The Favourite Child

by Freda Lightfoot

  Dan laughed as he watched her brush the last crumb from her lips. They were rather nice lips and his gaze lingered upon them for several seconds. ‘I reckon I can tell, since you’ve wolfed that pie down in double quick time. Shall I go and get you another?’

  ‘No, no, that would be far too greedy, and there’s really no need. I feel much better now. Almost human in fact. Thanks.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’ There was a slight pause as they walked along, Dan quickly finishing his own pie. Even the way she spoke indicated the yawning chasm between them. What she called lunch, he knew as dinner. She certainly didn’t look the sort to eat hot pies. He carefully wiped his mouth, then cleared his throat before politely remarking, ‘You’re kept pretty busy then, in that clinic. How’s it doing?’

  ‘Oh, fine. Absolutely fine.’ For the first time in her life Bella suddenly felt embarrassed and shy. She wasn’t too sure whether it would be quite appropriate to discuss the work of the clinic, or even its aims, with a single male. She didn’t, in any case, know Dan all that well since he was usually at work when she called on his mother. Perhaps he was suffering from a similar affliction Bella decided, as silence fell upon them again as they progressed along the street.

  ‘How about a drink to wash the pie down?’ Dan hesitated outside The Ship, wondering what he could say to persuade her to agree. ‘Or happen you’re in a hurry to get home afore it gets dark?’ Blast! Now he’d given her an excuse to refuse.

  ‘No, no. A drink would be lovely. I’ve never been in a pub before.’

  ‘Never? By heck,’ Dan said with a grin. ‘Then it’s time we changed that. I’m fond of a pint meself. But don’t tell me Dad. He’s teetotal.’

  Bella was laughing now as he led her to the quietest corner of the lounge bar that he could find. ‘I believe your mother has mentioned the fact once or twice.’

  Dan cast her a sideways grin. ‘I dare say she’s told you all sorts of stuff about us. You might be safe to believe about half of it. You have to have a good sense of humour to live with my mam.’

  ‘I can imagine. Oh, I always take Violet with a large pinch of salt.’

  He brought her a glass of port and lemon which seemed to Dan a ladies’ sort of drink, and a pint of best bitter for himself. Though he hastened to assure her that he was no more than a moderate drinker. ‘Not like some round here.’

  ‘I’d noticed.’

  They sat for an hour or more over their drinks and Bella soon forgot her shyness, as she enjoyed talking with him. Born and brought up in the rough and tumble of Salford the image he presented was of a strong, clean, sound sort of chap who could make his mark without throwing his weight about. With his powerful physique, square-jawed face, broad nose and fair hair cut close to the head, he might have been taken for a pugilist were it not for the gentleness of his blue-grey eyes, and open friendly smile.

  ‘Happen we could do this again some time,’ he said, as they parted at the end of the street.

  ‘I’d like that,’ Bella agreed and, as she walked away, keenly aware of those eyes following her, realised that she meant it.

  Bella found that she loved working at the clinic. She brought in a box of toys to keep the children amused while their mothers waited to be seen by the doctor. She set two or three chairs against the wall but the rest of the women waited happily enough on the stairs, gossiping to each other to pass the time.

  The first task was for them to be seen by an experienced helper. Bella drafted in a couple of married women for this job. They would fill in a case card with a patient’s medical history and discuss any particular difficulties. Sometimes this took quite a while but no one was allowed to feel under pressure or hurried in any way. After that the woman would go in to see Dr Syd for a consultation and full medical examination. Patients who hadn’t already been too badly damaged by child bearing were then left with Nurse Shaw to be fitted with an appliance, and given the necessary instruction. After the doctor had checked that all was well and any fears mollified it was Bella’s job to hand out a printed card with the woman’s next appointment, as well as to arrange a suitable time for a home visit.

  The clinic was only open a few hours each week, from 9.30 to noon on a Tuesday morning and 7.00 to 9.30 p.m. on a Thursday evening but whenever she wasn’t occupied doing home visits, Bella would often pop in, perhaps to do paperwork, send out further requests for donations, or simply to tidy up or do a spot of cleaning. Also, Dr Syd would often ask her to write to other clinics, already operational, for advice on some problem or other, so her correspondence load was heavy. Not that she minded in the least. Bella wanted the clinic to be a success and meant to do everything in her power to ensure that it was. She wrote again to Dr Stopes to keep her informed of their progress and was delighted to receive an encouraging letter in response. And as she worked she would think about how the clinic, and Jinnie of course, had changed her life completely.

  She was a little concerned about Jinnie who’d taken to going out on her own quite a lot recently. Which was strange, considering how carefully she had kept within doors ever since she’d arrived. Perhaps she visited old friends, or even met up with Edward at some secret rendezvous, as lovers so. On the other hand perhaps, like herself, Jinnie was glad of any excuse to escape the depressing atmosphere of Seedley Park Road. Bella vowed to speak to her on the matter, make sure that there were no problems. Emily was not an easy woman at the best of times.

  Bella had been tempted on numerous occasions to unmask her mother’s illness as the sham it truly was but had resisted, on the grounds that it was Doctor Lisle’s responsibility to decide what was best for the welfare of his patient, and not hers. Hadn’t he told her so a dozen times? Besides, her mother must be both clever and exceedingly determined if she was prepared to suffer such miserable confinement in order to fool everyone, even her own doctor, so any attempt to foil her little scheme could have unknown repercussions. Another tantrum perhaps, even a genuine stroke, and Bella had no wish to be the one to cause it.

  When Bella wasn’t at the clinic she spent practically all her spare time calling on patients to check that they were coping and experiencing no problems. Hygiene was of paramount importance and she used a good deal of the clinic’s funds in purchasing soap and doling it out to those in need. Sometimes she found that a woman had stopped using the contraceptaline because of cost, resorting to Vaseline instead. Or the pessary had been lost and the patient was afraid to return for another.

  Having persuaded Mrs Blundell to attend the clinic she called on her one day to check on progress, only to be confronted by an irate husband filling the doorstep with his powerful bulk so that Bella was blocked from entering, despite his wife’s pleas that she be allowed in.

  ‘I’ll not have her getting up to mischief while I’m at work,’ he roared, waving a huge fist in Bella’s face. ‘I threw the bloody thing on t’fire.’

  A voice called out from behind him in the lobby. ‘Daft bugger. I told him I weren’t playing away, but would he bleedin’ listen?’

  ‘Don’t argue with me, woman.’

  Bella tried desperately to intervene and calm tempers down. ‘I’m sure Mrs Blundell would never do any such thing. The help we give her at the clinic is for your sake as much as hers, so that you and she can enjoy a happy marriage without fear of the consequences.’

  ‘Pull the other leg and see if that’s got bells on.’

  Bella spent an hour or more attempting to persuade him otherwise, with half the street privy to the noisy argument but was forced to admit defeat when he practically pushed her backwards into the gutter, yelling that she’d turned his wife into a whore and he wouldn’t stand for it.

  Within weeks following this incident Mrs Blundell popped in to Aunt Edie’s cook shop and sadly confessed she’d fallen yet again. Bella chanced to be in the shop at the time, having a chat before going upstairs to open the clinic.

  ‘Nay lass, I’m that sorry,’ Aunt Edie said, putting an extra currant tea cake in the
bag as if by way of consolation. ‘What’ll yer do?’

  ‘I don’t know which way to turn, but I don’t blame you, lass. You did your best to help.’

  Bella said. ‘Come up and see Dr Syd anyway. She can at least give you proper care during your pregnancy.’

  ‘Aye, happen I’ll do that.’

  But if poor Mrs Blundell could be counted as a failure which wouldn’t, strictly speaking, be true since it wasn’t the method which had failed, only social pressure or ignorance, the clinic certainly had plenty of successes, Mrs Stobbs among them. The moment she’d heard about the new clinic, she’d been one of the first to trek up those stairs and been a devoted advocate of birth-control ever since. So far with excellent results. Even her husband was happy.

  ‘Education is the answer,’ was Dr Syd’s endless cry and both she and Bella, who had become firm friends, set out to provide just that, with Nurse Shaw’s able assistance.

  Bella got into the habit of visiting Dr Syd at her rooms after surgery every Monday when they’d enjoy a bottle of wine while thrashing out the problems of the clinic for the week ahead: how they needed to reach more patients, gain better publicity in the press and encourage the medical community to take more of an interest.

  ‘Ten years ago, when I was tending our boys in the trenches, I never thought I’d be fighting another war, one of politics and prejudice. You’ve only to walk down Broad Street or North Street and see the number of children with legs bent by rickets; nothing but rags on their backs since their decent clothes are in pawn and often not even a pair of boots to their feet; to know that society is failing vast swathes of people and creating yet more of an underclass. Is it any wonder they fall to drink or gambling, for all they can’t afford it? Anything to alleviate their miserable lives.’

  ‘At least we’re attempting to better their lot to some extent,’ Bella assured her, and felt almost guilty refilling their wine glasses. Perhaps she never would understand the true meaning of poverty, not unless she’d actually experienced it herself which, thank God, was never likely to happen.

  On two or three occasions Bella found Dan Howarth waiting for her in the shop when the session was over and her heart would give a strange leap of pleasure at sight of him. Not that she let him see what she felt, for Bella had no wish to give him any unrealistic hopes. She told herself firmly that she’d enough to deal with, being fully occupied with running the clinic. Even so, they would often enjoy a quiet supper together, a drink in the Ship or the Old Railway or simply a walk in the evening air.

  ‘I reckon it’s a bit of a cheek for me to be asking you out, daughter of a mill manager, when I’m no more’n a dock labourer.’

  ‘Heavens, don’t be silly. We’re good friends, aren’t we?’

  ‘Aye, that’s it. Just good friends.’ Dan’s sideways glance spoke volumes that he’d like them to be much more but Bella was waving to Mrs Blundell across the street, so didn’t notice.

  For all she gave little indication, she came to enjoy his company and looked forward to the time they spent together. Sometimes, as she stood at the window gazing out over the soot-encrusted streets of Salford, she found herself watching for him, telling herself it was only because he was such entertaining company, regaling her with tales of his mates with whom he worked down at the docks. Bella began to ask herself where this friendship might be leading, where she wanted it to lead but found no ready answers.

  One Sunday afternoon they walked all the way to Dawney’s Hill. It smelled of fresh green grass and spring sunshine and Bella felt deliciously happy as they sat watching the children run about, the wind tugging at their kites. Dan told her how he used to come here with his dad when he was a boy.

  ‘I suppose one day I’ll have childer of me own, and I’ll fetch them out here with a kite or fishing rod.’

  ‘I suppose you will.’

  ‘Though I must say I’m not in any hurry. I’ve enough childer round me feet every day of the week, all creating mayhem one way or another.’

  ‘It must be lovely though to be part of a big, happy family.’

  Dan snorted his disdain at the very idea. ‘Allus needing summat. Lot of responsibility.’ He cleared his throat, picked a few daisies and began to form them into a chain in an abstracted sort of way. ‘How about you? I dare say you fancy being wed, one day like.’

  Bella rolled onto her stomach, feeling oddly shy as she casually plucked a daisy and handed it to him. ‘I’d like a family of my own certainly, though whether that’s a good reason to consider marriage, I’m not sure. He would have to be someone very special, and I’d need to love him very much.’

  For a long moment they gazed upon each other in silence, fingers touching as they both held on to the flower. Then Bella took her hand away, cheeks softly flushed as she gave a shy smile. Her mind seemed to have gone a complete blank and she could think of nothing to say.

  ‘A lass like you must have a fair number of suitors.’

  ‘Suitors? What a lovely old fashioned word. No, I have no suitors, much to my mother’s despair. I shall end up an old maid on the shelf, no doubt.’

  ‘Nay, I can’t see that happening, not a likely lass such as yourself.’

  Bella watched the children with the kites for a moment, then picked another daisy, twirling it between her fingers as she smiled softly to herself. ‘You’re so gallant, Dan, but I’m no beauty and I’m not - how shall I put it - very biddable.’

  He grinned down at her. ‘Stop fishing for compliments. You know well enough how attractive you are. But no, you’re right, no one could accuse you of being biddable.’

  She cast him a quick glance from beneath her lashes. ‘How about you? Is there a queue of likely lasses waiting breathlessly for your proposal?’

  ‘Nay. Chaps like me can’t afford the luxury of marriage too soon. Unless they’re daft enough to jump the gun.’ He returned his attention to the daisy chain as if it were an important engineering feat, or some great work of art he was producing. ‘My wages are needed at home anyroad, for the little ‘uns, more’s the pity, so any lass with hopes to be my wife would have to be prepared to wait a long while for the privilege, while I saved up.’ And it could never be with the likes of you, he thought wistfully, forcing himself to face reality.

  ‘Maybe a girl would be happy to wait for a fine upstanding bloke such as yourself.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said consideringly, again gazing into her face with keen attention. ‘And mebbe some women would take more saving up for than others.’

  ‘Perhaps they’d be more worth the effort.’

  ‘Happen.’ The silence this time seemed palpable, as if something vibrated in the air between them. ‘Or else she’d grow old and grey and bored with the whole daft notion afore I’d managed to save up enough to even buy her a ring.’

  Dan placed the daisy chain on Bella’s head, looking very like a silver crown atop her tawny tresses. Leaning closer he adjusted it slightly, smiling directly into her eyes so that she felt a sudden tightening in her chest. Bella caught her breath as she thought for one glorious moment that he was going to kiss her, that above all else, she wanted him to kiss her. Sensing his shyness, she made a desperate effort to encourage him, ‘Maybe she wouldn’t care about a silly old ring. She could always use one of her own after all.’

  His smile instantly faded, his tone of voice becoming harsh and grating. ‘If she were to be a wife o’mine, she’d have to wear my ring.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...’

  He sat up, the moment of intimacy over, his voice taking on a bitter note. ‘Happen some girls like to flirt. They enjoy making fun of a chap, slumming it like, for a bit of a lark.’

  Bella stared at him, shocked and deeply sorry that she’d hurt him. ‘Is that what you think I’m doing? Flirting. Having a bit of a lark?’

  ‘I think ye’ll happen salve yer conscience by working round here for a while, afore going off and marrying a nice steady chap with a good job. A bloke
like me, on the other hand, is thankful for work of any sort, even if it is casual.’

  The silence now was uncomfortable as she pictured him waiting patiently each morning at the docks in the hope of getting taken on for a day’s work while she sat in middle class comfort enjoying a good breakfast cooked by Mrs Dyson. Though what Bella could do about that, she didn’t quite know. When she finally spoke, it was in a false, breezy manner as if trying to recapture their earlier happy mood. ‘Look at those little lads over there, off to the river with their fishing lines and buckets. They seem to be having fun. Did your dad teach you to fish as well?’

  ‘Aye, so what?’

  ‘I just thought, maybe next time we come here, we could bring rods and you could teach me. I wouldn’t mind having a go, or we could go down by the canal if you prefer.’

  He looked at her for a long moment, wondering again if she wasn’t making fun of him. But she looked so sincere, so warmly genuine that he regretted his outburst and was suddenly anxious to return to that warm, magical moment with the daisy chain. Perhaps if he could see her again, he might get the chance. ‘Aye, all right. Not that there are many fish in the cut, and them that you do catch has a bad cough.’

  And then they were laughing and joking again, as so often when she was with Dan. Bella rather thought that despite their differences, in the months ahead he could indeed become a good friend. Quite special in fact.

  Chapter Nine

  The heady excitement of Saturday afternoon had been a dream too good to last, Jinnie could see that now. Quinn’s demands were quite straightforward. All she had to do was to take bets off the girls and women at the mill. Even if it meant them pledging the rags off their own children’s backs, she had to get them hooked. It was well known that mill operatives were restless and unproductive on big race days and that owners were on their guard to stamp out any sign of betting on their premises for that reason alone, if for no other. Gambling was bad for business because it meant loss of profits. Women were considered to be particularly vulnerable and, in management’s view, had to be protected as they set a bad example to their children.