Another Man's Child

by Another Man's Child (retail) (epub)

  Ma was continuing, ‘He told me all about how yer couldn’t afford even a pauper’s grave for little Mabel. I didn’t like that, Moll. Yer should have got in touch. I didn’t realise the poor mite actually lived for a few days. I thought she were a stillborn.’

  ‘What difference does that make?’ All this talk was making her remember the horror of it all.

  ‘I want me grand-daughter to have her own place to rest,’ said Ma, jutting out her chin. ‘Besides she should be in the Catholic cemetery. So I went to see the parish priest, Father Eager.’

  ‘You what!’ Molly shot to her feet, eyes wide with dismay. ‘What have you done? You haven’t dug her up, have you?’

  ‘Don’t be daft, girl. They wouldn’t let me without our Frank’s permission.’ Ma shook her head dolefully. ‘Anyway, Father Eager’s going to write to Frank and see what can be done.’

  ‘You interfering old faggot!’ cried Molly, trembling. ‘How can you do this to me? Raking it all up, stirring up bad memories and while I’m carrying too? Isn’t it bad enough that I bear the memory of my mam dying in childbirth?’

  The little woman was defiant. ‘I did what I thought was right.’

  ‘You were interfering in something that’s none of your business. She’s mine and Frank’s daughter, not yours.’ Molly’s voice broke and she pointed in the direction of the door. ‘I want you out of this house.’

  Ma did not move, sitting bolt upright clutching her large handbag to her bosom, two bright spots of colour in her cheeks. ‘Well, I’m not going. You just calm down, girl. It’s not good for the baby. And I want that cup of tea. I’m parched and me legs need a rest. I’ll say no more about the other poor mite.’

  ‘You’ve said enough.’ Molly’s voice shook.

  ‘Well, as I said, I’ll say no more.’

  Frustrated, Molly looked at her with dislike. Without evicting the woman bodily she was not going to get her to move. What was she to do? What if Frank and his mother were to go there together and meet Em and talk to her, ask questions? Any suspicions Em might have had about the truth, she would feel morally obliged to divulge.

  The kettle began to steam and Ma rose and made tea. She handed a cup to Molly who took it without speaking. Ma began to talk, chattering gaily on about how Bernie had found herself a job in a gown shop on Stanley Road and that everybody reckoned Charlie had a fancy woman because he was always disappearing without saying where he was going. Josie had another cleaning job but there wasn’t a man prepared to take her on yet. Ma thought her own lumbago was getting worse.

  At last she drained her cup and said she would be going. ‘I’ll be back, though,’ she said, buttoning up her coat. ‘Sorry if I upset yer.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Molly, shivering. ‘And don’t hurry back. In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t come back. Ever.’

  Ma sniffed. ‘That’s very nice, that is. But what I’d expect from yer, the mood yer in. This is our Frank’s house and I’ll not be banned from it.’

  Molly saw her out. ‘You stubborn, hateful woman,’ she muttered, slamming the door behind her.

  She was glad to pick up the red frontal she was embroidering with grapes and vine leaves, although she felt as if a cloud labelled ‘doom’ hung over her. She tried to vanquish it, think sensibly, but she couldn’t. If Frank were to learn from Ma that the baby was buried in the grave of Mr Rich Man’s wife, as he called Nathan, then he might well do as Ma asked. What if he confronted Nathan, and he got angry and flung back at Frank that he’d made love to Molly and the baby she was carrying could equally well be his?

  For the next few days she worried herself sick, picking at her food and causing Cath to say, ‘If you’re not careful you’ll starve that baby to death.’

  With that Molly forced herself to eat and tried to put her anxieties to the back of her mind, but every time the postman was due she expected to see the priest’s letter to Frank come through the letter box. She would burn it, she decided. The trouble with that, though, was that Ma was bound to ask him whether it had arrived or not.

  A letter, though, was still conspicuous by its absence when Frank’s ship docked and he breezed into the house. ‘How’s my best girl?’ He put his arms round Molly, hugging her gently.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, wishing she could be overwhelmingly pleased to see him.

  He scanned her face, frowning. ‘You don’t look fine.’

  ‘I am. It’s just that I get worried sometimes about the baby.’

  ‘You’re not to worry. This one’ll be a bruiser. Are you eating properly? No strange fancies?’ He smiled at her lovingly.

  She forced herself to return the smile. ‘Depends what you mean by fancies. I have yearnings for pickled beetroot. Do you want something to eat now? Was it a good trip?’ She didn’t like the fact that he was so solicitous of her. It made her want to burst into tears or blurt out the truth, and she must never do that. She wriggled out of his arms and went over to the fireplace.

  ‘What’s this?’ said Frank.

  Molly glanced over her shoulder and saw him pick up the lectern fall she was working on. She had already decided on the line she was going to take over her work. ‘Oh, that. It’s for the church,’ she said casually. ‘You didn’t know I was a fine embroiderer, did you, luv?’

  ‘No. But the machine… where did that come from?’

  She decided this time she had to tell the truth. ‘It’s mine. I left it at Mr Collins’s house in Blundellsands, though. I’d forgotten about it but Doris brought it here when Mr Collins sent me the money for looking after Jessica that day.’

  ‘So he paid you? How much?’

  Molly told him. ‘I’ve put it away for the baby.’

  Frank frowned. ‘Put it in the poor box. I can provide for my own child.’

  She was annoyed. ‘Frank! You said I earned that money, I don’t want to give it away.’

  ‘You heard me, Moll.’ His mouth set in a hard line. ‘Do as you’re told. And while we’re at it – I don’t mind you working for the church but if it’s that that’s making you look peaky all over again, then you can stop it.’

  Stop the work she loved? She decided to give him something else to think about. ‘I told you, I’m fine! Or I would be if Ma hadn’t called and upset me.’

  ‘Upset you?’ He pulled off one boot. ‘Tell me something new.’

  ‘She wants to have the baby moved.’

  ‘What baby?’ He looked bewildered.

  ‘Our baby, Frank. She wants to dig her up and transfer her coffin to the Catholic cemetery. I tell you, I haven’t been able to sleep since she told me she was out at Burscough. The priest’s going to write asking your permission but I don’t want little Mabel disturbed, Frank.’ Tears welled up in Molly’s eyes and she flung herself into his arms.

  ‘OK, luv, OK! Hush now.’ He stroked her hair. ‘Don’t get yourself worked up.’

  ‘I can’t help it, Frank. She brought it all back to me. The pain and the loss and me alone without you…’

  ‘OK, luv. I’ll speak to her.’

  ‘And you’ll write to the priest? I can give you his name and address.’

  He sighed. ‘OK. I’ll write to the priest. But you’ve got to try and understand Ma. She lost a few babies herself, you know.’

  Molly did not want to know that. She did not want to think about Ma having suffered, needing sympathy and understanding. But she was not going to tell him that and so made noises that could be taken for sympathy.

  The two days they spent together were enjoyable and Cath kept out of the way. They went to see a show at the Rotunda and had a good laugh. Molly was able to forget her worries for a while. When he returned to sea she was in a much better frame of mind.

  Mrs Arkwright was pleased with her work and sent her more. Molly placed the money she earned in a jam jar with the gold sovereigns, having prised up a floorboard in the corner of the empty bedroom. She found time to visit Doris in Blundellsands and her heart swelled with pride as she playe
d Patacake, patacake with her daughter, who was able to say more words now and was walking with confidence.

  The weeks passed without sight nor sound of Ma, much to Molly’s relief. Whatever Frank had said to her it must really have hit home. He docked next in time for the May Day celebrations and the pair of them went to town to see the annual horse parade, standing amongst the crowds watching the decorated floats and beribboned horses go. Then he returned to sea.

  A week later the country was thrown into mourning when the King died from a pulmonary infection. ‘The King is dead, long live the King’, blazoned one newspaper. George V and his consort Mary now ruled Great Britain and its Empire.

  The next day Molly went into labour.

  She was alone in the house when her pains started because Cath was late arriving home. Feeling in need of another woman, Molly hurried over to Mrs McNally’s house.

  ‘Come in, luv. Started, has it?’ she said sympathetically.

  ‘I need someone to go for the midwife.’

  ‘That’s all right, luv. I’ll send one of the kids out the street. Then I’ll come back with yer to your place.’

  A girl was soon despatched and Mrs McNally accompanied Molly home, describing her own second labour graphically.

  An hour passed and there was no sign of the midwife. The girl reappeared, breathless. ‘She’s broke her leg! She can’t come.’

  ‘Why didn’t she let me know?’ said Molly, fear darting through her as she shifted her bulk uncomfortably.

  ‘Now yer not to start worryin’, girl. I’ll pop out and get Gert. She does for some round here,’ said Mrs McNally, patting her shoulder.

  Molly had met Gert at the wash house. She was an untidy, skinny woman with a cigarette stuck permanently to her lower lip. Her breath smelled not only of cigarettes but rum due to her habit of constantly calling in at one of the numerous pubs in the area which opened at six in the morning and didn’t close until midnight.

  Molly moistened her lips which suddenly felt dry. ‘No! I’ve heard jangling in the wash house about her.’

  ‘Those tales are just to frighten yer, girl. Some women are like that,’ said Mrs McNally soothingly.

  ‘No,’ repeated Molly stubbornly.

  The older woman looked exasperated. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers, girl.’ And with that she went out.

  Molly knew the tales were probably exaggerated but she believed in the proverb ‘No smoke without fire’. She walked up and down, wondering what to do, but it was enough coping with her contractions without finding another midwife at such short notice.

  Mrs McNally reappeared, accompanied by Gert.

  Molly looked at her and her heart sank. ‘I’ve been told you’ve killed more mothers and babies than you’ve had hot dinners,’ she said unsteadily. ‘How do I know those tales aren’t true?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t had that many hot dinners, queen.’ Gert spoke out of the corner of her mouth, cigarette bobbing up and down in time with the words. ‘You shouldn’t be listening to gossip.’

  A sharp laugh escaped Molly. ‘I haven’t got cloth ears and some people have loud voices!’

  ‘Then yer don’t want to believe everything yer hear.’ Gert rolled up her sleeves. ‘Yer looking bad and beggars can’t be choosers.’

  ‘I’m not begging!’ Molly’s eyes flashed with anger but the pain came again, causing her to groan. She picked up a cup and flung it at the woman.

  Gert ducked and crossed herself before grabbing Molly’s arm. ‘Help me here, Eileen. She’s getting hysterical.’

  Molly wrenched her arm out the woman’s grasp and leaned, panting, against the table. ‘Don’t you touch me!’

  The door opened and to her relief Cath entered. To everyone’s surprise she was followed by Ma. ‘As if I didn’t have enough on me plate,’ whispered Molly.

  Ma glanced at the two women then looked at her daughter-in-law. ‘Having trouble, girl? You started?’

  ‘Yes to both.’ She was thinking that at least Ma wanted the baby born safely. ‘And I don’t want this woman here. I don’t trust her.’ Molly turned to Gert, saying almost triumphantly, ‘This is my mother-in-law and you won’t get anything past her. Make her wash her hands, Ma.’

  ‘Don’t you be worrying, girl. I’ll see yer all right.’

  Within seconds Molly was half-carried upstairs between Cath and her mother. She was helped on to the bed, undressed and told to rest. She tried to relax but could not for wondering what was going on between Gert and Ma. The door opened but it was only Cath. ‘Where’s Ma?’ asked Molly.

  ‘She’s standing over that woman while she washes her hands like you asked. You OK?’ Molly groaned as another contraction made itself felt, trying to curl herself up into a ball. Cath swallowed and looked nervous. ‘Is it really bad, Moll?’

  ‘Don’t ask bloody stupid questions!’

  ‘Sorry. But I don’t know what to do.’ There was a knock and Gert entered with Ma. ‘Let’s be having a look at yer,’ said the former.

  ‘Let me look at your hands?’ Molly pushed herself up on her elbows.

  ‘Come on, girl! I stood over her while she scrubbed them,’ rasped Ma. ‘Yer can trust me.’

  Could she really? thought Molly wistfully, knowing the woman held no love for her. But she had no choice but to submit to the examination.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘How far gone am I?’

  ‘Yer’ve got some way to go yet, girl,’ replied Gert, before dragging on Ma’s sleeve and whispering in her ear. The two of them left the room.

  Molly felt like screaming after them, ‘Say what you’ve got to say in front of me.’ But she felt certain she would be wasting her breath. She lost all track of time, existing in what felt like a circle of ever-increasing agony. She was aware of Cath by the bedside and reached out a hand to her. The girl took it and Molly gripped it tightly, unaware that she dug her fingernails in when the pain was really bad.

  Cath disappeared for a while and Ma came and sat with her, mumbling over her rosary beads. Molly thought, I’m going to die! and was relieved when Cath reappeared and Ma left. The pain went on and on. Molly felt she was getting nowhere. She began to worry about the baby, gnawing on her lip so hard she could taste blood in her mouth.

  The chirping of sparrows signalled the dawn and Cath whispered that she needed to go to the lavatory again. The two older women entered and Gert examined Molly once more, going outside with Ma Payne afterwards just as she had before. Something was wrong, Molly just knew it. As if in a dream she heard the familiar sounds of people going about their business in the street below but she was drifting on a sea of pain.

  The door opened and Cath came back in. ‘How are you feeling, Moll? Someone’s come for Ma. Our Josie’s gone and cut herself and is bleeding all over the place. Ma’s going to have to go. And I should be leaving for work now.’

  ‘I’m going to die,’ whispered Molly.

  ‘Don’t think like that.’ Cath’s mouth trembled.

  ‘Can’t help it. It’s taking too long and the pain’s so bad.’ She clutched at Cath’s sleeve. ‘You must do something for me. Ask Jimmy to tell Nathan – Mr Collins – the baby is—’ Her words were cut off as she screamed, pain gnawing inside her like a rat.

  Cath stared down at her in horror. Gert and Mrs McNally came hurrying in. Cath brushed past them and dashed downstairs and out of the house, running as fast as she could in the direction ofVauxhall Road. She had overheard her mother saying the baby was the wrong way round and that was why Moll was having such a difficult time. She had lied to her about Josie. Ma had gone in search of a priest to baptise the baby in case it died. Poor, poor Moll! But Cath wasn’t ready yet to give up on her. The two girls were getting on very well living together, better than either of them had imagined. Cath did not want to return to her mother’s house.

  Breath burning in her chest, she reached the candle factory. She ran through the door and banged on the counter. Jimmy’s head poked through the hatch and he stared at
her in surprise. ‘What are you doing here, luv?’

  She was so puffed she could hardly get the words out. ‘Mr Collins! Molly’s going to die if something isn’t done.’

  He came out from behind the partition and put an arm round her. ‘Is it the baby?’

  ‘Of course it’s the bloody baby!’ she cried. ‘Those old women can’t cope.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Jimmy, she’s in such pain. And she sent me to tell you to tell Mr Collins about the baby.’ She pushed him. ‘Go on! Tell him if he doesn’t do something – get her a doctor or a better midwife – she’ll die!’

  Jimmy’s mouth fell open. ‘You mean there is something between him and her? That the baby…?’

  ‘It must be that, mustn’t it, if she’s thinking of him and not our Frank at such a time? And there was us not really believing it.’ She poked him in the stomach. ‘Go on! He’s got to help her.’

  Without another word Jimmy went running up the corridor.

  Chapter Ten

  Molly was so exhausted she hardly had any fight left in her. She had tried pushing but, oh, it hurt so much! Then suddenly she was aware of a commotion in the street below and men’s voices. Someone was hammering at the front door.

  Gert and Mrs McNally gazed across the bed at each other and the latter got up and went downstairs, thinking it might be Ma with the priest. But no sooner was the door open than she was pushed aside. ‘The mother?’ said a man in a frock coat and striped trousers with the sharpest of creases. He was carrying a black medical bag.

  ‘Upstairs,’ said Mrs McNally, bewildered but thankful, wondering who had sent for him.

  He hurried up the stairs, followed by a nurse and a younger man carrying some kind of large metal canister with gadgets attached. Nathan was just behind them. Mrs McNally stared in astonishment.

  ‘She’s still alive?’ he said, looking pinched about the mouth.

  She nodded, and he made to follow them up but she caught his sleeve. ‘You’d better stay here, lad,’ she said grimly. ‘I don’t know what she is to you, and I don’t want to know, but you’ll only be in the way up there. I’ll make us a cup of tea.’