“But abortion can be so expensive and so dangerous David. What if I could never have children? You hear such terrible stories.”
“I’m sure if you get the right doctor you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about the money. I can get a kitty going with the cast from the ballet. They are very discreet and they love you, you know.”
“I need to get away from here and see my sister.”
“Listen I’ll lend you the money to help you get yourself sorted out. If you want my opinion he is behaving bastardly.”
They talked and talked and talked that afternoon, drinking pints of tea. It was agreed that Miriam would tell her parents that she was going to England for a while, to pursue her career in fashion. They knew that, that was what she had set out to do. In the meantime she would stay with her sister. Her parents would know nothing about her pregnancy. David would meet up with Len and discuss his financial support.
“I don’t think he should get off Scott free, do you?”
“He did offer, but I don’t want to speak to him not just yet.”
The following day she packed her bags with some bare essentials. Miriam was to take the Ferry from Dublin to Fishguard. From there she would take a train to London. The plan was, that she would stay with her sister and her husband and baby daughter in Muswell Hill until she had made up her mind what to do. David came round and helped her pack. He gave her five hundred pounds that Len had given to take with her.
“There’s more of that where that came from if you need it.”
“I don’t want his money David, don’t you get it? I’d do anything for him to want me and the baby.”
“Have you told your sis yet?”
“I couldn’t bear to tell her on the phone. I’ll tell her when I see her.”
She gave him her sister’s number and address in London and said her goodbyes.
“You know I will always be there for you. Take care with the termination.”
With that she closed the door to her apartment in Dublin. The place that once held so many happy memories, was now tinted with sadness. She had had such huge ambitions to become a designer, to make something of her life. She was only in her twenties, at the pinnacle of her life. How had it gone so wrong? Now she had to face the consequences of her actions. Her sister had faced hers, now it was time for Miriam to face hers.
MARJORIE 1967
LONDON
NOW MARJORIE WAS so in love she could think of nothing more perfect than having a child with Arthur, the absolute embodiment of their love for each other. Arthur’s job meant that Marjorie didn’t have to work and so she could dedicate herself to being a full time mum. Although Arthur had had two sons from his previous marriage, he only got to see them every other weekend. By now Arthur and Marjorie were in their mid fifties and mid forties and they needed to crack on trying for a baby, if they were going to have any chance of living long enough to see their grand children. Not that such thoughts entered their minds as they still felt younger than their years. They felt that they had spent so much wasted time trying to find each other that they wanted to catch up on their lost youth.
Marjorie would take great pride in her appearance for Arthur’s sake. They would catch every living moment to be together when he finished work. They would often laze about in the garden together in the afternoons on the weekends, rarely doing much except taking a leisurely lunch. It was like they had discovered love all over again.
For months and months they tried for a baby, but nothing happened. Marjorie was forty-four years of age. She started to worry that the years of abuse to her body, by starving herself in her teens had taken a toll on her fertility. Her periods had stopped for one year when she was nineteen. She supposed that all her life, she had been in a state of semi anorexia.
One day she was sat in her next door neighbour’s garden having a cool glass of lemonade. They were watching her children play in the sand pit, which her husband had constructed that weekend. Arthur wasn’t due back until later. She bent down with a bucket to help one of the girls build a sand castle.
“So Marjorie, if you don’t mind me asking, when are you thinking of having children? You and Arthur seem so happy together. It would be great to have some play mates for these two.”
“You know what, I’d, we’d like nothing more. It hasn’t been for want of trying. Unfortunately our biological clocks are not on our side.”
“Nonsense. There are lots of women in their forties who have children, and healthy ones at that. I didn’t conceive the twins until I was forty.”
Marjorie stood up and came back to sit next to Jacqueline on the edge of the makeshift stone wall.
“What seems so unfair these days is everyone talking about the contraceptive pill and abortion, as if the new generation don’t want to conceive. How can anyone think of killing a small baby?”
“I don’t know Marjorie, but women want more choices now, to be able to choose when they want to have children and when they don’t.”
“I know, but I’d do anything to have Arthur’s child. I don’t care if it is handicapped, I would still love it as our own.”
“Have you been to see a specialist yet?”
“Not yet. I guess I don’t want to admit to being a failure. Arthur has had children. So nothing wrong in his department. What if I can never have children?”
Marjorie pulled at a blade of grass and gently twisted it around her fingers. She had to hold her breath slightly to stop the tears from coming. She was frightened to see a specialist in case they told her what she didn’t want to hear.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. There are certain times of the month you can conceive more easily. You can tell by taking your temperature you know.”
“It just makes it all sound so clinical. It’s called making love, yet every day that goes past all I feel we’re doing is making babies.”
She knew if she was being honest with herself that when Arthur came home she was putting pressure on him. Probably all he wanted to do when he got home from work was sit down and relax in front of the television. She on the other hand was increasingly putting pressure on him to conceive a child. As if reading her thoughts Jacqueline intercepted.
“It won’t hurt you know to go and see a specialist sooner rather than later. They may be able to give you some fertility treatment. I am sure Arthur would be supportive.”
That evening she broached the subject with Arthur. They had just finished Question Time with Robin Day and were about to turn in for the evening. Arthur was sat in his favourite arm chair nursing a cup of coffee. She came and sat down beside him on a cushion on the carpet.
“I think it is time we saw a specialist.”
“What for?” He said stroking her hair.
“I think we both know it hasn’t been for want of trying, but I am not getting any younger and each month that goes by causes me more and more heart ache. What if I can’t conceive?”
“You know I love you anyway, whether or not we have a baby.”
“I know, but somehow the issue of having a baby has become all consuming to me. Only the other day I was walking down the street, and I know this sounds awful, but I see all these mums with babies and keep thinking I could be a good as mum as them.”
“I think you would be a great mum.”
“I feel so guilty for having left it so long. Do you think God is punishing me in some way?”
“No. Listen, we’ve only been trying for eighteen months. I’m a lot older now.”
“It’s me that needs checking out. We already know that you can have children.”
The following day Marjorie made an appointment to see a specialist in Harley Street. The appointment was at lunchtime so that Arthur could meet her there in his lunch break. The specialist sent her to the Royal Free Hospital in Gray’s Inn Road, to carry out various blood tests, and a scan of her fallopian tubes. On their return she handed the results to the doctor. They were told to wait outside in the waiting room whilst he formulated a
prognosis.
“I’m scared. The scan itself was quite daunting.”
“Don’t get yourself in a fret. At least now we might get some answers.”
They waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity. There were a number of other women in the waiting room. Some looked like single pregnant mothers, maybe contemplating an abortion. One woman in particular looked at Marjorie as if she could see the desperation in her face.
“Marjorie, the doctor will see you now.”
She stood up slowly and holding Arthur’s hand tightly entered the consultant’s room in the corner. An elderly gentleman stood up to greet them. He had a kind face, etched with years of learning.
“Well, I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. The good news is that there is no sign that your fallopian tubes are blocked.”
“What does that mean doctor?”
“Well it means that if you were to conceive you are unlikely to suffer an ectopic pregnancy.”
“The other good news is that your ovaries appear to be functioning normally, in that there appear to be no abnormalities.”
“So why can’t I get pregnant?”
“That’s a good question. I suspect that in view of your age, that your ovaries are not producing as many eggs as you would like. This means it is harder for the sperm to get a chance as it were to hit the jackpot. Provided you watch your cycle carefully, I see no reason in the course of time why you shouldn’t become pregnant.”
“How long do we keep trying?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Can’t I take fertility drugs to make it happen sooner?” She enquired.
“I would advise against such treatment, unless you are prepared to risk a handicapped child.”
The doctor explained that taking fertility drugs could result in a multiple pregnancy, and as these children were not conceived naturally there was a real danger that one or all of them would not survive. Even if they did survive they were predisposed to abnormality. Marjorie then asked about a new procedure she had heard of called in vitro fertilization, where they artificially inseminated the egg.
“That treatment, I’m afraid is not available yet and probably won’t be available for many years to come, which in your case, bearing in mind your ages will be too late. Listen I suggest, in your case, you go back to the drawing board and enjoy the ride, in a manner of speaking. Come back and see me in a year.”
They both smiled. Making babies was supposed to be fun. Maybe they had lost the plot a little. At least all the plumbing was in working order. Perhaps Marjorie’s nerves and anxiety over the situation had got the better of her. Perhaps they should both relax a bit more.
The following months came and went. They spent many hours in the bedroom, but to no avail. Every time that time of the month came, she wept. Their love for each other grew and grew, but still no baby came. She would often see babies in the street and want to snatch them. Why did these mothers get a right to have a child when they didn’t? She fantasized about having a baby growing inside her, willing it to happen to her, but it didn’t. By the age of forty-five she realized it was almost impossible they were going to have their own child.
Their only option if they wanted one was to adopt one.
MIRIAM 1967
LONDON
WHEN MIRIAM ARRIVED in London, it was night time. She had been travelling all day and it had been exhausting. Her arms were strained from carrying the heavy luggage. Her clothes still smelt of the sea air from the ferry crossing. She arrived in Kings Cross station and caught the Northern Line to Muswell Hill. Her sister knew she was coming, as she had telephoned her the day before. She said she was going to prepare an irish stew for them to eat that evening as they wouldn’t be able to go out with the young baby. As Miriam left the tube station she asked the man behind the flower stall for directions to Danvers Road.
“You need to follow this main road and then take a right. You will see the sign to Danvers Road on the wall. Have a good evening.”
She followed the road as the man suggested. Danvers Road was a tree lined street of Edwardian terraced houses. There weren’t many cars parked outside and the street was lit by low lit street lamps. When she arrived at 14 Danvers Road, she rang the doorbell. A man who she thought was the tenant for the ground floor flat, answered the door and pointed to a large blue door at the top of the stairs. The passage was dark, as the light was not on. She walked up the stairs as her sister opened the door.
“Sis, I can’t believe you’re here! How are you?”
She ushered her inside and her put her bags on the floor. The flat was chaotic with baby bags and blankets and baby toys strewn across the floor. It was bright and clean though and had a nice homely feel. She could smell the irish stew from the kitchen. Patrick was stood behind her holding Charlotte. Miriam gave her sister a huge hug and her brother in law a kiss on the cheek and then bent down to kiss the baby.
“She’s beautiful.” Miriam said, visibly shaking with emotion. Her sister didn’t suspect anything, just presumed she was caught up in the emotion of meeting her niece for the first time. She looked so tiny still, so delicate, her smell as sweet as powder.
“You must be exhausted sis. Come and sit down and have a drink with us. Patrick is just going to settle Charlotte down and then we can have a good old gossip. It’s been so long.”
Miriam took off her jacket and sat herself down on the small sofa just under the window. The street light radiated through the window, casting a shadow over the small dining table laid for three. Her sister had photos of all the family, including their mum and dad on the mantelpiece. There was a small fireplace under the mantelpiece which had some logs burning in it. It reminded Miriam of the peat fires they would have in Ireland. Above the photos, hung a Brigid’s cross. This was an Irish habit of her sisters’ who would hang this cross up to protect her from evil spirits. She heard her sister clanking about with various pots and pans in the kitchen.
“Do you need any help there sis?” Miriam asked.
“No, you’re alright. I’ll bring the drinks through in a minute.”
“Smells good,” said Patrick as he walked back into the living room. They both looked tired. Perhaps it was the stress of looking after the baby that was getting them down. She knew her sister was thinking about going back to work soon. She knew they needed the money, but she didn’t agree with the notion of a woman going to work and leaving their baby behind. It was for this reason, she couldn’t dream of becoming a single mother. She would have to work to feed her baby. It didn’t bear thinking about. Patrick sat down on the sofa beside her and gave her a hug.
“You look dead beat girl.”
“I am. I don’t like the ferry at the best of times. The crossing was quite rough today across that Irish Sea.”
“Here you are sis. I’ve made us all whisky macs. It should perk us up a bit. Hopefully Charlotte will sleep for another six hours if we are lucky. We’re trying to settle her into a routine, but it isn’t easy.”
“What’s it like having the new edition?” Miriam asked.
“Oh it’s chaotic. It’s turned our lives upside down, but we wouldn’t have it any other way would we Patrick? They don’t tell you about the sleepless nights or about the whole horrendous childbirth thing. I don’t know why mum didn’t warn me. Still she gets stronger every day. You just focus, all your attentions on the baby, nothing else matters.”
The fire was crackling away now and Patrick stood up to put another log on. You could smell the fire emanating through the room, and hear the hum of the traffic from the main road in the distance. Miriam took a sip from the whisky which was ice cold, the large cubes clinking against the tumbler. Patrick went to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. The popping of the cork was strangely comforting.
“So, how easy have you found it to get work down here? I’ve got to get a job soon.”
“Well Patrick got a job fairly easily with a building firm. The property market is booming at the
moment. For us, you can always get a job in Harrods, but the pay is lousy and the staff are not very nice.”
“I was thinking of getting some modelling work to tie me over. I thought I’d pop down to Lucie Clayton and some of the modelling agencies they referred us to, see what I can get. I will pay my way you know. It was very kind of you to offer to put me up, what with the baby and all.”
“Oh it was nothing sis. Anyway we could do with a helping hand, particularly at nights if I’m to start work again. I don’t have a choice.”
But you do have a choice, Miriam thought. Patrick is supporting you, bringing the money in. Charlotte should have her mother there, holding her, nurturing her, willing her to grow. How sad that Miriam couldn’t have that option. Len didn’t want this baby or her, for that matter. She had some very difficult decisions to make. She had resolved to talk about it later, maybe when Patrick went off for a pint later at the local pub.
“Supper should be ready now. That’s what I like about irish stew, it practically cooks by itself.”
With that Orla got up and donned an apron. She took the stew out of the oven and brought it to the table. They sat down and Orla asked them to help themselves from the pot. Then she brought the beans and more gravy and put them in the middle of the table with the stew, whilst Patrick poured the wine. The fire continued to crackle. In the distance they could hear a number of sirens blaring. This was the London, Miriam remembered, when she was studying at St Martin’s Lane.
“Funny to think dad came from London. He doesn’t talk about it much. I think he thinks it will offend mum.”
“Oh I don’t know sis. He often mentions his childhood. I think it was more difficult for him, because he was here during the war. He was too old for service being twenty five years older than mum.”
Her sister and Patrick didn’t mention Len during that dinner. They knew they had split up, but Miriam thought her sister knew it was a painful subject and best dealt with when no men were present. Miriam was grateful for that. When they had finished eating, Orla went to check on Charlotte.
Abandoned Love Page 8
