A Locket of Memories

by Sarah Hope

  Rushing out I feel torn. I tell myself that Mandy is going to be okay. Her dad is with her, and she’s unconscious anyway. I should think she’ll probably be sleeping it off until quite late in the morning, and by the time she wakes up I’ll be back so she won’t even know I had gone. Charlie needs me now though. He’s probably petrified. Poor thing. I can feel myself panicking now. Ste is right, we hardly know the woman. What if something has happened to him?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Enid

  Lying here in the pitch black it’s the best feeling in the world when I finally feel my baby move inside me. Thank you God. Thank you. Placing my hands on my baby bump I manage to drift off to sleep.

  ‘Enid, Enid love. Wake up.’

  Stirring under Mum’s gentle cajoling I find the sun has come up and is flooding the room with light. Looking down at my arms I notice the redness is slightly less vivid than it was last night. Still feeling sore, I pull myself up to sitting.

  ‘Enid, I’m going to go downstairs and get us something to eat and drink. I heard your father go out to work a while back. If he does come back though barricade yourself back in. Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself.’

  Nodding, I don’t believe a word what she’s saying to me about being able to look after herself. If Father gets hold of either of us I dread to think what will happen. I drag myself up and wait by the now open bedroom door, listening carefully for the slightest sound which would warn us of his return.

  After what feels like hours I hear Mum padding back upstairs.

  ‘Just as I thought, he’s locked the door again and the window still won’t budge. Here get this down yourself. No Enid, don’t go shaking your head at me, you remember you’re eating for two now. Think of your baby. That’s right. After breakfast we’ll think of something.’

  I eat yesterday’s stale bread and gulp my water down. Though not hungry, I am thirsty. Mum seems to have an idea and wanders out of the room again. This time she doesn’t go back downstairs but I hear her trying the window in her and my father’s bedroom. She comes back in looking disappointed and goes straight to my window.

  ‘It’s no good, I’m sure he’s done something to keep these shut. I can’t shift any of the windows in the house.’

  ‘What are we going to do Mum?’ I’m scared now. He’s imprisoned us here. We can’t get out. We can’t escape. What’s he going to do? Keep us locked in this house forever?

  ‘I’ll talk to him when he gets home tonight. Try and make him see sense. He can’t keep us here forever. If I can just get him to agree to send you away to have your baby you can make a run for it then.’

  Sending me away?

  ‘I don’t want to be sent away. What about you, Mum?’ I can’t keep the fear out of my voice.

  ‘I’ll be just fine Enid. I’ve lived with him all these years and I’m still standing. I’ll keep him happy until you’re safely out of the way, and then I’ll take the opportunity to run away and meet you. Things will work out, you’ll see.’

  ‘Where will you get him to send me? What if he sends me to one of those homes for young mums? I’ve heard about those, it’ll be worse than staying here.’ I can’t keep the fear out of my voice. I don’t want to be sent away to one of those places. I’d rather stay here and have Father kill me.

  ‘No, no Enid don’t worry I wouldn’t let him send you to one of those homes. I meant sending you to stay with one of your aunts or someone.’

  Nodding I feel an immense relief surge through me. It could just about work. I go and stay with, say Aunt Teresa maybe, and Mum could come and join us in a bit. It should work, shouldn’t it? There’s no reason why it couldn’t. There is only one problem.

  ‘Do you think he will agree?’

  ‘I hope so. He doesn’t want the shame that your pregnancy brings on him so if he will let you go and live with one of your aunts then there is no shame. No one from around here need ever know.’

  She’s right, I know she is. It makes perfect sense. She’s just got to get him to see her side and get him to agree.

  Waiting for him all day is like torture. However much I tell myself not to get excited, I can’t help it. Already in my mind I am planning the journey up to Birmingham on the train, my Aunt Teresa, Uncle Roger and cousins waiting to greet me. It will be wonderful to see them all again. I can’t really remember what they look like, it’s been such a long time. The last time we visited was before the war had even started.

  I wonder how long it will take Mum to come and join me? Will we find a place in Birmingham to live, me, Mum and my baby, or will we go somewhere else? We could go anywhere we wanted, couldn’t we? Anywhere at all.

  I must have drifted off again sometime in the afternoon because I am woken by Father’s deep booming voice. Mum must be talking to him about sending me away. Creeping to the closed door I put my ear against the cold, grooved wood and try to make out what they’re saying. I can hear Father’s low rumbling tones as he shouts at Mum but it’s difficult to work out what he’s saying, and I can hardly even make out the sound of Mum’s soft voice.

  Taking a deep breath, I edge open the door, slip out and tiptoe towards the top of the stairs. Careful to avoid the creaking floorboards I make my way down the stairs until I’m halfway down. From this position I can just about make out the conversation going on in the front room.

  ‘Please Bill, listen to me. Enid is pregnant and there is nothing you can do to reverse this.’

  ‘Oh, I think there is. What else do they say works? Hot water and whiskey? Just because the hot bath didn’t work it doesn’t mean something else won’t.’

  ‘Don’t you dare Bill. Don’t you even suggest such a thing.’

  Listening, I hear clanking and panic. Maybe he will try and make me drink the whiskey. Well, I won’t. I will just refuse.

  ‘Bill, I mean it.’

  ‘Get off me woman. Don’t you try to drag me back. Take your hands off or you’ll regret it. I swear you will.’

  ‘Leave the drinks cabinet alone then. Please Bill, you’ve got to accept this. You can’t control everything.’

  ‘Not enough in there anyway.’

  Silence.

  ‘What did you say?’ My father’s hollering voice makes me skit a few steps back up.

  ‘I said ‘I wonder why’.’

  ‘Don’t get funny with me. It’s alright for you, holed up in this house you don’t have to face everyone, have them staring at you with pity in their eyes, thinking you can’t control even a young slip of a girl like our Enid.’

  ‘Nor do you, the only people who know Enid is pregnant is us. Nobody else needs to find out.’

  ‘Oh yeah, how about when her stomach swells even more? There’s already rumours, it won’t take much for them to realise it’s true. Or when she’s pushing the little bastard around? What then, hey?’

  ‘That’s why I suggested we send her away. Let her stay with Teresa or Glenda. They’ll have her for sure.’

  ‘No, I won’t have it. I’ve already told you. If we can’t get rid of it then she’ll have to go to one of those correctional homes for single mothers.’

  No, he can’t, he can’t. Clutching my bump in my shaking hands, I force myself to stay silent and keep listening.

  ‘Bill, please, no.’

  ‘I’m the man of the house and my decision is final.’

  ‘Look there is another...’

  ‘Don’t you even look at me woman. I’ve had enough cheek from you. Women should know their place.’

  ‘No Bill...’

  Wrapping my arms around my knees I lower my head into my lap. Every bone in my body is telling me to go downstairs. With every thud and clash I hear I ache to go and make him stop. Closing my eyes tight shut I try to block it out by rocking forward and backwards. Nothing works; I can still hear Mum’s painful sobs, even though I know she’s trying to keep quiet for my benefit. My baby kicks, trying to remind me why I must stay out of it, why I shouldn’t go downstairs and tr
y and stop him. Not that I ever can, he normally just turns his attention to me for a while before going back to finish Mum.

  No, I must stay here, I mustn’t put my baby at risk. He’d love that, he would, me going down, give him an excuse to punch me in the stomach, I made him do it, that’s what he’d say after.

  I can’t stand it any longer, Mum’s doing this for me, I can’t let her get beaten this way. Just as I get to the bottom of the stairs he stops. Listening hard I no longer hear the thuds of his fists landing and the stifled groans of Mum. Quietly I run back upstairs and retreat into my room. I listen and wait for the front door to slam shut, my cue that he’s stormed out allowing me to go and clean up Mum’s cuts and bruises. After what seems hours of waiting and worrying instead of the door slamming I hear footsteps on the stairs. As I promised Mum, I rush to close the door and drag Great Nanna’s heavy chest of drawers back in front of it. What could Father be doing coming up here?

  ‘Enid love, it’s just me.’

  Phew. I push the chest of drawers back letting Mum open the door. Trying hard to stifle my gasp I watch as she hobbles over to my bed, perching on the edge. Smiling at me she wipes the dripping blood from her nose.

  ‘He’s sending you to live with your Grandmother,’ she carries on smiling trying to hide the sadness in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry love. He wants you to have your baby there and have it adopted. Hey, don’t cry Enid, it won’t come to that, I promise. I’ll come for you before you’re ready to give birth.’

  Nodding, I tell myself it’ll all work out, Mum will come for me.

  ‘It’s all I could do to talk him out of sending you to one of those homes. It won’t be for long. Just play along with his plan and I’ll come for you as soon as I can.’ Pulling me into a hug I let myself be cradled.

  How will Grandmother react when she finds me on her doorstep, expecting a baby? If there is anyone I fear as much as Father, it’s her.

  Waking up and looking around, I’m confused. Why am I in the living room? Its dark outside so it must be night time. Stretching my neck, sore after falling asleep in the chair, I spot the reason, the little lad from across the road, and it all comes flooding back to me: his so called mother abandoning him on my doorstep and rushing off like that. Why would she do that? Leave her small child with me? Someone she hardly knows?

  Looking at him, peacefully curled up asleep on my sofa, I can feel my mind wandering again. Wandering off to my Peter. I wonder what he looked like at that age? Dark hair, I should think, like mine. Or else he may have taken after Albert. I swallow past the familiar lump that has appeared in my throat. I don’t often let myself think about Albert. Peter yes, that’s different, he’s the reason I get up in the morning. He’s the reason I’m still here. Determination to find him is the only thing that keeps me going. Whereas Albert, well he’s gone and I can’t do anything about that. But having Charlie sleeping on my sofa makes me wonder what life would have, could have, been like.

  I could have been sitting here watching our grandson instead of a neighbour’s boy, Albert chatting to Peter making tea in the kitchen. His wife has maybe gone out to the shops to collect a few bits and bobs for lunch and after a long day yesterday my grandson, Peter’s little boy, might be catching up on some much needed sleep before lunch. Smiling, I let myself daydream and relish in the warm feeling washing over me.

  Just as I’m getting into my daydream, imagining the little details of my would be life, the doorbell screeches through the air rudely interrupting my thoughts. It must be her again, that Lynette woman.

  Hobbling to the door, my hips stiff, I open it cautiously. Yes it’s her.

  ‘Oh Mrs Reynolds. Thank you so much for watching Charlie for me. Thank you.’ I should think so too.

  ‘Shh. You’d better come in. He’s fallen to sleep on my sofa.’

  Brushing past me she lets herself into the living room. Cheeky mare.

  I follow as quickly as I can. She’s stood in front of the sofa.

  ‘Are you crying?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Wiping her eyes furiously she looks me in the eye. Poor girl, I see now she must only be about thirty odd, I’d always thought she was nearer forty because of the age of her daughter. She must have had her young. Turning on the lamp beside my chair I see her eyes are red raw and her cheeks pale.

  ‘Here sit down,’ Indicating my chair I accept that not even I can turf her back into an empty home in that state, ‘I’ll make us a cuppa.’

  No sooner is my back turned than I hear her slump into my chair and let out a sigh. Hurrying into the kitchen I make the tea and a couple of bits of toast. She must be hungry, and if she’s not, I know I certainly am. I’m not used to being up this late in the night. Or should that be this early in the morning?

  ‘Here you are, get some of this into you. It looks like you’ve had a shock.’ I spoon a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into her tea from the sugar bowl on the tray. Mum always said it was good for shock.

  Sitting on a high backed chair opposite her, I watch her sip her tea and take some of the toast. I help myself to some too.

  ‘Thank you,’ she indicates the spread in front of her, ‘and thank you again for looking after Charlie. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d not been around.’

  ‘He’s been no bother; he fell asleep soon after you’d gone.’ She finishes her toast and drains her cup of tea. Hurriedly I refill both our cups, surprised with myself that I’ve drunk a whole cup in so little time. One cup usually lasts me at least a couple of hours.

  ‘I know it must have seemed strange to you, me leaving him here when I hardly know you,’ I nod encouragingly, after all, I think I’ve earned a bit of gossip here, ‘but I had a call from my daughter’s friend saying she was in hospital. My daughter that is, not the friend and, well, I just panicked. Rachel wasn’t in so I came here.’ She shrugs and looks around.

  ‘Like I said he’s been no bother. How is your daughter?’

  ‘She’s fine. She will be fine.’

  ‘Oh good.’

  ‘It was alcohol poisoning.’ She shifts uncomfortably in my chair. She’s obviously embarrassed. No wonder, I mean how old can she be? Her daughter. Thirteen? Fourteen?

  ‘Oh, well I’m glad she’s going to be okay.’

  ‘Yes, yes, so am I. I hope she will be though. She’s been through such a lot these past few weeks. I think it’s all taken its toll on her. I hope she can cope with it all.’

  ‘Young girls are more resilient than you think.’

  ‘She doesn’t usually drink. It’s the first time. That I know of anyway. She’s normally such a good girl. I don’t want you thinking badly of her. It’s not her fault, what’s happened. It’s his fault really. Her father’s fault.’

  I nod. What am I supposed to say? That I’m thankful her daughter won’t be turning up at her mother’s house at all times of the night shouting about after a night out drinking? It’s her business really. Not mine. As I watch her, she shifts again and sips her newly poured cup of tea.

  ‘I suppose it’s not all his fault. It’s mine too. Maybe all mine.’ She takes a tissue from the box I offer her. ‘I don’t know where it all went wrong. We were so happy together. Or at least I thought we were. I was. But it turns out he wasn’t.’

  ‘Things are never what they seem, love.’ That explains the endless shouting and scenes outside of her house the last few weeks.

  ‘He’s been sleeping with someone else. Even before he left me. Turns out she’s pregnant and he’s been paying a mortgage on their love nest for months, so I know it’s definitely been going on behind my back.’

  I can’t sit here and watch the poor girl collapsing in tears in front of me without doing anything. What do people do in these situations? I force myself to go and stand next to her chair and put my arm awkwardly around her shoulders. I feel her body sink against me, her wretched sobs shaking my bones.

  ‘How can he do that? Get someone else pregnant and walk out on his kids using the pretenc
e that he can’t abandon his unborn baby? How can he think it’s okay to put that baby before his other kids? And to blame me? To all the time blame me? To say that I was too preoccupied with my mum? She’s in a care home see. Before that I was trying to look after her. Keep her in her own home you know? Do the best for her. So of course, I have been a bit preoccupied. Now...now she’s gone in a home and he’s gone anyway. So no one’s won. Poor Mum is stuck in there and he’s left me anyway.’

  ‘Don’t blame yourself. She wouldn’t want you to put your life on hold. She’d want you to live your life. Like she did.’ That’s what I would want for my Peter anyway.

  ‘That’s why Mandy did this. Got drunk, tried to block it all out. Seeing his pregnant tart was the last straw for her.’

  Holding her tight, I give her a few minutes to calm down. Her sobs get further apart and her shaking body stills. I take this as my cue to return to my chair.

  ‘I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear all of this. I just don’t know what to do.’ Her pleading eyes bore into me.

  ‘Do the only thing you can do, love. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and fight for your children. Do whatever you can to make this situation easier for them.’

  Nodding, I hear her take a few deep breaths. ‘You’re right. Yes, I’ve got to do what I can for them.’

  All this talk about children and undeserving fathers threatens to make me well up too. I just can’t get Peter out of my head. Don’t get me wrong. I’m always thinking of him, but of course having the little lad here and now his mother distraught opposite me, makes things a hundred times worse.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lynette