She sat down with her infant on her knee, his tiny mouth fixing hungrily round the teat of the bottle, but in a moment Alex Robb turned round. ‘It’s a girl, but I’m afraid it’s been dead for some weeks,’ he said sadly, then bent to his task again.
Elspeth was shocked. Poor Mrs Watson, to go through all that for nothing. Replacing her son in the pram, she put the kettle on to boil again in order to have a cup of tea ready for the doctor when he had washed his hands, and hot tears pricked her eyes as it crossed her mind that she was doing what her mother would have done in the circumstances.
‘There’s no need for the birth to be registered,’ the man observed, as he crossed to the sink after making a bundle of everything to be disposed. ‘The foetus had not developed far enough. Now, Mrs Watson may be very distressed, so you will have to be careful what you say to her.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘She has had a very bad time, so it’s good that she’s got you here to look after her.’
‘She did the same for me.’
When he left, after refusing the tea she offered, Elspeth approached the bed, but her landlady was asleep, and looked so white that the girl decided it would be best to leave her until she woke. Changing the bed could wait.
Little John was ready for his next feed before the faint voice said, ‘Elspeth?’
She carried the infant to the bed. ‘Would you like a cup of tea now, Mrs Watson?’
‘I’m thinking you could call me Helen now, for we’ve been through an awful lot together, me and you. Give me the bairn, for I’ll need to feed it.’ To Elspeth’s horror, she opened the buttons on her nightdress then held out her arms.
‘But ... but ...’ the girl stuttered, remembering that the doctor had told her to be careful what she said. Obviously the woman didn’t remember that her child had been dead, and she couldn’t upset her now. ‘You’re maybe not fit to be feeding him yet. I can give him a bottle.’
‘Give him a bottle? When my breasts are full o’ milk?’
Very reluctantly, Elspeth handed her baby over, and felt a great tightness in her chest when the woman guided his mouth to her nipple. It wouldn’t do him any harm, she assured herself. It was like in the old days, when women who couldn’t suckle their infants had wet-nurses to do it for them. And surely, by tomorrow, when Helen was back to normal again, she would remember everything.
The kitchen bed had been changed and everything was in place by the time Jimmy came home, but he was alarmed to see his wife in bed. ‘What’s wrong, lass?’
‘Nothing’s wrong. We’ve got another son. He come early.’
Elspeth’s horrified gasp made him look at her in surprise, and when she shook her head vigorously at him, he knew that something was not right. Before he turned away from his wife, however, he took her hand. ‘How are you, Helen?’
‘I’m fine, though I maybe wouldna be, if it hadna been for Doctor Robb.’
‘Thank God he was here, then.’ Jimmy straightened up, and when Elspeth motioned to him, he followed her into the lobby. ‘Is there something I should ken?’ he demanded. ‘Is Helen worse than she’s letting on?’
‘Oh, Jimmy,’ Elspeth gulped, ‘I’m sure she’s lost her senses. Her baby was dead-born, a little girl, but when she wakened up, she saw John and she thought he was hers. She even made me let her feed him, and the doctor said I’d to watch what I said to her, for she’d had a hard time ... oh, God, what’ll I do?’
A frown on his lined face, Jimmy drew in his lips. ‘Oh, my poor Helen. She was built up on having a wee bairn of her own again ... could you not just play along wi’ her for a while, Elspeth? Just till she comes to herself?’
‘I ... I suppose so.’ Elspeth’s feet trailed as she returned to the kitchen. She would ‘play along’ for a wee while, but she couldn’t let it run on too long.
Chapter Fourteen
The following morning, when Helen asked to hold baby John to let Elspeth get on with the washing, the girl was quite pleased, but she kept looking across to the bed to make sure that her landlady was not over-tiring herself. Almost an hour later, when she came in from hanging the sheets out to dry in the back green and saw that the woman was suckling the infant again, she couldn’t stop herself shouting, ‘Helen! What do you think you’re doing?’
‘I’m just feeding my dear lambie. What’s the sense in having to buy Glaxo when I’ve plenty milk?’
‘But ... but the doctor tell’t me to bind you.’
‘I took it off. Stop fussing, lass, my milk’s good.’
Remembering how expensive the tins of Glaxo were, and how quickly they went down, Elspeth said nothing more. Breast milk was far better for a baby anyway, she told herself, trying to still the tremor of fear that ran through her. So Helen was allowed to keep feeding baby John, Jimmy’s brows coming down the first time he saw her at it. ‘I some think you shouldna be doing that, lass,’ he told his wife, who just laughed. ‘Donald thrived on my milk.’
Elspeth grew more and more dismayed because she was never allowed to do anything for her son except wash his clothes and napkins, so when she remembered the invitation to King’s Gate, she wondered if the doctor’s wife could advise her on how to deal with her landlady. ‘I think I’ll take John out in the pram for a wee while,’ she said, one afternoon. ‘I could go and let Mrs Robb see him.’
The woman in the bed smiled. ‘I think you’re as proud o’ him as me.’
‘Aye,’ the girl said, slowly, ‘I am proud o’ him.’
When the maid showed Elspeth in, Ann Robb fussed for a few minutes over the chubby woollen bundle, then said, ‘I’m sorry I have to rush, because I’m due at a meeting at three, but I’d love to see you and your son again.’
Walking back up the hill, Elspeth knew that she had lost the opportunity of finding out how to surmount her problem. Mrs Robb would never understand how she could let it run on, when she should have corrected Helen from the first time she suspected what was happening. She had stood up to Janet Bain, but this was different. Janet was a wicked, vile-minded woman, and Helen was a friend, a friend whose mind had been turned by the loss of a longed-for child. She wasn’t wicked, she was to be pitied, and shielded until she could face reality again.
In a little over two weeks, Helen was bustling around the small flat, cheery as ever, but Elspeth was troubled about the wisdom of staying on in Quarry Street when the woman had taken possession of her child. Determined to make a stand at last, she broached the subject one rainy afternoon. ‘I think I should look for other lodgings, Helen. We’re crowded now, wi’ the pram, and all. I could take a live-in job, somewhere they wouldn’t object to John.’
Helen looked aghast. ‘What’s John got to do wi’ it?’
‘Well, he’s ... I thought ...’ Elspeth was floundering now, and felt that it was still too soon to confront her landlady with the brutal truth.
Looking at her with some pity, Helen said, ‘I ken you think the world o’ him, but he’s my little man, so you should just take a day job, and you’d be able to see him when you come home every night. Besides, I’m not wanting to lose you.’
Longing to say that he wasn’t her little man, Elspeth could not bring herself to upset the woman who had befriended her in her hour of need. Instead, she said, ‘I’ll need to start paying for my keep, then. I’ve nothing left now except the money you’ll not let me touch, and I can’t expect you to go on paying for everything.’
‘You’ve worked for your keep, lass. I wouldna have managed after John was born without you looking after me, and the house ... and Jimmy.’
Elspeth felt a moment’s panic. Helen really did believe that she had given birth to John. How could she have forgotten the tiny blue infant that had come out of her womb ... lifeless? But maybe it was her way of getting over her tragedy. Maybe she would accept it come time and realize that John didn’t belong to her ... she must realize. ‘You’re back on your feet now, though,’ the girl said, gently, ‘and you don’t need me to look afte
r you.’
‘I can see you’re determined to get a job, and maybe it’s just as well. There’s not much room for the two of us in this kitchen all day.’
Elspeth sighed, but made one last attempt to claim her son. ‘Would you be prepared to look after John when I’m out working?’
‘Who else would look after him?’
‘Will Jimmy not mind?’
‘Why should he mind?’ Helen lifted the baby out of the pram. ‘You’re Jimmy’s bairn and all, aren’t you, my pet?’
This final proof of what Helen believed made Elspeth feel like seizing her child and running off with him, but she realized that it might be better to have a word with Jimmy first. He would surely be willing to reason with his wife.
When he came in at teatime, Helen told him that Elspeth was thinking of going out to work, at which he scratched his head in wonderment. ‘It’s funny you should speak the day about getting a job, lassie, for one o’ the lads was saying this morning that his auntie’s in charge o’ the cafe in the Market, and she can’t get lassies the now – they’re all making munitions.’
‘It’s more wages,’ Helen conceded, ‘but they work long hours and Elspeth wouldna want that.’
‘I wasna saying she should make munitions.’ Jimmy rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘I was meaning she might get a job as a waitress, and that’s a step up from being in service, I would think.’ He glanced at Elspeth triumphantly.
A little frown creased her forehead. ‘I don’t know the first thing about waitressing, though.’
‘You’d manage fine. Go down to the cafe the morrow and ask for ...’ His face fell. ‘Och, I never thought to ask what her name was.’
‘Och, you, you’re useless,’ Helen chided him, fondly. ‘Just ask for the lady in charge, Elspeth, and tell her it was her nephew said she was needing waitresses. You might as well try – there’s no harm in asking.’ She brought the discussion to an end by rising to put the baby back in his pram, and starting to clear the table.
When Helen went to the lavatory, Elspeth seized her chance. ‘Jimmy,’ she began, rather apprehensively, ‘do you think it’s a good thing for me to leave John wi’ Helen? She still thinks John’s hers, and the longer it goes on, the harder it’ll be for her to give him up to me.’
‘I was feared for this,’ he said, sadly. ‘Some women can’t face losing a bairn. I’ve heard o’ some that go off their heads altogether and steal another woman’s out o’ a pram ... I suppose that’s just what Helen’s done, when you come to think about it. John’s a substitute for the poor wee thing that didna live. She needed comfort, and she’s got it from him, but she’s aye been a strong woman, and I’m sure she’ll get her wits back in another week or two.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Just keep going along wi’ her, Elspeth, for she’s been through a real bad time.’
‘Aye, so she has.’ Elspeth felt annoyed at herself for mentioning it. She should be glad that Helen was so fond of John, for it meant that she would have no worries about leaving the woman to look after him.
When Elspeth returned from her mission the following day, she was babbling with excitement. ‘I’ve to start at seven the morrow morning. Miss Mackay was pleased I went, and she says I’m just the kind o’ girl she was looking for.’
Helen nodded approvingly. ‘Aye, you’re neat and clean, and you’ve a bonnie face. That would be important in a cafe.’
‘We’ve to wear black dresses, and white aprons and caps, and they supply them but we’ve to launder them, and the early shift’s seven to three, and the late shift’s three to eleven.’ Elspeth stopped, breathlessly.
‘Hold on, my brain’s spinning.’ Helen, holding baby John on her knee, was rocking him gently as the girl prattled.
‘You’ll not mind me working shifts? It’ll be near midnight before I get home if I’m on late.’
‘No, no, lassie, it makes no difference to me.’
‘They’ve some busy spells, when the fish market porters come in for breakfasts or dinners, but in between there’s sailors off the boats, and soldiers passing through, and country women waiting for a train.’
Helen burst out laughing. ‘I suppose I’ll get a report every day about the goings on at the People’s Cafe.’
‘Och, you,’ Elspeth smiled. ‘You’re making fun o’ me.’
The clock in the steeple had struck six before Meg Forrest got away from the committee meeting in the kirk vestry. Wheeling her bicycle down the stony path, she felt irritated that Mrs Black, the minister’s wife, hadn’t been firm enough to get them to make up their minds about the Harvest Festival. If old Mrs Proctor, the banker’s wife, had been there, she’d have had it organized in record time, but she had sent her apologies.
Meg shivered as she reached the road. The vestry had been cold, but she would be warm enough by the time she got home, for she’d have to hurry. As she pedalled round the corner into the High Street, two girls came out of Miss Fraser’s workshop, a little ahead, the small one shouting, ‘Cheerio, Nettie,’ as she disappeared into a low cottage.
The other girl looked round, startled, when Meg dismounted beside her. ‘Oh it’s you, Mrs Blairt ... Mrs Forrest. What a fear you gave me.’
Meg smiled at the confusion over her name. ‘You’re Nettie Duffus, aren’t you? Have you ever heard from Elspeth Gray since she went to the town?’
‘No, she’s never wrote, and she’s never been to see us. I think she’ll not want to come back, for it would remind her about John For ... oh!’ Nettie’s face turned scarlet.
‘It’s all right, Nettie,’ Meg assured her. ‘I ken’t about her and John, and I’ve something to tell her. I don’t want to ask her folk for her address, though, in case she never tell’t them about my John.’
‘I don’t think Lizzie kens where she is, any road. I asked her myself last week, for I thought I’d like to write and see how Elspeth was getting on, and she looked at me real funny. I think there must have been a row about Elspeth going to Aberdeen.’
Meg was disappointed. The new grandfather clock in her parlour would have to remain where it was, though Blairton would not be pleased, for he moaned every day about having to squeeze past it before he could get a seat.
Helen Watson had been correct in supposing that she would get a daily report about the cafe. Elspeth came home full of it the very first afternoon, her worry about John forgotten for the time being. ‘D’you ken this, Helen?’ she said, after she had exhausted everything else. ‘We’ve to serve from one side and take the dirty dishes from the other side.’
‘Mmphmm?’ Helen’s mouth held a safety pin – she was in the process of changing the baby.
‘Miss Mackay says though it’s just a little cafe for working folk, she wants it run like the big restaurants.’
‘I hope you’ll not expect your big rest-your-ant ideas in this kitchen.’ Helen laid little John down in his pram and looked proudly at the girl. ‘I took John out in his pram this morning, and Mrs Norrie from number six come into the shop behind me, and she says to me, “I see you’ve had your bairn, Mrs Watson? What a bonnie wee thing he is.” Well, he is, isn’t he, Elspeth?’
After a slight pause, Elspeth murmured, ‘Aye, he is.’ She could not imagine what John Forrest would have said about her letting Helen carry on with her fantasy. It was as if she were denying their son, but she would never have been in this predicament if he had still been alive. Anyway, if the neighbours thought the baby was the Watsons’, it would stop any gossip about her, and once Helen remembered and accepted that her own baby had died, it could all be put right.
When she persuaded her landlady to let her take the infant out in the pram herself after that, she had to bite her tongue when the kindly women of Quarry Street said, ‘You’re the lassie that lodges wi’ Mrs Watson, aren’t you? This’ll be her bairnie?’
She found it hard to smile and nod, when her heart was telling her to shout, ‘No, he’s mine! Mine and a poor, dead soldier’s.’ After feelin
g particularly resentful one day, she went home and burst out, ‘Helen, this has gone on long enough! I can’t stand any more of it!’
‘My goodness, lass, what’s up wi’ you?’
The woman’s expression of concern made the girl take a deep breath. ‘It’s time to face facts. Everybody thinks John’s your baby, and ...’
‘But John is my baby. Do you not mind the awful labour I had? Not that I’m complaining, for the lambie was worth it.’
‘Aye, I mind the terrible time you had,’ Elspeth began, ‘and I mind how sorry I felt when Doctor Robb said ...’ She broke off, unable to remind her landlady what had been the outcome of that labour.
Her eyes narrowing, Helen said, a little impatiently, ‘I think you’re working too hard at that cafe. It’s making you muddle things up in your mind. I didna like to say anything before in case you didna want to speak about it, but I suppose it’s wi’ me having John so quick after you lost your bairnie that’s made you ...’
‘I didna lose my baby!’ Elspeth shouted. ‘It was you!’
Shaking her head and tutting, Helen said, sadly, ‘I ken how you must feel, but you’ll get over it, lass.’
Utterly defeated, Elspeth turned away. It was no use, for Helen would not be told, but it would all come back to her one of these days.
As the weeks passed, Elspeth found little time to dwell on the rights and wrongs of allowing people to believe their mistaken conclusions, and gradually put it to the back of her mind. She loved her job, and found herself parrying the teasing – even giving back as good as she got – of the bluff, hearty regulars to the cafe, with their store of witticisms. They had no counterparts in Auchlonie, where the men were more dour and serious, their few jokes lacking the snappiness of the city workers. The servicemen she had to deal with, however, were mostly single men out for a lark with any young girl, and she soon learned how to rebuff their amorous advances without causing offence, and to smilingly refuse if one of them, bolder than the rest, asked her to go out with him.
Time Shall Reap Page 14
