by Cathy Sharp
‘Well, you’ve told me what I wanted to know,’ Nan said. ‘I’ll talk to Sister again and hear what she says.’
‘Do you think Angela might help? She might know of somewhere I could go – a place where they let me have the child and won’t take it away from me.’
‘Well, she might, I suppose,’ Nan said. ‘I’ll have a word – don’t worry, Alice. I’m on your side, and in her heart Sister Beatrice is too, but she can’t do just as she thinks, because there are others involved. I’ll see what I can come up with. Off you go now and try not to worry too much, my dear …’
Alice left St Saviour’s late that night. It was the end of February and still bitterly cold and she pulled up her coat collar around her neck, feeling tired and dispirited as she contemplated her lonely little room at Mrs Brook’s respectable lodging house. The room had a small gas fire, which she could light to warm herself for a while, and a ring that she could boil a kettle on to make a cup of tea, but she didn’t use either of them much, because she had to feed shillings into the meter and it was frightening how quickly they ran out.
Although she still had her savings, Alice was reluctant to use them just yet. Once she was forced to leave work she would soon find that her small store of money was dwindling away.
It wasn’t that she missed her mother’s nagging or the crowded, smelly house she’d lived in, but she did miss seeing her father now and then and she missed her sister sleeping beside her at night. During the time she’d shared Michelle’s bedroom she hadn’t realised how much she would feel the separation from her sister, but since she’d moved into the lodging house she’d been very much aware of her loneliness at nights.
It was going to be so much worse when she left St Saviour’s. Sister had called her in soon after Nan told her that Alice was determined to keep the baby. To her surprise the nun had been more sympathetic than angry and promised her that she could stay on until her condition could no longer be hidden.
‘The trustees would not tolerate a girl in your position working here, Alice,’ Sister had told her, ‘so I can only give you a few more weeks. However, if you should change your mind, I imagine I can find a place for you in one of our homes.’
Alice had thanked her, though she’d made up her mind she wasn’t going to have her baby in one of those places where they treated the mother as if she were a leper and took the baby away for adoption soon after it was born. She would like to stay on at Mrs Brook’s house but doubted she would be welcome once the good woman knew the truth. She certainly wouldn’t want a young baby in the house, because the child’s crying might upset her other lodgers and the washing would get in the way.
Alice wasn’t sure where she could go. Perhaps she ought to look elsewhere for a couple of rooms where she would be allowed to keep the child. It might be best to buy herself a cheap wedding ring and pass herself off as a widow. Even if she went out of town to have the child … her thoughts were abruptly suspended as someone came up to her out of the gloom and she jumped, thinking it was one of Butcher Lee’s henchmen come to grab her again.
‘Alice.’ Her cousin Eric’s voice calmed her. ‘I saw you leave and I’ve been callin’ to you but you didn’t hear me.’
‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you were home on leave?’
‘Yes, just for a few days. I went round to see you, because Bob asked me to find out how you were – and your sister told me you were living here.’ His eyes went over her. ‘You’re havin’ a kid, aren’t you?’
‘Did Ma tell you that?’
‘No, I guessed, because it’s the only reason she would throw you out. It was that Jack Shaw, wasn’t it? I’ll not tell anyone else – but, Alice, what were you thinkin’ of?’
‘I loved him,’ she said. ‘I know I’m a fool, but I couldn’t help myself. He just kept after me until I finally gave in and then I believed that he cared for me – that he would marry me but he just went off …’
‘And you in the pudding club,’ Eric said scornfully. ‘How are you supposed to live once it’s born?’
‘I’ll manage somehow,’ Alice said. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Eric. There’s nothing I can do about it now.’
‘You could let Bob look after you,’ Eric said, gazing at her intently. ‘He really likes you, Alice. Why don’t you ask him to come round and then tell him the truth? I’m sure he’s in love with you.’
‘I couldn’t do that to him, Eric. It would be so unfair to Bob. Don’t you see how mean that is – to take advantage of his good nature and who would want another man’s child foisted on him?’
‘A lot of girls wouldn’t think twice of getting Bob’s ring on their finger and worryin’ about the fairness afterwards.’
‘I’m not a lot of girls, Eric.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I like Bob – probably more than I thought at first, but it’s too late. It just wouldn’t be fair. No, I have to wait and work for as long as I can … but I need somewhere to live.’
‘I’ll see if I can find a place. I’ve got a few friends and some women are not as holier-than-thou as others.’ He looked at her quizzically. ‘I would ask you to marry me, Alice, love, if I could.’
She laughed and shook her head. ‘I’m fond of you, Eric, but we’re cousins and we don’t think of each other in that way – besides, I think there’s someone else you do care for a lot?’
‘If you mean Michelle that’s another lost cause,’ Eric said gloomily. ‘She lets me take her out occasionally, but only so that she can ask me to look after you. I don’t think I have a hope in hell of getting her into bed with me!’
‘I should think not either.’ Alice was indignant.
‘I would put a weddin’ ring on her finger first if she’d have me,’ he said, and laughed. ‘Michelle wouldn’t let me kiss her properly let alone anything else. I might as well wish for the moon as have hopes in that direction.’
‘I think she’s been badly hurt in the past,’ Alice said thoughtfully. ‘We’re good friends but she’s never told me about her past. But I think she likes you, Eric. You shouldn’t give up. Perhaps one day she’ll realise she can trust you.’
‘That’s what I tell Bob when he talks about you,’ Eric said, and grinned ruefully. ‘We’re not a lucky pair, are we, Alice?’
‘At least in the Army you’ve got a good job for life.’
‘I’m not sure if I really want to stay on for the rest of my life,’ Eric said. ‘They’ve told me I could get overseas service. A lot of the chaps like being posted abroad but I should hate it – unless I could take Michelle with me …’
‘Have you told her how you feel?’
‘I don’t think she would be interested,’ he sighed. ‘Anyway, I’ll keep an eye out for that new place for you.’ He stopped and looked at her. ‘You’ve only got to go across the road, love. I’ll be seein’ you before long – and do what I said, let Bob come and see you and tell him. You’ll have a decent chance of a good life with him, Alice.’
Alice shook her head but didn’t answer. She thought too much of Bob to put him in an awkward position, just because of a mistaken sense of duty or just because he felt sorry for her. No, she’d have to go it alone …
TWENTY-NINE
Angela finished her work and covered the typewriter. For some reason her mind just wasn’t on her work that afternoon. She kept thinking about Nick’s reaction when he’d taken her home from the auction, and her own conflicting emotions. The truth was she didn’t really know what she wanted. When John’s death was first reported to Angela, she’d imagined that her life was over. Now she knew that if she had three lifetimes it would never be enough for all she wanted to do. If it were not for her mother’s illness and the toll that had taken on her father, Angela thought she might have been content. She decided that she would ring her father that evening and talk to him, perhaps ask him up to dinner or just go down and stay for a couple of days. She ought to make the effort to visit and see for herself how her mother was getting on.
Angela smiled as Nan put her head round the door. She was carrying a tray with a pot of tea and two cups and had clearly come for a chat.
‘Yes, of course,’ Angela said. ‘I always have time to talk to you. How can I help you?’
‘Well, it’s about one of our carers,’ Nan said. ‘Normally, I don’t discuss their private affairs, but I have Alice’s permission to talk to you about her problem.’
‘Ah, Alice …’ Angela nodded as she took the cup Nan offered. ‘I think I might be able to guess – she’s pregnant, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, and I think there’s no hope of the father marrying her. She has told me she intends to keep the baby whatever happens, and I believe her. Father Joe thinks she should enter a mother and baby home, but they will force her to give up the child and Alice is set against it. Beatrice wants to help, but her hands are tied. Alice wondered if you might know of somewhere she could have the child – away from London. Without a husband we couldn’t employ her here. Father Joe feels to keep the child would lead Alice to fall into a life of vice in her efforts to support it, and the Bishop would agree with him. Beatrice is in the middle. She knows I feel we should help Alice, but she cannot go against the Church in this matter.’
‘Very difficult for her,’ Angela agreed. ‘I don’t know of anywhere at the moment, Nan, but I’m sure something could be arranged. These things are always possible if one has the will – and the means. Alice is sure she wants to keep the child? People still look harshly at girls who have an illegitimate baby.’
‘Yes, I’m sure she understands what she is facing. She will have to find lodgings with someone who will let her keep the child – and perhaps pay for it to be looked after. Without a husband she will have a terrible life alone.’
‘We’ll have to put our thinking caps on,’ Angela said. ‘We cannot allow Alice to sink into a life of poverty and depredation – and yet she is proud and an offer of financial help might easily be rejected. You say Sister Beatrice is sympathetic?’
‘Yes, if she could help, she would.’
‘Then we shall all think about it and see what we can do to help Alice.’
‘I’ve arranged for us to stay with a friend of mine this weekend,’ Nick said over the telephone the next morning. ‘He has a fantastic place in the country and you’ll love it, Angela – tennis courts and plenty of fresh air!’
‘I’m sorry, Nick. I simply can’t manage it,’ Angela said. ‘Tomorrow I’m taking some children to the zoo, then I’ll be catching the late train back home to see my parents.’
‘Cancel it, darling. Life is too short if you devote yourself to duty and work.’
‘I want to see my parents, and I promised the children this trip – and I don’t feel inclined to cancel.’
‘I’ve made all the arrangements. Surely you won’t let me down, darling? I’m relying on you to sweet-talk some business acquaintances of mine into a deal I have going. You’re just the person I need …’
‘Perhaps if you’d asked first, Nick, I might have managed to change things – but I simply can’t put this trip off and my father wants to see me. I’m sorry. You’ll have to go alone – or take one of your other friends with you.’
‘You know you’re the only one I want, Angela. Are you sure I can’t persuade you – pretty please?’
‘I’m sorry, Nick, but this time I mean no.’
Angela replaced the receiver, feeling annoyed. Nick was too fond of making arrangements without consulting her. He seemed to imagine she could drop everything for him at the last minute, but this time she wasn’t willing to change her plans. The children were looking forward to their treat – and her father was worried about her mother. She was anxious too because he’d sounded very tired when she rang the previous evening …
THIRTY
Nan looked at her friend across the table in her kitchen. The long pine table had a spotless white cloth and a bowl of snowdrops stood on a blue crochet mat in the middle. They had eaten a comfortable meal together and then Eddie had helped her to clear the dishes and wash up at the deep sink, stacking the blue and white crockery on her dresser. It was an old one, bought from the second-hand shop after her home was lost in the Blitz, but she’d painted it white and gradually collected bits and pieces from the stalls in Portobello Road to give it a bright, cheerful look. She’d made a pot of tea, which they had lingered over as the afternoon seemed to speed away, and Nan was surprised when she heard the ancient American wall clock in the hall strike five o’clock.
‘Goodness gracious,’ she exclaimed. ‘Where has the time gone today?’
‘Time is the thief of pleasure,’ Eddie said. ‘We were enjoying ourselves, Nan – and I wish I might stay longer, take you for a drink this evening perhaps, but I fear I have some work on. When are you free next for tea?’
‘I’ve promised to go to the zoo with the children tomorrow. Angela took some of them today and Sally and I are taking some others tomorrow. I may go down to visit my daughter next weekend,’ Nan said hesitantly. ‘I do not know what to do. Beatrice thinks I shall only be upset if Maisie refuses to see me again.’
‘When will you go – on Saturday or Sunday?’
‘Friday evening, I think. Sunday is always a day of prayer at the convent so I need to visit on Saturday.’
‘Would you permit me to accompany you? It’s a long journey alone, Nan. We can take rooms somewhere and travel back on the Sunday. If you think my company would help you?’
‘Oh, would you, Eddie?’ Nan was overcome with relief, because she’d dreaded the prospect of the long journey alone, especially if on the way back she was faced with having failed to see her daughter once more. ‘It would mean so much to me to have you with me. We haven’t known each other long, but I feel that you are a true friend to me.’
‘I feel privileged to know you, my dear,’ he said, a wistful expression in his faded blue eyes. ‘I have spent most of my life in the chaotic world of the Army, and I was always a little afraid of the female sex.’ His naughty smile twinkled out at her. ‘My mother was very dominant and she led my father – and her children – a merry dance. I believe I have spent most of my life hiding from her kind of Amazonian woman. You have been a revelation to me, Nan. In you I see nothing but kindness and love for others, particularly for your children at St Saviour’s – and, of course, your daughter.’
Nan felt her cheeks grow warm and knew that for the first time in many years she was blushing. She did not recall being made to blush since she started courting her husband, Sam. Not that she imagined Eddie was courting her. He was merely offering her friendship and his old-fashioned courtesy, which Nan liked so much. In a world that was changing constantly, it was lovely to discover a true gentleman, not by birth but by nature. He might be an old soldier, but he was honest and a man of gentle ways.
She knew that he had only his small wage from the fetching and carrying he did for his professor at the University, and a tiny pension from his Army days, and he’d told her that he lived in modest lodgings.
‘I shall probably drop in harness,’ he’d confided to Nan. ‘I’m content enough with my life – but it has brought me great pleasure to know you, my dear.’
‘And I am happy to have a new friend,’ she said simply. ‘It was a lucky day for us both when you caught that bus for the first time …’
‘Yes, fortunate indeed,’ he agreed. ‘That is settled then. We shall travel down to Cornwall on the train together. You may rely on me to book the tickets and the rooms.’
‘You must tie a knot in your handkerchief,’ Nan said, smiling at him affectionately, because he did tend to forget things sometimes.
‘No, for then I should forget what it was for. I shall write it on my shirt cuff,’ he said, and took out his battered old fountain pen, scribbling a note that only he could understand. ‘Now you write off to the convent and tell them we are coming, and leave the rest to me.’
‘I was coming from the kitchen early this morning when I saw that young lad Terry running out of the dining room,’ Nan had told her. ‘He had a look on his face – well, it wasn’t a nice look. I’m not sure but I think he’d been up to some mischief … what do you think, should I report it to Sister?’
‘Terry is difficult to understand,’ Angela said with a little frown. ‘I can’t make up my mind about him, though I do like Nancy. At first I thought she was hiding something, but now I suspect that she is just worried about her brother. I saw him kick the children’s pet cat the other day and reprimanded him; he had scratches on his hand but that doesn’t excuse what he did. He said he was sorry and then ran off.’
‘No, it certainly doesn’t excuse such behaviour. Unfortunately, some children do not see that it is cruel. If a cat scratches them they hit back – I suppose in retaliation.’
‘Nancy would be upset if she’d seen him – he was vicious …’
‘I imagine she’s had to be a mother to the boy for years,’ Nan said. ‘Well, I must get on, but I wondered if someone ought to check – see if he’s left any nasty surprises lying around.’
Nan was probably worrying for nothing, but she would have a look around, make sure nothing unpleasant was waiting for the unwary. Entering the dining room, Angela looked about her. The rows of tables were all as neat as ever, covered with the red gingham oilcloth that was easy to keep clean. On a table at the end of the room a pile of clean plates, glasses, cups and saucers stood ready for the next meal. The knives, forks and spoons were in a wooden tray, and there were clean napkins in a neat pile, also several salt, pepper, vinegar and sauce bottles, and glass sugar castors for sprinkling into drinks or on fruit sometimes.
