The Lost Daughter of Liverpool: A heartbreaking and gritty family saga (The Mersey Trilogy Book 1)

by Pam Howes

  Joe invited her to sit down while Dora’s mam went to put the kettle on. Joe told Dolly the news and her hand flew to her mouth as tears filled her eyes.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she wailed. ‘Poor little girl, and poor, poor Dora. Oh and you too, Joe. You were that thrilled to bits last night. I’m so sorry, I really am.’

  Joe shook his head. ‘It’s not really sunk in yet.’

  Dolly looked down at Carol lying contentedly in her cradle near the sofa. ‘Bless her, the little love. You must let me know if you need any help at all over the next few weeks. I can take my kids to my mam’s any time, so please don’t hesitate to ask.’

  ‘Thank you, chuck,’ Mam said, handing Dolly a mug of hot sweet tea. ‘I’ve put extra sugar in it for you.’

  Dora slowly opened her eyes and looked around in a confused state. Her head felt strange and she didn’t recognise her surroundings. The walls were half glass and the narrow bed definitely wasn’t hers and Joe’s. She licked her dry lips and called out for him, but there was no answer. Why wasn’t he with her? The door opened and a young girl, wearing the pale blue dress and starched white apron and cap of a student nurse, popped her head around, a bright smile on her face.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Rodgers. How are you feeling now?’ She walked over to the bed and helped Dora sit up, adjusting the backrest and pillows. ‘Can I get you some tea and toast?’

  ‘What happened? Why am I here?’ A feeling of panic overwhelmed Dora as she realised she was in a hospital room. She was conscious of stillness about her body and dropped her hands down onto her empty stomach. She glanced wildly around. ‘My babies! Where are my babies?’ She must have given birth, but she had no recollection of it.

  ‘I’ll just get Sister,’ the young nurse said and hurried away. She was back in seconds accompanied by an older woman wearing the navy uniform of a senior nurse, who introduced herself as Sister Smith and took a seat beside the bed and held Dora’s hand.

  ‘Where are my babies?’ Dora demanded again, feeling terrified by the sympathetic look in the older woman’s eyes. ‘What have you done with them? Where’s Joe? Where’s my husband?’

  ‘Dora, listen to me,’ Sister Smith began quietly. ‘You had your babies yesterday, but sadly one of them passed away. Your other little girl is at home with your husband and your mother. She’s being well looked after. Your husband will be in later to see you.’ Her words were drowned out by hysterical screams and she asked the young nurse to fetch a doctor immediately while she held Dora in her arms. Dora clutched at her stomach and, in-between sobs, tried to explain that she needed the toilet as the nurse came back.

  A bedpan was brought to the room and the young nurse helped her to sit on it while Sister Smith left to get her notes in readiness for the doctor arriving.

  Dora was aware of an acute abdominal pain and a sudden rush that wasn’t urine. She cried out as blood flooded into the bedpan beneath her. The nurse helped her to lie back and removed the pan as Sister Smith rushed back into the room with a white-coated doctor.

  ‘Haemorrhage,’ the doctor exclaimed and instructed that his patient be prepared immediately for theatre. ‘I’ll sedate her first.’

  Dora was feeling terrified and confused. The jab of a needle in her upper arm was the last thing she was conscious of before slipping into oblivion.

  Joe left the wages office feeling a bit better about asking for extra time off. They’d given him six weeks in total, with pay. Two weeks’ holiday and four weeks’ compassionate leave. The girls in the office had also had a whip round and had given him a parcel for Carol and a large bunch of flowers for Dora. He felt relieved at the extra time off as her mam was looking so tired and he needed to be there for her. Dora was still under sedation in hospital and an emergency operation she’d had yesterday had taken its toll. All in all his young wife was in a bad way and she’d need a lot of looking after when they allowed her home. He checked his watch; the lads would be coming down for their morning break, so he made his way to the canteen. He knew he had to speak to Ivy, if only to put a stop to the rumours. If she hadn’t taken the call then she must be feeling really upset by all the accusations that Dolly had been quick to report on.

  He strolled into the canteen. Ivy looked up and he saw a flush creep up her neck. She quickly looked away and said something to Flo.

  ‘Ivy, can I speak to you, please?’ he began. ‘In private, if you don’t mind.’ Flo’s slack jaw had dropped even further as he spoke, her curious eyes wide in her narrow face.

  ‘Bring us two mugs of tea, Flo,’ Ivy ordered and led Joe across to the far side of the room. She sat down at a table and gestured for Joe to take a seat.

  Joe sat down and offered her a cigarette. She declined, so he lit one for himself and sat back, staring at her through the cloud of smoke he exhaled. Flo bustled across with the mugs of tea and Ivy dismissed her with a flap of her hand, instructing her to take over for five minutes at the counter when the workers came in.

  ‘I’m very sorry to hear about your daughter and wife,’ she began, ‘but I’m not happy about the rumours that are going around. I’m not the cause of your baby’s death.’ Her lips quivered as she continued. ‘If the phone did ring out we didn’t hear it. I think your wife must have dialled the wrong number.’ She folded her arms, a mutinous expression on her face. ‘I’d like you to make sure that people are told the truth. I love my job here, but I’ll be forced to leave if I get one more unpleasant remark from the workers.’

  Joe stubbed out his ciggie and took a sip of tea. ‘I’ll speak to them when they come down. All I can do is apologise. Maybe Dora was in a lot of pain when she dialled and got confused – like you say, she probably called the wrong number and spoke to God knows who, who hung up on her. We’ll never know, will we? She’s not well enough to be questioned about it. I think we should just put it to rest and move on. I’m off work now for six weeks on compassionate leave, so hopefully things will settle down for you.’

  He frowned as Ivy reached out and patted his hand, a sympathetic look in her eyes. ‘I’ve been there, Joe,’ she whispered. ‘Lost a baby, I mean, lost my husband too, the same year. It’s a painful time. But that’s between me and you and I don’t want to talk about it, nor do I want you to repeat to anyone what I’ve just told you. I trust you to keep it to yourself.’ She got to her feet and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I need to get back to work now. I hope Dora recovers and that your remaining daughter continues to thrive. You know where I am if you ever need someone to talk to.’

  She walked away, leaving Joe staring thoughtfully after her. After that little admission about the lost hubby and baby, if it were true, he’d feel a right heel bringing up the phone call subject again. The doors swung open and he spotted Eric and a couple of others he worked alongside. Best to go and set things right and get the rumour quashed once and for all, before he dashed back home to check on Carol and his mother-in-law and then go and spend the afternoon sitting beside Dora’s bed. Good job he’d managed to get his bike fixed and it hadn’t cost too much. At least now he wasn’t dependent on the vagaries of the trams and buses.

  Dora held onto Joe’s hand as the doctor came into the room. He’d come to collect her from the hospital to take her home. Two weeks she’d been in here and it felt like a lifetime. She’d felt lost without her babies and lay awake most nights, reliving the awful moment she’d realised Joanna wasn’t breathing. She wondered if the feeling would ever go away. Visits from her mam and Joanie had helped, but the tears were never far away and the more they sympathised the worse she felt. But at last she was being allowed to get up and go home. She still didn’t feel right. Her head was fuzzy and she felt weak and tired from lack of sleep. Following the emergency D&C operation she’d been given blood transfusions and kept in bed the whole time she’d been here. She was desperate to get in the bath and to wash her hair, but most of all she wanted to see her surviving baby. Joe had brought her daily updates on how Carol was doing and Dora was happy that she seeme
d to be thriving, but it wasn’t the same as spending time with her.

  ‘We have the results of the post-mortem on your daughter, Joanna,’ the doctor began. He referred to the file in his hand. ‘We could find no obvious causes of death. We detected no heart, brain or lung defects. Apart from mild bruising to the head and face, which is quite usual following a forceps delivery, there was nothing at all that contributed to her death. The death certificate shows natural causes. Please accept my sincere condolences. It’s never easy to lose a child, but to lose a newborn is a particular tragedy. We are now able to release her body so that you can arrange a funeral.’

  He handed over a white envelope to Joe and bade them good afternoon.

  ‘So that’s it,’ Dora said, tears running down her cheeks as Joe showed her the death certificate. ‘Now we have to go and pick up the pieces like Joanna never existed.’

  ‘Shh, love.’ Joe held her as she sobbed. ‘We’ll get through this. We need to be strong for each other and for Carol too.’

  She nodded as he wiped her eyes with his hanky. ‘Let’s go home, Joe. I want to get out of this place and see my baby.’

  Joe’s mother had managed to swap the twin pram for a single pram without any problem and Dora’s dad had removed the second cradle from the spare room. Fingers crossed there was nothing to set Dora back once he got her home, Joe thought. She’d seemed better during his last few visits; very quiet, but the doctor agreed that being in her own home and learning to bond with her baby were the best things to put her fully on the road to recovery. All he could do was bring her back to where she belonged and keep his fingers crossed.

  Dora’s dad’s parents were buried in a family plot in St Mary’s church yard in Knowsley, and Dora had agreed that that was where Joanna’s resting place should be, alongside her great-grandparents. Giving her a nice send-off was the last thing they could do for their beautiful little lost daughter.

  As they pulled up outside the bungalow Dora leant back in the passenger seat of the car Joe had borrowed to bring her home. She just wanted to get inside before anyone saw her. She couldn’t face the looks of pity she knew would be cast in her direction. She felt sick as Joe helped her out and escorted her to the front door, which her mam had thrown open, a welcoming smile on her face. Her stomach plummeted as Dolly called out and came running towards them.

  ‘Joe,’ she whispered, gripping his hand tightly.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll ward her off. Go inside with your mam.’

  Mam took her coat as Dora went into the sitting room and sank down onto the sofa. Her legs felt shaky, as though she’d lost all the strength in them, no doubt through lying in bed for all that time.

  She held her breath and looked around the tidy room, but could see no sign of the little white cradle. ‘Where’s Carol?’ she asked as her mam sat down beside her and took her hand.

  ‘Having a little nap in the spare room. It’s where I’ve been sleeping so she’s been in with me. She’ll be awake shortly, starving as usual. It’s good to have you home, my love. Now sit there with your feet up while I go and put the kettle on.’

  Dora looked up as Joe appeared in the doorway, shaking his head. ‘Bloody hell, that woman can yap for England.’

  ‘She means well. But I couldn’t face her, not today anyway.’

  She sighed as he came to sit beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. He dropped a kiss on her lips. ‘It’s good to be home,’ she said, relaxing against him. She wondered how it would feel to have her baby in her arms again after so many days away. In her head, which still felt a bit fuzzy, it was almost as though she hadn’t really given birth and the last couple of weeks were just a bad dream. She’d had no time to get used to being a mother, less than twenty-four hours, before being rushed away. Even though the staff at the hospital had assured her otherwise, deep down she was worried that it had been her fault Joanna had died. Much as she’d been looking forward to seeing her little Carol, now it was about to happen she was glad of this chance to catch her breath before holding her again.

  CHAPTER 18

  SEPTEMBER 1947

  ‘Dora, Dora, come on, chuck, you’re miles away.’ Dora looked up from her seat on the sofa at her mam standing in front of her with Carol, fresh from her morning bath, in her arms. Mam wrapped the squirming baby in a towel and held her out to Dora. ‘Just dry and powder her while I go and make a bottle.’

  Dora took the wriggling child onto her knee and stared at her. Carol looked at her mother. Her eyes, now turned hazel, like Joe’s, stared unblinkingly. Dora rubbed her gently with the towel and sprinkled Johnson’s baby powder over the little body that was filling out nicely, patting the fine powder into crevices and folds and in-between her tiny toes. Carol smiled and cooed as Dora stared back at her.

  ‘Isn’t she gorgeous?’ said Mam.

  Dora bit her lip. This was so hard. She’d hardly seen her daughter for the first few weeks of her life, but instead of being overjoyed at finally being with her, it felt like the baby belonged to someone else. She should be gushing, she should be overjoyed. Shouldn’t she? Her mam and Joanie were great with Carol, and Joe was besotted with her, but Dora looked at Carol and felt nothing. No, in fact she did feel something – she wanted to scream. There should be two babies in her arms, another little girl smiling back. How could she be happy when she’d lost her daughter? She’d been robbed. Dora’s heart had broken on the day she lost Joanna.

  She laid Carol down in her cradle and balled her fists, trying not to cry. Why did people assume she could just carry on as though nothing had happened? She was trying so hard to love Carol and she had to admit that the baby was a pretty little thing with a lovely smile, but she just couldn’t look at her without thinking of Joanna.

  As if reading her mind, Mam took Dora’s hand in hers. ‘It’s not going to be easy, love. You’ll never get over Joanna’s death, but you have to stay strong for Carol, you have to fight it. I’ll go and make her feed while you have five minutes’ peace with her.’

  After her mam had left the room Dora tentatively bent and took Carol’s finger, but couldn’t bring herself to look at her. Her finger was so soft, so tiny, so fragile and innocent. How could she not adore her? The doctors at the hospital told her that sometimes depression set in following birth, bringing these unusual feelings for a child. And that in time those feelings would go. She hoped that the love she had felt during her pregnancy would come back, but for now she felt so lost and lonely.

  She thought back to Saturday and the argument she’d had with Joe when he told her he would be going out later as he was playing with the band again. He’d played for the last couple of Saturdays but her mam had been here. All she could think about was how different things were between them now, how detached they were from each other. Even when he was around she felt so very lonely.

  ‘I can’t cope if you go out,’ she’d cried. ‘I need somebody to be with me. Mam’s at home this weekend.’

  He’d taken her hand in his. ‘Dora, listen to me. We need the money. I have to work tonight. I’ve arranged for Joanie and Frank to come over for a couple of hours. Carol will sleep for most of the time anyway. I’m really trying, Dora, but you’ve also got to try, so we can get back to normal.’

  She had pulled away from him and hurried into their bedroom, but he didn’t follow her. She knew she’d shut him out since coming home from the hospital, but couldn’t help it. She wished with all her heart that she could get back to normal, whatever that was.

  Dora had felt like a nervous wreck until Frank and Joanie arrived, even though she’d only been alone for an hour and Carol had been asleep. She’d looked over once or twice at Carol’s cradle, but had felt terrified. It was like a huge weight had been lifted from her when Joanie took over as soon as they’d arrived.

  It was just as bad when they tried to get out of the house. Yesterday she and Joe had taken the baby out for a walk, but it was he who had pushed the pram and chatted to people who stopped to ask how
they were all doing. Dora had felt uncomfortable and kept a few paces behind him. She avoided speaking to anyone in case they looked at her with sympathy. She felt worried that there seemed to be an ever-widening gulf between her and Joe.

  Joe had bought the single bed for the spare room and had slept in it each night since she’d been discharged from hospital. She couldn’t stand to share a bed with him. No one knew he slept alone; he made sure the bed was tidy before he left for work and her mam arrived. Dora knew that looking after her all week was getting too much for her mam and that she couldn’t rely on her for ever.

  Carol started to wail as Mam came back into the room holding a bottle out to her, ready for feeding time. Dora dutifully took the bottle. She could do it, surely she could pick up and feed her daughter by herself? But as soon as she looked at Carol crying in her cradle, it was as if all the energy drained out of her body and she collapsed back onto her chair again.

  ‘I can’t do it, Mam. I’m rubbish at being a mother.’ She burst into tears, which only made Carol cry even louder. Dora couldn’t take it. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the noise. All she could think of was her peaceful little Joanna.

  ‘I just don’t know what to do with her,’ Mary Evans said to Jim, Frank and Joanie over their liver and onions at tea time. ‘It’s like she’s got a mental block where young Carol’s concerned. And she’s pushing poor Joe out too. He’s sleeping in the new single bed at night. She doesn’t know I know that, but I’m not daft. He has the cradle in there with him, so he must be seeing to that baby in the night as well as working as much overtime as he can again, and playing in the band at the weekend. He’s going to make himself poorly at this rate, then God knows what they’ll do if he can’t work. But I’ll tell you, that marriage is heading for a breakdown unless our Dora bucks her ideas up a bit. I know she’s suffered an awful loss, but we all have to carry on regardless. I’m fair worn out and I can’t keep running about after her like I do. My knees are crippling me these days.’