A Family Affair

by Nancy Carson

  They heard the noise of Ned’s motor car as he arrived to collect them, with his mother and father as well.

  ‘Ready?’ Zillah asked.

  ‘Yes, just about. What about you, Zillah?’

  ‘Listen. Don’t fret about me. I’m only your bloody witness, not your bridesmaid.’

  This made Clover laugh again. They both laughed more at the absurdity of their mutual struggle to negotiate the tight bend in the narrow staircase, one behind the other, neither able to look down and see the stairs beneath them for the size of their bellies. Outside, Zillah locked the door behind her and followed Clover down the entry. In the street, Ned was standing at the side of his motor car, waiting.

  ‘Zillah, can you get in the back with Mother and Father?’

  ‘Christ, but we’ll all be squashed to jeth,’ she replied.

  Ned helped her up as Mr and Mrs Brisco hodged up to make room.

  ‘Me stays am a-crippling me already,’ Zillah complained, a look of agony on her big, kindly face. ‘Thee’d best not goo too quick over them blasted pot-holes, Ned, else I’ll be stabbed to jeth by me own whalebones.’

  They all laughed and Ned handed Clover up into the front passenger seat.

  ‘You look a picture, Clover,’ he said as he put the vehicle into gear.

  ‘Thank you, Ned. But see if you can tell me the same in a week or so.’

  ‘A wik or so?’ Florrie retorted. ‘It’ll be a mizzle to me if we ever get to the Registry Office afore you have this babby.’ She turned to Zillah. ‘I live in fears and dreads, Zillah, that her’ll drop it afore they’m wed. Call this cutting it fine!’

  ‘It’s all right, Florrie,’ Clover said, turning her head so she could be heard above the engine’s racket. ‘There’s no signs of any labour pains yet. I reckon I’ll get through the ceremony all right.’

  ‘Why on earth he left it till the last minute to wed thee, Clover, I’ll never know. Ned should’ve accepted his responsibilities sooner to mek an honest woman of thee. He’d took his pleasure, Clover – not as I blame thee – he should have faced the consequences sooner.’

  And so Clover Beckitt became Mrs Edward Brisco in a civil service that seemed to be over as soon as it had begun. There was a small party afterwards at the Briscos’ home in Watson Street where bride and groom went to live as part of an extended family, like so many other young couples starting out.

  On the same day, Jake Tandy visited Ramona and broke the news that Clover had married Ned Brisco. As she lay in bed with Tom that night, Tom was trying to read a pamphlet by the light of their oil lamp on a new camera he was considering acquiring. Ramona, however, was determined to pass on the news, even though the baby was inordinately restless.

  ‘Tom! Put your hand on me belly…Quick!…Can you feel him kicking? Me ribs’ll be black and blue.’

  ‘He’s lively tonight.’ His eyes and hand returned to the pamphlet.

  She turned over, trying to get comfortable. Her belly was big and for some time she had realised what an encumbrance this later stage of pregnancy was, how it limited your movements.

  ‘Father came today…’

  ‘Oh? How is he?’

  She turned onto her back now, a huge lump under the bedclothes. ‘He’s all right.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘He left five shillings. I think I’ll put it towards a new table.’

  ‘I wish he wouldn’t keep leaving money. I find it demeaning. As if he doesn’t think I’m capable of providing for you.’

  ‘But he means well.’

  ‘I’m sure he does. All the same…’

  A pause…

  ‘Tom?’

  ‘What?’ There was exasperation in his tone.

  ‘Something I didn’t tell you…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Something I intended telling you a while ago. But I forgot…Mary Ann threw Clover out of the Jolly Collier.’

  He turned and looked at her at once, concern on his face. ‘What?…Why?’

  Well, now she had his attention.

  ‘It turns out she’d got herself pregnant,’ she reported casually. ‘She and Ned Brisco got married today.’

  ‘She’s married that tosspot? I can scarcely believe she’d have anything to do with him. Certainly nothing like that.’

  Ramona turned her head away from him and half smiled. ‘I’ve told you before – women are a funny lot. There’s no knowing what they might do. Especially on the rebound. But if she got pregnant by Ned Brisco, it’s only right as she should marry him. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Well, I suppose I do,’ he agreed grudgingly. ‘But I can still scarcely believe it. Clover Beckitt married to Ned Brisco?…Who the hell would have thought it?’

  As she turned back to him to study his reaction she felt a pain in her stomach that made her wince.

  ‘Jesus!…’

  He looked at her with concern. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. I just had an awful twinge. Not surprising the way he keeps kicking me.’

  ‘Well, that’s all it must be. You’re not due. You’ve another month to go yet.’

  ‘I know. More’s the flipping pity. Anyway, he’s not turned yet. I can’t be ready. Can you dowt the lamp? We should get some sleep now.’

  Tom put his pamphlet on his bedside table and blew out the lamp. ‘Sleep tight,’ he said with a sigh. ‘See you in the morning.’

  Neither went to sleep, but each believed the other had drifted off. Tom was wracked by emotions he thought he’d got over, thinking about Clover…but with Ned Brisco…He imagined them making love and felt hot and angry at the thought. He felt trapped in his own situation, helpless. He could do nothing. Circumstances had certainly made a fool of him. Bitterness and anger welled up inside and the more he pondered everything, the less inclined he was to sleep.

  After about an hour, tossing and turning, Ramona spoke.

  ‘Tom?’ she croaked. ‘Are you awake?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes, you are, you fibber…Tom, I’ve had another couple of pains – strong pains. I think I must have started.’

  It was entirely strange going to bed with Ned Brisco. Fortunately, he slept in a double bed, but his room was tiny with little room to manoeuvre around it. She guessed that he or his mother had made an effort to tidy it up and clean it before she came to occupy it but there was still evidence of his preoccupation with aviation, totally unfeminine. Ned returned from the privy before he settled down for the night. He proceeded to watch Clover in the last throes of getting undressed.

  ‘Please don’t watch me, Ned.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He looked away. ‘It’s just that—’

  ‘It won’t be a pleasant sight, me with a nine-month belly.’ She sat on the bed and turned her back on him as she pulled her shift over her head. Unlike many women she knew, she had not put on excessive weight during her pregnancy. Her legs and arms were as slender as before, her face was no rounder, her bottom was little wider; only her belly and her breasts were bigger. ‘Besides, I feel embarrassed getting undressed in front of you. It’s only natural that I should.’ She reached for her long nightgown which lay beside her and pulled it over her head. That done, she stood up and removed her drawers as modestly as she could, careful not to show her legs. Then she pulled back the bedclothes and slid tentatively into bed beside him.

  ‘Don’t worry, Clover,’ he whispered. ‘I’m not going to roll on top of you and demand my conjugal rights,’ he said.

  The thought appalled her but she smiled gratefully. ‘I reckon it’d be impossible anyway, the way I am.’

  ‘I reckon so, too…Shall I blow the candle out?’

  ‘Might as well.’

  He leaned over and did it, then nestled down again, deliberately avoiding touching her, it seemed.

  ‘Good night, Ned,’ she said, thankful for his consideration.

  ‘Good night, Clover…Mrs Brisco.’

  Mrs Brisco. Never in her life had she imagined she cou
ld be married to Ned Brisco. And here she was, lying next to him in his bed, apprehensive, a million miles away from sleep. At some point it was inevitable that they would touch and the thought of it set her teeth on edge. Even before she became pregnant, even before she knew Tom, she had never relished the prospect of Ned touching her. What if he put his arm around her? She liked him well enough, but not well enough for that. Time and events had not changed her. And yet she was deeply in his debt now for taking the responsibility of marrying her.

  ‘Do you want to sleep in my lap?’ he breathed.

  ‘No, it’s all right. It’ll make me too warm. Besides, I get off better on my back.’

  ‘All right…Can I just put my arm over you?’

  Oh, Lord. He wanted to reconnoitre her body already. ‘I’d rather you didn’t. It’ll be too uncomfortable.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Good night, Ned.’

  ‘Good night, Clover…’ He shuffled himself comfortable, shaking the bed as he did so, still avoiding touching her without her consent. ‘Yes, I suppose it’ll be easier when you’ve had the baby.’

  She cringed at the thought. ‘I’m going to sleep now, Ned.’

  Tom’s first reaction was to run up Stafford Street and fetch his mother. She roused herself from sleep and dressed and they scurried off together, back to the house in Edward Street. Ramona complained that her pains were coming every twenty minutes and were more intense.

  ‘We’ll need plenty of boiling water,’ Amy Doubleday declared. ‘Is there a fire lit?’

  ‘I’ll get one going,’ Tom said.

  ‘Light one under the wash boiler as well and fill it with clean water. Then fetch Nellie Kemp from Hellier Street. I’ll stop here and keep an eye on madam.’

  Tom lit his fires and filled every available vessel with water. He received instruction on which house in Hellier Street the midwife dwelt and ran to fetch her. Eventually, he made himself heard and Nellie Kemp, indignant at being woken from her beauty sleep which, evidently, she sorely needed, was shepherded to Ramona’s bedside.

  ‘Has your water broke?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Right. Let’s have a look at you.’ The midwife pulled back the bedclothes unceremoniously. ‘Lift your nightgownd up.’

  Ramona pulled up her nightgown.

  Nellie kneaded and prodded Ramona’s belly.

  ‘This babby ain’t turned or I’m never here. When did you last see your doctor?’

  ‘I haven’t seen the doctor. I’ve felt well all along. There seemed no need. Besides, I’m not due for another month yet.’

  ‘Well, you’ve got a tidy belly on you for eight months. Prepare yourself for a hard night and a hard day tomorrer, my wench. We’ve got a breeched birth here to contend with unless I can turn it. Still, you’m on’y a kid yourself by the looks o’ yer. You’ll be all right.’

  The next day proved to be a hard day, as Nellie promised. All day, Tom sat in his chair downstairs listening to Ramona’s agonised screams. At times he covered his ears so as not to hear, but he could not help but hear. There must be something they could do to relieve the excruciating pain. Surely, no woman need endure this, no matter what the complications. As the day drew on, he noticed that Ramona’s cries were becoming weaker. By six o’clock in the evening, she was still in labour and exhausted.

  Nellie Kemp stood at the foot of the stairs, her hair straggled, her expression grave.

  ‘Yo’d best fetch the doctor,’ she said. ‘This is a big child and her’s such a small madam and her’s absolutely buggered with all the pushing and a-shoving. I want the doctor here to see to her.’

  ‘I’ll fetch him straight away, Mrs Kemp.’

  ‘Be sure to tell him it’s Nellie Kemp what’s sent for him. Tell him it’s a breeched presentation and I’m afeared for both of ’em. He’ll know what to expect then.’

  Tom pulled on his jacket and put on his cap. Like a hare sprung from a trap he ran to the home in Wolverhampton Street of the doctor he had known all his life, Dr Carter. He rapped loudly on the door and, when a maid answered, he gabbled on about his wife’s breeched birth and that Nellie Kemp was worried. The maid asked him to hang on and she would see if the doctor would see him.

  Of course, after Tom had explained, the doctor came. He took one look at Ramona, doffed his jacket, loosened his necktie and set to work.

  ‘How long has she been in labour?’

  ‘They fetched me at two o’clock this morning, Doctor. Her must have bin in labour afore that. It’s a big babby I reckon, Doctor, and her’s only a tiny madam.’

  ‘Yes, I can see the difficulties, Mrs Kemp.’ He opened his bag and looked inside. ‘She’s in some distress, Mrs Kemp,’ he said quietly while Ramona squirmed, her hands raised behind her, knuckles white as she gripped the brass bedrail in her anguish. ‘I’m going to administer a small amount of morphine and scopalamine to reduce her pain.’ He took out a hypodermic syringe, charged it and spoke to Ramona. ‘This will induce you into what we call a twilight sleep, Mrs Doubleday. You’ll feel very little pain once it takes effect…’

  Within a short time, her distress diminished.

  ‘Right, now let’s get to work,’ the doctor said.

  Ramona’s son was born at ten minutes past eight on the evening of 6th March. The child weighed nine pounds five ounces but was weak and bruised from the trauma of a complicated birth. Ramona suffered more than the child, however. She could not expel the afterbirth and, when it was artificially removed, she was seen to be haemorrhaging, though Dr Carter believed he had stopped it. He spoke to Tom afterwards and said he didn’t believe the child would survive, but he would find a wet nurse who could come and feed it in case it did, for Ramona was in no fit state.

  The next morning Dr Carter returned and was surprised to find the baby still alive. Ramona, however, was still very poorly; the haemorrhaging had obviously not been stemmed and she was weak from loss of blood. By evening, she showed no signs of recovery. If anything, she was worse and the bed was a mess of blood. When the wet nurse, a girl called Miriam, called to feed the child, Tom set off for the doctor’s house again and asked him to call. Dr Carter promised to attend within an hour.

  When he arrived he examined his new patient thoroughly. The bleeding alarmed him.

  ‘Leave me with her, Tom,’ he said kindly. ‘I have to try and stop this haemorrhaging somehow. Ideally she should be in a hospital but I fear she’s too weak to move. I’ll have to do what I can here. Do you have a rubber underlay?’

  Tom shook his head, looking more and more perplexed.

  ‘Pity. When I’m through, I want you to ask the girl to help you change the bed. Your wife will need clean sheets.’

  ‘So what’s the problem, Doctor? Why is she still bleeding?’

  ‘Because the birth was protracted and difficult this has caused lacerations of the uterus. As you can imagine, inserting sutures is difficult enough, but under these circumstances…I must try and reduce the bleeding somewhat so she might recover enough for us to get her to hospital. There’s also the risk of infection, of course.’

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’

  ‘That I don’t know,’ he answered frankly.

  ‘You mean…’

  ‘Are you a praying man, Tom?’

  ‘Not especially.’

  ‘Then I’d start if I were you. Leave me be with her now…’

  Tom left the doctor with Ramona and went downstairs. His mind was in turmoil. What if anything happened to Ramona? What if she died through having his child? He would never be able to forgive himself for making her pregnant in the first place. It would be because of his carelessness, his casualness when they began their affair. Please, God, please make her better…

  He sought Miriam in the scullery. If he could talk to somebody it might take his mind off things.

  ‘How’s the baby?’

  ‘No different,’ she replied. ‘He’s in his crib sleeping, look.’

  ‘
Has he taken any milk?’

  ‘He vomited a while ago. All the rubbish he swallowed being born, I reckon. He took no feed when I tried him.’

  He asked her about her own child and received a potted history of her family.

  ‘So what if your own child gets hungry and you’re not there?’ he asked.

  ‘My sister’ll feed her. She’s got a kid of her own.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘How’s your wife?’

  ‘Poorly. Dr Carter’s trying to do something for her now.’

  ‘Think she’ll be all right?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘Tea? I’d love a bottle of whisky…Yes, thanks, Miriam. A cup of tea would be nice.’

  ‘I’ll make one.’

  While Miriam made tea the doctor called down to him and Tom went up.

  ‘How is she, Doctor?’

  ‘Comfortable for now, but I want you to change her sheets when I’ve gone. You must try not to disturb her too much, though. Lift her very gently, pulling the soiled linen from under her and replacing with clean stuff in the same way. She could do with a clean nightgown as well.’

  Tom nodded. ‘I know what to do.’

  ‘Give her plenty of boiled water to drink or lemonade. Try and get her to eat something if she’ll have it. How’s the wet nurse doing?’

  ‘She’s doing all she can.’

  ‘While I’m here I’d best look at the child.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘Have you decided what to call him?’

  ‘We’d thought about Daniel.’

  ‘Well, he’s a plucky little blighter.’

  They went downstairs to the scullery. The doctor asked if the baby had been fed and Miriam told the doctor what she’d already told Tom.

  ‘Hmmm,’ murmured the doctor. He examined the child again. ‘Well, I hope to goodness we rear him, Tom. But it’s touch and go, I fear.’ He took Tom’s arm gently, gesturing that they go back upstairs to the sitting-room.