by Nancy Revell
Pearl moved slightly and as she did so, she knew something wasn’t right. She felt wet. Instinctively, she craned her head forward. The old woman was lighting another candle on the table by the side. As it burned and flickered, it threw light on Pearl’s body. She looked down and gasped in horror. The lower half of her body was saturated in blood. Pools of blood.
This hadn’t happened before! Not with her Maisie. Not when Evelina had been her midwife!
‘What’s happening? Why’s there all this blood?’ she cried out, afraid. She felt like a helpless child.
The little light there had been was suddenly blocked out as the old woman hunched over her, and Pearl’s fear was replaced by pain. A terrible, stabbing pain. The old woman was doing something down there. And it hurt. Pearl screamed but no sound came out. The stabbing pain kept on. And on. And during it all she was aware of a baby, out of reach in the corner of the room.
And the little bairn was whimpering.
Finally, after what felt like too long, the pain ended and the silent screaming in her head ceased.
Pearl watched the back of the grey-haired witch as she washed her hands in a bowl, pouring water over her thick forearms before reaching for a piece of rag and drying her hands.
And all the while the baby was crying quietly in the corner.
‘This’ll be yer last, bonny lass,’ the old woman said. ‘There’ll be no more babs fer yer.’ Now there was a hint of sadness in the old woman’s voice as Pearl struggled to comprehend what she was being told. The old woman had moved away, but returned seconds later holding a glass jar of watery white liquid.
‘That might not be a bad thing, eh?’ the woman told her, putting the jar to Pearl’s dry lips. ‘Drink it. It’ll make yer feel better,’ she commanded.
Pearl did as she was told. The cold liquid tasted bitter. And all the while she could hear the baby crying.
After Pearl had forced down the drink, the old woman turned and padded across the small room. The concoction Pearl had just consumed took immediate effect, and she could feel the pain ebbing away. She watched with increasingly heavy eyelids as the old woman came back to her – this time with her baby in her arms. Pearl felt the weight of the newborn as the old woman placed her on her chest, but at the same time it felt as though her own body was being dragged down.
Sleep was coming, but she didn’t want to sleep!
I want to see my baby!
Pearl forced her eyes open and tilted her head forward. Her arms were now so heavy she could barely move them, but she knew she was holding her child in them.
Again, she strained her neck and head up from the mattress.
There! She could see her baby!
Her vision was now blurred. Her mind felt tired and confused.
She gasped in shock.
This isn’t my baby! She wanted to scream out, but the words stayed within her.
There’s been a mistake! This is someone else’s baby! The old witch had tricked her.
This baby had ivory skin and big blue eyes!
Where was her other baby? the voice in her head screamed. My ‘special’ baby? The one they said I couldn’t keep?
Pearl looked down again at the babe in her arms and then up again, expecting to see the fresh, kindly face of Evelina, but instead she saw the old woman.
‘Where’ve yer taken my baby?!’ Pearl cried out. Her own voice sounded loud and the words banged against her throbbing head.
The old woman looked down at them.
‘What do you mean, hinny?’ the old woman asked. ‘Here’s your baby.’
Pearl looked again at the child now at peace in her arms. She had a thin veil of white-blonde hair. Her breath caught when the baby looked up at her, opening her eyes wide as if startled, showing her large, round, sea-blue eyes. She was beautiful. So very beautiful.
But she looked like him.
As Pearl finally gave in to the opium-induced oblivion, she knew that this was her baby.
‘Yer gonna sleep now,’ the old woman said, putting a damp cloth on Pearl’s brow. She was surprised she wasn’t calling the undertaker. The girl was still burning up, but she’d got through the worst. She was stronger than she looked.
She’d make it.
Chapter Seventeen
The Ford Estate, Sunderland
Sunday 1 February
Gloria took one last look at the lounge, which now seemed bare despite all the furniture still there – everything apart from the battered and worn-out armchair that she had nicknamed ‘Vinnie’s throne’ as no one but her ex was ever allowed to sit in it. Even after she’d chucked him out, she could still not bring herself to use it, although it had brought her immense joy to see others plonk themselves down in it, drink tea and drop biscuit crumbs down the sides.
As Gloria closed the lounge door, she had a great sense of finality. She was leaving what had once been her marital home. These four walls had been witness to too much violence and bullying, too much unhappiness and too much sadness.
She walked down the hallway for the last time and as she opened the front door an image of her waving off her two sons suddenly sprang to mind. They couldn’t wait to leave home and join the navy, not because of a deep yearning to go to sea, but to escape an atmosphere that had become increasingly charged as they had grown into young men. Thoughts of Bobby and Gordon brought with them the now familiar sharp stab of worry. Gloria reminded herself of the letter she’d received from them the previous week; it took the edge off, but only a fraction.
Stepping out of the house and looking at the street that she very much doubted she would ever return to, Gloria shielded her eyes against the midday sun that had come out as if in celebration of the end of an old life and the beginning of a new one.
‘Come on, Glor!’
Gloria squinted as she saw Dorothy and Angie, both in their work overalls, their hair tied back in ponytails. They were standing in the small, open-backed truck that was now full of old suitcases stuffed to the brim with clothes, tablecloths and bed linen, as well as a number of large wooden tea chests overflowing with household utensils, framed photographs and rolled-up rugs. And, of course, there was Hope’s cot.
‘Is that everything?’ Martha shouted out. She was dressed in a pair of men’s dungarees and was standing at the side of the truck, her arms akimbo. She looked sweaty and out of puff.
‘Yes, thanks, Martha, that’s everything!’ Gloria turned back, taking one last look before closing the front door for a final time. She then pushed the key through the letter box. The landlord had an extra copy and had told her that he would be meeting the new tenants there later on in the day.
Dorothy caught her workmate looking unusually emotional and shouted out, ‘Now don’t be getting all sentimental on us, will you?’
‘Yeah,’ Angie added, ‘yer dinnit want us all thinking you’ve gone soft on us!’
Gloria laughed, but found she wasn’t able to bite back with a quick retort. Her throat seemed to have gone tight and her eyes were smarting with the beginnings of tears. As she walked down the short pathway and through the little wooden gate, making sure she closed it behind her, she felt an overwhelming sadness that Jack was not with her now. That this was not the start of a new life for the two of them as they had planned and hoped at the beginning of the year.
Stop it! she reprimanded herself. This is not the time to get all maudlin.
None of the women, bar Rosie, had any idea that Jack wasn’t coming back. She had let them believe that he’d had to go to Glasgow but that it was just temporary, and then they would tell the world – or rather, Miriam – about their love. And their love child.
As Gloria reached the van she was greeted by Jimmy, dusting himself down after helping Martha with some heavy lifting.
‘You ready for the off?’ he asked.
Gloria nodded, still not quite trusting herself to speak. She looked at Dorothy and Angie, who had hold of Martha’s hands and were helping to haul her into the back of the
truck.
Climbing into the passenger seat, she sat quietly as Jimmy pushed the truck into first gear, released the handbrake and drove steadily down Fordham Road. Gloria looked out the window she had wound down and saw that Martha and Jimmy had done as she had asked and hauled Vinnie’s armchair to the small stretch of derelict land where the kids from the estate loved to run riot.
She smiled as she saw they had already discovered the new addition to their makeshift playground. There were screams of excitement as the little ones took turns to jump up and down on it as though it was a trampoline, while the older boys and girls ran around it playing tag.
All of a sudden Gloria started to laugh and then cry. She couldn’t stop the tears and through her blurred vision she saw Jimmy’s hand reach for her own. He squeezed it hard before putting his big calloused riveter’s hands back on the steering wheel. Jimmy didn’t say anything, but he had heard about the beating Gloria’s husband had given her in the yard that December afternoon, and he knew it was unlikely that it was the first Gloria had had to endure during her marriage. Fortunately for Gloria, though, it looked as though it might well have been the last, as the gossip doing the rounds was that her husband had been conscripted back into the navy and was gone for the foreseeable future. If not for good.
‘Here they come!’ Polly shouted down the small flight of stone steps that led to Rosie’s basement flat, or rather, to what had been Rosie’s flat and was now Gloria’s.
Rosie came hurrying up the steps and onto the Borough Road. She was glad the sun was out, even though it was still bitterly cold. She was closely followed by Bel, who was carrying Hope. She had been babysitting at home in Tatham Street, but had wanted to be there with Hope to welcome Gloria to her new home.
‘Shame Jack couldn’t be here,’ Bel said quietly to Rosie as she shifted Hope on her hip and brushed the baby’s mop of thick black hair away from her eyes.
‘I know,’ Rosie agreed, but didn’t say any more. She wondered how much longer Gloria could get away with telling people that Jack was coming back ‘soon’.
‘He hasn’t seen Hope since just after the New Year, and this little girl is changing by the day. And getting bigger by the minute.’ Bel jigged Hope up again and onto her other hip. ‘But still,’ she added, ‘at least she knows who her da is.’
Rosie looked at Bel and wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Polly had told her about her sister-in-law’s determination to find out who her real father was, but Rosie knew Bel was quite a private person and she didn’t want her thinking that she was prying.
‘Eee, honestly, look at them two!’ Polly pointed at Dorothy and Angie, who were standing up in the back of the van and waving their hands in the air as though they were on a carnival float.
‘Poor Martha, having to put up with them all morning. As if she doesn’t get enough of that pair of jokers at work.’ Rosie laughed as she took in the comic sight of her three women welders in the back of the truck.
As Jimmy pulled up onto the pavement, Gloria waved at the little welcoming party standing there. Before getting out, she turned to Jimmy. ‘Thanks so much for doing all this. I don’t know how I would have managed otherwise.’
‘No worries,’ he laughed. ‘I’ve not done too badly out of it myself.’
‘What do yer mean?’ Gloria asked, puzzled. In the corner of her eye she saw that Martha was carrying a wooden tea chest down into the flat, followed by Angie with Hope’s cot, and Dorothy, who was lugging two suitcases, one in each hand.
‘They didn’t tell you?’ Jimmy let out a hoot of laughter.
Gloria shook her head.
‘I did a swap. The truck in exchange for Martha. She’s agreed to fill in for Frank next week, but only if I got some kind of transport sorted and helped you move.’
Gloria gave Jimmy a playful shove. ‘Cor, and there was me thinking yer were doing this through the kindness of yer heart! I might have guessed!’
‘Never one to pass up an opportunity,’ Jimmy said. He stuck his head out the window and saw that the women had cleared the back of the van.
‘Well, you’re not getting her permanently,’ Gloria said, climbing out of the passenger seat and shutting the door. ‘Martha’s not daft.’ She stuck her head through the open window. ‘She knows the future’s welding. Riveting’ll soon be a thing of the past!’
‘Pah!’ Jimmy said. It was their familiar banter. ‘You’ll never get better than a riveted ship!’
Having successfully got the last word, Jimmy honked his horn and drove off.
When Gloria walked through her new front door, she was greeted by a gang of happy faces all cheering ‘Home Sweet Home!’ in front of a banner hanging from the ceiling that had those exact words written on it.
The flat was just as Gloria remembered it. When Rosie had suggested she take over the flat as she was going to move into Peter’s house in Brookside Gardens, Gloria hadn’t hesitated. Looking around the living room now, with its little settee and armchair and oblong coffee table, Gloria thought that it looked exactly the same. The three-bar electric heater was still on the hearth in front of the blocked-off fireplace and was, as usual, kicking out the heat. Even the walls still had the two gold-framed paintings of flowers, and a large hexagonal mirror hung above the mantelpiece.
Gloria looked at Rosie, who had told her that she had been taking ‘bits and bobs’ over to Peter’s the past week, and had now more or less moved in.
‘Haven’t you taken anything with you?’ she asked.
Rosie laughed. ‘No, not really.’
Rosie had told Gloria that she was leaving most of the furniture she had bought when she first moved in, but had refused point-blank Gloria’s offer of buying it off her. Gloria had also questioned the amount of rent as it seemed very low – she would have thought Mr Brown, the landlord, would have wanted to get as much as he could in these hard times. It was easier to put up the rent a little with a new tenant than it was with an old one, but again Rosie had been adamant that this was the going rate for such a flat in this part of town.
‘Are you sure you don’t even want to take any pictures or lamps with you?’ Gloria asked.
‘Honestly,’ Rosie reassured her, ‘I’ve got everything I need at Peter’s.’
‘Well, don’t just stand there gawping!’ The conversation was interrupted by Dorothy, who was taking control of the move. ‘Let’s ’ave a butcher’s!’ Dorothy and Angie had been on a few dates with a couple of merchant sailors from London and were enjoying learning the odd cockney word and rhyming slang. Dorothy tugged Gloria by the arm down the short hallway.
‘First of all, the back bedroom, which Angie, Bel and I have converted into a little nursery for my goddaughter!’
All the women welders had helped to bring Hope into the world when Gloria had gone into labour unexpectedly during a midday air raid, but it was Dorothy who had actually delivered baby Hope. Afterwards, Gloria had asked if her less than angelic workmate would be her baby girl’s godmother. It was an offer Dorothy had gleefully accepted and a role she both cherished and took very seriously.
Peering into the room, Gloria saw Hope’s wooden cot in the middle of a spotlessly clean room. She noticed that the baby gas mask, which was almost as big as Hope, had been placed out of the way in the corner of the room, but near enough to grab if needed. In the other corner Bel was putting some of Lucille’s hand-me-down baby clothes into a chest of drawers, on top of which there was a little night light and a small vase of flowers.
‘Ah, this is gorgeous.’ Gloria looked at Dorothy and Angie and back at Bel. ‘Thank you.’
Gloria walked over to look at the little pile of baby outfits Bel was carefully folding and putting away.
‘Aren’t these lovely?’ she said, holding up a particularly cute pink romper suit to show Dorothy and Angie, who nodded but didn’t seem overly interested. Looking back at Bel, she said quietly, ‘Shouldn’t you be keeping them for yourself?’
Bel smiled. It wasn�
�t the first time someone had made a subtle reference to the possibility that she and Joe might soon be giving Lucille a baby brother or sister. It was three months since they had said their wedding vows to each other, and they had both agreed to let nature take its course. Bel had thought Mother Nature would have done so already, especially as she had fallen with Lucille within a month of her marriage to Teddy – Lucille’s birthday was almost exactly nine months to the day of their wedding – but it would seem this was not to be the case this time round.
‘Hope needs them now. They’re not benefiting anyone stuffed away in my wardrobe back home. Anyway, I’m determined to have a boy this time.’ Bel tried to make a joke of it. In truth, she didn’t care what sex any baby she might have was.
‘Well, that’s you with another girl for certain,’ Gloria laughed. ‘If you want a girl, you’ll get a boy. If you want a boy, you’ll get a girl. It’s sod’s law!’
‘So, you think this is good enough for my goddaughter?’ Dorothy butted in, walking to the blackout curtains and making sure they were shut properly.
‘Most definitely!’ Gloria looked down at Hope, snuggled up in her cot, clutching a bottle of milk and staring about her in wonder. ‘Your goddaughter, Dor, is a very lucky little girl.’
They all looked at Hope for a moment, before they were distracted by the sound of the front door going.
‘That’ll be Hannah,’ Dorothy and Angie said in unison.
‘She said she was bringing some of her aunty’s special Jewish pastries,’ Angie shouted back to Bel and Gloria as she and Dorothy hurried down the hallway.
Hannah’s arrival had the same effect as the klaxon at work – everyone stopped what they were doing and started organising their tea break. Rosie made a big ceramic pot of tea, which Martha then carried into the lounge-cum-dining room, putting it on a small table. Rosie staggered in with a tray laden with cups and saucers, a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar. Dorothy and Angie upended empty wooden boxes, grabbed all the available chairs and put them around the table. Bel saw to Hope who had started to cry, having been left alone in her cot while there was clearly something exciting happening within earshot. And finally, Hannah put the pastries on plates and made them the centrepiece of their impromptu tea party.
