by Annie Murray
‘What, whether you want her back?’
He couldn’t look at her. ‘I don’t know if she’s my Cynth any more. I don’t know what to do for her.’
‘Let her come home a few times and settle down. She does seem better.’
He grasped onto her words. ‘Does she? D’you think so?’
Tears rose in Dot’s eyes as she nodded. ‘I think we might get her back. But you’ve got to get rid of that woman. And you’ve got to be kind to her, Bob – and patient.’
Em saw her first. The children were all waiting by the window, in a state of almost unbearable excitement, knowing Mom was coming home – if only for a visit.
‘You’ll have to be very good and quiet with her,’ Dot told them. She had misgivings about them all being there, whether Cynthia would be overwhelmed by it all, but they’d been deprived of their mother for so long, how could she stop them? And Cynthia was aching to see them.
Even Sid was quiet, seeming awed by the occasion. They could all just fit by the window, squeezed in shoulder to shoulder with Joycie raised up on a stool, their breath misting up the glass. They didn’t even start drawing on the misted-up window as they would have done normally. They watched, every fibre of them alert, waiting for Mom to arrive.
Bob, Dot and little Nance were waiting outside. Eleven o’clock, they’d said. Until three. A short visit to start with. At two minutes after eleven the lumbering hospital transport pulled up just along the road and the children craned their necks to see. Then the four of them came along Kenilworth Street, Cynthia in the middle with Bob and Dot on each side, Nancy trailing along behind them. They walked slowly, guiding her carefully, almost as if she was blind.
‘There’s our mom!’ Sid’s voice, normally so raucous, sank to a whisper. Joyce stood there without a word, her eyes huge, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
At the first sight of her mother Em felt an enormous, aching lump come up in her throat. She blinked hard, drinking in the sight of Cynthia’s face, hardly able to believe it was really her. Mom, their Mom, home again, in her same old coat and on Dad’s arm – instead of Flossie Dawson. Mom and Dad together, as things should be. They’d been told not to rush out and startle her, but they all felt suddenly shy and rooted to the spot in any case. The ache spread to Em’s chest.
They stopped at the gate in the weak winter sunshine. Cynthia gazed up at the house, seeming to stall, ready to turn back and run away again. She shrank behind the others, as if frightened. Bob said something to her, and Dot put one arm round her friend’s shoulders and pointed with the other towards the window, talking gently all the while. Em saw her mom take in the shadowy little figures behind the glass and a look came over her face that was both fearful and full of yearning. She forced a smile onto her face and waved, and then they led her into the house.
The sound of the latch was like a spell being broken.
‘Mom!’ Sid cried.
Em held back as the younger ones ran forward. It was so strange seeing her there, now, in the room.
‘There, they’ve been waiting for yer,’ Dot said. She and Bob released Cynthia’s arms and Sid and Joyce went and buried themselves in her skirts, clinging like monkeys.
‘Oh!’ Cynthia gasped. Her voice came out quietly, as if she wasn’t used to talking. ‘Oh, babbies!’ Bending over, she was already weeping, holding them tightly to her. ‘Em, come here. Oh, my little Em!’
And Em was taken into the embrace as well and she sank into her mother’s body, a button of her coat pressed against her face. She smelled more or less like Mom, though there was an odd, hospital smell too. Em closed her eyes. She could hear crying, feel her mother’s body convulsing but all she wanted was to rest there and be held, and nothing else. Mom . . . Mom . . .
After a few moments Dot said tearfully, ‘Let’s let your mother sit down, eh?’
The children peeled themselves off Cynthia. They were all still in the front room. Bob had gone out to put the kettle on and hide his own emotion.
‘Come on, love – sit down. Let’s take your coat for yer.’ Cynthia was wearing the clothes she had had on when she went in, though they hung even looser on her. Dot led her to a chair. ‘Nance, you go and carry some of the cups in for Bob.’
‘Are you all right now, Mom?’ Sid asked, edging onto her lap immediately. Joyce wiggled her way on as well and Em perched on the arm so that her shoulder rubbed up against her mother’s.
‘I’m getting better, I think,’ Cynthia said, wiping her eyes then putting her arms round Sid and Joyce and holding them close. ‘I hope I’ll soon be better. Oh, it’s so lovely to see you all!’
As she talked, Em saw the gaps in her mouth where they’d taken out her teeth.
Bob brought in tea and biscuits. He didn’t seem to know what else to do, or say. It was Dot who gave orders to the children and kept things going, who understood that Cynthia just needed to see her children, to hold them; and after they had talked for a little while over cups of tea, it was Dot who saw that Cynthia was soon feeling tired and beginning to look overwhelmed.
‘Now, your mother’s only here for a short time today,’ she told the children. ‘Just to let her have a little taste of being at home and get her used to it. We’ll have a bit of dinner together, but she’ll have to go back this afternoon.’
‘Oh, Mom, you’re not going away again, are yer?’ Sid said. He had a little snip of her dove-grey cardigan between his finger and thumb, rubbing on the soft wool for comfort. ‘Can’t you stay now?’
‘I don’t think they’d let me,’ Cynthia said, stroking her hand fondly over his head. ‘I’m still a bit tired all the time, bab. I don’t want to go back to being poorly again. I need to be better to look after you, see? But I’ll come home soon.’
Em just sat drinking and drinking in the sight of her face, her being here. All of them wanted to tell her things – about school and their games and friends. But after they’d had some sausages and mash and the day was rushing by, Dot said, ‘Now, kids – you come next door with me for a few minutes. I’ve got some nice sweets for yer. We’ll let your mom and dad have a little chat together by themselves, all right?’
‘Mom’ll stay till we get back, won’t she?’ Joycie asked anxiously.
‘Course she will. Come on. And you, Nance, I’ve got sherbet lemons – special treat for yer.’
Bob’s heart was pounding, his hands breaking out in a sweat. He felt very small, like a child, with no idea how to break the silence that began as soon as Dot had taken the others next door. They were each side of the fire and Cynthia couldn’t seem to look at him. She sat staring at her bony hands clenched together in her lap.
Seeing here there, seeing her the moment she had arrived in the house, thinner but herself, had been like a bubble bursting for him. His real life had arrived again, as if he had been let out of something which he’d run to for escape. Now he was full of shame. She must know, must sense all the wrong things he had done. He had not been to see her, not once since that first time, as if she was nothing to him and could be just disposed of. And the way he had carried on, falling into the arms of another woman so fast and so easily! He could hardly believe now that he was the same man. He wanted to groan with shame at the thought, seeing her here, so thin and distant-looking after all her suffering. Why had he not been able to look after her better? Be more of a man?
He was trying to find the courage to speak, to say something about the way he hadn’t come to the hospital, to find excuses, but she spoke first, in barely more than a whisper.
‘I’m sorry, Bob.’ Her thin, pale face creased painfully and she looked up, wide-eyed, longing for his forgiveness. ‘I’m ever so sorry. I’ve let you all down so bad . . .’
He leaned forward, barely still on his chair.
‘No, Cynth – you haven’t. You couldn’t help it. It were the babby – it’s like that sometimes. They explained it to me . . .’
‘Yes, but I should’ve . . .’ Her tears began to
fall. They still seemed to come so easily. ‘It shouldn’t’ve happened. I’ve been no good to anyone, leaving you all . . .’
‘It’s all right, love.’ He meant it, felt full of forgiveness and shame and sorrow. Hopefully, not knowing what else to say, he asked, ‘D’you think you’ll be better now?’
Again she looked very pained. She seemed to shrink into herself. ‘I don’t know. I feel so frightened.’ And she was shaking, he could see. He shrank inside, afraid himself, not knowing what to do. He sat staring at her.
‘Bob?’ Her voice was tiny. ‘Would you put your arms round me? That’s all I want.’
He leapt up at her request, his throat blocked with tears, and pulled her gently to her feet.
‘Come ’ere, love,’ he said roughly, and held her lovely familiar shape, so thin and trembling, in his arms. ‘That’s my little love.’ Putting his hand gently on the back of her head with its cropped, institutional bob, he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.
Forty-One
A few days later, Em went to Dot’s after school as she usually did, for a drink of milk and a slice of bread, before going back to cook the tea.
‘I’ve done yer some scrag end,’ Dot said. ‘Look, I’ll bring it round and all you need to do is put the spuds on.’
It was a gloomy evening and Joyce had come straight home as well, instead of playing out for a while.
‘Now you stay out of my way in the back, Joycie,’ Em bossed her, but amiably, as they went inside number eighteen. ‘You can play by the fire but you’ve got to let me get the tea on.’
Joyce took advantage of Em’s good mood and said, ‘Can I play with Princess Lucy?’
‘Yes, all right, so long as you’re careful with her,’ Em said.
Things were more relaxed. There had been tearful goodbyes when it was time for Cynthia to return to the hospital on the Saturday. Dot had almost had to wrestle Sid away from his mother’s arms, where he was clinging as if he would never let go.
‘It’s all right, son,’ she’d tried to reassure him as Bob led Cynthia out of the house, away from the sound of the children’s crying. ‘Your mom’ll be back. She just needs a bit more of a rest, that’s all.’
Cynthia had said goodbye bravely. ‘They’ll let me come again,’ she told them hesitantly. ‘I don’t know when exactly, but I’ll see you all soon.’ By the time she left she had gone very pale and seemed so drained that she could hardly speak, but she did manage a wan smile for Jenny Button, who waved across the road at her and called out, ‘Nice to see you home, bab!’
She also left the children with hope that the separation would now be temporary.
The visit made all the difference to Em. It was terrible seeing Mom walking away from them again, but now they had hope. Soon she’d be coming home! Em no longer minded all the drudgery of the house, and she vowed that when Mom came home she would always be a help to her and not let her get overtired. Sid and Joyce were much happier as well and the days passed in much lighter spirits. Even school did not seem so bad. She had settled into being one of the mousier members of the class, playing with anyone who would let her join in. All she wanted was a quiet life.
Em put the scrag end on the heat and started peeling potatoes. Joyce had run upstairs for the doll and settled herself on the mucky rug near the range as it was the warmest spot. She was soon lost in her game. Em saw that as well as Princess Lucy she had brought down some socks and gathered together several empty cotton reels and clothes pegs and an old magnifying glass with a cracked handle. She held the glass up to one eye so that it looked enormous and distorted.
‘Now,’ Joycie said to the rows of cotton reels, ‘you’ve all got to do as you’re told cos your mom’s ’ad a babby and she’s feeling poorly. And you – ’ Princess Lucy was scooped up by the hair – ‘you’re the mom and you’re in the hospital but you’re coming back soon.’ She got up and placed Princess Lucy in a far corner of the room, still with the magnifying glass pressed to one eye.
Em giggled at the sight of her. ‘Your eye’s all big – like a giant’s!’
Joyce came right up close to her and the girls stared at each other through the bulging glass, pressing their noses together. They were giggling so much that at first they didn’t hear the tapping at the back window.
‘Who’s that?’ Em said at last.
‘Sid,’ Joyce said. ‘Being silly. He’s always silly.’
But the thought that entered Em’s head was: Maybe it’s Mom? Maybe she’d run away from the hospital to be with them and crept round the back so they wouldn’t see her?
Cautiously she opened the back door. It was pitch black out in the yard and for a moment she couldn’t see, only hear the husky voice that whispered out of the darkness.
‘Em? Em – it’s me.’
‘Molly?’
‘Quick – let me in, will yer? It’s freezing out ’ere.’
The smiles dropped from Em’s and Joyce’s faces as Molly stepped into the light. They stared at her in horror. Molly looked down, seeming ashamed. Her face was a mess of bruises and swelling. The skin round her right eye was so swollen that the eye was a shrunken slit. Her face showed signs of other bruising and there was a bloody wound on her lower lip.
‘Who’s hit yer?’ Joyce asked.
‘Can I stay here?’ Molly said. She didn’t cry but there was a bleak desperation in her voice. ‘I’ve run away. I ain’t never going back there . . .’
Em’s instincts told her not to go and get Dot, or anyone yet, until they’d had time to think. They must find out what had happened and deal with it themselves. She closed the back door, thinking of what the grown-ups did whenever there was trouble.
‘You come in by the fire, Moll,’ she said. ‘I’ll make yer a cuppa tea. Our dad won’t be in for a bit yet.’
Molly meekly did as she was told and sat at the table.
‘Who did that to yer?’ Joyce persisted. ‘Was it your mom?’
Molly nodded, dabbing her weeping eye cautiously on her sleeve.
‘What did her do that for?’
Molly shrugged. Normally things seemed to wash over her, but this time Em had never seen her so subdued and defeated-looking.
‘Where’ve yer been?’ she asked. ‘Why did you go away?’
‘We’ve got another house, in Aston.’ All the expression seemed to have drained from Molly’s voice. ‘But the landlord’s been round carrying on already. Mom says we’ll ’ave to move on. I didn’t want to go to the school there but she made me, so I ran off. I want to come back ’ere.’
Em and Joyce stared at her, full of sympathy and worry. Em cut Molly a slice of bread. Thanks to Mrs Button they didn’t go short of it.
‘Ta.’ Molly took it and started eating ravenously. Through a bulging mouth, she said, ‘I ain’t going back. Never.’
She didn’t need to explain any more. Even the thought of Molly’s mom scared the wits out of Em and Joyce.
‘You can come and sleep in with us,’ Joyce said, stricken at the sight of her. ‘We won’t tell no one.’
Molly’s swollen face puckered into something like a smile. ‘Ta, Joycie. You’re my best friends.’
The children agreed that Molly should hide in their bedroom for tonight while they thought what to do. Bob scarcely ever went in there.
‘You go up now,’ Em said. ‘Dad’ll be home soon and I’ll bring you up a plate of tea when he’s not looking. We’ll have to think what to do after that. And you go out and find Sid, Joycie. He won’t be far away but we’ll have to tell him and get him to keep his mouth shut.’
The girls spent a cramped night together on the same bed. Joyce refused to be turfed out to sleep with Sid.
‘He wees in the bed, I’m not going with him!’
In the night, Em woke several times to find Molly getting up and sitting on the po’. She wondered sleepily why Molly needed to go so many times.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked the third time.
; ‘Nothing. I just need to go. You go back to sleep.’
But Em lay worrying about what they were going to do. It was no good telling Dad, he’d just order Molly to go home, and she didn’t like to trouble Dot. Dot had done so much for them, and she didn’t want to get her into any trouble. But how could they just hide Molly here? They’d be found out sooner or later, and what if Iris Fox came looking for her? It chilled Em’s blood just to think about it.
She had an argument with Molly the next morning because Molly wanted to go to school.
‘You can’t!’ Em objected. They were having a whispered argument because Bob had not yet left for work. ‘They think you’ve left and everyone’ll see you. What’re we going to say?’
‘I dunno,’ Molly said sulkily. ‘I just want to go back to normal.’
‘Well, you can’t. You’ve got to stay here for today.’
Em racked her brains all day long and still couldn’t think what to do. In her desperation she almost thought about asking Miss Lineham, but she didn’t think she’d get any sympathy there. It was only when she stopped off to pick up the bread on the way home from school that she had a stroke of luck.
Jenny Button was her usual cheerful self and greeted Em kindly.
‘How’s Mr Button?’ Em asked politely. ‘Is he feeling better?’
‘Oh yes, he is, ta,’ Jenny Button said. ‘He did have a bit of a temperature and he doesn’t throw anything off easily, you know. But he’s up again now, tucked up by the fire with his paper.’ She gave a brave smile. ‘Now, bab, here’s your bread and I’ll see if I’ve got anything else for you.’
‘I’ve got an extra mouth to feed tonight,’ Em blurted out.
‘Oh?’ Jenny Button grunted, her head invisible behind the counter. ‘Who’s that, then?’
‘Molly Fox.’ It was a relief when the story came tumbling out. ‘She’s run away from home and she says she ain’t going back and she wants to stay with us. Her mom keeps hitting her and her face is all swollen up and it looks bad, but I don’t know what to do in case our dad finds out.’
