I'll Be There

by Janet Woods

  She shivered. Eddie wanted a son, and when Eddie didn’t get his own way it didn’t bear thinking about. Sometimes she questioned her wisdom at marrying him. She was beginning to dread his visits, mostly because Janey bore the brunt of his anger now she was pregnant.

  Leaning on the windowsill she returned Janey’s wave as the car pulled away. Mary and Douglas Yates was a nice couple. They treated Janey like one of the family.

  A spatter of wind-driven rain hit the window. As she leaned forward to pull it shut, pain lanced through her back. Carefully she straightened up and took a deep breath.

  She grimaced as the pain faded to a dull ache. She’d be glad when it was all over

  Chapter Four

  Two red squirrels filled the picture. Perched on a branch, the one in the foreground nibbled on a pine cone, the other stood in an attitude of alertness.

  ‘What do you think of it, Mary?’

  ‘It’s good for someone of Janey’s age.’

  ‘It’s more than good. The animals have life. Look how she’s captured the lustre of the coat and eyes. Not many kids would see that.’

  Mary gave a light laugh. ‘You sound exactly like a proud father.’

  Jack grinned. ‘I am a proud father, though I’ve got to admit, it’s been hell having to hide when Eddie Renfrew’s in the district.’

  She slid a troubled towards the window. Janey was racing around the garden with Goldie, Jack’s Labrador in tow. Her hair, freed from its usual braids, drifted about her shoulders like pale gossamer thread. Her dress was faded and patched, with a piece of contrasting material sewn round the hem to lengthen it.

  She could understand Jack’s point of view. She’d grown to love Janey, and it was frustrating not to be able to adopt the role of Aunt. She’d love to fit her out with some new clothes.

  ‘I’m going to tell her, as soon as she’s old enough to understand. Renfrew can’t keep us apart forever,’ Jack said.

  ‘Be careful. Janey’s a sensitive child. The shock might drive her in the opposite direction.’

  ‘You think so?’ Jack’s brow furrowed. ‘Perhaps if I approached her step-mother ... Janey thinks the world of her.’

  ‘Pamela Renfrew is a sensible woman, but don’t forget she’s married to Janey’s father. It’s possible she might not be aware of the situation.’

  Jack hunched his head into his shoulders and scowled like a scalded bear. ‘I’m Janey’s father.’

  ‘Stop being so grouchy. You know exactly what I mean. If you take my advice you’ll wait until she’s a grown woman. You’re already skating on thin ice.’

  ‘Okay, I get the message.’ Slanting her a glance, he grinned. ‘It’s odd how she never mentions Renfrew.’

  Driven by a gust of wind, rain splattered against the window. Janey and Goldie headed for the shelter of the house and came through the door smelling of autumn.

  Janey sent a smile to Douglas Yates and took the seat opposite him. She liked Douglas. He was round-faced and jolly, and had doggy brown eyes. ‘It’s started to rain.’

  ‘It looks like there’s going to be a storm later. Fancy a game of snakes and ladders?’

  ‘No time I’m afraid.’ Mary smiled apologetically at her husband. ‘I think we’d better drop Janey off and start for home. I don’t like the look of this weather.’

  ‘I’ll drive her home,’ Jack said; loathe to relinquish his daughter so soon. ‘I promised she could watch her picture being framed.’

  ‘Be careful, Jack, Mary said softly.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll ring Mrs. Renfrew and ask if she can stay another hour. It’s not as if she has school tomorrow.’

  The phone was engaged.

  Unease prickled down Janey’s back. Her father said no one was to use the telephone unless it was an emergency.

  The unease stayed with her for a short while, then fled as she watched her picture being framed. The frame was almost the same color as the squirrels. Inside, bordering the painting was a cardboard square of a soft oatmeal shade.

  ‘It makes it look so pretty.’

  ‘I’m proud of you, Janey. It’s a lovely painting. I’m sure you’ll do well in the competition.’

  ‘You can have it as a present afterwards, if you like,’ she offered.

  He gave into the urge to kiss her cheek, and watched her turn pink. ‘Why thank you Janey. I’ll treasure it.’ Tears in his eyes, he turned to blink them away. ‘We’d better get you home before this storm hits. I’m going on into town afterwards so I’ll drop you at the end of the lane.’

  By mid-afternoon the sky was a cauldron of dark ominous clouds. Perspiration beaded Pamela’s body and she shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

  There was a rock and roll special on. Linda’s transistor radio blared out one song after the other. She beat time to it, taping something against the adjoining wall with annoying persistence.

  She turned on to her side and pulled the corner of the pillow over her ear. Almost asleep, she was jerked awake by a deafening crash of thunder. The radio went dead.

  ‘Damn,’ she muttered. ‘The power’s gone off.’

  Linda sidled into the room. ‘The electricity’s gone off.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Her head spun for a second or two as she hauled herself upright. ‘We’ll have to find some candles for tonight.’

  Together, they went downstairs and searched through the cupboards. Linda set the candles in saucers, and then threw herself into an armchair.

  The atmosphere was oppressive in the cottage. The windows were small, allowing in more gloom than light. Pamela tried to concentrate on finishing the tiny blue matinee jacket she was knitting. The idea was stuck in her head that if she made something blue, her baby would be a boy. Not that she really minded if it was a girl - but Eddie would.

  Linda sat opposite, her face sulky, her legs drawn up under her skirt. ‘Some weekend this turned out to be.’

  ‘Why don’t you go and make us some tea. There’s some of those nice fairy cakes Ada made left.’

  ‘I’m not going into the kitchen. A big spider ran across the floor when we were looking for candles.’

  ‘The storm must have driven it indoors.’ Setting aside her knitting, Pamela slowly rose to her feet. Her back was killing her, and her pelvis had begun to ache. ‘I’ll make it.’

  She was halfway across the room when Linda gasped. She turned, gazing at her ashen face.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Blood ... on your legs.’

  Pamela’s fingers found the sticky patch. She gazed at the blood almost uncomprehendingly, then her heart lurched against her ribs. Suddenly, water gushed in a torrent from her, and cramp clutched at her pelvis.

  Bent almost double by the pain, she groaned. ‘Quick, the baby’s coming. Phone the midwife.’

  Linda stared at her like a cornered rabbit, then her eyes rolled up in her head and she slid to the floor.

  Cramps came one after the other. She cursed as she staggered towards the phone. She should have known Linda would prove to be useless in an emergency.

  The midwife’s line was engaged. She remembered that John Gregory lived almost opposite the midwife - but she’d forgotten to ask Mary Yates for the number.

  Sobbing under her breath she rifled feverishly through the phone book. Of all the Gregory’s listed, not one lived in Winterbrook. As she tried to ring the nurse again, there was a blinding flash of lightning and the line went dead.

  Pain walloped her again, squeezing relentlessly at her innards. She doubled up, falling to her hands and knees. When the pain subsided, she crawled to Linda and gently slapped her pale face.

  The girl’s eyes fluttered open, then awareness came into them. She scrambled in panic to the corner of the chair.

  ‘Don’t touch me. You’re going to die, just like my mother.’

  Prickles crept up her spine when she remembered that the girl had found her mother dead in a pool of blood.

  ‘It’s all right, Linda. I’m not going to die.�
��

  ‘I want you to die,’ she spat out, her face contorted with loathing. ‘You’re not my mother. I hate you, and I hate the baby! I hope you both die!’ Leaping to her feet she made a rush for the door. ‘I’m going to Wendy’s house.’

  When the door slammed, fear salted her tongue. ‘Someone please help me!’ she managed to cry out before the pain consumed her again.

  * * * *

  Buffeted by the wind, Janey didn’t see Phil and Griffin in the lane until she almost ran into them.

  Griffin had outgrown his father now. Tall, and as straight as a sapling, his dark hair was a mass of curls. He looked nice now he was nearly grown up.

  ‘You Renfrews’ are in an almighty hurry today,’ Griffin said, his deepened voice coming as a surprise after not seeing him for a while.

  It was a nice voice, she decided, her head aslant as she gazed shyly up at him sort of soft and growling.

  ‘Your sister was running towards the Browns’ place as if her tail was on fire.’

  Fear touched her heart. ‘Mum,’ she whispered.

  ‘What about your mum? We were just going to drop in on her to see if she needed anything.’

  ‘She hasn’t been well lately, and she’s by herself.’

  Phil didn’t stop to ask questions. Grabbing her by the hand he hurried towards the cottage, dragging her after him.

  The sky opened when they reached the porch, and for one fleeting moment – before the sight of Pamela on the floor drove everything else from her mind – Janey prayed that Linda would drown in the rain.

  Pamela’s face was contorted with pain. ‘Thank God! I think the baby’s about to arrive.’

  Phil exchanged a glance with Griffin, who promptly headed for the phone.

  ‘Now don’t you go panicking, missus,’ he soothed. ‘Childbirth is a natural thing. I’ll help you to your bed so you can relax.’

  Pamela felt calmer now she had someone with her.

  ‘The phone’s dead,’ Griffin called out a few seconds later. ‘I’ll run to the village and fetch her.’

  Janey took her hand. ‘Griff won’t be long, Mum. As soon as the nurse gets here, everything will be okay.’

  Pamela arched her back and groaned.

  ‘The baby’s not going to wait that long.’ Phil took her aside. ‘I want you to get some towels whilst I wash my hands.’

  She paled when Pamela gave a muffled scream, and scurried to do Phil’s bidding. When she returned, Pamela was on her back under a sheet, her knees making a tent. Phil folded the bottom of the sheet back and placed the towels under Pamela’s bottom.

  Janey averted her eyes.

  ‘This is no time to be squeamish, Janey. You’ve watched that old barn cat give birth to her kittens. This is exactly the same. That there, is the baby’s head.’

  Fascinated, Janey watched the baby’s head emerge as Pamela gave long straining groans. Then the baby’s head slowly turned and a few seconds later the baby emerged in a slithering rush. Immediately, it started to howl. Pamela lifted her head, her eyes frantic.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘Nothing, missus, but it ain’t a him.’ Wrapping a towel round the infant, Phil lifted the baby to show Pamela. ‘She’s a bonny little lass, but I’m going to have to leave her down here while we wait for the nurse. There’s still the afterbirth to come, and you’re bleeding a bit.’

  He placed a towel between her legs and pulled the sheet down over her knees. ‘Janey, you get acquainted with your new sister. I’ll wait downstairs for Griff to come back.’

  Pamela lifted her head to glimpse the baby, so Janey fetched a mirror from the dressing table and propped it against the foot of the bed.

  When her eyes lit on her squalling daughter she forgot her discomfort. ‘She’s so sweet. Look at her hair, Janey love, and her little finger and toes. Isn’t she beautiful.’

  Janey thought so too. Like Pamela, she couldn’t stop looking at her. Full of awe, she stared at the miracle of her sister and her heart filled up with love. After a while the baby stopped crying and opened her eyes. They were dark, like Pamela’s. It struck Janey as odd that she wanted to cry when she felt so happy. She swallowed hard to stop herself.

  ‘Shall I make you a cup of tea whilst we wait for the nurse?’

  Pamela didn’t take her eyes from the baby. Like her smile, they were soft. She looked exhausted, but the strain of the past few weeks had gone from her face. ‘That would be nice, Janey love. I’m parched.’ Her gaze left the baby for a moment. ‘I don’t know how I would have managed without you. I’m going to make sure your dad knows how helpful you’ve been. Would you like choose a name for your little sister?’

  ‘Susie,’ Janey said.

  ‘That’s a lovely name. What about Joy for a second name? Susan Joy Renfrew.’ Pamela’s hand curled around hers and gently squeezed. ‘Yes, we’ll call her Susie. I like it.’

  * * * *

  Eddie was furious. Another girl, and he’d have to stay at the cottage until Pamela got out of hospital.

  Bloody useless woman! He fumed. Why couldn’t she have done it right? It had ruined his whole weekend.

  He felt embarrassed by the whole affair. There was something distasteful about having a gypsy deliver the baby. Didn’t Pamela have any shame, exposing herself to a stranger like that? She must have known she was in labour.

  His eyes narrowed. And where was Janey at the time? Shirking her responsibilities by visiting one of her teachers. She knew Linda had a weak stomach.

  He watched her bring in the ashtray he’d sent her for. She was taller than Linda now, and her long fair hair was untidily braided. Her eyes flicked up to his as she set it on the arm of his chair. They were bluer than Linda’s, bluer than her mother’s. Every day, she grew to look more like Bellamy.

  Aggrieved at the reminder of his first wife’s lover he stared with loathing at her. She had a double serving of bad blood in her, and needed strict discipline to curb it.

  He watched her move away to straighten up a candle on the sideboard before returning to the kitchen.

  There were lamb chops, vegetables and mashed potatoes for dinner.

  ‘The gravy was lumpy,’ he said afterwards.

  He detected a spark of insolence in her eyes when she murmured. ‘I’ll try and do better next time.’

  He had the feeling she always said one thing, and thought another. ‘Make sure you do.’

  Taking a cigarette from his pocket he put a match to it, then sucked too savagely at the smoke and started to cough. Janey watched him with a steady, unblinking gaze. It was unnerving.

  ‘What the bloody hell are you staring at?’ he snarled, stubbing the cigarette out on his plate as he stood up. ‘Get the table cleared and the kitchen tidied before I get back.’

  Linda said, ‘Will you drop me off at Wendy’s, Dad. Mr. Brown said I can sleep there tonight and he’ll drop me off at school tomorrow. He wants me over there early, because there’s going to be another storm.’

  ‘Of course I will, love.’

  Relieved when they both left, Janey tidied the kitchen, and then stared out of the window at the clouds building up in the sky. They were a majestic shade of purple, threaded through with silver. Now and again lighting sheeted against the undersides. Beneath their awesome magnificence, the landscape looked drab and black. A rumble of distant thunder rolled across the hills and Lord William’s old grey horse suddenly popped into her mind.

  What had Phil said all those years ago? When you hear thunder that will be old Wellington kicking up a fuss?

  As she set a match to one of the candles the wary expression left her eyes. Then she shrugged, and gave a gently ironic smile.

  She no longer believed in fairy tales.

  * * * *

  The second storm hit as Eddie drove up the lane.

  He’d spent an unproductive evening in a public house in Poole. The available women had been blowsy old hags, the whisky suspect. He’d been thrown out after accusing the l
andlord of watering it.

  His mood was foul, his stomach sour. He switched off the engine and stared at the cottage through the torrent of rain running down the windshield. What a dump!

  The only light burning was a candle flickering on the bathroom windowsill. Janey should have left one lit downstairs so he could find his way in.

  Eddie scowled. Bellamy’s by-blow had probably forgotten on purpose. It was about time he taught her another lesson. His mouth set in a sneer as he dashed through the wind and rain towards the house. Was she in for a fright?

  The front door was unlocked. Fighting the urge to laugh, he groped his way across the dark room, then tiptoed upstairs.

  Through the crack under the bathroom door a thin yellow light flickered, water gurgled as it was sucked down the plug-hole. Easing the door open, he peered through the crack.

  Janey’s back was towards him. Slightly bent, she was drying her legs with a towel. His throat dried up. Christ! She was as long and slender as a Madonna, with pale, gently rounded buttocks. As she straightened, candlelight played over her body and silvered her hair.

  There was something innocently sensual about her. Her hair rippled like pale snakes on her shoulders with each movement.

  Eve must have looked like this when she tempted Adam with the apple of her femininity. Eddie suddenly thought.

  Something tore at his guts, and rage built up in him. Her mother had been a temptress, too. Janey had to be punished. Only by descending to the depths of baseness would he be able to cleanse her of sin.

  First he’d weaken her, like the biblical harlot Delilah had weakened Samson.

  The towel came defensively up against her body when he slammed the door open. Backing against the sink, she gave a tiny, scared gasp.

  ‘Sinner,’ he growled, pushing her on to the pedestal. Snatching up a pair of scissors, he took a hank of her hair in his fist and hacked it off.

  * * * *

  Janey didn’t utter a sound as her father slashed at her hair, just bowed her head so she didn’t have to look at his terrible eyes.

  ‘The Lord wants me to punished you, Delilah.’ Long strands of hair gathered around her feet. Suddenly, he threw the scissors in the bath and stared at her. ‘Your mother was a sinner. She gave herself to another.’