‘Why?’ he asked foolishly. He was quickly galvanised into action when she sagged, as another contraction hit her. Making sure she was as comfortable as possible, he set out on Henry’s bicycle to fetch the midwife. He floundered through the deep snow, spurred on by the urgency of the situation. It was his first meeting with the woman and he felt a sense of shock, seeing the tiny woman who was supposed to be the solution to his problem. They floundered their way through the snow. Drifts were several feet high and on one occasion, he quite expected his companion would be buried. He sat her on the cycle and pushed her to the house. Once she arrived, she took complete charge. Mary appeared, still full of cold and was quickly dispatched back to bed.
‘Can’t do with any extra patients at the moment. Now, Archie, get the kettle on and make everyone cups of hot sweet tea. And back up that fire. We’ll need the warmth later.’ She scuttled off upstairs to Dora and apart from the occasional bumps, he heard nothing of the trauma he believed was going on in the room above. Dora did not scream the way his mother had and he was afraid that things were going wrong. Using the offer of more cups of tea as an excuse, he went up to see how things were progressing.
‘What’s the time?’ the little midwife demanded, as she heard him approaching the bedroom door.
‘About four, I think. How are things going?’ He heard a tiny cry and pushed the door open. Dora was lying back, covered in perspiration and laughing with delight.
‘Your daughter was born at four o’clock. Well, near enough. Here she is. Say hello to the little thing.’ Archie stood motionless, looking at the bundle the woman was holding. ‘Come on then. Take hold of her. Poor little mite. She’ll think no-one wants her if you don’t brace up.’ Tears filling his eyes, he stepped forward and took the towel-like bundle. In the middle lay the reddest most wizened face he’d ever seen.
‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ Dora said feebly.
‘Er . . . well yes. I s’pose she is.’ He stared at the tiny creature and at once fell in love, felt a sense of total panic, followed by concern for his wife. ‘Are you all right, love? I mean, you’ve been very quiet.’
‘She’s fine,’ the midwife chirped as she worked on cleaning and clearing his wife. ‘Good girl. Made no fuss and delivered perfectly. Wish they were all like her. The way some of them yell, you’d think they were the first ever to give birth. But your missus was a real good’un.’
‘She’s one of a kind,’ Archie said proudly. ‘But the baby. Is she all right? They said there might be some damage. You know, after the operation and everything.’
‘She’s got a bit of a blob on her arm but everything else looks fine. We won’t know till much later of course. When she starts to grow a bit.’
‘She’s going to be just fine, I know it. And she’ll be a blond and have blue eyes.’ As her mother was speaking, the child opened its clear blue eyes and stared at her father with all the wisdom of the world held in her gaze.
‘You’re right, she’s got blue eyes,’ Archie breathed, his own green eyes glowing with pride. The midwife didn’t bother to tell him that all babies have blue eyes to begin with. The colour came later. ‘Can’t say if she’ll be a blond. She’s completely bald.’
‘Right now. We’ll get Mother settled and then sort out the little one. You have got someone to help you, haven’t you?’
Archie explained that the rest of the household was down with flu or at least, with heavy colds. Dora interrupted and said she’d made disinfectant cotton balls to hang round the crib. Nobody was going to risk infecting her precious baby. There was a small fire burning in the bedroom grate and the light was warm and cheerful. Despite feeling as if she’d been kicked hard in the stomach, Dora was ecstatic. She never once considered the possibility of there being anything wrong with the baby. The red mark on her arm was noticeable but never enough to worry about during those early months. They decided to call her Carole Mary. Dora’s parents could hardly wait to get over their colds and come to make a fuss of the baby. The fact that they already had three grandchildren from their other daughter seemed to mean little in comparison. Mary occasionally felt guilty but she had never got on particularly well with Margaret.
It was the spring of 1941 when Leslie announced that he was forced to close down the factory for the duration. The duration was the term springing up all over the country, as if trying to give an air of continuity ready for when things got back to normal. Archie felt the call of duty and without saying anything to his family, went to sign up. He hoped his education and experience of management might give him the chance of some rank. He failed the medical. Though it was unexpected, he felt a sense of overwhelming relief. He was however, expected to do war work, whatever that might turn out to be. He did not have to wait for long. There was a munitions factory opened in the middle of unspoilt countryside, some way out of the heart of the Potteries. They said the skills used in the manufacturing of china were evidently suitable for those expected to work on munitions. It was the steady hands and ability to paint that were the main reason for this, or so they said. Many of the former workers were forced to board the fleet of buses that collected the workers each day and travel the miles to the Royal Ordnance Factory at Swynnerton. Archie joined them and soon found himself working in the research and development department. Some of his own former workers were working there, packing gunpowder into shell cases. It was dreadful work, dangerous in every way. After a few months, the girls all took on the tinge of yellow to their skin and were offered cheap make-up as compensation. The sight of them all wearing turbans wrapped round their heads was imprinted on his mind for ever. Occasional curlers peeped out from the swathes of fabric and he wondered if they ever took them out to let their hair flow free. Despite their cheerful attitudes, it broke his heart to see such talent being wasted but it was work that was urgently needed.
A large estate of partly prefabricated houses was built much closer to the factory and many of the workers were offered homes there. Archie broke the news to the family and it was agreed that it would be for the best for him and his little family to accept one of them. Mary was distraught at the thought of losing the close contact with her daughter and grandchild and begged them to stay. Their minds were made up quite dramatically, when a bomb fell near the end of their road one night. Though they had dutifully built their Anderson shelter, a row of curved pieces of corrugated iron, buried well into the garden, it was too cold to take the baby out to the shelter. Instead, Harry crawled under the large heavy old kitchen table and made himself and the baby a safe nest there. The rest of them went out to the shelter but once the noise had stopped and the all-clear siren sounded, they came gladly back into the house. Harry and the baby were fast asleep and the racket of his snoring resonated through the house.
‘I think this does it for me. The houses at Walton are all reinforced and have built-in air raid shelters,’ Archie told them.
‘When would we move in?’ Dora asked. She felt torn between leaving her parents’ home and having their own space. It was truly time for them to stand on their own feet, she decided.
‘Well, not for a while. Looks like being next spring at the earliest. Some of them are finished but we’ve missed out on the first wave. We already have a home, so we’re not a priority case.’
‘This is the start of the next part our lives, isn’t it?’ Dora said, feeling a mixture of pleasure and trepidation. She had never before lived away from her parents.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Over the next months, they continued to try and live as normally as possible. Dora began to cut and set various friends’ hair in the kitchen. War or not, many of the local women wanted to look their best and the few shillings she had managed to earn were all carefully saved towards buying their own furniture. Mary and Harry gave them the bedroom suite they were currently using and they sorted out curtains and bedding ready for the possible move. Some of the furniture they had bought for Branksome was stored in the garage. It gave them a good start. As res
trictions began to hit hard, everything was used and recycled. Harry brought home all the wood he could scrounge from tea-chests and delivery crates from the shop. He had always enjoyed working with wood and was most ingenious in making odd bits of furniture, tables and shelves.
Dora and her mother were busily doing the washing one morning, when there was a knock at the door. Through the coloured glass panel, Dora could see a tall figure waiting. She opened the door and gasped in amazement.
‘William? Is that really you?’ Her brother-in-law seemed to have grown beyond all recognition since she had last seen him. He was wearing the khaki uniform of a soldier.
‘I’ve joined up at last, as you can see. Guess what? They’ve made me a P.T. instructor. Bet that’ll get Archie going. He was always on about me being the runt of the family.’
‘Come on in. I can’t believe it. We’ve heard nothing from you in months and now this.’ They made tea and sat in the kitchen chatting, catching up with each other’s news.
‘And where’s my niece?’
‘Oh good heavens,’ Dora exclaimed. ‘Poor little thing. She’s out in her playpen on the lawn. I’d forgotten all about her.’
William went outside. Lying fast asleep on her rug, lay the baby. He leaned over and spoke softly.
‘Wake up, little one. Your uncle’s come to see you.’ As she opened her eyes, she grinned a toothy grin and sat up. ‘Watch me,’ he called as he stood on his hands and walked round the playpen, his face on the same level as the child’s.
‘Show off,’ Dora called, impressed by his fitness. The baby gurgled with pleasure and shouted Dad-Dad-Dad, her latest word.
‘I’m not your Dad, worst luck,’ William said as he righted himself. ‘Might have been if I hadn’t been bad when I was a lad. Held me back, that did. That brother of mine wouldn’t have stood a chance if I’d caught up with him.’
‘Go on with you, you’re always coming out with that old line. Bring her in now and we’ll see if we can find something to feed you on. I dare say you’ve got an appetite to match your size, these days.’
‘I’ve got some bits from the NAAFI for you. Tea and sugar. I’d better keep a bit back for Mum and Dad.’
‘Take it all to them, love,’ Mary said. ‘Harry looks after us well enough. Not that he gets us extra of course but at least we always know we’re getting get our fair share. Your Mum may not be so lucky.’
He stayed with them for the night, so he had the chance to see his brother and talk about their new lives. They all felt a sense of closeness, possibly for the first time in their lives.
‘If nothing else, the war certainly unites people, doesn’t it?’ Dora said as he was leaving the next day. ‘Say hello to your Mum and Dad from us.’
When the next Christmas arrived, Harry made a small chest of drawers for Carole, using an old tea-chest. She pulled herself up against it and made several tottering attempts to walk before she fell down on to her well padded backside. She chortled at her new trick and made them all smile. Carole was such a happy little girl and gave them all plenty to think about apart from the dreadful war. Her blond curls and blue eyes won all their hearts.
‘Are we going to see your Mum and Dad this New Year?’ Dora asked.
‘I’d much rather stay here.’
‘I think we should. We didn’t see them over Christmas. It’s been ages.’
‘Won’t be any buses New Year’s Day. But then, I’m working anyhow.’
‘We could go after you finish work on the Tuesday. We’re seeing Barry and Nadine for New Year’s Eve. It’s the thirtieth on Tuesday, so it’s near enough. We’ll have to go on the bus this year.’
It was a much more difficult journey on the bus than when they’d had the use of the car. They’d sold their little car the previous year when petrol was difficult to get. Dora had watched it go with a great deal of sadness. It had represented her first bit of independence.
‘Hallo, Mum.’ Archie forced a smile as his mother opened the door.
‘What a surprise. Thought you’d forgotten where we live. Come in. By, she’s grown. I bet she doesn’t even know who I am. Hallo, little Carole.’ The child smiled up at the stranger and grinned. She muttered words that passed as hello. His mother looked older, he realised but then, he hadn’t seen her for a very long time. Maybe she’d mellowed a bit he thought hopefully.
There was a fire burning in the grate and a kettle almost boiling on one side of the fire. Ralph was sitting with his feet up, looking very weary. He stood up and gave them his usual warm welcome. He took the child and sat her on his knee, bouncing her gently. She lay against him happily and after a short while, she was dozing in front of the warm fire.
‘She’s a champion little lass,’ he said proudly. ‘Something about a little girl that’s different. You don’t feel as if cuddling her, you’re making her soft like you would a lad.’ Archie stared at his father. He never remembered being cuddled by either of his parents. He decided it was because he was a lad and they hadn’t wanted to make him soft.
‘You’re not working tomorrow, are you?’ he asked Ralph.
‘Yes. And we’ve been asked to go in on New Year’s Day, this time round. They’re not insisting of course, ’cos of the tradition. It’s purely voluntary.’
‘But you’ve never worked New Year’s. None of the miners have.’
‘No. But I shall go. Our shift decided unanimously that we’d support the war effort. Seems they still can’t get enough coal, even after we’ve worked all the hours God sends.’
‘And for no extra pay, I’ll bet. You’ve all gone soft if you ask me. I don’t like it. You working New Year’s. Not right. It’s bad luck.’ Frances was as sharp tongued as ever.
‘Aye, well I reckon we’re all suffering a fair amount of bad luck at the moment. Maybe this next year will see an end to it.’
‘I can’t imagine what it’s like down the pit,’ Dora began. ‘How do you stand it, Dad?’
‘You never really get used to it. Going down in the cage every day, seems like you just have to survive long enough to come up again. It’s dirty, dusty and bloody hard graft. You work with your pick until you’ve prised out a load of pieces of coal and then shovel it into trucks when there’s enough. Some days, the dust’s so thick you feel as if you have to try and drag air into your lungs, just to stay alive. You made the right choice, Archie lad. I’d never truly want anyone of mine to have to work down there among the stench and dirt. I don’t even blame young William choosing to fight the war as an alternative.’
They were all silent for a moment or two. Dora shuddered and sipped her drink feeling slightly guilty for her own comfortable life. She’d never fully realised just how much Archie had to fight to get away from that fate.
‘Nearly 1942. I keep wondering when this war will all be over and done with,’ Ralph said glumly.
‘We all keep hoping. We’re moving house, in the spring,’ Dora told them. ‘Archie’s workplace has got a new lot of houses being built. We’ve put down for one. It’s a big estate. Quite near the country. And they say there’ll be plenty of open spaces for the kids to play in.’
‘All right for some,’ was Frances’s only comment.
‘You can never be pleased for us about anything, can you?’ Archie said bitterly.
‘Leave it, Archie,’ Dora told him. She couldn’t bear them to quarrel on the one visit they’d made in months.
‘I’ll make us some more tea,’ Frances announced.
‘We’d better be off soon,’ Archie said almost as soon as tea was finished. ‘We don’t want to have the baby out too late in the cold.’
As they were leaving, Ralph seemed to cling to the baby and his daughter-in-law for longer than ever before. It was as if he couldn’t bear to let them go. Dora was touched.
‘Thanks so much for making the effort to come and see us. You’ve got a proper little charmer there. Look after her, won’t you?’
‘She’s the most precious gift I’ve ever had.
Nobody’s going to harm her in any way, I can promise you that. She won’t have any brothers or sisters, you see. I’m not much of a woman, am I? Could only just about hold on to this one.’ Dora felt tears pricking the back of her eyes.
‘I disagree. I think you’re one very special woman. My son’s a lucky man.’
‘Oh I am,’ Archie said. ‘And I know it. Bye Dad. And thanks for the tea, Mum.’
‘Don’t leave it so long before you come again, son.’ Ralph shook hands with his son and unexpectedly, suddenly pulled him into a hug. Archie was nonplussed. It was the first time he could remember such a thing.
‘Happy New Year to you both,’ he stammered as they walked away down the street. He turned to wave and saw his Dad was still standing outside, watching them leave. He raised a hand as they turned the corner. ‘Crikey. Whatever came over me Dad?’ he asked
‘Maybe he’s realised what a clever son he’s got. And he was very pleased to see our little Carole. I s’pose New Year’s always a bit of a new start. We all keep hoping this blinkin’ war’s going to end soon.’
They arrived home late. Their baby daughter had long since fallen asleep and Archie carried her half slung over his shoulder. It was a clear, cold night. Mary and Harry were waiting for them to come, a kettle boiling on the side of the fire.
‘We thought you’d got lost. Come on up the fire and get warm. The tea won’t be long. Should be having summat a bit stronger to celebrate.’
‘Can’t see there’s much to celebrate,’ Archie said gloomily.
‘‘I’ll just put Carole down and then I’ll be back for that cuppa. She’s sound asleep. I won’t wake her now to change her. She’ll be all right.’
‘And how were your parents?’ Mary asked.
‘All right. In fact, me Dad seemed better than I’ve seen him for some time. He seemed sort of, I don’t know . . . more affectionate.’
Rough Clay Page 20
