by Carol Rivers
‘The baby!’ Lizzie turned and hurried away, closely followed by Lil and Ethel.
In the storeroom a big bassinet stood by the sacks of potatoes. The three women peered into it. As they were staring at its contents, Bill poked his head round the door.
‘You do the honours, gel. I’ll manage out here.’
‘You sure, Bill?’ Lizzie rocked the pram up and down.
‘Bert’s due back in a minute. Give the young ’un her grub.’
But Lizzie, Lil and Ethel were too engrossed in the baby to listen.
‘You don’t feed the poor little blighter in here, do you?’ Lil cried as Lizzie lifted the baby, swathed in blankets, and rocked her in her arms.
‘Course not, Lil. I take her downstairs. You coming?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world, ducks.’
‘What about you, Ethel. Got time for a cuppa?’
Ethel nodded eagerly. ‘What do you think I came over for? Er, is Frank home?’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, coast’s clear.’ She knew that neither Ethel, who had a day off from Rickards, nor Lil would want to bump into Frank. There was no chance of that. He didn’t want to answer any questions about Babs or the baby. He had dragged himself from the couch the following day and without a word to anyone, left the airey. Lizzie knew it would be some time before he showed his face again.
Soon all three were downstairs in the airey chatting, taking off their coats and fighting over who should hold the baby. Lizzie left Lil and Ethel to decide and went to warm the milk in a pan. When it had boiled, she poured it into the banana-shaped glass bottle and quickly made tea.
The fire roared in the grate, the armchairs pulled up beside it. Lil and Ethel had settled themselves beside the warmth, with the baby on Ethel’s lap.
‘Blimey, ain’t she small!’ Lil exclaimed, as Ethel removed the blankets. The long white linen gown that Lizzie had bought from the old girl’s stall at Cox Street market was tucked warmly round her.
‘She’s put on an ounce. Bill weighed her on the shop scales. She’s nearly six pounds.’
‘Ethel was ten pound eleven ounces,’ Lil yelped. ‘Like a blooming great baby elephant she was.’
Ethel sighed loudly. ‘Yeah, well, tell the world won’t you, Mum.’
‘Had an appetite to match,’ Lil added for good measure.
Ethel rolled her eyes at Lizzie.
‘Well, the rate she’s feeding, she’ll soon beat that,’ Lizzie said as she took the baby from Ethel. She nuzzled the teat against the baby’s lips. At once the little girl sucked greedily at the teat. ‘Look!’
‘A right little gannet,’ Ethel squeaked
The two women bent close to the baby. Lil heaved a sigh. ‘She ain’t half lovely. Bald as a badger, but lovely. And them eyes, so blue. Yeah . . . really blue.’
Lizzie looked up. Ethel coughed. ‘Where’s Babs then?’ Lil continued, unaware of what she had just said. ‘Why don’t she breastfeed?’
Lizzie didn’t want to say that Babs disliked feeding the baby. She also didn’t want to reveal that Babs was out of the house most of the time. She had stayed in bed for a week, until the bleeding had stopped. But as soon as she was on her feet, she was off out. Lizzie had tried to persuade her to stay in and rest, but on Monday, she had come down from the shop to find the baby screaming and Babs gone. Lizzie’d had a terrible fright. She remembered what Dr Tapper had said about being vigilant. So she’d got Bert to go to the secondhand stall at the market and buy a crib. She made up her mind that she would take the baby into the shop and keep an eye on her there. Bert had returned with a great big old perambulator. Lizzie had managed to squeeze it into the storeroom. Luckily, the baby seemed to like it, almost as though she knew she was safe. She rarely cried.
‘What’s Babs going to call her?’ Ethel asked.
Lizzie shrugged. That, too, was of no interest to Babs. ‘Hasn’t thought of a name yet.’
‘Well, she’s got to be registered, ain’t she?’
Lizzie nodded. ‘I’m going to do it tomorrow.’ As soon as Babs came home this evening, she was going to tell her the baby had to have a name.
‘Is Babs gonna stay here?’ Lil asked curiously as she looked around the airey.
‘She’s sleeping in my room with the baby. There’s plenty of space.’
‘What does Frank say about that?
Lizzie had her answer ready. ‘He don’t mind,’ she shrugged. ‘He sleeps on the couch.’ She didn’t add that he was never home to sleep on it now.
‘Where do you sleep?’ Ethel asked.
‘With Flo.’ Lizzie grinned. ‘A bit like old times.’
‘So it’s happy families again, is it?’ Lil said with a hint of sarcasm.
Lizzie didn’t answer. It wasn’t happy families, not yet, at any rate. But she hoped it would be. She could offer Babs and the baby a home until they got somewhere. Flo loved the baby as much as she did. They could all live together under one roof like the old days.
Lizzie looked up at Lil. ‘I like the name Polly.’
Lil frowned. ‘Polly put the kettle on, I suppose.’
Ethel chuckled. ‘Well, she’ll be doing a lot of that in this house.’
‘Yeah, but don’t count yer chickens,’ Lil said, looking at Lizzie. ‘It wouldn’t do to get too fond of her. Babs might up and off. You know what she’s like.’
‘She’s got nowhere else to go,’ Lizzie replied shortly. Why did Lil always have to put a damper on things?
‘She could go back to where she came from.’ Lil didn’t say the house in Poplar, but they all knew she meant it.
‘Why would she do that?’ Lizzie put the bottle on the table and lifted the baby on to her shoulder. She patted her back, as she had done at every feed since her birth. She loved the feeling, the sense of calm. She loved everything about the little mite.
‘Because she won’t want to stay cooped up here.’ Lil sniffed. ‘Sorry, love, but that’s the way I see it.’
‘Oh, Mum!’ Ethel said, embarrassed. ‘Why do you have to go and say that?’
Lil looked at Lizzie, her dark eyes unwavering. ‘Because I know Babs, that’s why. Leopards don’t change their spots.’
Lizzie didn’t want to hear any more. She was certain Babs was going to change her ways. How could she want to go back to that life, living amongst women who sold their bodies for money? Babs had been looked after and cared for here. She was amongst family, with no bills to pay and a roof over her head.
‘Could I hold her for a minute?’ Ethel asked. She met Lizzie’s eyes. There was apology written in them for her mother’s outspokenness.
Lizzie smiled at her friend and gently laid the baby in her arms.
‘Blimey!’ shrieked Lil, staring at Ethel. ‘Don’t you go getting broody again.’
Ethel kissed the baby’s forehead. ‘Oh, hark at it,’ she whispered, tracing her finger over the baby’s soft pink skin. ‘Your Auntie Lil doesn’t half go on.’
Lil was about to reply when the baby gurgled and brought up wind. In doing so, she gave everyone a big smile that spread right up to her deep blue eyes. The three women all screamed in delight, then howled with laughter as wind travelled down the other way to the tradesmen’s door – as Lil remarked, holding her nose with her fingers and gasping with laughter at the same time.
Christmas Day 1926 was one of Lizzie’s happiest. Flo, Sydney, Bert, Babs and Lizzie all sat round the kitchen table, a feast set out in front of them. Bert and Sydney had carried the big perambulator down from the shop. Polly, as the baby had finally been named, was fast asleep in it.
Bill had spotted Frank going down to the airey the day before. It was Friday, Christmas Eve, and custom was brisk. Polly had been blowing bubbles, staring up at the twirling coloured balls that Bert had fixed on the hood of the perambulator. When Bill hurried in breathlessly to tell Lizzie he had seen his son going down the airey steps, Lizzie’s heart had started to beat very fast. She knew Babs was at home, or had been, e
arlier that day.
Lizzie said nothing to Bill and continued to serve the customers. She didn’t want to see or speak to Frank. There was only thing that mattered, Polly’s welfare. And whilst the baby was in the storeroom she could guarantee her safety.
Bill had been surprised that Frank hadn’t made an appearance in the shop. Lizzie knew why. He didn’t want to face her. Though Bill didn’t know the truth about the night of Polly’s birth – no one did – Lizzie would never forget the scene she had witnessed. She had no forgiveness in her heart for her husband. She hoped that in time the painful memory would fade. But the hurt and anger was still inside her. She tried to put it to one side, for Polly’s sake.
In the afternoon she had taken Polly down for her feed. The airey had been strangely silent. Babs wasn’t in. Frank had taken some clothes from his wardrobe. The thought crossed Lizzie’s mind that they had gone away together. But what about the baby? She had gone back to the shop after Polly’s feed, anxious and upset. She realized how much Polly meant to her and Lil’s warning words went through her mind.
However, Babs had come back that night, laughing, joking and a little tipsy. She helped Lizzie decorate the Christmas tree and even fed Polly. She said nothing about Frank and Lizzie didn’t ask.
Now it was Christmas Day. All the family sat around the table. Sydney had been invited and looked smart in a waistcoat and white shirt, the collar pinned underneath by gold studs. As Lil and Doug had gone to Ethel’s, Bert had come over for the day. He too wore his Sunday best, a suit brought out of mothballs for the occasion.
Babs was trying to flirt with Sydney, but hadn’t got very far. He blushed very easily. Flo kept giving Babs black looks. Lizzie thought how much like old times it was and for a minute she remembered Pa and Ma. No one had said anything about Pa. No one wanted to remember the bad times on Christmas Day.
Lizzie dished out the roast turkey, stuffing, sausages, bacon and batter and jugs of rich brown gravy. It all disappeared very quickly, to be followed by Christmas pudding and brandy sauce. The kitchen reeked of it. And right on time, at the end of the meal, little Polly stirred in her perambulator.
Lizzie went and picked her up, bringing her into the kitchen. She was warm as toast with rosy cheeks. Her big blue eyes looked like sparkling little jewels. She rubbed her snub nose with tiny fingers and yawned. Lizzie lowered the baby into Babs’ lap.
‘Here’s to Pol,’ Bert said, raising his beer.
Lizzie lifted her glass of ginger wine, as did Flo and Sydney. ‘To Pol,’ they cried.
Lizzie looked round the table. Everyone was happy, laughing and enjoying themselves. She missed Bill and Gertie but they were over at Gertie’s place, no doubt celebrating in style. And she missed Ma and Pa, but she hoped they were together and looking down on the family, happy to see them united.
‘Happy Christmas everyone,’ she said breathlessly, glancing at Flo and Sydney, then at Bert and Babs and finally, with a tug at the heart, at little Polly.
Even Lil, on Boxing Day, didn’t ask after Frank. Lizzie knew no one cared. Lil put on a spread as usual at her house, for friends and neighbours. There was a big knees-up in the afternoon, with the baby’s head well and truly wetted.
‘The same women next door, are they?’ Lizzie asked as she joined Lil in the kitchen to prepare the punch.
‘Yeah, but I never speak.’ Lil rolled some apples and oranges on to the table. She picked up a sharp knife and began to slice them. ‘The blooming front door opens and closes all night. It’s a wonder the coppers don’t do something about it.’
‘I’ve never heard from old Symons.’
‘No, well, you wouldn’t would you? I ’spect Vinnie pays him a good whack.’
‘Do you see Vinnie at all?’
‘Doug saw him the other night. Up at the Quarry. Didn’t say two words.’
‘I meant does he come next door.’
Lil shrugged. ‘Don’t look out for him, gel. He ain’t worth the trouble.’
Lizzie knew that Lil was angry about what Vinnie had done. They all were. But what could they do? She had turned the problem over and over in her mind, but it always came down to money. As long as the landlord was earning, he didn’t care where the money came from.
‘Ethel not coming over today?’ Lizzie asked, changing the subject.
‘No, poor kid,’ Lil replied as the noise from the front room grew louder and merrier. ‘Richard’s old girl is having a do and wanted them all over at her house. Ethel was dreading it. They all sit there like stuffed dummies. The kids have to be on their best behaviour and be quiet.’
‘Don’t they have a knees-up?’
Lil laughed as she chucked the chopped fruit into the punch bowl, then poured on lemonade. ‘You must be jokin’. There ain’t a pair of pink flannelette drawers to be seen within miles of the Rydes’ front room.’
They were laughing over this when Babs walked in with the baby. Polly was bawling and red in the face. Babs looked fed up. ‘I think I’ll go for a walk,’ she said, passing Polly over to Lizzie. ‘She ain’t stopped screaming.’
‘Why don’t you go out in the yard?’ Lil said, jabbing the knife at the back door. ‘There’s Ethel’s old pram in the shed. Lay her in it and rock her.’
Babs gave Lil a frown. ‘I’ve got a headache. I need to stretch me legs.’
‘She’s probably hungry,’ Lizzie said as she lay Polly against her shoulder and patted her back. ‘Do you want me to feed her?’
Babs shrugged. ‘If you want. See you later, then.’
Lil and Lizzie watched Babs sway down the passage, grab her coat from the coatstand and go out the front door. It closed again with a bang. Lizzie knew Lil was bursting to speak her mind. She knew exactly what Lil would say about Babs. Earlier on she had called her ‘a moody cow’ – but, as Lizzie rocked the baby gently, Lil bit her lip and resumed chopping the fruit.
‘She’s as good as gold now,’ Lil muttered under her breath. ‘Knows when she’s well off, that baby does.’
Lizzie smiled to herself. She knew Lil would have liked to get to the bottom of Polly’s conception and the reason why Babs had suddenly decided to return to the fold, but Lizzie was certain that things were turning out for the best. Even if Babs wasn’t a natural mother, she would learn to love little Polly. Who couldn’t love the dear little mite? And Lizzie was quite prepared to make up for the lack of affection meanwhile. Between her and Flo, little Polly was showered with attention at home. And when Bert, Bill and Gertie chipped in, Polly was positively adored.
‘Right,’ said Lil, wiping her hands on her pinny. She lifted the big glass bowl in her rough red hands. ‘Doug, get yer poker ready. The punch is coming!’
Holding the baby carefully against her, Lizzie followed Lil into the front room. The heat from the fire nearly knocked her over, as did the noise. The tradition was to place the punch bowl in the hearth, heat the poker and plunge it into the punch.
This year, Doug was ready in advance. He was holding the poker aloft, glowing red from the heat of the fire, his round face beaming. Everyone held their breath. Lil lowered the glass bowl in front of the fire on to the shiny green tiles. When she stepped back, no one said a word, they just waited.
Lizzie propped the baby up in her arms. This was the first Christmas of her young life. These were the rough, kind people of the Isle of Dogs who made up Polly’s world. Even though she was not yet a month old, Lizzie wanted her to see all that was going on.
Doug thrust the poker into the punch. The liquid sizzled like a witch’s cauldron, froth bubbling over the surface. Everyone clapped and cheered. Lizzie clasped Polly tightly, giving her a hug. Polly stared back at her as if she understood, her dark blue eyes sparkling in the light of the fire. As bright and twinkling as the lights radiating from the stones on Lizzie’s Dearest ring.
Bert drove them home at ten o’clock. A sky full of stars lit up the dark streets. Flo and Sydney snuggled against each other in the back of the cart. Polly was sound asl
eep in her cocoon of blankets, safe in Lizzie’s arms.
Babs hadn’t returned to Lil’s. All the way home, Lizzie wondered what she had been up to. Where had she been all that time? And with whom?
‘It was a lovely do,’ Flo said from the other side of the cart as she snuggled against Sydney. ‘That punch went to me head.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ said Sydney with a big grin.
‘Well, as long as it ain’t gone to yer hands,’ Flo giggled and they all laughed as she slapped Sydney’s hands playfully.
Lizzie knew that Sydney was blushing, even in the dark. She had changed her opinion of Sydney Miller. She just hoped he would stay on the straight and narrow for Flo’s sake. She could see them getting hitched one day.
‘You lot all right in the back?’ Bert shouted over his shoulder.
‘Lovely,’ the three of them yelled back and started laughing again.
Little Polly remained asleep. She was soothed by the movement of the cart. Though the sacking from the potatoes was rough and prickly, it kept them warm. Lizzie thought of the night long ago when Flo had scarlet fever and Frank had driven her to the hospital. He had seemed so kind and considerate. A different person. But then perhaps she had been different too. Perhaps Frank’s jealousy was not unfounded. She had loved Danny dearly. It was a love that had changed her life and sometimes she still couldn’t believe that Danny had broken his promise to her.
Under the light of the moon and the stars, Lizzie knew she was becoming maudlin. She didn’t allow herself to think of Danny very often. It was a luxury she afforded herself only rarely. A guilty one, because she was still Frank’s wife, no matter how he had behaved.
The baby stirred under the blankets. Lizzie hugged her tightly. They would soon be home. It had been a lovely Christmas, the best in years. She just hoped that when they got in Babs would be in a good mood and cuddle Polly for a while. Polly needed to hear her mother’s voice – the most important voice in her young life.
When Bert drew the cart up in Ebondale Street, they all climbed out. Their breath curled up in the night air like smoke. It wasn’t as cold as it was damp. Lizzie was eager to get Polly inside.
