Shoddy Prince

by Sheelagh Kelly

  This fear was always at the back of her mind when she went off to school each morning, gnawing away at her as she taught arithmetic and abetted by an even deeper threat. The thing that was meant to happen to her every month had not happened since the end of October. Bright would probably have overlooked the timespan had not her sisters’ regular cycles alerted her. Eilleen and Mary’s had always coincided with hers, but they had had theirs twice to her once. Of course the irregularity could merely be due to her youth. She recalled when it had first happened, and her mother had told her all pink-faced and coy that the Cardinal would visit her once a month: ‘Or it could be less often with you being so young. It’s so’s you’ll be able to have babies when ye grow up. Tis a nuisance, I know, but isn’t that a woman’s lot in life. An’ once a month isn’t much to pay for the joy of having children, is it now?’

  But it hadn’t happened since October and now it was almost New Year. There had to be something wrong. Did this absence mean that she wouldn’t be able to have babies? The mere thought of that was terrible to Bright, who wanted lots of children when she and Nat were married. There was of course a more frightening possibility for the loss of menstruation. Bright had the grave suspicion that it might be because of what Nat had done to her, that he had somehow damaged her or simply because they had been wicked. Yet whom could she consult about this unconfessed sin? She had not even dared to mention it to another woman let alone the priest. Just put it to the back of your mind, she told herself firmly, and all will be well. Things never happen if you keep wishing for them.

  In January she went down with a chest cold and sickness. The cold cleared up in a few weeks but the sickness lingered, leaving her feeling like a limp rag. Everyone was most sympathetic, bringing her lozenges and fruit to aid her recovery.

  ‘Maybe we should have her to the doctor,’ opined a worried Mr Maguire when his favourite child continued to vomit even after being dosed with all the well-tested home remedies.

  Bright was reluctant to consult the doctor, fearing that he would find something seriously wrong – the Cardinal had still not paid his visit. ‘I’m well enough,’ she told them as she prepared for school. ‘It’ll go away when I’ve something to take my mind off it.’

  ‘Well, isn’t that one for the books!’ laughed sister Mary. Bright had always been a terrible patient, having everyone run around after her. ‘Ye normally crack on you’re at death’s door if ye have so much as a toothache. I’ve never known you to turn down a bit of attention.’

  A strange expression had come into Mrs Maguire’s insipid eyes. She chewed on the end of her thumb. Bright noticed her discomfiture and asked, ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing.’ Mrs Maguire was her usual serene self. ‘But if ye still feel bad at the end o’ the week ye can go to the doctor like your father says.’

  Bright’s anxiety was somewhat allayed by Friday as the malady finally dispersed. ‘I’ve never felt so good,’ she announced to her family, her hair and eyes even more bright than usual.

  ‘Ah, and don’t you look it, pet!’ smiled Mr Maguire, hugging her. ‘Me and your mammy was getting awful worried about ye. Is she not a picture of health now, Mother? Her little face is as round and blooming as a peach.’

  Bright frowned; there was that expression again on her mother’s face, a mixture of puzzlement and sadness. As quickly as the last time it dispersed. ‘She’s looking wonderful,’ agreed Mrs Maguire, and a relieved Bright was able to breathe again. Even if the Cardinal had not paid his visit there could be little amiss when she felt so good. She had put back all the weight she had lost and more besides; too much perhaps, for the buttons on her dress would not fasten and she had taken to wearing her childhood pinafore again to cover the gap until she got around to altering it. Her underwear too was becoming constrictive, especially over her bosom.

  Thus Bright, in her ignorance, tried to dismiss all the signs of pregnancy, until one Saturday morning, in late February when she was on her way to confession, the child in her belly quickened. It was only a brief tickling sensation under her navel, but stopped her so effectively in her tracks that it might have been a sledgehammer. She gasped aloud, then hurried on. The child moved again, and Bright knew that it was a child; she didn’t know how, she just knew. Her terrified mind tried to grapple with the equation. Her mother had said the Cardinal visited so’s she could have children, but the Cardinal hadn’t visited… yet still she was positive that the thing inside her was a child, and she also knew that it was a heinous sin to bear a child before wedlock. There was such a girl who lived nearby. Both she and her family were reviled by all. Bright hadn’t really understood how the baby had got there – she still didn’t – but it took little intelligence to deduce that it was all connected with the act that Nat had forced upon her.

  All the pent up fear of recent months surged to a head. Bright began to run. She ran past the church. She ran and ran but could not escape the truth. Eventually coming to rest by the city walls she broke down sobbing, her prime thought being the shock this would be to her parents, especially her father who doted on his little girl. What can I do? Oh Blessed Virgin, tell me what to do! Twisting her handkerchief through her fingers, she had an idea: she must go and see Nat, tell him what had happened.

  Without further care as to what she was going to say she ran most of the way to the Industrial School, where she set up an urgent knocking. An officer answered. Thank heavens it was the nice one, thought Bright, though he looked rather impatient just now.

  ‘Please,’ Bright gulped in her breath, ‘it’s very important I should see Nat.’

  The officer was firm. ‘My dear, I’m not permitted to let you in.’

  ‘Oh, I beg you, please!’ Bright’s lower lip trembled and she started to cry.

  An alarmed Mr Chipchase came outside to tend her tears, mopping at them inexpertly with his own handkerchief, like an elephant using its trunk. ‘Oh, now now, what on earth is the matter?’

  Bright tried to compose herself and once again begged that she might see Nat. ‘Please, I wouldn’t ask ye unless it was important!’

  ‘Yes, yes, I realize it must be, Miss Maguire,’ sympathized Chipchase, who knew her name for she and her father were Nat’s only visitors. ‘But you know there’s another week to go before you’re allowed to visit. I don’t make the rules and I can’t alter them to suit him. Even so, if you’ve some important message I could—’

  Bright backed away. ‘Oh no – no, it doesn’t matter, it’s not important!’ She was beginning to calm down now, saw that she would gain nothing by panic. But panic fluttered around her breast, ready to take flight if given rein. ‘It can wait a week.’ Abruptly, she turned away.

  Concern in his brown eyes, the man tried to be more helpful and called after her. ‘If it’s private… well, you know the boys aren’t allowed private letters but if you’d like to scribble a note I’ll respect the need for discretion.’

  ‘No, no!’ She forced a smile and continued to move away. ‘I’m sure it can wait another week.’ It had been madness to come – how would she have told him? Now she had a whole week in which to prepare herself. A week in which to pray that it was a mistake.

  She reached Foss Bridge without even knowing how, her mind in constant turmoil and her limbs like rubber. Realizing with a start that she was almost home, she paused to gather her thoughts. How could she tell her family? What would she say? Don’t be silly, you haven’t even been to a doctor, how do you know it’s true? Leaning against the bridge she stared at a group of mallards paddling through the oily water. I can’t go to a doctor, I just can’t.

  An older girl approached. Bright noticed her but gave no sign of recognition. She had always been warned not to associate with Biddy Riley, who was deemed far too worldly. But as the slovenly figure loomed nearer so a thought came to the frightened girl: perhaps here was one who could offer a logical explanation. Dare I ask? Biddy had almost drawn level. Go on, go on, ask her now! Biddy was almost p
ast. Take your chance before it goes! ‘Hello, Biddy.’

  The girl looked surprised. She knew the speaker only vaguely, but returned the greeting. Bright hovered. How could she begin? ‘Er, have ye seen Louisa Costelow?’

  Biddy looked set to walk on, peering over her shoulder with a quizzical eye – the other girl did not usually pass the time of day with her. ‘I have not.’

  ‘Oh!’ Bright nipped her lower lip between her teeth. The thing inside her had just moved again. ‘She said she’d meet me here but I’ve been waiting ages with no one to talk to…’

  Always glad of company the other stopped to add her weight to the bridge. ‘I ain’t going nowhere.’ It was obvious to anyone why mothers were reluctant for their daughters to associate with this young woman. Her whole demeanour was brazen as she looked Bright up and down. ‘You still at school?’

  ‘I’m a pupil teacher.’

  Biddy nodded. ‘Always guessed you’d be clever. Wish God’d given me brains instead o’ these.’ She clamped two oversized breasts.

  The younger girl blushed, yet her partner had provided an excuse for the question she needed to ask. ‘Well, I suppose you’ll make a good mother.’

  The listener’s face blackened. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean? Somebody been saying I’m up the pole?’

  Bright was confused but it was apparent she had upset Biddy. ‘No! I’m sorry… I just meant…’

  ‘Well, I’m not! People’re always saying that about me.’

  ‘Saying what?’ Bright was afraid her source of information might leave.

  ‘That I’m having a bairn! Well, I’m not.’

  ‘Oh!’ Bright showed repentance. ‘I never meant—’

  ‘Honestly, the cheek of it!’ Biddy’s face was still dark with offence. ‘Sorry, I don’t know anything about – that sort o’ thing.’

  Biddy cooled down and appraised the other. ‘No, I shouldn’t think ye do. I just thought somebody’d been spreading tales. Lads are allus going on about me, just cause I got big tits. That’s all they want.’ Seeing her partner was still mystified she shook her head. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  Bright looked forlorn, desperately hoping that the other girl would take pity. ‘Nobody ever told me about babies, how they’re born and that kind o’ thing.’

  Biddy gave a sly laugh. ‘How they get in the woman’s belly, ye mean! Simple – the man sticks his thing in ye and nine months later out pops a baby.’

  Panic overtook Bright’s whole body again. She pushed herself from the bridge.

  ‘I’ll bet ye want to know where he sticks it!’ grinned Biddy.

  ‘No!’ Bright already knew. ‘Sure, it doesn’t look as if Louisa’s coming, I’d better go home. Bye!’ She ran.

  ‘Charming,’ muttered Biddy, and flounced off.

  * * *

  Nat knew nothing of Bright’s visit. Mr Chipchase was well aware of how unsettling these little incidents could be. The boy would wonder what had made her so worried as to try and see him a week early, then this would cause him to worry about her and it would prey on his mind and before the week was out he would have made a bid to escape. No, decided Chipchase, it was wiser to let him remain in ignorance. Besides, Nat had another surprise visitor that day, although this one was allowed entry. In actuality he came not just to see Nat but everyone, the masters too. No one recognized Bowman at first, in his naval uniform and black beard, until Mr Chipchase squinted through the bits of sawdust dangling from his forelock and said, ‘Why bless my soul, it’s number eight!’

  ‘Able Seaman Bowman presenting for duty, sir!’ Bowman stood to attention, then whipped off his hat and marched forward to shake the officer’s hand. Chipchase returned the shake vigorously and turned to Nat. ‘Twenty-seven, look who’s here!’

  Bowman put his hands on his hips. ‘Still number twenty-seven – have you been in here ever since I left?’

  ‘No, it’s that silly old bugger who can’t remember my new number,’ explained Nat when Chipchase’s attention was diverted. ‘I’m only back in here because of somebody else’s crime. It was just my bad luck to be there when he did it.’

  ‘Oh, course!’ Bowman’s eye was cynical as he looked the youth up and down. ‘Well, well, grown a bit haven’t we? Almost a man.’

  Delighted as he was to see his old bodyguard, Nat felt patronized. ‘I am a man.’ From the gleam in his eye there was no doubting what he meant.

  ‘Oh, dipped our wick have we.’ The hirsute chin lifted in recognition. ‘In here or out there?’

  ‘With a girl, of course! I’m no bugger.’

  ‘You said it, chum.’ Bowman nodded and laid different emphasis on Nat’s proclamation. ‘You’re no bugger, no bugger at all. You’re just a silly little prick who thinks he knows better than his betters. I don’t know why I wasted my breath giving you that advice before I left. For God’s sake get some sense into that thick crust!’ After an impatient pause he demanded, ‘Truthfully, how many times you been in here since I left?’

  Nat averted his eyes. ‘This is my third time altogether – but it wasn’t my fault!’

  ‘It never is,’ said Bowman. ‘That’s why they build these places, to put all the good boys who never did a thing wrong in their lives. It’s always the other chap’s fault. What’s your mother think of you?’ Unhappy at being reminded of her, Nat hesitated over his answer. ‘She left me.’

  ‘I’m not bloody surprised.’

  ‘Not because I was bad!’ The joy of being reunited with his old pal was beginning to wane. ‘She went off with some bloke.’

  ‘Well good for her. I dare say she deserves a bit of happiness after all the trouble you must’ve caused her.’ Bowman looked stern. ‘Listen to me, there’s blokes in here had a much worse start in life than you. I’d expected to see plenty of ’em still here but I only see two. That’s cause the others have learned their lesson while they’ve been in here.’

  ‘Or else they’re in gaol,’ came the insolent mutter, which Bowman ignored.

  ‘They don’t just put you in for punishment but so’s you’ll learn something – and look at you, still pushing a broom like the kid of ten I left. Call yourself a man?’ Bowman growled. ‘Stop blaming everybody else, get off your arse and start learning something – anything – cause you’re heading down a lonely road, boy.’

  Bowman left Nat to mull over what he had said, little thinking that the words would have an impact – Nat would cut off his nose to spite his face before he took advice. Expecting to find himself spurned when he reapproached the boy later, he was encouraged when instead Nat asked questions about his naval career. ‘Do you enjoy being in the Navy?’

  ‘It’s a great life,’ he answered. ‘Mindst, it’s a bit like being in here at times, if you know what I mean. You have to provide your own enjoyment.’ He gave Nat a dirty wink. Nat grinned. Bowman did not preach any more, concentrating instead on telling Nat about all the countries he had visited and all the different nationalities of women he had had. ‘I’ve had clap in six different languages! And money? I’ve almost enough to retire on!’

  ‘I’ve got money saved,’ announced Nat.

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t brag too loudly else while you’re in here somebody will have it sniffed out and spent before you get out.’

  ‘Nobody’ll find it. I’m gonna be rich.’

  ‘Huh! Listen, plank skull, you might’ve saved in the short time you were out, but think of all the unproductive years stuck away in here when you could have been with me seeing the world and saving up at the same time. I wonder who’ll’ve saved most, thee or me?’

  Nat’s face creased in thought. ‘Is it hard in the Navy?’

  ‘I won’t kid you it’s easy, ’cause it’s not. There’s some right bastards in charge. But if you keep your nose clean, your eyes front and your arse to the wall you’ll get a lot of enjoyment out of it. If you put a bit more effort into this stretch I’ll come and see how you’re going on next year and if I think you’re worth it I’ll p
ut in a good word for you with the Navy.’

  Bowman remained for much of the evening, entertaining the boys with tales of the sea until evening assembly. Before they went off to bed, Mr Raskelf boasted to the assembled school that old boys such as this served as a fine example of the school’s influence; ‘I pray that all of you will follow in Bowman’s footsteps, and also in those of our surprise guest, who I am about to introduce to you. But before any further ado let me inform you that the school inspector will be making an official visit very soon…’

  Nat groaned. He always dreaded the inspector’s visits for this meant tests in every subject. It also meant that the inmates would have to paint the building for his arrival. Bowman, now on the front row of the audience, grinned at the awful memory. This year, however, it transpired that there was going to be a reward at the end of it all, for fifty boys at least.

  The superintendent explained: ‘Now, as I was saying, we have a surprise guest come to see us, another old boy whose achievement is even greater than Bowman’s. On release he emigrated to Canada and has over the decades worked so hard that he is now one of the most respected ranchers in the west. He is here to speak to you now – Mr Edward Carrington!’

  Raskelf made way for the guest who took the podium, nodding in awkward appreciation of the tribute. ‘I’m sure I’m not worthy of such high praise,’ this was directed at the superintendent, ‘but your words are much appreciated, sir.’ He turned back and ran his eyes over the audience before launching into his speech, which was delivered in an odd mixture of Canadian jargon interspersed with flat vowels, a giveaway of his northern origins. There were youthful smirks and nudges between members of the audience. ‘I can see you’re tired, boys, so I won’t take long in what I have to say and I hope you’ll find it to your interest. Mr Raskelf was correct in part of what he said, I have worked hard, but that is only one of the reasons why I’m where I am today. I was once just a boy like you, and you, and you,’ his eyes fixed on three youths who blinked under his direct gaze. ‘I’m not about to go into the reasons for my being here, suffice it to say that until I came under the care of the officers of this establishment I was without any kind of direction. It is to this school that I owe a lifelong debt for the discipline and dedication to duty it instilled in me. The time has come for me to repay that debt, so, having spoken with my neighbours, together we have inaugurated a scheme for taking fifty underprivileged boys to a new and exciting life…’