
After breakfast the next day, Kathleen took her babies into the sitting room while Daisy and Jessie tidied up the kitchen. Sam had left for work, taking the packed lunch Jessie had made for him. ‘Thank you, Mother. I can make cups of tea in the barn, but I guess the soda bread we left behind won’t be edible. Though Ollie might like to chew it.’
‘Don’t forget,’ she reminded him.
‘I won’t – I’ll take an hour off this afternoon and go shopping for that bed!’ he said.
He went off whistling, looking happy – it was easy to guess why – and Jessie smiled to herself, recalling his father.
Kathleen was nursing Kitty again – the second feed of the day – and Heather had spread her toys out on the hearthrug. She lay on her tummy while she played with them, and Bob moved away as she began to build a little house from coloured bricks. He was wary because these pyramids were precarious and Heather enjoyed demolishing as much as building.
Jessie joined them and Kathleen held out the baby for her morning cuddle with Grandma. ‘You are doing so well with feeding her yourself this time,’ Jessie approved.
Kathleen’s lips trembled. Jessie glanced at her, concerned. ‘What’s up, dear? You know you can tell me.’
‘I might have to wean her soon, Jessie.’
‘Oh, why, when she is so satisfied?’
‘Last night – well, we couldn’t help ourselves . . .’
‘If you mean what I think you do, it’s obviously time to resume, well, normal relations. It doesn’t mean you have to deprive little Kitty, though.’
Kathleen gulped. ‘But supposing I . . .’
‘Supposing you fall again, is that what you’re worried about?’
‘Yes.’ Kathleen was crying now.
Jessie laid the baby in her basket. She put her arms round Kathleen and hugged her tight. ‘I should have realised you need a little advice and reassurance from time to time. This is the time you need your mother. Sadly, you lost her before she could talk to you about grown-up things. Kathleen dear, I never had that chance either with my Mary.’
‘You are like a mother to me,’ Kathleen sobbed.
‘I’m glad, because I think of you as another daughter, and you are so young to be a mother of two, at only twenty. Now, let me tell you something you seem unaware of. Nursing mothers are protected when they are producing milk. Most mothers learn this quickly, and it helps them to space out their pregnancies. That’s why some go on nursing their babies until they are toddlers. Nature’s way! I have to say, sometimes this method lets you down, but I am guessing you are not experiencing your monthly problems yet, which is a good sign. Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ Kathleen agreed. She wiped her eyes. ‘So what must I do now?’
‘You should stop worrying and . . .’ Jessie felt herself go hot under the collar, because she had not talked like this before to her daughter-in-law, ‘carry on with the good work.’
‘Nursing Kitty, you mean?’
‘Yes – and make good use of that new bed when it comes!’
Then they were both laughing, and Kathleen said, ‘Oh I do love you, dear Jessie!’
FIFTEEN
It was a year later, June 1906, and Marion was spending some of her Saturday afternoon off with her mother, while Danny continued working with the horses. Red Ruby was expecting another foal, while Grasshopper, the young colt, had been sold to a breeder, along with the one-time skittish gelding, who, after being well schooled by Marion, was now racing point-to-point. Doc and Danny were on the lookout for another brood mare. Things were going to plan at the stables.
‘Why are you still wearing your breeches?’ Mrs Amos demanded when Marion joined her in the garden; she preferred to see her daughter wearing one of her new summer frocks when they were relaxing. Breeches were for mannish women, and Marion was certainly not that.
Ankles were now a familiar sight, as fashion decreed shorter skirts. The more daring women wore bloomers when they went out on their bicycles, a mode of transport that was becoming a more familiar sight than riders on horseback these days, though there was still excitement at the sight of a motorcar on these back roads. Marion had mentioned casually only the other evening that she would like to ride a bicycle. ‘I wouldn’t have to wait for you to drive me about then, Danny; I’d be able to come and go as I please.’
Marion sipped her lemonade and sighed. ‘I’m taking young Heather for her first ride on the old donkey today – I thought we’d go by the strawberry fields and see how the fruit is ripening. Also, Neddy isn’t shod for the road. You can come along if you like.’
‘No thank you. It’s too hot for walking in the sun. There’s always a shady spot in the garden. And why can’t her mother do it?’ Mrs Amos never used Kathleen’s Christian name.
‘She’s got Kitty to look after as well, and anyway, I enjoy being with my niece!’
‘So that’s what you call her, is it?’
‘Mother!’ Marion was exasperated. ‘I’m off now. I’ll be back with Danny later on.’
‘I must admit I’m fond of Danny, but he needs to buck up his ideas and get you in the family way! Mind you, I recall he had mumps badly when he was a young lad, and your grandma, who was interested in home remedies – folk used to go to her rather than the doctor – said he might never be a father.’ She paused. Maybe I’ve said too much, she thought.
Fortunately, she kept her next thought to herself: in which case, Danny couldn’t have fathered that girl’s second baby, even if it does look rather like him . . .
‘Do you know, Mother, we’ve stopped worrying about all that. I really enjoy being involved with training horses, and riding them too,’ Marion retorted. She turned her head; she didn’t want her mother to see the tears in her eyes. Who is at fault? she wondered. Is it Danny or is it me?
*
Neddy was not too happy to be caught when happily grazi
ng on the pasture, or to have the bit inserted between his teeth. When the felt saddle was placed on his back, he responded with a loud hee-haw. His companions made their way in haste towards the far fence. Tails flicked as flies settled on sleek rumps and heads were tossed.
Danny lifted Heather up onto the donkey’s broad back and kept his arm round her as Marion led Neddy to the track leading down to the strawberry fields. ‘I’ll walk with you as it’s the first time,’ he told his wife. ‘She’ll be more confident in a week or two.’
Jessie and Kathleen were already looking over the strawberries and picking the first few red ones for a teatime treat. Kitty, now eleven months old, bounced in her pram, rattling the small wooden beads fringing the canopy. She was crawling now, but she wasn’t as forward as her sister had been in attempting to walk.
Danny’s heart missed a beat when he saw Kathleen, in a blue dress with a bonnet protecting her from the sun, having returned to the donkey his ancient straw hat with the holes for his ears to poke through. She and Jessie waved as Neddy plodded towards them. The heat was relentless this afternoon. It was proving the hottest summer for decades. Marion’s fair skin was reddened by the sun and her brow glistened with perspiration.
‘Let’s rest up under the oak tree before we go back to the stables,’ Danny suggested. He lifted Heather down. ‘Did you enjoy your ride?’ She nodded, thumb in mouth. ‘Here’s Mummy,’ he said.
‘An’ Gamma,’ Heather said, before spotting the bowl of strawberries. ‘Mine!’ she cried joyfully.
‘For all of us,’ Jessie reminded her gently with a smile. ‘Sit with Mummy under the tree and we’ll share them out. I’ve a carrot in my pocket for you to give Ned.’ It was obvious to her that Danny would love a little one of his own.
Later, back at the stables, after they had led the donkey to the water trough and removed the harness and saddle, Danny said diffidently to Marion, ‘Do you fancy . . .’
‘A roll in the hayloft?’ she teased him.
‘Well, I mean, it’s a chance to talk to each other. Your mother is always listening in at home. The walls are too thin there, and we would have the bedroom next to hers.’
Marion said, ‘She likes to know we’re near, I think. In case she’s taken ill in the night.’
‘Not much chance of that,’ he said, and he sounded bitter.
‘Danny!’ She was shocked at his response. However, she turned and climbed the ladder into the cool space above their heads. It was a regular bolthole for them.
He felt in his pocket for a cigarette, but she stopped him from lighting it. ‘Not safe among all these bales of hay, Danny. Anyway, I thought you had a better idea . . .’
Some time later they sat up, brushing straw from their hair. They exchanged a long, lingering kiss. ‘Feel better now? Not that we did much talking,’ he whispered.
‘Oh Danny, I saw the way you looked at Kathleen – please say it’s me you love.’
‘You know I do, Marion. But I can’t help myself, I’m sorry . . . She obviously went through so much trouble before she came here. She seems like one of our family now.’
‘At least she doesn’t seem to realise how you feel,’ Marion said sadly.
*
‘You look as if you need a good bath,’ Mrs Amos said, looking keenly at her daughter.
‘Well Danny can bring the tub into the scullery, but I don’t want the water too hot. You’re not going to the pub tonight, are you, Danny?’
He shook his head. ‘Thought we’d have an early night.’ He didn’t look at Mrs Amos.
‘You can give my back a good wash for me, I feel all itchy in this heat.’
‘I can guess why,’ her mother said huffily, reaching out and pulling a piece of straw from her daughter’s hair. ‘I thought we might have a game of cards tonight.’
‘Ask Bert, he’s lurking around somewhere,’ Marion said, surprising her mother. She turned to Danny. ‘You can have the water after me.’
‘Cleanse away your sins,’ her mother muttered. She had the last word, as usual.
*
Sam was back from the brickworks. The men had Saturday afternoons off. He was gradually building up one side of the house, but there was still a long way to go. Sometimes he wondered if it would ever be finished. Would Kathleen come back there when it was habitable?
‘Did Danny say anything about meeting up with me at the pub?’ he asked. ‘You wouldn’t mind, would you, Kathleen?’ She handed him a clean towel; he had just sluiced himself with cold water at the pump, rather than bother with a bath. They were in the scullery together.
‘No – he said he thought they’d have an early night. Heather loved riding the donkey, and she ate most of the strawberries Jessie picked for our tea! Daisy is waiting to help me get the babies to bed – she likes playing nursemaid, I think.’
‘How old is Daisy?’ he asked. ‘She doesn’t appear to have a young man in tow.’
‘I believe she’s thirty – I don’t think she wants to be married; she says women in her family prefer it that way.’
‘What shall we do this evening, then?’ he asked, pulling his freshly ironed shirt over his head. ‘Doc and Mother are playing chess in the living room, so I suppose we’ll go in our little sitting room and read a book – what do you say?’
‘Marion gave me this week’s copies of the Times; you haven’t brought your paper back for me for days and I want to catch up on all the news.’
‘I haven’t bothered to go out and buy the Daily Mirror lately; too busy. I’ll look through those papers with you,’ he said.
‘And tell me what I shouldn’t read, no doubt,’ she said, but she was only half joking. It was the only bone of contention between them, she thought.
He encircled her narrow waist with his arms, ‘I’m glad you don’t wear a suit of armour to ward off advances, like fashionable women in town.’
‘If you mean a corset, I don’t need it,’ she murmured ruefully. ‘Marion agrees with me, but I wish I had a figure like she has.’
‘She’s not a will-o’-the-wisp like you,’ he teased.
*
The carrier called unexpectedly at the farmhouse one morning. Daisy answered the door, drying her hands on her apron, for she’d been giving the sink a good scour round.
‘Miss Daisy Jennings?’ the man asked, looking at her rather doubtfully.
‘Yes, but I expect you want Mrs Mason – I’ll fetch her while you sort out the parcel.’
‘No, it’s much bigger than a parcel and it’s addressed to you!’
Who would send her something by carrier? she wondered. The man lifted down an unwieldy object swathed in brown paper and fastened with rope. ‘Here you are then,’ he said, and he was off before she could ask him to show her what was inside.
‘Whatever is that?’ Jessie said, coming downstairs with Heather wriggling in her arms; Kathleen was feeding the baby in the bedroom.
‘May I use your big scissors, Mrs Mason? And then we’ll find out.’
Minutes later, surrounded by paper and string, the mystery object was revealed.
‘A bicycle!’ Daisy cried in amazement, taking in the gleaming black enamelled frame with embellishments of gold leaf, the shiny aluminium wheels, rubber pedals and leather saddle mounted on coiled springs. ‘Whoever . . .?’
‘There’s an envelope tied to the handlebars,’ Jessie said, restraining Heather with difficulty, for she was intent on investigating what she obviously thought was a new toy.
The scissors released the envelope, which fell to the ground. The bicycle was propped carefully against the wall and they went into the living room so Heather could play with her own toys while Daisy took the letter out of the envelope.
‘From my Aunt Maggie,’ she said. ‘Would you like to read it?’ She passed the sheet of paper to Jessie.
Dear Daisy,
Your grandma sold some of her possessions, as you know, when she came to us, and she wanted to buy you something special for your
birthday. We sent for the bicycle from my catalogue. It is the latest model – a Rudge. She hopes you will be pleased and will send us a picture of you riding it!
Grandma is well and happy and hopes you are the same. Jack and I bought the bicycle bell as our present to you.
Do write to us again soon. Grandma has some spectacles now and can read letters herself, she says, but she finds writing too much.
Happy birthday, with love from us all,
Aunt Maggie
‘When is your birthday?’ Jessie asked.
‘It’s today, Mrs Mason. My twenty-first,’ Daisy said shyly. In her family, birthdays had never been treated as anything special, until now. She was not much older than Kathleen, Jessie realised.
‘You should have said, Daisy – but now we know, we’ll celebrate! You must have the day off.’
‘Oh no, thank you, Mrs Mason. I want to carry on as usual, if you don’t mind. But I must spend an hour or two learning to ride the bicycle. Just think, I can ride to the village and get any shopping you need. It’s got a lovely big basket, hasn’t it? And I can ride to Westerham sometimes – it’s a bit far to walk.’
Jessie nodded, sharing her excitement. ‘If the strawberries do well, I might join you on a bicycle of my own!’
‘The only thing that worries me, Mrs Mason, is it’s called a lady’s bicycle and folk might think I’m getting ideas above my station.’
‘Nonsense!’ Jessie said firmly. ‘We are all sisters under the skin.’
‘You sound like one of them suffragettes, Mrs Mason.’ Daisy admired her employer and listened avidly to her views on life.
*
‘I’m going to save up for a bicycle too,’ Marion told her mother. ‘And I’ve said I’ll make Daisy some bloomers!’
‘Bloomers! Flagrant, Marion, that’s what they are.’
‘Oh Mother, they’re not meant to titillate, if that’s the expression; they’re baggy, ugly garments, and you wear a short skirt over them. Besides, it’s better to reveal bloomers than normal underwear, and you still need to wear stockings and boots, so you won’t be showing too much leg!’
The Winter Baby Page 12
