by Jonker, Joan
She took to her bed, telling Eliza she had a headache and would ring if she needed her. That she was with child she never doubted, but she didn’t want a child, not now when she was enjoying the good things in life. Then, gazing up at the decorative ceiling in the huge, richly furnished bedroom, an idea formed in her head. She didn’t want a child, she didn’t feel in the least maternal, but perhaps that was the very thing that would make her mother-in-law warm towards her. If Evelyn was carrying her son’s child, surely they would become closer – friends even? Of course they would, a grandchild would put a different complexion on their relationship. Feeling light-hearted in anticipation of now being taken into the bosom of the wealthiest family in Liverpool, Evelyn slipped her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the telephone on the ornate bedside table.
With the ear-piece in one hand, she was ready to dial when she gave a low cry and quickly changed her mind. Her face drained of colour, she sat back on the bed. How could she tell Charles’ parents she was expecting his baby when officially they had never slept together? And she couldn’t lie to them about it because they knew the young couple, with their friends, had gone straight from the registry office to the train station. Evelyn would have lied through her teeth if it would have got her out of this trouble, but no amount of lying would help her now. It was all Charles’ fault, she should not have let him have his way with her. Her temper high now, Evelyn had no one to take it out on but the maid. So she pulled on the velvet bell cord. When Eliza entered the room she was ordered to draw the curtains as her mistress had a headache, then she was to fetch up a pot of strong tea.
It was Gwen who first remarked on Evelyn’s expanding waistline and fuller face. ‘Would I be right in saying someone has been doing things no respectable woman should?’
Evelyn’s face turned crimson, but she tried to talk her way out of an embarrassing situation. ‘Are you not forgetting I’m a perfectly respectable married woman?’
‘Come off it, Eve,’ Gwen drawled. She was quite happy to see her friend looking uncomfortable because she was tired of hearing how rich the Lister-Sinclairs were, and how wonderful life would be when Charles came home, and how they would always be giving lavish parties. ‘Don’t forget it’s me you’re talking to, and I know you too well to fall for any balderdash. If you are pregnant, then Charles can’t possibly be the father. So come on, out with it, who have you been dallying with?’
Evelyn knew it would be no use pretending, she was in trouble no matter which way she turned. ‘It is Charles’ baby! I was stupid for allowing him to have his way with me before we were married.’ She had the grace to blush. ‘I felt sorry for him with him being sent overseas, and now I don’t know which way to turn. I never see my parents, which is the way I want it, but what am I going to say to my father-in-law when he comes? He’s due any time now with my monthly allowance, and you were quick enough to notice so he’s bound to.’
‘I imagine you’ll meet some hurdles, Eve, because how can you prove it’s Charles’ baby? Mrs L.S. doesn’t like you to begin with, so she’s bound to cause problems.’
‘Charles will soon put them straight when he comes home. And I hope that’s soon because it’s very embarrassing for me. Do you think I should explain to my father-in-law when he comes, tell him the truth? Or should I wear something that doesn’t make it obvious and hope that the war will soon be over?’
Gwen shrugged her shoulders. ‘That’s up to you, Eve, I can’t advise you.’ She got to her feet. ‘I’ll have to go, I’m off to a cocktail party with Oscar. His parents are almost as wealthy as the Lister-Sinclairs, but I don’t think I’ll be letting him have his wicked way with me. Not until I have a wedding ring on my finger.’ She swaggered towards the door. ‘You take care, darling, and I’ll call next week for the latest news.’
Evelyn eyed her coldly. She would have expected at least some show of sympathy or helpful suggestions from her friend. ‘I’ll let Eliza show you out.’
When her father-in-law called a few days later, Evelyn was wearing a loose dress, and as Cyril passed the money over without making any comment, she thought her weight gain had slipped his notice. He never stayed long to chat so there was nothing unusual in his making an excuse not to sit down. But as Evelyn followed him down the wide hall, she ventured to say, ‘I’ve been expecting a letter from Charles, I thought I would have heard by now.’
He turned to face her. ‘Any letters, or correspondence of any kind, would come to me. You see, when Charles joined up, he wasn’t thinking of getting married and put me down as next-of-kin. There has been no word from him since he left, but I will inform you if there is any news.’ He reached the front door, smiled at Eliza who was holding it open for him, then placed his hard high hat on his head and walked down the path to where a horse and carriage stood waiting for him. Without a backward glance he climbed into the carriage and gave his groom instructions to move away. His mind was very disturbed on the journey home as he hadn’t failed to notice the loose-fitting dress which wasn’t his daughter-in-law’s usual style. That combined with the filling out of her face were signs of a woman with child. But it couldn’t be, he was being bad-minded. However, in the weeks that followed doubt niggled at the back of his mind. If she was with child, it couldn’t be his son’s. She must have cheated on Charles.
Cyril waited another four weeks before calling on Evelyn again with her allowance. The door was opened by Eliza, whose usual smile was missing. The girl looked uncomfortable. ‘The mistress asked me to apologise for her absence, Mr Lister-Sinclair, but she is feeling unwell and has taken to her bed. But she did say you could safely leave any messages with me and she would see you next month.’
Cyril stepped into the hall and handed his hat and gloves to the wide-eyed maid. ‘Tell your mistress I insist upon seeing her, and will wait in the drawing room. And please ask her not to keep me waiting as I have another appointment.’ The maid did a little bob, placed his hat and gloves on the huge carved hallstand and scurried up the stairs while Cyril made his way to the drawing room. He didn’t have long to wait for Evelyn was afraid of displeasing him. As soon as she walked through the door he knew his fears were well founded. Despite her loose-fitting dress, the filling out of her breasts and face were a sure sign. Although Evelyn had a large silk handkerchief trailing from her hands, it couldn’t hide the swell of her stomach or the apprehension in her eyes.
‘I won’t beat about the bush, I have an appointment and can’t stay long.’ Cyril nodded to the hands vainly trying to cover her stomach. ‘I think you have some explaining to do. It is very obvious you are carrying a child, and it is also obvious my son can’t be the father. So I think an explanation is in order.’
‘But it is Charles’ baby!’ Evelyn lowered her head in shame as she told him what had happened three nights before she and Charles were wed. ‘I am telling the truth, Mr Lister-Sinclair, and Charles will verify that when he comes home. I should not have succumbed to his advances, I know that now, but he was going away so soon I couldn’t deny him.’
Cyril reached into an inside pocket and brought out an envelope which he placed on the table. ‘I will continue to pay you until my son comes home. If you are telling the truth I will be saddened by the actions of both of you. If you are telling lies, I will have no pity for you or your child, and you will leave this house as you entered it. There would be no further allowance and no further communication between you or any member of my family. I won’t, for the time being, discuss the present situation with my wife as she is longing for her son’s return and I will not add to her worries.’ He nodded curtly and walked towards the door. ‘I will in future hand the envelope in to Eliza. I will not enter this house until my son comes back from the war. If you take my advice, you will be more frugal with your money for the time being, and save what you can. The day might not be far off when you will have need of it.’
Evelyn was afraid now of a time coming when all this wealth and comfort was snatched away from
her, so she became miserly with money. If she was thrown out of here she would have nowhere to go, her parents would disown her. But still she clung to the hope that the war would end soon and Charles would come back home and put things right. However, it wasn’t to be. When she was seven months pregnant, Cyril came to tell her he’d had a telegram from the War Office to say Charles had been killed in battle. ‘As I told you, Charles had put my name down as next-of-kin, and that is why the telegram was sent to me. My wife is absolutely distraught and I must get back to her.’
‘But what about me?’ Evelyn cried. ‘It is his child I’m carrying, you’ve got to believe me! You can’t throw me out on the street, not in my condition.’
‘You may stay until the baby is born, then you must look elsewhere for a house. Anyone could be the father. Please send a note a few weeks after it is born and I’ll come and check that you have made arrangements to move. I might possibly allow you to take some of the smaller pieces of furniture and other items. Send the letter with Eliza and impress upon her that she must not hand it over to anyone but myself.’ With a curt nod, Cyril was gone.
When Evelyn went into labour she would have been lost if Eliza hadn’t run for her mother, who had delivered several babies in the street where they lived. Evelyn had not dared attend a hospital, nor had she booked the services of a midwife. All because of her pride, in case word had gone around that the woman calling herself Mrs Lister-Sinclair was carrying another man’s baby.
She may have been unlucky in many things, but she struck lucky with Eliza and her mother. They were very efficient, and the mother in particular seemed to know exactly what to do. Evelyn was in labour for only five hours, there were no complications. She screamed throughout the birth. Afterwards there was relief on her face, but no thanks on her lips. She was used to being waited on by now and could not see why she should thank a servant who was being paid to look after her. Eliza’s mother didn’t like her at all, thought she was a proper snob, but because she was her daughter’s boss, she kept these thoughts to herself. Besides, she was being paid a pound for delivering the baby and that would keep her family for a week. So as she placed the baby in Evelyn’s arms, she kept her voice pleasant. ‘What are yer going to call her, Mrs Lister-Sinclair? Have yer got a name for her?’
‘I’ve always liked the name Amelia, so that’s what I intend to call her.’
Eliza, who would have loved to cuddle the baby, said, ‘Oh, that’s a nice name. She’ll get called Milly at school.’
Evelyn nearly bit her head off. ‘Her name is Amelia, and woe betide anyone who calls her Milly.’ She looked down into the child’s wrinkled face, then pushed the sheet aside. ‘Take her away now, I’m quite exhausted and wish to rest.’
Eliza’s mother was named Dora, and right now Dora was looking at Evelyn with disgust on her face. ‘That baby needs to be put to yer breast. It needs feeding.’
‘Feed a baby?’ Evelyn looked at the woman as though she’d gone mad. ‘I am not going to feed the baby. Now take her away. Perhaps tomorrow when I feel a little stronger.’
‘That baby needs feeding at once, yer can’t feed her just when it suits you.’ Dora didn’t care whether her daughter got the sack, she wasn’t going to stand there and listen to this selfish bitch. ‘If yer won’t feed her, yer’ll have to get a wet-nurse to do it or I’ll bring a doctor in to yer. I brought that baby into the world and I’ll not stand by and see it die just because you can’t be bothered. Make up yer mind before me and Eliza walk out and leave yer to get on with it. And then it would be God help you and the baby!’
One look at the angry face looking down at her had Evelyn asking, ‘What is a wet nurse?’
‘It’s a woman who has just had a baby herself, but who has enough to milk to feed another. There’s a few of them around here.’
Evelyn found this thought distasteful and shuddered. But one look at Dora’s face told her she would be well advised to take heed of this woman; the last thing she wanted was to have a doctor call. A doctor who would perhaps know her in-laws. ‘How would I go about getting one of these wet nurses, and would she be clean and decent?’
Dora shook her head. For all her posh talk, this woman was as thick as two short planks. If it wasn’t for the baby she would have walked out and left her to get on with it. She’d soon learn the hard way, when the baby began screaming with hunger. Besides, Dora wasn’t about to leave without a pound note in her hand. ‘She would be as clean and decent as you are, madam. And the need is pressing, so yer’d better make yer mind up quick.’
‘What would this person charge, and how often would she come?’
Dora wasn’t going to let this spoiled woman off lightly. If she couldn’t be bothered even to hold her new baby, let alone feed her, then she could pay handsomely for someone else to do it. She was living in the lap of luxury, while the wet nurse would be selling her milk to put food in the bellies of her family. The usual price was twopence for feeding a child three times a day, but there was nothing usual about the circumstances here. ‘It will be two pence a time, and yer’ll need her three times a day. During the night yer’ll have to feed the baby yerself, and that’ll get yer used to it. If yer have the nurse for a week, yer should be used to the baby by that time and be able to manage for yerself.’
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. She dreaded the thought of having to feed the baby herself, but she didn’t want to part with any money to pay someone else to do it. ‘But that is sixpence a day – three shillings and sixpence for the week! Surely if the woman is desperate for money she’ll do it for less?’
Dora was really getting on her high horse now. Who the hell did this woman think she was? ‘If yer don’t like the terms, then forget it. Wet nurses are in great demand, they’re not crying out for work. So I’ll leave yer to sort something out yerself.’
‘No! I would be grateful to you if you would arrange for one of the nurses to call as soon as possible. And as I’m sure you’re wanting to get home now, I won’t keep you.’
Dora’s jaw jutted out. ‘I’m not leaving here without the pound yer owe me for delivering the baby. And the wet nurse will want paying in advance, so have the money handy.’
At the end of the second day, the wet nurse, Minnie, waited until she had the sixpence in her hand before telling Evelyn she wouldn’t be coming back. She made an excuse about someone in her family not being well, but it was a different tale when she called at Dora’s.
‘I’m not going to be treated like a piece of dirt by anyone, I’d rather starve first. God help the baby, ’cos she’s a lovely little thing and doesn’t deserve to be lumbered with a mother like that. She’s an unwanted child, that’s sticking out a mile, and will never know a mother’s love. The only one that stuck-up bitch thinks about is herself. She treats your Eliza like a slave. Sent the poor girl into town today to buy a cradle so she won’t have to have the baby in bed with her. And she wrote down on a sheet of notepaper that the cradle must be of the best dark mahogany, with carving. But what’s the good of a lovely cot when there’s no love for the baby in it? Her own flesh and blood and anyone would think it had leprosy.’
Dora nodded. ‘She’s a stuck-up bleedin’ cow, that’s what she is. But I’m worried about the child. D’yer think I should get another nurse for her?’
Minnie pulled a face. ‘That’s up to you, queen, but if yer take my advice yer’ll leave her be. Left on her own, she’s going to have to feed the baby because her breasts are full of milk and she’ll be in agony if she doesn’t. It may take her a while to realise that, I don’t think she’s got a bleeding clue about being a mother, but she’ll soon catch on when the baby’s screaming and she’s in pain. That’s when she’ll start putting two and two together.’
And Minnie was right. Evelyn hated the task, and at times hated the baby for making it necessary, but for her own comfort she fed Amelia whenever both felt the need.
Four weeks after the birth, Eliza was sent with a letter to inform Mr Lister-Sinclair.
It was another two weeks before he visited, and he spent several minutes gazing down into the cradle before asking, ‘Have you been successful in finding a new house for yourself and the baby?’
‘I haven’t been out since Amelia was born, I haven’t felt strong enough.’ Evelyn didn’t want to leave this beautiful house and the allowance that went with it, so she begged. ‘Please believe that Amelia is Charles’ baby. I swear that is the truth.’
Once again Cyril looked down into the child’s eyes. They seemed to be looking straight at him. ‘This baby bears no resemblance whatsoever to my son. Not in colouring, not in one single feature. In my eyes she was conceived out of wedlock and is therefore an illegitimate child, thanks to the immorality of her mother.’
He sighed, for he was not a cruel man at heart. But he was hurting so much from the loss of his son, and this woman was adding to the hurt by tarnishing the dead man’s reputation and bringing discredit to the Lister-Sinclair name. And she had never loved his son, Cyril knew that now. His mind went back to the day he’d called to tell her he’d received a telegram saying Charles had been killed in action. She didn’t even flinch, just stared at him as though the person he was talking about was a stranger to her. No tears, no outpouring of grief, no word of sorrow for the man she had married and professed to love. She hadn’t even asked where and how her husband had been killed. Her only thought was of what was going to happen to her. She didn’t even go into mourning, wearing widow’s weeds, but was always colourfully dressed when he called. Nor had she ever expressed sympathy to him and his wife for their loss. It was as though Charles had never existed in her life. The only person Evelyn cared about was herself. No, she’d never loved his son, it was his money she’d loved.
‘I do not want this child to bear my son’s name,’ he told her now, ‘and if I find you have put Charles’ name on the birth certificate as being the father, I will take legal action against you.’ He turned, hesitating momentarily before walking away. ‘There is a property letting office in Moorfields. They are a good firm and I suggest you try them.’ He nodded curtly. ‘Goodbye.’
