by Carol Rivers
‘First off, we’ll slip Em a few quid from the holiday fund.’
Anita looked up in surprise. ‘You’d really give up our Butlin’s money?’
Benny nodded slowly. ‘’Course I would. We had one blooming good holiday with the kids and we couldn’t top that, could we?’
‘Oh, Benny, you’re a good man.’
He grinned, shrugging off the rare compliment. ‘Don’t you believe it. I got ulterior motives. I was trying to think of a way to get out of all that old time dancing stuff you kept dragging me into.’
Despite her husband’s attempts to make light of his generosity, Anita felt humbled; Benny was indeed a good man but he never failed to surprise her. After eighteen years of marriage she thanked God for the precious qualities that were stored like gold nuggets in the deep layers of his soul.
He tilted her chin with his rough fingers and she leaned into him, her rock. ‘I love you, Mrs M,’ he murmured and kissed her, rubbing her wet cheeks with the coarse pads of his thumbs.
‘And I love you, Benny Mendoza,’ she sighed. ‘But don’t tell anyone, will you?’
They kissed again, a little longer this time, then hand in hand they went next door to see Rose.
The baby’s bonnet was almost complete; all she had left to do was stitch the ribbon to the sides and add a tiny silk bow to the top. The matching bootees and mittens, both knitted in a shade of blackbird’s egg blue, lay on the dressing table along with the lemon matinee coat Anita had brought in and the soft white shawl embroidered with cross stitch that Em had made.
Rose let the bonnet slip from her hands on to the eiderdown as the baby moved, his elbow, foot or knee gently jerking under her stretched skin. Her fingers lay lightly on her nightdress and she held her breath at the joy of his presence within her. He was so active, more so even than Marlene, who had provoked backache and indigestion throughout the whole of the pregnancy. But this little body gave her only pleasure and for his sake, Rose intended to be brave.
Two years. Twenty-four months, of which Eddie had already served six. Just one year to endure, really. The following year, 1955, would be easier. Benny had said there would be time off for good behaviour. Rose felt herself go hot, then cold. She had prepared herself for today, accepting that only a fool would have dared to hope for a verdict of Not Guilty to all the charges.
Rose lifted the little bonnet with shaky fingers. If she had some blue ribbon left she could have finished it tonight. Beside the bed was a small wooden table and on it lay her knitting and sewing bag. This would be her lifeline until February. She would knit and sew every day, using all the skeins of silk and unpicked balls of wool that she had been given to prepare for the baby’s birth. She would not think of what had happened today, but look forward to next year, to the blessing of her son.
Rose sat dry-eyed, refusing to allow outside events into the sacred world of her unborn son. She didn’t care if she had to lie to herself for the next two-and-a-half months; her priorities were clear. She would tell Matthew everything there was to know about Eddie, about their lives, their history, their beginnings and their island community. She would leave nothing unsaid in the small hours when she was restless and yearning to be free from the bed and on her feet again. She would put every minute to good use, educating her child, telling him how much he was loved and how dearly he had been wanted.
Rose felt the kick again and smiled. ‘Matthew,’ she whispered and lifted herself slightly against the pillows. ‘Matthew Weaver, how does that sound?’
Another little kick and Rose nodded as though she could hear the baby’s reply. She talked softly, her hands clasped across her belly tracing the movements. She told him all that Benny had said about Stanley Matthews being the best footballer in the world, about the backyard and the street they lived in, the school he would go to and the wide and wonderful river that flowed through the city.
She was just beginning to tell him about the tall ships that had ploughed so gracefully through its waters for centuries before the Coronation of the Queen of England, when she heard a movement outside the door.
‘Donnie? Is that you?’ Rose asked softly.
‘No, it’s me.’ Em appeared, the collar of her thick, grey, woolly dressing gown up to her ears where curlers dangled neatly from her head. ‘I thought I heard voices.’
Rose blushed. ‘I was just talking to the baby.’
Em closed the door and tiptoed in. ‘Are you all right?’
‘’Course I am.’
Her sister stood shivering and frowning. ‘Are you sure? After what happened today—’
‘Em, it’s not the end of the world, is it?’
For a moment a pair of hazel brown eyes looked startled. ‘I don’t understand. We thought you’d be—’
‘Well, I’m not,’ Rose cut in before her sister could make a song and dance about Eddie’s two-year sentence. ‘I’m going to get through this, Em, for the baby’s sake. And for the girls, of course. Eddie will want to return to a family, not a house full of shivering wrecks.’ Rose threw back the eiderdown. ‘Come and sit in with me. I know it’s late, but you’ll freeze out there.’
Em didn’t need telling twice and slipped under the warm sheet, snuggling against Rose as she had done before Rose was confined to bed. ‘I hope you aren’t in delayed shock,’ she said cautiously, pulling the eiderdown across her chest. ‘It happened to me after I found out about Arthur. I couldn’t stop shaking for a week.’
Rose slid her warm hand through the crook of her sister’s arm. ‘You poor old thing. And you had no one to share your problems with. Why didn’t you write to me and explain?’
Em gave a shuddery sigh. ‘How could I put what Arthur had done in a letter? It was hard enough to believe meself.’
‘I wish I could have helped. I should have been there for you.’
‘That’s daft, Rosy,’ Em said with feeling. ‘Me and Will would be on the streets if it wasn’t for you.’
‘No you wouldn’t. I told you, this is your home and always will be.’
‘It’s just till I get on me feet that’s all.’
‘Anyway, Eddie said he was pleased you’re here,’ Rose replied as she recalled the second prison visit she had made in August after writing to tell Eddie she was pregnant. She had received a visiting order soon afterwards and Benny had driven her to Brixton. It had been a visit of mixed emotions as Eddie digested all that Dr Cox had said. He’d been convinced his appeal to be bailed would be granted. Rose had been on the point of explaining about the money, but decided at the last minute not to. She didn’t want to spoil their short time together. And if push came to shove, she would pawn the pearl necklace and every last stick of furniture in the house. But Eddie’s appeal had been turned down. He’d written to say that he didn’t want her to travel all the way to the prison again in her condition, even though Benny had offered to drive her.
Part of her was relieved at his decision. She recalled the pregnant mothers with their tense, unhappy faces and huge bulges lining up in the prison courtyard. But not seeing his dear face had saddened her deeply. She ached just to be close to him once more.
‘He still doesn’t know about the money, does he?’ Em’s quiet voice broke into her thoughts and Rose shook her head.
‘No. I shan’t see him until after the baby is born either.’
Em gave a deep sigh and they both stared out of the window, the bottom half draped with a frilly net. Rose could no longer see the full moon, a cheesy whole that earlier in the evening had hidden behind the big, racing clouds. The mists had evaporated since Benny and Anita had left and sleep was impossible at midnight, even though she had the whole of the double bed to herself. Em was sleeping on the couch downstairs in the front room and Will had returned to the girls’ room after decamping twice.
‘Are you sleeping all right?’ Rose was concerned that Em’s nightmares were continuing.
‘Fine, thanks. I made those tatty old curtains stored at the back of the girls’ ward
robe into a proper cover. You said you were only keeping them for rags, so I stitched them tightly around the arms and sides so that the holes in the seat are well and truly padded.’
Rose wondered if her sister had deliberately misunderstood her question but Em seemed happy enough to be sleeping downstairs so she smiled and said quietly, ‘You’re so talented with your fingers, Em, Mum would be proud of you.’
Surprisingly, Em giggled. ‘I wonder if she’s watching now and telling us it’s time to put out the light? You know, like when we were kids and got in the same bed to keep warm. Your feet was always like toast, mine like ice. You always let me warm me toes on you.’
‘Happy days,’ Rose agreed wistfully. ‘Now Donnie and Marle and Will are sleeping in our room and you and me are in Mum and Dad’s. We’ve not gone far, have we?’
Em turned to look at her balefully. ‘No, but sometimes I feel like I’ve lived one lifetime already and I’m on borrowed time. Sometimes it feels as if . . . as if—’
‘As if what?’ Rose asked anxiously.
‘Nothing, nothing really,’ Em whispered and looked away.
Rose stared at Em’s profile, at the small nose and neatly pointed chin, the rather gaunt cheeks that seemed too fragile to support the huge hazel eyes above capped by thick brown eyebrows. Her sister had suffered and it showed. ‘Em, you’ve never – well, never got that low have you? You wouldn’t ever do anything silly?’
Her sister looked down and after an unsettling pause, shook her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t now.’
Rose swallowed. ‘What do you mean – now?’
‘I mean I felt so ashamed when I found out about Arthur and those boys, I thought about putting me head in the oven and just drifting off. If it hadn’t been for Will, I might have.’
‘But you had nothing to do with what Arthur did!’ Rose exclaimed in dismay. ‘You were a good wife and mother and have nothing to reproach yourself for.’
‘Haven’t I?’
‘’Course not. Arthur had everything. He wanted for nothing with you as his wife.’
‘Except sex,’ Em replied in a dull voice. ‘We had Will and that was enough for him. I don’t think he could bear to touch me afterwards.’
‘But you had no control over that, dear,’ Rose said gently. ‘You were a young girl in love, who had never been with a man before and Arthur was a man of the world, someone who should have known better than to get married if he felt the way he did. He couldn’t suddenly have developed his appetite for young men or boys. He must have known what he was like at his age. You weren’t responsible for the decisions he made to ruin his life – or yours.’
But Em shook her head. ‘I wish I could see it that way. I feel . . .’ She stopped, her mouth twitching again, the tic that had been subdued before now flaring up as she blinked her eyes and searched for words.
‘You feel what, love?’
‘Ugly. Dirty,’ Em replied in a small voice as her little curlers began to tremble around her head. ‘I don’t even like people looking at me. I hate going out. I feel as if they can see right through me. I’m really ashamed of meself.’
Rose slid her hand down into Em’s cold fingers and squeezed them tight. ‘Oh dearest, I had no idea you’ve been thinking all these morbid thoughts.’
‘I wouldn’t have burdened you,’ Em whispered hoarsely. ‘But it’s like being kids again, telling each other our secrets.’ She looked up slowly. ‘Rosy, I know you’re trying to be positive about Eddie, but it must be awful having to lie there and go over things.’
‘I’ve told you the truth,’ Rose assured her. ‘I can fill every moment until February with knitting and sewing and after the baby comes along time will fly by. Judging by his antics,’ she patted her bulge, ‘he’s going to keep us all on our toes.’
Em hitched an eyebrow. ‘You’re still certain it’s a boy, then?’
‘I know it,’ Rose nodded firmly. ‘Mathew.’
‘Eddie will have a son to look forward to, then.’
‘Tomorrow I’m going to write to him and bugger the censors,’ Rose sniffed determinedly. ‘I want him to know every detail about the baby even down to how he moves in me stomach. Yes,’ Rose added contentedly, ‘even though Eddie’s not here, he’s gonna be a fount of knowledge on childbirth, right up to the time Mathew pops his little head out between me legs. I always wanted Eddie to see Marlene and Donnie born. They looked like little red sausages wrapped in transparent silk till Dr Harding wiped them clean. They were the two best moments of me life.’
Em was listening attentively, then gave a giggle. ‘Let’s hope the censors have got strong stomachs then – if Eddie don’t faint first, that is!’
That set the two of them laughing and as Rose gulped in breath she felt the baby respond as though he was happy too. She would do everything in her power to keep him that way. Placing Em’s hand on her swollen belly, Rose stared into her sister’s eyes. ‘Feel him?’ she whispered and after a pause, Em nodded.
‘I think I’ll sew a blue pram cover and matching pillow set,’ she pondered, her eyes widening as the movement increased. ‘Blue and white, with a pair of football boots embroidered in the corner.’
The baby kicked wildly as if he had understood and both girls gave a cry of delight. Rose was now even more determined to make the months until February utterly productive.
Christmas Day was over. Rose had happily broken all Em’s rules and survived. She had abandoned her sick bed and negotiated the stairs, very slowly, with Marlene, Donnie and Will in close attendance. If she couldn’t have Eddie, she’d stated determinedly, she could have the next best thing. Christmas dinner. And she was going to eat it in the kitchen with the rest of the family.
It was the first time she had ever eaten at the kitchen table in her dressing gown and slippers. The turkey, stuffing, potatoes and mince pies were a surprise package from the Mendozas and the Weavers and Trims made short work of it. Although Rose missed Eddie, she felt blissfully happy in the bosom of her family.
‘Happy Christmas, darlings!’ Rose toasted with her glass of water and the kids drank lemonade.
‘Happy Christmas Mummy, happy Christmas Auntie Em!’
Rose thought that Donnie, Will and Marlene looked like characters from a Dickensian scene. The room was warm from Em’s cooking and condensation ran down the window. The children’s faces were pink with excitement and all wore their best clothes. Rose knew they couldn’t wait to unwrap their small presents in the front room. She had knitted three red and white stockings and Em had hung them up last night. Apples, oranges, pears, toffee apples and sweets were all wrapped in greaseproof paper along with little novelties from the market. This morning the children were desperate to unwrap them.
‘Can we go and look?’ Marlene asked as she blew out her cheeks. ‘I’ve eaten everything on me plate, even the cabbage.’
‘What about your pudding?’ Rose asked.
‘Can I let me dinner go down first?’
She turned to Will and Donnie. ‘What about you two?’
They both looked at each other. ‘Can we open our presents?’ they asked.
Rose laughed. ‘Go on then, and we’ll have the pudding later.’
‘It’s not quite finished steaming either,’ Em said as the children ran off and began to clear the plates away. ‘I must take the scones out of the oven too.’
‘When are they for?’ Rose asked curiously, guessing the answer.
‘Tomorrow, I suppose,’ Em replied nonchalantly.
Rose watched her sister open the oven. ‘What a nice treat.’
‘But a nuisance,’ Em complained as she placed the tray of plump scones on the hob. ‘We could have listened to the wireless tomorrow afternoon if no one was coming.’
Taking the no one to be Bobby Morton, Rose smiled ruefully. ‘We did that all day yesterday, that and stuffing ourselves with mince pies and playing games with the kids. It will be nice to entertain a guest for once.’
‘We had Anita and Benny
and the boys over,’ Em sniffed as she took care to test the scones.
‘I know but they’re like family.’
‘Exactly. We hardly know him.’
‘Oh Em,’ Rose sighed. ‘The poor man is lonely. He doesn’t have any family to speak of.’
‘Well he should have,’ Em argued, slicing the scones energetically. ‘It’s not right living by himself at his age. He must be in his mid-thirties, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Not too old to start a family,’ Rose said softly. ‘And he’s definitely not married. I asked when he last called. He’s got a brother somewhere, but his parents died when he was young. His father in an accident and his mother from TB.’
Em turned to frown at her. ‘Well, I’m sorry for him, of course, but pity doesn’t blind me.’
Rose sighed. ‘You sound bitter when you talk like that, Em. He’s bent over backwards to be nice, calling round to see if we’re both okay.’
Em waved the jam spoon in the air and sniffed. ‘Yes, and what for? He just wants to get his feet under the table in my opinion.’
Rose burst into laughter and the baby kicked as if enjoying the fun.
‘What’s so funny?’ Her sister dropped the spoon and placed her hands on her hips.
‘Nothing,’ Rose smothered her amusement. ‘It’s just that the only table we’ve got is this one.’ She gestured to the cramped, crockery-covered top that was spilling with dirty plates.
Em cast her eyes down and smiled. In seconds they were both laughing so much that tears streamed down their cheeks.
Chapter Sixteen
Rose was listening to Woman’s Hour as she sat comfortably on the couch in the front room and gave Matthew Edward Weaver his afternoon feed. She couldn’t imagine life without him now and wondered if she had really existed before his birth. A birth that had been so swift that when Dr Cox had arrived on a bitter February evening he’d only just had enough time to remove his coat before Rose delivered her baby at a scale-tipping nine pounds and two ounces. Despite Rose’s slender proportions and the fact the infant was ten days premature, he had slipped like a fish into the world with a lusty cry and a mass of dark hair.
