‘Nor do I.’
‘You have done so much for me over the years; I thought you would be pleased that I wanted to do something in return. I was broken-hearted when I came here, but you healed me, you made me so happy.’
‘You need a fatherly kiss,’ he said unevenly, ‘like the one I gave you once before. That was when I realised I loved you, and you felt the same, didn’t you?’
‘You know I did. Oh Sam.’ She was weeping again and didn’t resist when he drew her to him again.
‘Let me make it up to you,’ he murmured.
It was only later, as she drifted off to sleep in his arms, that Kathleen realised they had not taken the usual precautions. She smiled to herself. No, it wasn’t the time for bringing another child into the world, but then, was it ever?
TWENTY-ONE
Christmas 1912 was almost here, and Sam and his family were settled in their new home. They planned a quiet cele-bration for Heather’s ninth birthday on Christmas Day, as Kathleen was now eight months pregnant. She would be twenty-seven in January on the birthday she shared with Danny, who would be twenty-eight, and Sam would be thiry-two two days before that. Jessie had sent over a hamper of food knowing they were experiencing hard times, so they were not short of festive fare. Heather and Kitty had fun, and squabbled a little, over where to hang the decorations, and who should dress a humble peg dolly in sparkly clothes as a fairy to top the Christmas tree.
Heather was growing up: her thick black hair was swept back at the sides, and like Kathleen she had a fringe over her forehead, but she didn’t have the same fair complexion and Irish blue eyes as her mother. Her skin looked tanned even in the winter. Kitty topped her sister by two inches and was obviously the leader of the two. She resembled her grandmother in her colouring, determination and cheerful disposition. Both girls were doing well at the local school, and Heather proudly brought home a composition at the end of term that had gained top marks and a gold star. Her father said he would find the time to frame it after Christmas.
‘Read it aloud to us,’ he suggested on Christmas Eve.
Heather demurred. ‘Oh I’d rather not, Dad. I’ll go all red and then you’ll laugh.’
‘Of course we won’t,’ Kathleen said quickly. ‘But I’m sure Kitty will read it for you . . .’
‘You know I will,’ Kitty said eagerly, almost tearing the page as she snatched at it.
‘Give it back! I will read it, you didn’t write it!’ Heather decided after all.
Exciting Events of 1912
By Heather Mary Mason, age nearly 9
There was a terrible disaster when a ship called Titanic, which means it was very big, hit an iceberg on its way to America. It sank to the bottom of the sea. It was its first voyage. Lots of passengers perished. There were not enough lifeboats.
Another disaster was when brave Captain Scott and his men got to the South Pole after many struggles. Oh no! Another explorer called Amundsen got there first. They were not seen again but Miss said they must have all perished in the terrible weather. They were real heroes. In November a search party found them but it was too late. I don’t like snow as I was born during a snowstorm on Christmas Day. There is a lot of wars going on, mostly in the Balkans. Not sure where that is. Something like Ottomans? Dad said it’s not good that Italy, Austria and Germany have made what is called a Triple Alliance. Turkey is in the news a lot. They are at war with Greece and Serbia.
This December they found a bust of Queen Nefur Nefirt Queen Nef, in Egypt, and in this country they found Piltdown Man! Was he the first man on earth?
My mother said she wished she could be a suffragette but my dad won’t allow her, I think. She is not big and strong like some of them. Last March the suffragettes smashed lots of windows in Oxford Street, a very posh place in London.
I would like to fly an aeroplane one day. The men are called pilots and very daring. They are not in the army or navy but in the Royal Flying Corps.
I shall be a Liberal like all my family. They think Lloyd George is the best. There are so many strikes and it is all they talk about.
The best thing this year was the Olympic Games in Sweden. We winned 10 gold medals,15 silver and 18 bronze. I would never make a athlete because I am too small, but I like riding a horse. My sister can run faster than me.
There may be another big event before the year ends. A new baby! Dad would like a boy. Us girls do not mind. Mum said she will be jolly glad when it comes, as she is like a roly-poly pudding! That is true.
PS I hope spellings are right. I used the dictionary Grandpa Doc gave me. He could only spell in Russian before he came here. He is very clever. The horses like him very much.
Sam had spent a fruitless day on 22 December calling on customers who owed him money for bricks delivered much earlier in the year. It probably didn’t help that it was a Sunday. He arrived home to discover there was no supper keeping warm in the oven and that Kathleen had gone to bed soon after the girls. He stumbled up the stairs because he had done something he had not done in many months: he’d called in at the pub on his way home and drunk two pints of strong ale. Fortunately he had no more coins in his pocket to carry on drinking. Ollie had rushed out of the Barn House, barking, as if Sam was a stranger. He had to be restrained by Herbie the foreman. Uncharacteristically, Sam uttered a curse.
‘No luck?’ Herbie asked.
‘No!’ Sam said curtly.
Upstairs, a solitary candle flickered in the niche in the landing wall. Sam opened the bedroom door cautiously. He heard the sound of sobbing. He paused to light the lamp, then went into the room.
‘Where have you been? I was so worried.’
‘I’m bloody hungry,’ he shouted. ‘Nothing for supper.’
She was shocked. ‘You’ve never sworn in front of me like that before!’
‘I had no luck – no money – and you couldn’t even make me a sandwich!’
‘I was upset . . .’
‘Why?’ He sat on the edge of the bed and untied his boots.
‘Because I won’t be over at the farm with Jessie when I have this baby. I felt safe there, and Nurse Buss came, but she won’t come out here because she feels nervous walking through the wood. Though I know Doc will come if the local doctor can’t . . .’
Sam saw her blotched, tear-stained face and realised he was being too hard on his beloved Kathleen. He sat down on the bed and reached for her hand, saying soothingly, ‘Shush, you mustn’t get so agitated. The baby isn’t due for two weeks.’ He knew that if he kissed her, she would smell the alcohol on his breath.
‘Remember, the girls were both early.’
‘I’ll be here from now on, so I can do what I did last time, can’t I? Any of that pork pie left in the larder?’
‘Yes, and some cold potato you could fry up . . . But don’t open the hamper, that’s our Christmas surprise from Jessie. I took the turkey out and put the cover over it, though.’
‘I’ll bring you a cup of tea after I’ve had my supper, eh? Warm up my side of the bed!’
She called after him, ‘I love you Sam, you know I do, but this place will never feel like home, not like Home Farm does. You mustn’t be so proud. I’ve got that money – that would see us through . . .’
He didn’t answer; he felt choked up. He was the one crying now, silently, tears running down his face. I’m a fool, he thought, chasing a dream like my uncle, and now it’s all turned to ashes.
When he returned with the tea, Kathleen was sitting up in bed, smiling. ‘Sam, I’ve just realised. I’ll invest that wretched money in the business, and you can make me a partner, like Mrs Amos did with Bert.’
‘Hey! You are my partner, you’re my wife, and I think the world of you, Kathleen.’
‘As I do of you,’ she said. ‘But you have to realise I’m a woman and a mother, not the frightened girl Danny lifted from the snow!’
Sam interrupted. ‘I carried you upstairs that first night, remember? We’ll talk about
it after the baby arrives, and don’t forget it’s just two days to Christmas Eve and Heather’s birthday on Christmas Day . . .’
‘I haven’t forgotten – oh!’ She gave a gasp and clutched at her middle. ‘Sam, it can’t be, but it is . . .’
‘Thank goodness for the telephone – is it too late to ring Doc?’
‘It’s only ten o’clock; they won’t be in bed yet. Hurry, Sam, don’t keep talking on the telephone – I need you here with me. And don’t wake the girls up, please.’
*
Doc put the receiver back on its rest. ‘Who is ringing at this late hour?’ Jessie asked.
‘Sam. Kathleen’s in labour, he thinks. They need me, so I may be gone some time.’
‘I’ll come too,’ she decided. ‘Wait a minute while I tell Danny and Marion. They’re in bed, I expect.’ She snatched at the old plaid cape hanging on the hallstand. ‘This will keep me warm.’ She felt in the pocket. ‘She must have taken the sprig of heather . . .’
Sam and Kathleen heard the motor car making its way down the track to the house. Ollie barked next door and whined at the unfamiliar noise. Sam opened the door to Doc and Jessie; he was still dressed, and when Jessie hugged him she smelled the alcohol on his breath but wisely refrained from comment.
Upstairs, Jessie bent over Kathleen. ‘How is it, my dear?’
‘Oh, I’m glad you could come too, Jessie. I’m afraid . . .’ She paused as another wave of pain swept over her. ‘The bed’s soaked, but at least I’d covered the mattress with plenty of newspaper ’
‘Sam, can you lift her up and sit with her in the chair? Doc will help me get the bed sorted. Are you boiling up plenty of water?’
‘Yes,’ Sam said, struggling to sit down with Kathleen in his arms. Doc wrapped them around with a blanket.
This was not to be an easy birth for Kathleen as it had been with the girls. Doc straightened up after ascertaining the situation. ‘A big baby,’ he said briefly.
Jessie wrung out a cloth in cool water and gently blotted the perspiration from Kathleen’s brow, then replaced it with a fresh cloth. Kathleen was moaning softly, but she didn’t cry out. She murmured, ‘Hold my hand, Jessie . . .’
Sam stood helplessly by. She doesn’t need me like she did last time, he thought. It’s my own fault, upsetting her like that . . .
But after the next spasm, she found her voice. ‘Sam, Sam, where are you?’
He came out of the shadows and knelt beside the bed. ‘Hold on, hold on,’ he heard someone say, before he realised it was his own voice.
It was a long night; only Doc’s reassurances kept them together. Jessie was tired, and even nodded off for a time, but she didn’t lose her grip on Kathleen’s hand. Sam’s head remained bowed. Thank goodness the girls are unaware of all this, he thought.
At first light, when Doc was about to send Sam to fetch the doctor from the village, Kathleen struggled to sit up. At last the baby was about to be born.
‘Keep calm,’ Doc told Jessie and Sam.
‘I can’t . . .’ Kathleen cried.
‘You can, my dear, you’re almost there,’ Doc told her.
Sam was silently praying; he couldn’t remember the last time he had done that.
Suddenly it was all over. Kathleen fell back on her pillows, and with one last heave, the baby emerged. ‘Sam!’ Doc commanded. ‘Be ready to take the baby and wrap him in that flannel sheet when I’ve cut the cord . . . He’s crying, that’s a good sign, but I must see to his mother first. Poor girl, she is exhausted. Jessie will help me . . .’
As Sam took the baby into his arms, he saw to his joy that this was indeed a son, much bigger than the girls had been. As if he could read his thoughts, Doc said, ‘He must weigh around ten pounds . . .’
‘Like his father when he was born.’ Jessie was wiping away tears of relief, rolling up her sleeves for action.
Kathleen said weakly, ‘He is to be called Sam after his father.’
Doc looked at his watch. ‘Well, he’s arrived in time for Christmas, eh?’
Sam looked down at the baby’s red face and kissed the fuzz of damp black hair on his head. A new life -– a new hope for the future, he thought.
‘He looks like you,’ Jessie observed. ‘Let’s get Kathleen settled, then I’ll make tea and tell the girls the good news!’ She yawned. ‘And after that, Abraham and I need to catch up on our sleep.’
TWENTY-TWO
Christmas Eve, and without Nurse Buss to decree she must stay in bed, Sam carried Kathleen downstairs and deposited her on the sofa by the fire. It was the sofa from the living room at Home Farm, with colourful new cushions made by Jessie. So many memories came with this familiar piece of furniture, including fond thoughts of old Bob comforting her after she was rescued from her ordeal in the freezing world outside. So different from today, for it was mild for the time of year, though the old farmers predicted a gale on the way.
Heather sat beside her mother and proudly held her little brother. ‘He is the best birthday present ever!’ she said.
‘We’ll celebrate your birthday a day early,’ Kathleen told her. ‘Grandma and Grandpa Doc, Daisy, Uncle Danny, Auntie Marion and Wilf are coming over for tea, and bringing the Christmas presents to put under the tree, as well as your birthday gifts, which you can open right away so you can thank them.’
‘Are we having the turkey for dinner?’ Kitty asked hopefully.
‘No, your dad will cook it tomorrow, with some help from you two, I hope.’
‘What are we having today? I’m hungry.’ Kitty made a sad face. ‘Dad said it would be bread and scrape.’
‘Well, Grandma sent us some butter, so no scrape!’
‘I’m not that helpless,’ Sam said. ‘I’ve got a cauldron of soup bubbling on the hob. I threw everything in like you do, Kathleen. And Heather baked some soda bread to make more of it.’ The baby was stirring. ‘Time for a feed, I think; he’s a hungry lad.’
‘I need to have my soup first, I’m starving!’ Kathleen told him.
‘Can we watch, Mum?’ Heather asked after lunch, as the baby made mewling sounds.
‘Of course you can, but don’t ask so many questions.’ What a difference this time, Kathleen mused. I couldn’t nurse Heather because I wasn’t well enough; I was able to feed Kitty, but I tried to do that in private. I’m more relaxed now that I’m a mother of three – and I’ve had a brainwave about how we can turn the business around . . .
‘Good to see you smiling again!’ Sam said in passing. He was smiling too, putting his cares firmly to one side before the visitors came. He was glad Jessie was bringing a chocolate cake for Heather’s birthday, because he hadn’t discovered a recipe for that.
‘Kitty, don’t tickle the baby’s toes,’ Kathleen said, but she didn’t sound reproving.
‘I can’t resist it, Mum,’ Kitty said with a grin. ‘I think he likes it. Why hasn’t he got any socks on?’
‘I’m a very slow knitter, and I’m not good at turning heels,’ Kathleen replied.
‘Mum,’ Heather said, ‘I know you haven’t had time to get me a birthday present yet, but I’ve been thinking what I would like – a puppy. One like dear old Bob. We’ve got Bob’s couch here now, haven’t we?’
‘What about Ollie?’
‘Oh he belongs next door, doesn’t he?’
Sam, overhearing, put in, ‘I met a fellow the other night who had a litter of black pups at home – didn’t say what breed, mongrels probably – and asked would I like one? Shall I say yes?’
‘As long as I can call it Bob!’
‘It might be a bitch,’ Kitty interrupted.
‘That’s a rude word – tell her, Mum!’
‘Well, I am just about to change the baby and you won’t want to watch that! Why don’t you set the table for tea? Everyone will be here soon.’
*
‘Nearly got blown away driving here in the trap!’ exclaimed Jessie when she arrived. ‘The wind i
s getting up, we’re promised a gale tomorrow. The others are following in the car; hope they are all right. Goodness me, you’re up, Kathleen!’ She was obviously surprised.
‘Up, but not about!’ Sam said firmly.
‘Doctor’s orders?’
‘No, mine! Though the doctor who came yesterday was amazed to see her so well.’
‘And happy,’ Kathleen said firmly. ‘Well, what do you think of the baby now, Jessie?’
‘He’s a very handsome chap! May I hold him?’
‘You may,’ Kathleen said, handing her little bundle over. She drew her feet up so Jessie could sit on the sofa beside her.
The girls were busy arranging several promising packages round the base of the tree, which Doc produced one by one from his bag. ‘New fairy?’ he enquired. ‘What’s her name, I wonder?’
‘Topsy,’ Heather said proudly, ‘though Dad said she looked more like Ragged Rose. I am not very good at sewing, you see.’
‘Or knitting?’ Jessie enquired. ‘Open your birthday present, eh?’
Kitty joined her. ‘What is it?’
Heather unwrapped a rush sewing basket, equipped with a pin cushion, needles and thread, a silver thimble, scissors and a little book: Sewing for Girls. There was another package – a skein of knitting wool in blue, a pair of bone needles and a simple pattern for baby bootees. ‘Oh Grandma, thank you! Look, our baby needs something on his feet! Will you show me how to knit?’
‘Of course I will. But not today. Your dad is calling you from the kitchen; I think he needs some help bringing in the tea things.’
‘My turn, I think,’ Doc said, holding his arms out to receive the baby. He sat down in the nursing chair, which had come from the attic at Home Farm. It creaked under his weight. The baby didn’t cry, but seemed to regard him solemnly. Those watching became aware that Doc was saying something in Russian to him: ‘Ya tvoy ded.’ He looked up and saw their puzzled faces. ‘I am your grandfather,’ he translated for them.
The Winter Baby Page 17
