An Unsuitable Mother

by Sheelagh Kelly

Knowing it did not pay to get too close to the children she was nursing, despite her devotion to them, over the years Nell had somehow managed to draw a protective shield across her heart. But against all wishes, at the first sight of that solemn four-year-old with the skin so pale, the sad blue eyes and the reddish-blonde hair, she felt her defences snap. The father looked dazed, his grief somehow appearing twice as acute in that he had made such an effort to smarten his demob suit with a starched white collar, and Nell felt immense pity for him too. But her main sympathy was for the child, who was soon to capture her eye again. How she itched to embrace that fragile little thing; to fill her own empty arms.

  With the hearse arrived and everyone departed, Nell allowed the older children to play in the street. ‘But not too rowdily, eh?’ And finally she was left alone with the bewildered girl.

  From her shopping basket she drew an oval box, and enticed Nina to peep in. ‘Look what I’ve brought. Do you like dates?’ At the wan nod, she said gently, ‘Let me cut the stones out for you then – come on, you show me where the knives are kept.’

  Small soft fingers curled themselves around the proffered hand, their owner leading Nell into the scullery where she indicated the cutlery drawer. Then the little girl in the Fair Isle jumper and tartan kilt stood to observe. ‘Don’t cut yourself,’ came her sober warning.

  ‘I’ll try not to.’ Nell looked down at her and smiled.

  ‘You will if you don’t watch what you’re doing,’ instructed Nina.

  ‘Sorry, you’re absolutely right,’ agreed Nell, and concentrated on the sticky dates.

  Having sliced enough of them open and removed the stones, she put them in a bowl and handed this over, steering the infant back to the sitting room. ‘There, you can sit and eat them whilst I read you a story.’

  The box of dates had been a Christmas gift from a patient, but aside from bringing this, on her way there she had purchased a book, having vetted it carefully to make sure it contained nothing sad. Lifting the little girl gently onto her lap, she made them both comfortable and sat back to read. But as her lips formed the words, her senses were all over the place, the warmth of the child’s body seeping through her clothes to her heart.

  Even when the tale was over, the dates eaten and sticky hands wiped, she was reluctant to let Nina go, and chatted for a while to her about one thing or another, enquiring about likes and dislikes, unconsciously caressing a skinny arm or thigh. Notwithstanding today’s solemnity, she was obviously a bright little thing, and able to hold a conversation with an adult. And the woman whose arms enveloped her never wanted to give her up.

  All too soon for Nell, though, the crowd of mourners was to return, and Nina immediately slipped off the woman’s lap to scramble onto her father’s. Feeling strangely bereft herself, with the absent child’s body heat quickly evaporating into a cool patch, Nell took consolation in the sandwiches and cakes that Gussie had laid on.

  Joe partook of little, either of food or conversation. Although he was to share a few courtesies with Nell as she left sometime later, following her to the door and thanking her for looking after his daughter, whom he now carried on one arm.

  Nell merely dealt him a little smile. What could one say in response – it had been a pleasure? Not very apt when he had just buried his wife. ‘She was good as gold,’ was all she said in the end, taking Nina’s stubby fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze.

  Joe nodded, obviously thinking himself obliged to say more. ‘It’s unbelievable: I came through six years of war without a scratch, and now I lose everything …’ Apparently unnerved at being lured into voicing his innermost feelings, he suddenly shook hands with Nell. ‘Well, thank you very much again, Nurse, for taking care of this one – say goodbye, Neen.’

  The little girl’s solemn farewell was met with another caress, before the father took her back inside, and the visitor set off home. Nell would always remember the day of that funeral as the strangest of times to fall in love.

  It was to be fifteen months before she saw Nina again, and this time in much happier circumstances. The last year had been one of mourning, for Grette, and for the King. But, as with each monarch’s passing, the nation’s remembrance must give way to celebration, this time with a new queen, and a bright Elizabethan age.

  It was only by luck that Nell found herself able to enjoy the coronation, as it was to fall between shifts. Poor Beata would be on duty, but had told her friend, ‘Go and watch it on our Gussie’s new telly. Get there early, though, or you’ll be watching it from the street.’ And of course Nell had jumped at the chance.

  Some hours of overtime had allowed her to purchase a flowery shirtwaister dress and summer cardigan for the occasion, though the overcast weather made it necessary to spoil the effect with a mac. When she arrived there was already a houseful, the furniture being rearranged so that everyone could have a view of the television set on a high corner shelf. This had been turned on to warm up, everyone’s eyes fixed to it, and though there wasn’t actually anything to see yet, they seemed fascinated. Knowing Joe and his daughter would be there – for after Grette’s death they had moved in for convenience – Nell’s eyes immediately sought Nina out, and, upon seeing her, lit up in pleasure, whilst her voice offered a general hello to the others.

  Joe rose at her entry, and pushed back his hair in an act of self-consciousness. ‘Hello there, Nurse, come in if you can get in.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Kilmaster, call me Nell.’

  ‘I’m Joe, then.’ He too looked happier of late, this mood displayed in the same kind of way as his sister Beata’s, never gushing but rather composed, apart from the blue eyes that sparkled, and the obstinate mouth that twitched in a smile that was dry as a bone. Whereas Beata was the round russet apple, Joe was more the tree, his limbs slender branches, pliant but tough, with an outer coating of bark to represent strength, yet at its core a pithy warmth. There was evidence that his hair had once been auburn, for it bore the odd streak of this, though now its hue was mostly silver. Despite this, the hawkish nose and angular cheeks, there was still much youthfulness in his appearance and behaviour.

  Nell attended politely to what he was saying, glad to see him looking much better than last time, but she was dying to pay more heed to Joe’s little daughter, who was kneeling on the mat and running a miniature coach and horses along the hearth. Nina was still the same dainty, strawberry-blonde cherub, in a red, white and blue frock today; less forlorn than she had been a year ago, though still bearing the heavy load of her bereavement inside, suspected Nell.

  ‘Grab yourself a good chair,’ the little girl made casual invitation. At which both Nell and Joe laughed, the latter saying, ‘Aye, before they all start pouring in.’

  Smoothing her new dress, Nell edged her way through those already seated on the ranks of dining chairs, bypassing the few empty ones and choosing to squeeze onto the sofa beside Joe, so as to be within touching distance of Nina. ‘There’s more to come?’

  ‘The whole damned street,’ old Mr Melody removed his pipe to grumble, his armchair pushed right back into a corner.

  And this seemed only slight exaggeration, for all the time people kept arriving, some to sit on the wooden chairs they carried, others to stand, until the room was crammed and the audience began to spill over into the passage.

  Music emerged from the television, and a grainy picture. Amidst the buzz of anticipation, Gussie sent her ten-year-old boy to alert stragglers that the excitement was about to start. year-old

  ‘Tell them to fetch their binoculars,’ teased Joe, at which Nell grinned, for the picture that had them all glued was so tiny that it was difficult to see even in this room. Still, it was miraculous.

  Young Nick went pelting off to knock on several doors and summon the latecomers. By the time he returned, the passageway was so crammed with viewers that he was trapped outside, and had to keep bouncing up and down in order to catch any glimpse of the screen.

  Then the celebrations began. ‘She’s he
re! She’s here!’ yelled Mr Crow, shooting to his feet and signalling furiously for everyone to do likewise. Which they did for a moment, but then Joe observed in his laconic fashion, ‘We can’t stand up for hours!’

  ‘Do you think she can see us?’ came an anxious enquiry from the genteel and elderly Mrs Grey, who had dressed in her own finest attire, a grey artificial silk dress, and a hat with a veil. ‘Will she know we’re insulting her if we sit down? Only my bunions …’

  Assured that Her Majesty would be unaware of such disrespect, everyone who had a chair lowered their buttocks again. Then the room fell silent except for whispers of awe, eyes glistening with emotion as the golden coach carrying the Queen made its way past cheering crowds to the abbey.

  ‘It’s like mine!’ Nina piped up to display her miniature version of the coronation coach.

  ‘Shush!’ accused everyone, including her father, all except Nell, who, feeling immensely sorry for the crestfallen child, scooped Nina onto her lap – which she had been dying to do since she entered – smiling encouragement but laying a finger over her lips to show that she must be quiet.

  The twenty or more adults remained captivated, especially when the coach arrived at the abbey and the Queen emerged in all her splendour, clad in ermine robe and jewels.

  ‘Hasn’t Her Majesty got a lovely bust,’ observed Mrs Crow in admiration.

  Her neighbour was less impressed, arms folded across his suited chest and the look of the curmudgeon about him. ‘I can’t see a blasted thing. What size is it?’ he turned to demand of his host.

  ‘What, the Queen’s bust?’ asked Joe.

  ‘No, the set, man!’ Accompanying gasps were issued for Joe’s disrespect.

  ‘It’s a nine-inch Bush,’ provided Mick.

  The killjoy donated a curt nod to those around him. ‘I knew we should have gone to Eric Chapman’s – he’s got a fourteen-inch.’

  ‘So he tells the girls,’ murmured Joe, too quietly for most to hear, but causing Nell to grin at his smut.

  ‘They all look like blasted midgets on that,’ declared the killjoy. ‘If this is television, you can keep it.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he bugger off now, then?’ grumbled another of the squashed neighbours, hoping for a better view, but this was not to be, for the large square head remained steadfastly in place.

  Nina burst into song. ‘Cigareets and whisky and wahld wahld women –!’

  ‘Can we please have a bit of hush?’ demanded Gussie, and the room fell silent again.

  Whilst as rapt as the other adults in this momentous occasion, Nell could not help be more preoccupied with the child on her lap. Enfolding her in her arms, as might a lover, she rested her chin on the golden head, letting her hand caress the bare leg, whilst imagining herself in paradise …

  But even paradise had its drawbacks, especially after a couple of hours, when Nell’s lap had grown numb from the restless wriggling of the child – and when Nina heaved yet another sigh of boredom, this seemed the right moment to give her the comic she had brought along.

  ‘Will you read it to me?’ pleaded Nina. But again she was urged to be quiet, and to read it for herself.

  With the pages of Sunny Stories soon riffled through, she began once more to wriggle in boredom.

  ‘Look there’s Prince Charles!’ whispered Nell, drawing the little girl’s attention to the screen. ‘He was born the same year as you.’

  Though Nina watched for a second, she did not appear too impressed, and was now fidgeting with the buckles on her sandals. Nell wanted to offer to take her out for a walk, but the ceremony was reaching its pinnacle. Disrobed of her ermine and jewels, the Queen was anointed with oil, then adorned with the golden ceremonial robes, finally to be crowned.

  ‘God Save the Queen!’ resounded the choir. Trumpets fanfared and bells rang out, taking everyone’s spirits to glorious heights – how could one interrupt at such an emotional and historic moment, with old ladies wiping the tears from their cheeks? But if Nell didn’t speak now, she might be stuck here the entire day.

  ‘I need to widdle,’ announced Nina in a loud whisper, lending Nell the opportunity she desired.

  ‘I’ll take her,’ she murmured hastily to Joe.

  ‘How are you reckoning on getting out?’ With dry enquiry, he indicated the full house, not a space between chairs. ‘Up t’chimney?’

  ‘Well, I’ll have to get out somehow, I don’t fancy having my lap drenched.’ Nell gave a light-hearted laugh, and began to extricate herself from those seated alongside her. ‘To save us spoiling everyone’s enjoyment, once we are out, should I take her for a walk? It’s a bit much expecting one so young to sit still for so long.’

  Rising with her, Joe agreed, telling his child, ‘Be good for Nurse.’

  Then Nell began to squeeze her way between the chairs and bodies, and with a series of ungainly strides eventually made it to the back door. The child was somewhat easier, being swung overhead from hand to hand, and deposited into Nell’s arms. By this manner, also, was her mackintosh despatched from the hallway, plus one for Nina.

  At last there was only the two of them. It was quieter even than a Sunday, the traffic being drastically reduced, and barely another soul to be seen. At leisurely pace, treading carefully between the puddles, Nell and Nina paused on a bench at the top of the street to eat their sandwiches, then made towards town, chatting about one thing or another, and buying a tub of ice-cream along the way.

  ‘Is it okay if I sing now?’ asked Nina, her mouth caked in white.

  ‘You can sing your head off,’ permitted Nell with a smile.

  And thus was launched a favourite, complete with American accent. ‘Cigareets and whisky, and wahld, wahld women! They drive you crazy, they drive you insay-ne!’ Nina broke off suddenly. ‘They’re the only words I know – do you know any more?’

  ‘Afraid not,’ said Nell, and between avoiding the puddles tried to steer her towards something less raucous. ‘I like the one that goes, “little red monkey, monkey, monkey, deeh-dah, deeh-dah, diddley-diddley” – sorry I don’t know the words either! Oh, hang on, you’ll like this one.’ She began to swing Nina’s hand in time to her chanting: ‘“Here comes the nurse with the red-hot poultice, slaps it on, and takes no notice! Oh, said the patient, that’s too hot! Oh, said the nurse, I’m sure it’s not”’

  Nina laughed aloud through the drizzle. ‘Sing it again!’

  And Nell complied, feeling that she was walking on air, and that she would do anything for her small companion. Which is why upon reaching Walmgate Bar she agreed to Nina’s demand, and scampered like a child herself up the stone steps and onto the battlements, to embark on a round tour.

  ‘But you must hold my hand!’ she called to Nina, who had broken away and was galloping too close to the unprotected perimeter. ‘We don’t want you tumbling off the edge.’

  The golden sprite was not keen to be so mollycoddled, and set her foot right to the limits to peer down at the scene of demolition below, at the flattened street and the piles of soot-encrusted bricks where urchins romped. ‘Is that what you call a bombsite?’

  Nell hurried up to snatch her from danger. How did one explain that the slum clearance, which had been postponed by the war, had now been resumed? ‘I think they’re knocking all the old houses down to build new ones,’ she said, more intent on her young charge than on her surroundings. ‘Come away now and finish your ice-cream, before it’s completely melted.’

  But Nina dodged her and ran to launch the upper part of her body over the ramparts, to gaze down on the cattle pens now. ‘Why are there no cows in them?’

  ‘Because it’s not cattle-market day,’ said Nell, taking a grip on the child’s blue plastic mac. Then, at Nina’s sound of disappointment, she said, ‘I must bring you back when it is.’

  At this point, Nina tilted her tub of ice-cream slightly too far, and the contents slid to the ground, leaving her with only an empty carton. ‘Never mind!’ Nell forestalled tears. ‘We’ll
buy you another when we get to the end of the walls.’ And finally she managed to coax the wayward one into holding her hand again.

  For a while, as they squelched along the ancient walls, the child appeared to drift off into some faraway world. Noting that her baggy cotton ankle socks had worked themselves underneath her heels and must surely be causing discomfort, Nell took the time to unbuckle each sandal and tug the hosiery back into position, smoothing them around the thin ankles.

  Whilst she was doing this, Nina suddenly asked, ‘Nurse, have you got any children?’

  ‘No, I’m not married.’ Feeling the child’s breath against her ear, she turned to smile into Nina’s face.

  ‘Ooh good. You could marry my dad, then you’d be my mother.’

  And though Nell was extremely careful with her answer, her heart could not help but swell with joy as they continued on their way.

  When they returned, most of the visitors were gone, and Nell said it was time for her to depart too.

  ‘Thanks for all your help,’ said Joe. ‘I’m sorry you had to miss everything, what with seeing to madam here.’

  Nell disagreed. ‘I saw the important parts, and I had a better time with Nina. I thoroughly enjoyed it.’

  The little girl had looked slightly downcast at being blamed by her father, but Nell’s words perked her up, and she asked, ‘Will you come to my party?’

  Joe corrected her. ‘It’s not just your party, it’s for the whole street.’ Then he informed Nell, ‘We had to postpone it because of the weather, so we decided to take no more chances and hold it at the Co-op Hall next Saturday. I doubt it’ll be up to much, but come if you fancy it.’

  ‘I’d love to, but I can’t.’ Nell spoke directly to the little girl, gazing into her eyes and thoroughly apologetic as she gave her reason. ‘I’ll be back at work.’ She lifted her face to address the taller figure. ‘I’m only here today because I’m between shifts.’

  ‘Might you be off a week on Sunday?’ asked Joe, apparently wanting to buck his daughter’s spirits, for he had laid his hand on her reddish-gold head. ‘We’ve hired a bus to take us to Scarborough for the day. I think there’s a few seats going spare.’ He quickly interpreted the expression on Nell’s face. ‘You won’t have to cough up, it’s already been paid for – if you’d like to go, that is.’