The Runaway Family

by Diney Costeloe

  It was late when he finally staggered into Mavis’s kitchen. Mavis was sitting at the table doing her mending, but she did not put down the jersey she was darning; she simply looked up and smiled. That made Jimmy suddenly angry. She ought to jump up to welcome him home and put his tea on the table, especially as he’d got the job, especially as he’d have money in his pocket now, especially as the stupid woman would expect him to contribute to the food bills. Things were definitely going to change around here.

  He dropped down onto a chair. ‘Where’s my tea?’ he growled.

  ‘In the oven,’ Mavis said, hastily laying aside her darning and getting up. ‘I’ll get it for you. It may be a little bit dry… I was expecting you a bit earlier than this.’ She reached into the oven and brought out a plate of sausage and mash. There had been onion gravy, too, but it had dried into a brown mass on the side of the plate.

  Jimmy looked at the food she set in front of him and then turned furious eyes on her. ‘What d’yer call this?’ he demanded. ‘Looks like a plate of shit!’ He swept the plate aside and it crashed on the floor. Mavis took a step back as Jimmy got unsteadily to his feet, and glowered at her across the table. ‘Get that mess cleared up,’ he shouted, ‘and get me something to eat!’

  As she knelt down to pick up the broken plate and to scrape the food off the floor, she felt him towering over her. Instinctively she cringed away from him, squeaking as she did so, ‘Don’t hit me, Jimmy! I’m pregnant. I’m expecting your child.’

  It made him pause, made him grip the table to steady himself. ‘Fucking hell! That’s all I need,’ he said, and slumped back down onto the chair. Then he put his head onto the table and went to sleep.

  Somehow Mavis had managed to rouse him and get him upstairs. Somehow she manoeuvred him onto the bed. She pulled off his shoes and, throwing a blanket over him, left him to sleep it off. She crept out of the bedroom and peeped in at her daughters, asleep in their room. At least, she supposed they were asleep. There was no sign of either of them being awake, but you never knew with Reet. She was a deceitful kid; she must have heard them the previous night and sneaked off to her gran’s to tell tales and bring Gran round to interfere. She stood for a long minute outside the door, but nothing stirred.

  Mavis went back downstairs, cleared up the mess on the floor and making herself a cup of tea, sat down, exhausted. Would Jimmy remember in the morning? she wondered. It wasn’t how she’d meant to tell him about the baby, not blurt it out like that, but the words had burst out all by themselves. Would he remember? Would he react better when he’d thought about it, or would he walk out on her, leaving her to cope with three children?

  He’d like the idea of being a dad, wouldn’t he? Especially if it was a boy. Surely he’d want a son; all men wanted a son, didn’t they?

  For a moment she thought of Don. He hadn’t minded what they had. ‘As long as it’s got all its bits, love,’ he’d said, patting the bulge of her belly, ‘that’s all right with me!’ And it had been. He’d adored Rita, and would surely have felt the same about Rosie, if he’d been around when she was born.

  Surely Jimmy would love his own child, once he got used to the idea he was going to be a father. Then they could get married quickly, so that the baby wasn’t a bastard.

  2

  In the morning, leaving Jimmy still snoring, Mavis got the girls ready for school.

  ‘You’re to come straight home today,’ she instructed Rita. ‘Do you hear me, Reet? No going round your gran’s and bothering her.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’ Rita was very subdued. She had heard the crashing plate last night, and she’d heard Mum helping Uncle Jimmy up the stairs. She’d stayed still and quiet in the bed and at last drifted off to sleep. But in the morning she remembered it all, and it frightened her. She was pleased when she and Rosie set off for school before he came downstairs.

  It was some time later that Jimmy pushed open the kitchen door and peered in.

  ‘What’s for breakfast?’ he asked by way of greeting.

  ‘Can make you some toast,’ Mavis suggested cautiously.

  ‘That’s not much for a man to go to work on,’ he grumbled, flopping down at the table. There was a pot of tea made and Mavis quickly poured him a cup, before putting a couple of slices of bread under the grill.

  ‘You got the job, then?’ she ventured.

  ‘Course I did. Told you that last night when I come home. Start on Monday.’ He hadn’t, but no point in upsetting him now when he seemed in an affable mood. He drank his tea as he watched her turn the toast and then slide it onto a plate. He reached for the marge and spread some thinly on the toast before taking a huge bite.

  The last of my marge, Mavis thought bitterly. We’ve no more till next week.

  ‘I need your ration book,’ she said, as she watched him scrape the last smears onto his second piece of toast. ‘I can’t cope without it no more.’

  Jimmy shrugged. ‘It’s not as if I’m here all the time.’

  ‘Enough that I need your rations,’ she said, surprising herself with her own temerity. ‘Jimmy, I can’t let the girls go short and now, in my condition…’ She let the words hang in the air, waiting.

  He looked up. ‘Your condition? Oh yes, I remember, you’re up the spout.’

  ‘It’s your baby, Jimmy!’ she said. ‘Our baby. I’m having our baby.’

  Jimmy said nothing.

  ‘Jimmy,’ she ventured again. ‘We’re having a baby. You’re going to be a dad.’

  ‘I heard you,’ growled Jimmy. ‘What do you want me to do about it? Dance a jig? How do I know it’s mine?’

  ‘Oh, Jimmy, of course it’s yours. Whose else would it be? You’re the only man I’ve… been with… since Don died.’

  ‘So you say.’

  Tears filled Mavis’s eyes. ‘Jimmy, you know it’s true! You know you’re the only man in my life.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do say so. It’s our baby, and it’ll be born late June, a summer baby.’

  ‘Well, if it’s mine, it’s mine,’ Jimmy said grudgingly.

  ‘It is… but Jimmy, I don’t want… I mean it wouldn’t be right… I mean we need to think…’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, woman, spit out.’

  Mavis drew a deep breath. ‘I don’t want it to be a bastard, Jimmy.’

  When he said nothing she took her courage in both hands and went on, ‘I want us to get married, Jimmy. Before it’s born. That’s what I want.’

  ‘Married?’ Jimmy sounded incredulous. ‘Married?’

  ‘I don’t want it born a bastard, Jimmy.’

  ‘Married,’ he said again, as if tasting the word.

  She waited, knowing if she said the wrong thing, he would say no, walk out and leave.

  At last he said, ‘I’ll think about it. It’s a big step, getting married.’ He looked across at her. ‘If we get married and I move in here, them girls are going to have to go. I told you, I ain’t taking on someone else’s brats.’

  ‘What do you mean, the girls must go? They’re my daughters. Why must they go? Where must they go? Their place is with me! This is their home!’

  Jimmy shrugged and got to his feet. ‘If it’s their home, it ain’t going to be mine,’ he said. ‘It’s up to you, Mav. If you want me to stand by you, to marry you, make you respectable like, well, I will, but I won’t take on another bloke’s kids. Right? Not with my own kid to think of. You got to find them somewhere else.’ He reached for his coat and putting it on, went to the door. Looking back at her he went on, ‘It’s your decision, Mav. I ain’t going to change my mind.’ And with that he left, closing the door behind him.

  Mavis stared after him bemused. What did he mean, the girls had got to go? They were her girls and belonged with her. She thought of Rita and Rosie as she’d seen them that morning, setting off to school, Rosie with her hand trustingly in Rita’s as they walked along the street. It was Rita who was the problem. Reet could be difficult, especially recently. She’d
been moody, not the sunny little girl she used to be. It was Reet who annoyed Jimmy, who wouldn’t do what he told her. It was Rita’s fault that Jimmy didn’t like her. She was being obstinate and rude and it wouldn’t be long before Rosie started to copy her. She always copied Rita. But Rosie was lovely. She looked so like Don.

  Mavis hadn’t thought of Don much for quite a long time. She got to her feet and went to the drawer in which she had hidden his photograph. Jimmy had ‘accidentally’ knocked it off the shelf and taking the hint, she had hidden it in the drawer. She got it out now and looked at Don. He smiled back at her as he always had done, as trustingly as Rosie, trusting her with his children. She looked at his face for a long time. He’d never forgive her if she didn’t look after his girls. But he wasn’t there to forgive her, was he? He was lost, exploded, burned to ashes somewhere over Germany. He hadn’t come back and she’d been left to bring up the girls on her own. Now she had a chance to start a new life, with a new man. Surely Don wouldn’t begrudge her that. Surely he would say, ‘Go for it, girlie. Be happy! Go for it, girlie.’ Girlie, his pet name for her. She blinked back the tears that had crept into the corners of her eyes. She had to be strong. Don wasn’t here, he never would be again, and she had to get on with her life. She had the new baby to think of. She had to provide for the new baby. She couldn’t let it start out life as a bastard.

  Mavis didn’t have to go to her cleaning job with Mrs Robinson today, and walking through the park on her way to the grocer’s she sat down for a rest on a bench, watching a family of tiny ducklings dashing through the water behind their mother. Mavis smiled as one went astray, swimming in the wrong direction. Mrs Duck wasn’t at all concerned; she simply swam on, leaving the lost duckling to cheep pitifully behind her.

  Not such a very good mother, thought Mavis, then her smile died. I’m not a good mother either. I want this new baby and Jimmy more than I want my girls. And even as she tried to push the dreadful thought from her mind, crush it before it could take root, she knew, in that instant, that it was true. However fiercely she pushed it away, it crowded back. She needed a man, she wanted the baby, and Rita and Rosie were standing in her way.

  No, she shook her head hard as if to clear the thought away, no of course they weren’t. Of course Jimmy didn’t mean it. She could talk him round. As for the girls, they’d get used to the idea that they were going to have a stepdad and a little brother or sister.

  She left the peace and quiet of the park and walked along the street to Baillies Grocery. Just as she reached it she met her mother coming out, carrying her shopping bag.

  ‘Hallo, Mum,’ she said.

  ‘Mavis.’ Lily looked at her daughter carefully. ‘You all right, love?’ she asked. ‘You look a bit peaky.’

  ‘I’m fine, Mum. Just a bit tired, you know how it takes me.’

  Lily nodded sympathetically. ‘Yes, used to take me in the same way. D’you want a cup of tea? You look as if you could do with one.’

  Mavis was about to refuse, and then she thought, why not? ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘That’d be nice.’

  They turned away from the shop and walked the two streets to Hampton Road. Once inside Lily put the kettle on. Mavis dropped onto a chair in the kitchen, watching as her mother put away her shopping. She said nothing. Mavis felt safe in the kitchen of her childhood, in the silence that surrounded them. Lily didn’t chatter, or ask awkward questions. She simply put her food away, put cups out on the table and then made a pot of tea. She poured it and waited.

  ‘I told him, last night,’ Mavis said, at last breaking the silence. ‘About the baby.’

  ‘And?’

  Mavis shrugged. ‘And he was fine about it.’ She sipped her tea. She could feel her mother’s eyes on her, and she went on, ‘A bit surprised, of course, but he likes the idea of being a dad.’ She raised her eyes to meet Lily’s. ‘We’re going to get married… so the baby’ll be OK, you know?’

  ‘D’you want to marry him?’ asked her mother. ‘Really want to marry him? Jimmy, who knocks you about?’

  ‘It’s only happened once,’ replied Mavis defensively, ‘and he was ever so sorry. It was only ’cos he’d had a bit to drink. Won’t happen again.’

  ‘Till he’s had a bit to drink again,’ said Lily wryly. ‘What about the girls? What about Rita and Rosie? What do they think?’

  ‘They don’t know yet, but they’ll be all right.’

  ‘You know they’re scared of Jimmy.’

  ‘So you keep saying,’ snapped Mavis, ‘but they’ll get used to him. They’ll have to.’ Her tone softened a little as she added, ‘They’ll like having a baby in the house, a little brother or sister.’

  ‘So when are you going to get married then?’ Lily knew it was no use tackling the question of the girls at this stage. Mavis had made up her mind. Maybe as the days passed…

  That evening Jimmy arrived at the house carrying a suitcase. He dumped it at the bottom of the stairs and pushed open the kitchen door. The children were sitting at the table having their tea, and as he opened the door, they fell silent, watching him with wide eyes. He reached into his pocket and slapped his ration book onto the table.

  ‘There you are,’ he said. ‘Now perhaps I’ll get a decent tea. I’ll put my stuff upstairs.’ He turned back at the door and added, ‘And I want my name on the rent book. Right?’ Picking up his case, he marched upstairs to Mavis’s bedroom.

  ‘Is Uncle Jimmy coming to stay?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Mavis replied. ‘He’s going to be your new daddy.’

  ‘I don’t want a new daddy,’ cried Rita, jumping up from her chair. ‘I don’t want him. I don’t like Uncle Jimmy. He’s horrid.’

  ‘That’s enough of that, young lady,’ snapped her mother. ‘He’s coming to live with us, and that’s that.’ Mavis reached over and shook Rita hard. ‘And I suggest you keep a civil tongue in your head.’

  ‘Why’s he coming to our house?’ asked Rosie.

  ‘Because we want to be a family,’ Mavis answered. ‘You’ll grow to love him, like I do.’

  ‘I shan’t,’ stated Rita. ‘I shan’t love him. He doesn’t love me.’

  ‘Well, he certainly won’t love you if you talk like that,’ said Mavis. ‘Now, finish your tea and go out to play.’

  Rita crammed the last of her bread into her mouth and without another word went outside.

  ‘Can I play out, too?’ demanded Rosie, slipping down off her stool.

  ‘Just for a little while,’ agreed Mavis, and Rosie darted out to join her sister in the street.

  Mavis was glad to see them go. She wanted them out of the way when Jimmy came back downstairs. She could hear him moving about in the bedroom and wondered what he was doing, but even as she got up to find out, she heard his footsteps on the stairs.

  ‘I’m going out,’ he said as he met her in the hallway.

  ‘What about your tea?’ she ventured as he opened the front door.

  ‘I’ll have it when I come in.’

  When he had gone, she went upstairs to her room. The wardrobe door stood open and half her clothes had been pulled out and dumped on the bed. His were still in his case, but Mavis realized that she was expected to hang his up for him in the space he’d made, and she set about doing so, sorting and rehanging her own meagre wardrobe to accommodate his.

  While she was busy upstairs, Rita came in from the street. She had seen Jimmy leave as she and Maggie had been trying to teach Rosie to skip.

  ‘Back in a min,’ she’d said and leaving Rosie with Maggie, she’d darted back into the house. She could hear Mum upstairs so she crept into the kitchen. Quickly she opened the drawer of the dresser, and there he was. Her daddy, smiling out through the cracked glass of his frame. She’d discovered the photo some days earlier, when looking in the drawer for a pencil. Quickly Rita pulled the frame open and slid Daddy out from under the glass. She looked round for somewhere to hide him. She could still hear Mum moving about upstairs, so she couldn’t risk tak
ing him up there. There was nowhere in the hall to hide him, so she opened the door to the front room. They never used the front room, well, only at Christmas when Gran came, so he wouldn’t be found in there. She picked up the cushion from what had been her daddy’s armchair and slid the photo inside its cover. Then she put the cushion back and slipped out into the street again. Daddy was safe now. She didn’t want another dad; her daddy would always be her daddy. If Uncle Jimmy moved into the house, well, let him, but he would never, ever, be her dad.

  A few weeks later there was a loud hammering on the front door and Mavis, opening it, was surprised to find her mother on the doorstep.

  ‘How did that child get that cut on her forehead?’ demanded Lily. ‘How come Reet’s got a black eye?’

  ‘She… she fell off her stool last night,’ faltered Mavis. ‘She hit her face on the gas stove.’

  ‘Hit her face on the gas stove,’ echoed Lily scornfully. ‘I don’t believe you. There’s much more to it than that.’

  ‘She fell off her stool…’ Mavis began again.

  ‘Knocked off it more like,’ asserted Lily. ‘By that Jimmy, I bet. You shouldn’t have him in the house, Mavis. I’ve told you before. He’s bad news. He knocks you about—’