A Daughter's Disgrace

by Kitty Neale

  Linda couldn’t help it though. As she went to answer the doorbell to the removal van, a little flicker of hope burst into flame in her heart. She knew she was clutching at straws but what if this time she wasn’t mistaken? What if their new life in their new home was to be blessed by a new baby?

  ‘Not long now,’ said Vera as she ran in through the door and pulled out a chair. ‘What are you having? Don’t suppose you can fit much in any more.’

  ‘Thanks a lot.’ Alison had been waiting for over fifteen minutes in the café by the station but she didn’t blame her friend. The ladies’ wear supervisor had been stricter than ever recently and had taken to keeping Vera behind to punish her for the smallest fault, real or imagined. ‘It’s worse than doing detention at school,’ Vera had scowled. ‘It’s only because she’s jealous. She’s got the hots for the head of menswear and he’s not interested. She thinks it’s cos he fancies me. It isn’t, I can tell you.’ Vera had pulled a face. ‘He’s much keener on the fellow who’s head of haberdashery but I ain’t telling her that. Let her work it out for herself.’

  ‘It’s good of you to come to see me,’ Vera said now, hanging her coat on the back of her chair. She began to unwrap a bright paisley scarf from her neck – it was late November and the winds were cold. ‘Aren’t you tired out?’

  ‘A bit,’ Alison admitted. She was completely exhausted but didn’t intend to let that stop her seeing Vera. ‘Doesn’t matter. Who knows if I’ll be able to do this for much longer? Can’t see me bringing a baby in here. It’s hard enough getting between the chairs and tables as it is.’

  Vera waved at the waitress to order their usual and sat back in her chair. ‘Saw your brother-in-law the other day. He was rushing down the road and hardly had time to say hello. Not the best advert for wedded bliss, is it?’

  Alison shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve only seen them when I’ve gone round to visit Mum. Fred told me I should ask them over to the flat so I did, but they haven’t come.’

  ‘Probably they think it’ll be too much for you now it’s so close to your time,’ said Vera generously. Alison shook her head. She knew it was much more likely to be sheer envy. Alison knew she wouldn’t be able to hide her growing contentment at the flat, with all its wonderful new fixtures and fittings, and could honestly say that she didn’t miss her old house at all. As for not seeing her sister, she was only too glad. She’d had enough of her bullying, verbal lashings and shoves and pinches to last a lifetime.

  ‘Have you got everything ready? Just in case it comes early?’

  ‘Fred’s got it all sorted out.’ Alison raised her eyebrows. ‘He won’t let me lift a finger. He’s packed a bag to take to the hospital. He’s even gone out and bought a car, one that’s big enough to let me push the seat back. He parks it in the yard and all the delivery lorries have to make do as best they can.’

  ‘Thought you said you weren’t working any more?’ asked Vera.

  ‘I’m not. Fred stopped me weeks ago, said it was too much for me. I watch it all happening from the back window. I tell you, if he could have this baby for me, he would. I knew he was generous but I hadn’t realised quite how far he’d go. He’s got a list of all the things to buy once it’s here, although he won’t do so until the birth in case it brings bad luck.’

  ‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’ Vera looked approving. ‘Most men disappear at the very mention of a baby.’

  ‘It’s just as well. I wish I could disappear. He’s going to be far better at all this than I am.’ Alison gazed at the ceiling, suddenly wanting to cry. She usually tried not to admit this to herself and here she was, coming out with it in the middle of a crowded café, windows steaming up, draughts spiralling through every time someone opened or shut the door. ‘What if the baby looks like Paul, Vera? What’ll I do then? Every time I see it I’ll think of … you know. What he did that night. I won’t be able to hold it, I’ll want to throw it away. What if I hurt it? I’m meant to love it, aren’t I? What if I can’t? I don’t think I’ll be able to manage to. And then all those things I’ll have to do – what if I get it wrong? How am I meant to know what to do? I won’t exactly have Mum rushing round to show me, and Linda’s too far away, and she’s just moved house.’ She gave a small sob, only just catching herself in time.

  ‘Stop it.’ Vera’s voice was firm. ‘You stop that right now. Stop getting yourself all het up. That won’t do you no good. Nobody knows what to do when their first baby comes, that’s what my auntie Beryl said. Deep down everyone’s frightened. They still cope though. You just get on with it. Don’t start worrying about what might never happen.’

  ‘Linda never said that.’

  ‘Why would Linda say that? You were only a girl when she had June. And, not being funny or nothing, I wouldn’t admit anything was wrong in front of your mum or Hazel if I could help it. I bet Linda’s the same.’

  ‘No, you’re right, she’d never hear the end of it.’ Alison grew calmer. ‘I don’t know, I’m all over the place at the moment. It’s sitting around all day with nothing to do when I’m used to running round the shop. Too much time to think.’

  ‘Well, make the most of it cos you won’t have that for much longer.’ Vera smiled as their order arrived. ‘And enough of your miserable face. If this is going to be one of our last visits to the café for a bit, we’re damn well going to enjoy it. If you’re not going to finish that, I’ll have it.’ She speared the end of Alison’s vanilla slice before her friend had had a chance to start.

  ‘You will come and visit, won’t you?’ Alison was suddenly seized with fear that she’d lose contact with Vera. All at once she realised how much she’d come to rely on her good advice and irreverent attitude. Of all the people she might have ended up making friends with, Vera was the least likely – and yet now she couldn’t do without her. ‘Fred said you’d be welcome any time. Promise you’ll come.’

  ‘Try and keep me away.’ Vera put down her fork. ‘Don’t be daft, of course I’ll come round. I want to see Fred change a nappy for a start. Might sell the story to the papers and make my fortune. You could rent him out to all the tired mothers of Battersea.’ She reached out and took Alison’s hand. ‘And as for the rest, we’ll take it as it comes, won’t we? That’s what we’ve done so far. So let’s carry on.’

  Alison nodded. Maybe she had got herself into a state over nothing. Maybe the baby would look nothing like Paul at all.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘How was your day?’ asked Neville as he came into their small kitchen. It overlooked their backyard, and they could see Beryl’s pots and tubs next door, now empty of vegetables.

  ‘It was all right.’ Hazel forced herself not to flinch as he kissed her, as his face was so cold. ‘Busy for a weekday.’

  Neville rubbed his hands. ‘I could murder a cuppa. It’s brass monkeys out there.’

  Hazel didn’t move. ‘The kettle’s behind you.’

  Neville turned and went to fill it. ‘Fancy one?’

  ‘Yeah, go on then.’

  He set it to boil. ‘What’s for tea?’

  ‘Nothing. I haven’t made anything. I’m sick of the smell of cooking, I was running in and out of the kitchen at work all day.’

  Neville nodded in sympathy. ‘I know you work hard, love. They don’t let you rest for a minute. Don’t worry about it, I had my lunch late.’ He grinned as he had an idea. ‘Why don’t we go out for a meal? It’s been ages since we done that.’

  Hazel shut her eyes for a second, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. ‘No, Neville! You know how much eating out costs! We’re supposed to be saving to buy new furniture. I’m sick of looking at this second-hand stuff!’

  ‘All right,’ he said, backing away from her. ‘It was only a suggestion. Thought you wouldn’t have to cook or anything.’

  ‘Well, it looks as if I do have to flaming cook,’ snapped Hazel. ‘Unless you can make do with a sandwich. You aren’t going to rustle up a meal, are you? Not l
ike Fred, who can make all sorts of meals for himself.’

  ‘Yeah but Fred’s been on his own for ages. It’s different. I’m not like Fred.’ Neville thought it was a daft thing for her to say. As if he wanted to be like the wheezy old butcher, cooking eggs and bacon out the back.

  ‘No, because Fred can buy his wife whatever she wants from whatever shop she wants, and drive her round in a new car, and give her a big flat, and still cook her a meal when he gets in. Of course you’re not like Fred.’ Hazel’s eyes were glittering dangerously as she got up from her chair.

  ‘Hey, steady on, Hazel,’ said Neville, beginning to get alarmed. ‘You knew I couldn’t cook when we got married. None of my friends can cook. You never said it was important.’

  ‘Of course I never said.’ Hazel drew closer until Neville was backed up against a cupboard. ‘Lots of things we never said, Neville. Lots of things I thought were so important that we wouldn’t even need to talk about them.’

  It dawned on Neville that this wasn’t just about cooking. ‘Come on, Hazel. We’re only just starting out. We need a bit of time to … to get used to each other.’

  ‘Oh, that’s what you call it, is it?’ She was screaming into his face. ‘Get used to each other? When night after night you come near me and then can’t get it up and I’m left there like something washed up on the beach? Is that what I’m meant to be getting used to?’

  ‘No, no.’ He raised his hands again to try to keep her off.

  Hazel wished he’d shout back rather than stand there and take it. What was wrong with him? Didn’t he love her enough to get upset and argue with her?

  ‘Then what, Neville? Get used to this smelly flat and our pathetic wages and knowing that if we carry on as we are we’ll never have children? Is that it?’

  ‘No, now look, Hazel, we …’

  Suddenly she couldn’t bear his weakness any more. She drew back her hand and hit him hard around the face.

  A few streets away Alison was pacing around what she was getting used to calling their kitchen rather than Fred’s kitchen. He’d brought some nice chicken up from the shop and she was just about to start cooking it when she felt a strange sensation. It wasn’t quite like the pain she used to have with her monthlies but that was the closest she could think of.

  She waited, wondering if she’d imagined it, then lined up the vegetables she was going to chop to have with the chicken. Just as she sliced through an onion the pain struck again, stronger this time. She gripped the counter to steady herself, afraid her knees might give way. This must be it. It was happening at last. Where was Fred?

  He’d gone out after the shop had shut to see about some new equipment for the storeroom. Typical Fred, she thought, if there was an improvement to be had then he wanted to be the first one with it. Usually she liked this about him. Tonight she wished he was home.

  Fred had shown her how to work the telephone in the hall and she had to admit it was a useful thing. The trouble was nobody she knew had a phone. Linda was talking about getting one in the new house but hadn’t done so yet. Cora didn’t hold with them, saying they were a waste of money, and wouldn’t have been able to afford one anyway. Even if Hazel had had one Alison wouldn’t have wanted to speak to her. Vera would have loved one but Winnie had put her foot down, complaining her daughter would use it for gossip and leave her mother to pay the bill.

  The doctor’s number was pinned up next to the phone but Alison didn’t want to bother him yet. She remembered Linda saying this bit could go on for hours, days even, so she didn’t like to make a fuss. Besides, Fred would be home soon; he wouldn’t want to miss his chicken. She just had to wait till he got back then he’d know what to do. He’d been reading all about it, and she’d been happy to let him, thinking the less she knew the less she’d have to worry about.

  Another pain came, much stronger than the one before. She held on to the wall, breathless with the intensity of it. Was that meant to happen or did it mean something was wrong? Guiltily she thought she wouldn’t mind if something happened to the baby. Then she thought of how disappointed Fred would be. He seemed to have decided that if he was to be a father then he’d throw himself into it, and had been taking note of where he could buy good toys, and what new things they’d need once the baby was born. She just wanted to get it over with.

  All at once her legs were wet. She started to panic, but got herself into the bathroom and began to clean herself up. What was this? She hadn’t wet herself since she was a very little girl – she’d taught herself not to as Hazel had picked on her so violently every time, pinching her and teasing her. She tried to get back to the kitchen to wipe the floor but another spasm gripped her. They were getting more frequent. Even though she finally made it to the kitchen she couldn’t bend over to reach the cleaning cupboard. She was afraid that if she did manage to get to it she’d never stand up again. The mess she’d made of the floor was embarrassing but it would have to wait. She’d have to apologise to Fred and hope the doctor didn’t see.

  The pain was coming in big waves now and she started to lose track of how long they lasted or quite where she was. Instinct made her head for her bedroom, her safe haven. She could hear someone moaning and it took a while to realise it was her. Could anyone hear her? The window faced away from the road and there was nothing on the other side of her bedroom wall so probably not. She was on her own until Fred returned. In between the contractions she remembered she hadn’t put the chicken back in the fridge. He’d be cross if it was ruined but she couldn’t help it.

  Time seemed to stand still. It was all one big tunnel of pain. She rolled around, grasping the pillows, sad that the bedclothes would be spoiled. Maybe she was dying. It felt like her insides were being ripped apart. She’d wanted to die months ago, back in the summer, but now she found she wanted to live. She hadn’t got this far only to give up. She held on to her courage as the next contraction hit, making her feel as if she should push. She screamed out in agony.

  ‘Alison? Alison?’ Fred was running down the corridor. ‘Where are you? What’s happening?’ He appeared at the doorway and took in the bloody scene. Then he came forward and kissed her forehead. ‘I’ll be right back. I’m ringing the doctor. The damn car broke down and it looks as if it’s too late for you to go anywhere anyway.’

  In a moment he was beside the bed again, with a stack of towels under his arm. ‘Doctor’s on his way. I’ve left the door open for him. Here, grab hold of my hand. When it hurts you squeeze as hard as you can. Breathe, breathe. You’re going to be fine.’

  Alison gasped. ‘Fred, I’m sorry. There’s mess everywhere. I forgot the chicken. I couldn’t … I couldn’t …’

  ‘Don’t be daft. We’ll sort that out later. You just stay there till the doctor comes. Keep breathing, come on, you’re doing well.’

  ‘Fred, am I dying?’ Alison’s bright eyes met his. ‘Just tell me.’ She stopped as an even more terrifying contraction tore through her, and then screamed again.

  Fred wiped sweat from his forehead. He’d seen animals being born but this was different. He struggled to stay calm, because he knew one of them had to. He hoped the doctor would make it on time but wasn’t convinced he would. How had this happened so fast? All the books he had read said a first baby could take hours, even days. He’d been gone far longer than he intended thanks to the car running out of battery but even so it was only a matter of a few hours. Now the baby looked as if it would arrive any minute.

  ‘Course you aren’t dying,’ he said, hoping that was true. ‘It hurts a lot but you get better. You have to push when you get the urge and rest in between. Let me put more pillows in behind you. There. Big breath. Squeeze my hand, remember. Now push.’ He winced as Alison did as she was told and crushed his hand so hard he thought she’d broken a bone in it.

  Gently pulling his hand free, he began to help her off with her clothes and into a nightdress. He didn’t have time to think that he’d never seen her body before or how strange this was fo
r a husband of four months. She didn’t notice. She was in a world of her own now, her eyes tightly shut, gasping for breath, her face red with effort.

  She was pushing hard, her feet spread wide. He could see something coming between her legs – it was the top of the baby’s head. The doctor wasn’t going to make it and he’d have to deliver this baby himself. What did the farmer do when he was there? The animals weren’t lying down, it wasn’t much help. What did the books say? There was a cord, you had to keep the cord from going round the baby’s neck, then it had to be cut. His stomach turned. Even though he was a butcher he wasn’t sure if he could cut the cord between his wife and the baby.

  As Alison screamed again the baby’s head came fully out. ‘Push, push, it’s here,’ he exclaimed, reaching forward as a moment later its shoulders came through and then the whole tiny creature slithered out. Gingerly he checked that the cord wasn’t round its neck and then took a look at the rest of it.

  ‘It’s a boy.’ He gazed at his wife. ‘You’ve done it, he’s here, it’s a boy.’ Tears flooded down his face. ‘You clever girl, you’ve had a boy. He’s perfect.’

  Alison flopped back on the pillows, too exhausted to care. Between the terror of being alone and all the unfamiliar pain, she was happy for Fred to take charge. She heard a second male voice speaking from the corner of the room and assumed the doctor had finally arrived. She shut her eyes as he examined her and kept them shut as the afterbirth came out, glad that there was someone there who knew what he was doing. She had no idea what was going on. The baby was here and Fred was taking care of it somewhere. That was enough.

  ‘Well done, Mr Chapman.’ The doctor clapped Fred on the back. ‘Couldn’t have done it better myself. If you get tired of the butcher’s you should take up midwifery. Of course it helps that you have a healthy young wife.’ Privately the doctor thought they were a very odd pair but they had produced a fine-looking son, whose first cries now filled the room. ‘You kept your head and everything has gone as well as it possibly could. Doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him even if he did arrive in a hurry. Bring him in to the clinic tomorrow and we’ll weigh him, but he looks like a fine specimen. If you fetch some hot water now we’ll get him cleaned up and then Mrs Chapman can meet her son. I expect you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mrs Chapman?’