A Family Affair

by Nancy Carson

  ‘Step to the front door with me, Tom…Tell me, have you let your wife’s family know the situation?’

  ‘Not yet, Doctor. There’s been no time.’

  ‘I know it’s been difficult. But your wife is seriously ill, as well as your child. I think you should solicit their help to look after her, you know. You’re going to need it, my boy. And forewarn them that all is not well. I’ve done what I can to stop the bleeding. How successful it is we shan’t know till morning. When you’ve cleaned her up I suggest you go and see her family while she is asleep and the wet nurse is with the child. I’ll call again first thing in the morning…’

  Jake Tandy came at once. He and Tom hurried through the town in their anxiety to be with Ramona. Tom left him in the bedroom watching over her with tears in his eyes while he himself went to see Miriam and his child. Jake stroked her face gently with the backs of his fingers. Her skin was clammy with sweat, yet felt cold. Never had he seen her looking so pale.

  ‘My babby,’ he breathed, wiping away a tear from his own eyes. ‘What have they done to yer?’ Ramona slept on, oblivious to his loving attention. ‘You’m little more than a child yourself. I knew no good would come of you having this child. Why couldn’t men just leave you be another year or two?’ He sniffed and a tear fell on the sheet as he leaned towards her. ‘But we’ll look after you. I’ll get you back to the Jolly Collier to look after you if need be, and to hell with Mary Ann…’

  When Miriam attempted to feed the child again, Tom left her and sat with father and daughter for more than an hour. Ramona hardly stirred. He watched as Jake tended her lovingly.

  ‘What time shall you go home, Mr Tandy?’

  ‘Oh, I won’t go home, Tom. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow, if she shapes up.’

  ‘I could do with a cup of tea,’ Tom said. ‘I bet you could too, eh, Mr Tandy? I’ll go downstairs and brew a pot.’

  ‘Good idea. While you’m doing it, I’ll try and give our Ramona something to drink, if I can get her to take it.’

  Tom left the room and Jake tried to rouse Ramona. Eventually she opened her eyes and looked about her.

  ‘Father,’ she uttered, her voice weak.

  ‘My flower…How do you feel now, eh?’

  ‘Tired…So tired.’ Her eyes closed again, overwhelmed by the urge to sleep, but she fought it.

  ‘I want you to try and drink some of this.’ He reached for the glass that was on the wash-stand. ‘Here…’ He helped raise her head so she could take a sip or two. ‘That’s good. A drop more in a little while, eh?’

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Two or three hours now, I daresay.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘It’s getting close to eleven, I reckon.’

  ‘What time are you going back?’

  ‘I’ll stop here with you tonight, have no fear. Tom’s seeing to the babby. There’s a young woman here to help and to feed the bab.’

  ‘How is the baby, Father? Is he all right? I haven’t even seen him yet.’

  ‘He’s being well looked after,’ Jake answered tactfully. ‘Don’t thee fret. You just rest and get better…’

  Ramona drifted off into sleep again, then woke with a start. ‘Father…My baby’s going to die, isn’t he?’

  Jake wiped her brow with a flannel. ‘Just rest, my flower.’

  ‘Father, I just know he’s going to die. I don’t think I’m going to get better either…Am I?’

  At once his eyes filled with tears. He brushed them away with the back of his hand. ‘’Course you’m going to get better, my angel. And the baby. But you both need rest.’

  He watched her close her eyes, then open them again. Her pulse was visible at the soft part of her throat, beating fast, trying to compensate for the low blood pressure. She was fighting the urge to drift into unconsciousness also, fighting the soporific effects of losing so much blood.

  ‘Father, there’s something—’

  ‘Not now, Angel,’ he said soothingly, concerned that she was getting too excited. ‘Try and get some sleep.’

  ‘In a minute.’ He detected impatience in her tone, despite her weakness. ‘First, promise me something…’ Her eyes rolled uncontrollably under her lazy lids.

  ‘Whatever you want. You know that.’

  ‘Will you get a message to Clover for me?’

  ‘To Clover?’ he queried.

  She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  ‘If that’s what you want, my flower, ’course I will.’

  ‘Ask her to come and see me. She won’t want to, but I have to see her. There’s something I want to say to her. Something she has to know…As soon as she can…You’ll get rid of Tom for me before she comes…won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, o’ course. I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her in the morning.’

  ‘Thanks, Father. Don’t forget.’

  He stroked her hand. ‘Don’t worry, my angel. I won’t forget. Now get some sleep.’

  She smiled with gratitude and drifted off once more into sleep.

  Chapter 24

  On Monday morning Clover heard the unmistakable clop of a horse’s hooves and the rattle of iron-rimmed cart wheels on the rough, stony surface of Watson Street. Seconds later she heard an urgent rapping on the front door. Rushing from the back yard where she was pegging out washing, she hurried through the house to answer it. Jake Tandy was standing there. He looked tired and racked with anxiety, his eyes red as if he had been weeping. He was unshaven, unkempt, far removed from his usual tidy appearance. Something was radically wrong.

  ‘Pop!’ she exclaimed, regarding him anxiously. ‘Is it my mother?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘No, it’s not your mother, Clover—’

  ‘Thank God. Come in and tell me what’s up.’

  Solemnly he stepped inside.

  ‘Florrie’s in the brewhouse up to her elbows in soap suds.’ She closed the door and led him into the scullery. ‘We’re doing the washing. Can I make you a cup of tea?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m pressed for time, Clover, but thanks.’

  ‘So what’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s our Ramona. She had her child on Saturday. A boy.’

  She looked at him anxiously. ‘Are they not all right?’

  ‘She had a hard time of it and…well, it’s touch and go whether either will come through it.’

  ‘Oh, God, no.’ She looked at him with all her sympathy in her eyes. She had not seen Jake since the night she left the Jolly Collier, the night she and her mother became estranged. Often she had wondered how they might react when they inevitably met again. Well, now the ice was broken, but she never imagined it would be under such sombre circumstances. ‘And poor Tom. He must be at his wits’ end.’

  ‘He’s taking it brave, Clover.’ Jake’s eyes flushed with tears. ‘And look at you…Close to confinement as well, or I’m a monkey’s uncle. I was surprised but pleased when Zillah said you’d got married after waiting so long…He’s made an honest woman of you, after all. I don’t know why it took him so long, eh?’

  She smiled blandly, hoping he would not be so bright as to count back the months and associate her pregnancy with Tom. ‘So what went wrong with Ramona?’

  ‘Well…’ He shook his head in despair. ‘She wasn’t due for another four weeks you know, but it come early. A big child, and all. Well she had a real hard time of it, like I say. Now the doctor can’t stop her haemorrhaging. She’s lost a lot of blood.’

  ‘I am sorry, Jake…’

  Jake acknowledged her obvious concern with a single nod. ‘She’s asked if you’ll come and see her, Clover. There’s summat she wants to tell you.’

  Clover hesitated, wondering how best to refuse. ‘I don’t know, Pop…’

  ‘Please…Look, it’s touch and go with her. She’s ever so poorly. Don’t deny her this one wish, for all we know it might be her last.’ His voice was thin with emotion. ‘I know how it’s been between you two since last summer, and I underst
and – believe me, I do. But put it aside, Clover. Ramona’s willing to. I beg you. Come and listen to what she wants to tell you.’

  ‘Do you know what it is?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘Not a clue. But it must be important to her.’

  ‘But Pop, I wouldn’t want to see Tom. Besides, you can see how I am myself. I’m not even sure—’

  ‘I’ve got one of the drays out in the street. I’ll take you there meself. And anyroad, Ramona said as I’d got to get Tom out the way by the time you arrived. I think she realised you wouldn’t want to see him. So he’ll be out on an errand. I’ve already seen to that.’

  ‘All right,’ Clover said, reluctantly. ‘Let me take off my apron and put on my hat and coat.’ She went outside and told Florrie she’d been called away and would explain later. Florrie muttered under her breath but Clover told her it couldn’t be helped.

  The prospect of the meeting filled her with dread. What was Ramona about to tell her? That giving birth was not the nicest thing that could happen to a girl? Just seeing her, if she was so ill, would put her off having her own child. It would make her fear her own labour. It was the last thing she wanted, as if she wasn’t apprehensive enough.

  Jake helped her up on to the passenger seat and drove steadily away in deference to her condition. It threatened rain but a weak sun tried to push its way through the film of grey, racing clouds and, for a few seconds, the dingy red-brick landscape brightened a little. At first they talked about generalities, skirting round the questions that should have been discussed; till Clover asked how her mother was.

  ‘Same as ever,’ Jake responded evenly. ‘I know one thing – she misses you, Clover.’

  Clover did not answer.

  ‘Why don’t you put aside your differences with your mother as well and come and see her? Life’s too short to harbour ill-feeling.’

  ‘If she’s so anxious to forget what’s happened why hasn’t she been to see me? Why doesn’t she come and apologise to me for throwing me out when I needed her support?’

  ‘Because she’s proud, your mother.’

  ‘So am I, Pop,’ Clover replied with finality.

  ‘Giddup!’ Jake flicked the reins and the horses broke into a trot. The road surface at Waddam’s Pool was more even and did not shake Clover about too much. He asked how she was coping with married life and living with in-laws.

  ‘I daresay I’ll get used to it,’ she said.

  He turned to look at her but she gave nothing away in her expression.

  ‘You don’t sound too keen.’

  She shrugged. ‘Oh, they’re decent enough folk…’

  ‘I never thought you’d take up with Ned Brisco, you know, Clover. You’ve really surprised me.’ She shrugged again. ‘Still – as long as you’re happy…Life’s too short…’ He told again of Ramona and spoke more of her baby and how poorly the little mite was. It was not long before they pulled up outside the house in Edward Street.

  ‘You’re sure Tom won’t be here?’ she asked, seeking reassurance.

  ‘He won’t be here. Don’t fret.’

  Jake let her in and Clover looked about her at the pretty curtains, the early daffodils that were wilting now in their vases as if in sympathy for Ramona. It was a cheery, homely place and Clover, as well as being surprised, was envious. Ramona had tried to make a comfortable home for Tom. Even if she and Ned had a house of their own Clover doubted whether she would have the enthusiasm to do for Ned what Ramona had done for Tom.

  ‘This way,’ Jake said.

  She followed him upstairs, full of apprehension. Her head was filled with memories of all the heartbreaking events that had led to this absurd situation. She had felt anger, bitterness, hatred for Ramona. But, when she saw her, she was visibly shaken. Her heart went out to her stepsister. The girl that had always looked so pretty, so zestful, so spirited, looked like death, lying pale, sickly and helpless in that brass bed. Her face was lined, she looked twenty years older than last time she saw her. When she opened her eyes Clover saw at once their dullness, lacking the sparkle she’d always associated with her.

  ‘Oh, Clover, hello…Thank you for coming…’ Her voice was weak and her breathing was laboured, but it was obvious she was determined to fight her fatigue. But then she’d always been dauntless.

  Clover went to her and took her hand, putting behind her at once all the animosity, all the prejudice she’d harboured these last months. ‘Ramona, I’m…I’m so sorry you’ve had such a rough time of…of your confinement. How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Oh, so tired, Clover…So weak—’

  Jake butted in. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said quietly to Clover. ‘I’ll be downstairs. Call me if you need me.’

  Clover smiled her thanks and turned to Ramona again. ‘Let me give you a drink. Is this lemonade?’

  Ramona nodded. Clover took the glass and raised her stepsister as best as she could from her pillow, enabling her to sip from it. She seemed so light and so frail.

  ‘Thank you…’ Ramona wiped her lips with the back of her hand. ‘We sort of lost contact with each other, didn’t we, Clover?’

  Clover smiled forgivingly. ‘I think circumstances got in the way a bit.’

  ‘And since last time I saw you I’ve had plenty time to think it over…And there’s something I want you to know.’

  ‘No, you don’t have to say anything, Ramona, believe me. You were just as entitled—’

  ‘No, Clover…’ Ramona shook her head and it seemed to take a great effort. ‘I have to tell you this. It might be my one and only chance to make amends before I meet my maker—’

  ‘Don’t say that, Ramona.’

  ‘If I don’t tell you I’ll never rest in peace…’ The hazy sun managed to break free of the grey clouds that had had been smothering it, lending a suffused, eerie glow to that bedroom through the net curtains. Ramona sighed profoundly. ‘My baby, Clover…Have you seen him yet?’

  ‘Not yet. Later. When I’ve seen you. Who’s he like?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I hope to God he’s not like his father…’

  ‘Not?’ Clover was taken aback.

  ‘No…’ She shook her head again. ‘I can’t tell anybody else this…But, you see, Clover, it’s not Tom’s child…Tom’s not the father. Oh, I thought he was. I want him to be, more than anything. But see, he can’t be. It’s another man’s child…’

  Clover closed her eyes in anguish at hearing this astonishing confession. She felt herself begin to tremble and wilfully tried to check it. She tried not to show the new and totally unexpected twist of pain from the grief that suddenly rent her heart more cruelly than any spear could. Thoughts of what might have been flashed through her mind in little more than the time it took to blink. So many missed opportunities to rectify her rift with Tom had passed her by and she had nobody to blame but herself. Yet there was also bitter-sweet relief drifting around somewhere in her tortured mind; it was the relief of learning that Tom, after all, was not responsible for making Ramona pregnant.

  ‘So do you want to tell me who the father is?’ she asked, overcoming the torpor of shock by force of will.

  ‘No, Clover…I don’t want to tell you, ’cause I’m ashamed…Really ashamed…But I’m going to tell you anyway, ’cause I want you to be under no illusion about me…’

  She paused and Clover did not know whether she was trying to summon up the courage or muster the physical strength to finally name the mystery man. Clover tensed, conscious that her fingernails were pressing into the palms of her hands.

  ‘My Uncle Elijah is the father…’

  It took a couple of seconds for this further, electrifying revelation to register. When it did, Clover gasped. For a few seconds she could think of nothing to say. No suitable words would lend themselves. Eventually, it dawned on her what must have happened. ‘You mean he raped you?’ she suggested with abhorrence.

  ‘No, I mean we had a thing going – an affair. Oh, for months.’


  ‘Good God! But…Your own uncle?’

  ‘I know,’ Ramona said, her voice tailing off in resignation. ‘I think that’s why he got married to Dorcas all in a rush…so as he was out of reach, sort of thing, ’cause I wanted him to give her up and just have me…I think he might have feared he’d put me in the family way as well…I was in love with him, Clover…Anyway, at about the same time, you and Tom had stopped courting, and I…Well, we started meeting, Tom and me…and…Well, we were both upset…Both on the rebound, I suppose…But I really thought it was Tom’s child I was carrying.’

  ‘So what made you realise it wasn’t?’

  Ramona moistened her lips that were blue from loss of blood and she shivered. ‘When I started in labour and Tom went for the midwife, I found me diary from last year. I looked for the last time I’d started me bleeding. I had to go back to the beginning of May to find it. I was never that regular, Clover. Sometimes I’d go six weeks…more sometimes. The last time me and Elijah did it was the fifth of June. Then I looked for where I knew I’d written down the first time me and Tom did it. It was a Thursday. The twenty-fifth of June. Three weeks later. So I worked it out – if the child was Tom’s it would be no more than an eight-month baby by this time. But he’s big, Clover. He’s gone full term. He might even have gone over his time and be late if I got caught sometime in May. It has to be Elijah’s baby. Don’t you see?’

  ‘Yes, I do see, Ramona…’

  There followed a long silence while Clover digested this news. If only she had known this before. If only she had had an inkling about Elijah. Things would have been so different. Even now, she might be married to Tom herself, perhaps living in this very house with him. Oh, she would have been so content. She would have been so happy. But fate had not ordained that she should be so fortunate.

  Ramona, meanwhile, was glad of the few moments’ rest; she was exhausted. She closed her eyes and tried to ease her physical discomfort by shuffling, a look of intense tiredness on her ashen face. Eventually, she opened her eyes and looked at Clover. ‘I’m so sorry, Clover,’ she whispered, seeing her stepsister so visibly troubled. ‘I feel so guilty that I sort of stole Tom right from under your very nose…specially because I realise that the child you’re carrying must be Tom’s.’