The Doorstep Child

by Annie Murray

  But Bea’s presence was a comfort and when she asked how the proud father was doing, Evie said, ‘Oh, he’s happy as anything to have a lad.’ So far as everyone else was concerned they were the attractive, happy couple they had always been.

  But suddenly she couldn’t keep up the facade any longer and she was in tears.

  ‘Eh, love, what’s up? Got the blues, have you?’ Bea was all kindness. She came and put her arms round Evie which made her cry all the more.

  ‘I don’t think Jack loves me anymore,’ she blurted, hardly even knowing that that was what she felt. She had been sensing him moving further away from her; he was forever out with the boys, not really interested in the children. She had kept going day after day without acknowledging how wretched she felt.

  ‘Oh now, come on, Evie love,’ Bea said. ‘I’m sure that’s not true. Look.’ She sat down on the chair again, still holding Evie’s hand. Evie saw the professional Bea emerge, as well as her kind friend. ‘Sometimes it’s best not to think too much about anything, when you’re feeling a bit blue. You know it hits people just after the baby’s born.’ She reached round and felt Evie’s forehead. ‘Eh, I thought you didn’t look too good – you’re burning up! Look, I’ll go and tell someone. No wonder you’re feeling bad. You might have a bit of an infection.’

  Her busy form moved along the ward. Soon came a nurse with a thermometer and Evie realized that she did in fact feel ill and not just a bit down.

  ‘Don’t you fret about anything,’ Bea told her. ‘Cath and I’ll take care of Tracy. We’ll bring her in to see you. Everything’ll be all right. Your job is to stay in here and get better.’

  By the time Jack turned up that evening, Evie was feeling very ill and had a high temperature, so that she was only barely aware that he had come and he went away without even seeing Andrew.

  Her body felt wracked – sore and torn from the birth and burning with fever. She still continued to feed her baby some of the time and the nurses topped him up with a bottle. Her breasts ached, her body sweated and she drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming distorted dreams – her baby was still inside her, struggling to get out; Jack had gone back to England and left her behind. She would wake even more worn out and frightened. But because of the miracle of penicillin, soon the fever began to abate.

  She was aware of Jack visiting from time to time. He held her hand. As she got better, her friends brought Tracy in to see her. The first time she saw her little girl, when Cath brought her in after more than a week, it was Evie, not Tracy, who burst into tears.

  ‘Mama,’ Tracy said solemnly, and wrapped her arms round Evie’s neck.

  ‘Oh babby,’ Evie sobbed. ‘I’ve missed you so much. D’you want to see your little brother? He’ll be coming in for a feed in a minute.’

  When the nurse carried Andrew in, Tracy gazed at him in wide-eyed awe. Cath laughed.

  ‘Well, he looks bonny,’ she said. ‘He’s none the worse for any of it.’

  ‘Andwoo,’ Tracy said, poking his face with an exploring finger. The baby winced, then gurgled and Tracy laughed.

  ‘We’ll soon be home with you, Trace,’ Evie said. ‘Then you can help me look after him, can’t you?’

  She was in hospital for just over two weeks. When they came home, Jack seemed really pleased to see them all. He had been alone for the past fortnight, with some of the women taking pity on him and bringing round meals.

  He drove Evie home with Andrew in her arms and Cath brought Tracy back to the house. She left Tracy and withdrew tactfully to let them all be alone.

  ‘You all right?’ Jack asked, helping her in through the front door. She was surprised and touched by how concerned he was. He didn’t like hospitals, she knew. He was happier to have her back home.

  ‘I’m all right,’ she smiled. ‘No need to fuss. And I gather you’ve had them all clucking round you – lucky for you, eh? Now we can all be together. Be a family properly.’

  ‘How’s little’un then?’ Jack looked down at Andrew as he settled Evie into her chair. She was wearing a loose skirt and blouse that it was easy to feed Andrew in. The room was tidy and the windows open onto the garden in the warmth, letting in the scent of cut grass. She still felt weak and drifty, but she was on the mend and it felt wonderful to be home. She settled into her rocker with a feeling of luxury.

  ‘Oh, he’s all right. Been living like a king.’ She latched Andrew on and he suckled happily. Tracy stood watching, fascinated.

  Jack smiled. ‘Want a cup of tea?’

  ‘Yeah, go on then.’

  She was amazed by the way he fussed around her that evening. He’s missed me – missed all of us – she thought. Maybe my being ill was for the best. He’s had to be on his own all this time. She thought back to her sense of despair in the hospital. It was because I was feverish, she thought, I was just blowing everything out of proportion.

  And Jack seemed pleased that at least Andrew was a boy.

  ‘He can learn to ski, soon as he can walk,’ he joked, sitting down beside her with a mug of tea. Tracy was playing nearby with her wooden horse. ‘And play ice hockey – learn it straight away, like they do here.’

  ‘Course he can.’ Evie smiled. ‘This is nice,’ she said, reaching out a hand. Jack, after a second’s hesitation, linked his hand in hers. ‘It’s heaven all being together like this, Jack. You, me and the kids.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Yeah.’ He squeezed her hand and let it go. ‘I just, er . . .’ He spoke as if reluctantly, but he got the words out all the same. ‘On Saturday, there’s a group of the lads going up country for a fishing trip . . .’

  Evie felt her heart sink. Today was Thursday. Surely he wasn’t thinking of going away already? Couldn’t he have said he would miss it this time?

  ‘Oh Jack, d’you have to?’ She was immediately near to tears. She needed him to stay with her, to look after her.

  ‘Thing is . . .’ He wasn’t looking at her. He spoke to the open windows. ‘I, er . . .’ He couldn’t find any excuse or justification. ‘I said I would, yeah. There’s not a lot I can do with the kids.’ He made a joke of it. ‘I mean, I can’t feed him, can I?’

  Evie tried to swallow her sense of rejection. It felt like a physical blow. She knew she ought to say that yes, of course she minded. But she never liked standing up to Jack in case . . . In case what? She did want to think about that. And anyway, what difference did it make now? It was the fact that he took it for granted that he was going that hurt. He didn’t want to be with her and the kids – he wanted to be away with the lads.

  All right, if that’s how you feel, she thought, looking down at Andrew to hide her tears. Just sod off and leave us all then, if that’s what you want.

  ‘You don’t mind, do yer?’ Jack said, broad Brummie again suddenly. She noticed he did that when he wanted to get round her. ‘It’s only a couple of days, like. You’re a good wench.’

  When Jack came back from his fishing trip that weekend, which she spent with her women friends and the children, putting a brave face on it all, he was very attentive and apologetic. Evie realized that the other men – not to mention their wives – must have had a few things to say to him about going off and leaving her when she had not only just borne him a son but had been so ill.

  She imagined Don Sorenson taking him aside for a fatherly chat: ‘Now look here, son, Edith says you really should be back home this weekend.’

  Whatever had happened, Jack was not going to say, but Evie was grateful to whoever it was. For a while Jack was more attentive and came home a little earlier from work. He even opted out of the next fishing trip and instead took Evie out for a drive with the kids in the car. They made one of their rare drives towards the Rockies. With Andrew in her lap, she watched the great spaces of the prairies swallowed beneath their wheels.

  ‘This is lovely, Jack,’ she said, as the majestic grey peaks with their folds of summer snow eased into view with the sun on them, behind the shadowy lower hills. She was grate
ful, ready to forgive him anything. He had two weeks all on his own while I was in hospital, she thought, finding excuses for him. Got a bit too used to the bachelor life again, silly old thing.

  Sun and wind were pouring in through the car window, Tracy had dozed off along the back seat and it felt as if everything was going to be all right. A shadow fell on her thoughts, chilling her. What if it all went wrong? What if Jack wasn’t happy? She thought back with shame and embarrassment to her outburst to Bea in the hospital. I don’t think Jack loves me anymore . . . Bea had put it down to her being in an emotional state after the birth. Bea was right, Evie told herself. Course she was.

  She took a deep breath of the fresh air. As she did so, she found in herself an iron sense of resolve. No more outbursts like that. Whatever happened, she was going to make her marriage work and she must never say anything to anyone that was disloyal to Jack ever again.

  She turned and smiled at him as he drove and he sensed her looking and gave her a smile back.

  ‘It’s a bit of all right, isn’t it?’ he said. They were passing a lake, its ruffled surface icy blue. And he was being so nice. Like the old times.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she said. And it was, all of it. The beauty of it, Jack and her children close by. This was how everything should be.

  Her dream was intact.

  Thirty-Nine

  August 1969

  ‘We’re going on a holiday!’ Evie announced to the children.

  ‘With Dad?’ Tracy asked doubtfully. Now nearly five, she was still a serious, rather grown-up little girl. Evie felt a pang at the disbelief in her voice that their father would want to spend time with them.

  ‘Yes, course with Dad,’ she said in a jolly voice. ‘He’s taking us camping.’

  ‘Camping!’ Andrew leapt about with excitement. He was three; dark-haired and brown-eyed, but lively and wiry like Jack.

  These days they hardly ever went anywhere all together because it seemed such an effort. Evie had learned to drive, but she just took the kids out around town, to the Lake with some of the others, or on picnic trips.

  ‘They’re old enough to take some of it in now,’ she said to Jack. ‘’Specially Trace. How about we go camping?’ He liked going camping with some of his mates. ‘Andrew’s going to be keen on all that if we start him early, isn’t he?’

  Jack seemed reluctant.

  ‘We never go on holidays, Jack,’ she begged, hurt by his lack of enthusiasm but trying desperately not to sound peevish. Her life had become a struggle to keep Jack happy. She was so used to it she hardly noticed anymore. It was what you did, she thought. ‘Everyone else goes on holiday. They must find it funny that we never do.’

  This hit home. They were not used to holidays; had never had them in their lives before. But now, if there was one thing Jack always wanted, it was to fit in.

  ‘Go on then. All right,’ he said.

  Evie was excited. Apart from a few little drives out she had still hardly been anywhere in Canada. Her life had come to revolve round the kids and her neighbours in Rosette. During the first years of Andrew’s life they had quickly settled into a routine.

  Jack was taken up with his male world of work, of weekends fishing or at hockey games or skiing; Evie with the women and children, and all the concerns of childhood illnesses and nursery school and the daily round. She was happy, proud of her two children and immersed in them. It was all she had wanted and her children helped to heal the painful rent in her experience made by her birth family. If it meant giving Jack as much time away from them doing what he wanted, then that was what she was going to do and put a brave face on it.

  She tried to tell herself that their lives were not slipping further and further apart. Some weeks she hardly saw Jack. He got up early to get to work, often went for a drink after, making sure he was home once she had got Tracy and Andrew to bed. Weekends he saw as his time to be out – fishing, hiking, at hockey games.

  It was just how it was, she told herself. Men and women lived in different worlds. Bea and Cath and the others joked about their husbands and how hopeless they were in the house. Evie laughed along with them. These friends were the ones who helped her most – during the childhood illnesses and getting through the long winter days. Jack had his male world and she had hers.

  When they were together, they rubbed along all right amid all the busyness, mainly because she never questioned his right to do exactly as he pleased.

  With the car loaded up, they drove towards the Rockies, heading west across the prairie towards the distant, shrouded peaks. At first the day was overcast and soon they were driving between dark, sheer walls of rock, heaped rockfalls at their feet. The lakes, in this louring day, looked like pools of liquid steel. Evie found herself feeling dragged down by it. She felt shut in and threatened by the dark mountains, by the land’s endlessness, its dour, punishing moods.

  But by the afternoon, the sky had cleared to a pale eggshell blue, the highest peaks peeping and vanishing with every bend in the road, some grey, some capped with snow. The steel waters lit to a vivid blue and all was transformed into something awesome and beautiful and she liked Canada better again. They all relaxed and Jack even joined in some nursery rhymes to keep the kids happy.

  But camping with two little ones was harder work than she had reckoned on. There was all the putting up of the tent, the searches for water and the preparation of food on a little stove. The moments when one or other child was roaring because they had got wet, or were bitten by some insect. And that was when the weather was fine and they were not crouching inside the tent, looking out at one of the endless downpours which could block out almost everything to be seen around.

  As the days went by, however hard Evie tried to keep everyone going – ‘Let’s all play a game! Who wants to paddle?’ – Jack grew more and more tetchy. It was hard to walk very far. The children were too young for long hikes. There was no private time for the two of them together, for the lovemaking that still brought them closer for a while, since they were all crowded into one tent.

  In the end, hating the tension Jack was injecting into each day, Evie started telling him to go off and do what he wanted, to try and put him in a better mood. She stayed behind and had to keep the children entertained. Some days, she realized with guilty unease, she preferred it when he wasn’t there. It made life easier. In the end they spent hardly any of the holiday together.

  On the last afternoon, on their way home, they had a long distance to drive. They drove in heavy silence. It had not been a success. Evie looked out, her heart heavy. She was longing now to get home, for them to be able to sink back into their normal life and routine, with their friends around them. She tried to push away the sense of despair she felt that being with Jack had been so difficult.

  He seemed desperate to get home. She knew better than to say anything, but she kept sneaking little glances at his frowning face, his elbows tensed as he held the wheel, driving as fast as the roads would allow. Inside her the feeling of tension and hurt was heavy, like a stone.

  Part of the journey took them along a straight, seemingly endless road through lonely country, the golden remains of harvested grain stretching away on each side and no petrol station for many miles. The day was hot. Andrew started howling, bored and uncomfortable. Jack began letting out sharp, angry sighs. Thunderclouds gathered in his face.

  ‘Shut him up, can’t you, for Christ’s sake!’ he erupted at last.

  ‘I’m trying,’ Evie snapped back, her nerves completely frayed. For once, after the week they had had, she couldn’t keep quiet. ‘It’s not my fault, is it? Why don’t you do something to help for once? They’re your kids as well, Jack. All you ever think about is yourself. And watch your language!’

  She twisted round, ignoring Jack’s furious muttering, to deal with Andrew. ‘Come on, babby, stop that now. D’you want a sweetie?’ But he was wriggling and fighting in the seat, the tense atmosphere in the car only making him worse.

 
‘Here, Andrew,’ Tracy said. ‘You can have my bear. Look, he wants to play with you.’ Her blue eyes full of worry, she thrust her little brown teddy at her brother, trying to get him to be quiet. Evie’s heart buckled at the sight of her tousled, honey-coloured hair and scared face. Andrew didn’t want her bear. He was past being pacified by anything.

  Moments later the car started to bump erratically and they rolled to a halt. Jack got out to look, his face taking on an even more grim expression.

  He stooped down and disappeared from view. Then reappeared. And just went mad. He slammed both hands down on the bonnet before reeling about at the side of the road, ranting at the top of his voice. Evie sat frozen, separated from him by a pane of glass and what seemed to be an ocean of pent-up feeling gushing out because a tyre was flat.

  Jack was in a world of his own, not looking at her or the children. She saw him as if he was a wild stranger, this man in jeans and a red and black plaid shirt, cropped hair gleaming in the sun, lost in his rage. How nice his hair looks, she thought, the way it falls away from his parting. There he was, this man, her husband, as good looking as a film star, pacing and ranting, waving his arms and swearing. Who was he, this man she had lived with now for five years?

  She heard a lot of it. Some of the words that broke out of him engraved themselves in her mind.

  ‘Look what you’ve cowing well reduced me to!’ Jack yelled. He was very Brummie again in his fury. ‘I never wanted kids in the first place and now I’m cowing well stuck with the whole soddin’ lot of yer . . .’

  Evie’s heart seemed to stop. She sat very still, clasping her hands in her lap, on her plump thighs in her navy blue slacks. She could not do anything about the fact that Tracy could probably hear every word her father was saying. The worst of it was that the children were now deadly silent. Evie could not even turn and look at them. She sat like a statue, numb inside.