The Favourite Child

by Freda Lightfoot

  Had some poor woman reached the end of her tether and abandoned the child because she could no longer feed it? Could it be someone who used the clinic? The baby was perhaps living evidence of a ‘failure’. It was clearly someone who knew her and who believed she would be prepared to help. From what Bella could see, after a hasty examination, the child had been well cared for, if somewhat small and underfed. The most important thing was to find the mother.

  The next morning enquiries around the neighbours elicited no further details. No one had seen anyone approach Bella’s front door, or heard a sound outside. But then everyone was too busy enjoying their own Christmas celebrations to notice.

  Dr Syd declared the baby fit and healthy but agreed she was slightly malnourished. She handed Bella a diet sheet and a tin of baby food, along with a whole string of instructions of which Bella understood about a third, before ushering her out of the surgery.

  ‘Is that it? What am I supposed to do now?’

  Dr Syd chuckled. ‘You seem to be managing fine. Just keep it up.’

  ‘But I must find the child’s mother. Isn’t there an orphanage or some such? I mean, who usually deals with these sort of things?’ Bella felt confused, overwhelmed by this turn of events.

  Her colleague gently stroked the baby’s cheek, tucked warmly in the folds of the shawl. ‘You’d need to contact the Board of Guardians. Sorry, but it is Boxing Day. This is only supposed to be an emergency surgery and, as you can see, I have a full waiting room. After this lot, I’m going home to enjoy my own Christmas, belatedly.’

  ‘Of course, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I can manage perfectly well, at least over the holiday.’

  On her way home she suddenly remembered that she’d very little food in the house, and a loaf of Aunt Edie’s bread wouldn’t come amiss. With luck, Boxing Day or no, she would have done a batch since the little shop rarely closed.

  Bella collected a small loaf, together with half a dozen freshly baked mince tarts but the visit to the cook shop naturally took twice as long as normal. Not only because the other customers were reluctant to leave the warm, festive atmosphere but also because the baby had to be passed around, jiggled and tutted over, amid much speculation as to whom she might belong to. Bella said that if anyone had any thoughts on the matter, they could discuss them with her in private, so as not to cause embarrassment for the woman, or girl, concerned.

  ‘I’ll ask around,’ Mrs Blundell said, nodding wisely as she let the baby suckle on her grimy little finger. ‘It’s knowing who to ask, that’s the secret.’

  ‘I shall leave the matter in your capable hands,’ Bella declared, retrieving the child from this possibly life threatening source of nourishment. ‘But if I don’t find the mother soon, I dare say I shall have to take her to the Board of Guardians. This was greeted with much indrawing of breath, clearly indicating the general opinion on this particular subject.

  Once out of the shop, Bella hurried along Liverpool Street towards Jacob’s Court, anxious not to be late, and although she caught a fleeting glimpse of a familiar figure in a slouch cap hovering on a street corner just ahead of her, by the time she reached the spot, he’d vanished. Bella put it down to an overactive imagination.

  Violet was enchanted by the baby though utterly dumbfounded by her unexpected arrival.

  ‘Before you ask,’ her husband mildly remarked, from the cosiness of his chair by the kitchen range where he sat with his stocking feet propped on the warm fender, ‘the answer is no. We have enough to feed already. We want no more childer in this house.’

  ‘Nay,’ Violet said, rocking the baby up and down in her plump arms. ‘I weren’t going to ask thee, love. This little ‘un would be one too many even for me at my age, as she happen were fer her own mam. Poor lamb. But then this slump is putting the squeeze on everyone. What are you going to do with her?’ addressing this question to Bella, as if she had all the answers.

  ‘I don’t know. I rather hoped you might advise.’

  They all sat down to a substantial meal of hot pot with lamb, instead of mutton, since it was Christmas. It tasted delicious, the potatoes all crisp on top and the juices from the meat making a rich gravy. The baby was a constant topic of conversation throughout the meal with much speculation as to its parentage and what Bella should do about it. The twins kept trying to persuade her to nibble a slice of carrot until Violet put a stop to their antics.

  ‘Whatever thee does, don’t take yon child to Ignatius House. I know them sisters are supposed to be charitable but by heck they show little indication of it. Hard as nails, the lot of ‘em. They don’t know the proper meaning of love and affection. If a child wets its bed, and what child wouldn’t, dumped in a huge monolith of a building where faceless women in black cloaks glide about freezing corridors, the poor mite gets the cold bath treatment. That’s supposed to ‘cure’ its bad manners. Heartless, they are. Nay, find a proper home for this little ‘un. She deserves better.’

  Bella glanced across at the baby, now sleeping peacefully in the Howarth children’s old crib, then at all the kindly faces around this dinner table. Violet was right. The child did deserve to be loved and cared for in a proper family, not in an institution. Violet’s family might be poor but they were rich in every other respect. Richer than her own, for instance, certainly where love and affection was concerned.

  Dan was stolidly eating his hot pot and Bella realised he’d said nothing, thus far, about the baby. Now she smiled at him. ‘What do you think I should do with her, Dan?’

  His fork paused on its journey, hovered, was set down on his plate again. ‘I should think the answer is obvious. Find the mother. You can’t afford to care for a child, Bella. Neither can we. The woman, whoever she is, must be made to accept her responsibility.’

  ‘Made to?’

  ‘Helped in some way then. But this baby has a mother somewhere. She needs to be found. That’s all I’m saying.’

  It was, of course, sound advice but somehow Bella felt a nudge of disappointment in him. Throughout the day he never glanced at little Holly, as she was duly named, it being Christmas after all. While other members of the family took turns to nurse and feed her, Dan kept well away. Even Cyril took his share of burping and feeding, singing her a lullaby to send her off to sleep. It was as if Dan didn’t want to know about the child. As if he didn’t care what happened to her. But Bella dismissed this thought as unfair. Hadn’t he only yesterday morning performed the role of Santa Claus for two hundred children, just days after he’d stated that he didn’t care for them and preferred to avoid the little blighters whenever possible.

  ‘Na then,’ Violet said, after the meal had been cleared away. ‘Shift yerself Father and mend that fire. I’m going to have ten minutes shuteye. We’ll mind the babby, lass. You go for a walk, pair of you. Fresh air’ll bring a bit of colour to thee cheeks.’

  Bella and Dan strolled along Liverpool Street arm in arm in the brilliant sunshine of a frosty afternoon, the silence between them growing. They passed the Rec’, where they left the younger ones in the care of Ernest and George to watch the rugby, and continued on their way. They turned the corner into Bromley Street, a decision Bella instantly regretted as she found herself glancing over her shoulder every other second, as if half fearing Quinn might emerge from his house and start following her again.

  They walked all the way to Brindleheath without speaking a word. At length, when they reached Dawney’s Hill and Bella could see the children running about excitedly flying their new kites, she could bear it no more. ‘Dan, is there something wrong?

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  Despite his words it was perfectly clear that something had changed between them. His tone was brusque, even the slope of his shoulders seemed hunched and uncommunicative, repelling any invasion into this private world he was constructing about himself. Was it only her imagination yesterday, Bella wondered, or had he truly asked her to marry him? Hadn’t he looked at her with extra warmth, with a deepe
r intensity in his loving gaze? Now he barely lifted his eyes from the pavement. He seemed to be withdrawing, exactly as he’d done once before, the shutters coming down, the bridge that spanned the gap between them somehow disintegrating before her eyes. ‘You said it was time we talked. What about? Was there something particular that you wished to say to me, Dan?’

  A long pause and then again, ‘Not that I know of.’

  Bella’s heart contracted with a fierce stab of disappointment. How could he do this to her? One minute it was all Christmas kisses and loving promises, the next being cold shouldered for no reason that she could fathom. She’d expected a serious proposal today. She’d found herself dreaming of life as Mrs Dan Howarth, and hadn’t found the idea in the least unpleasant, quite the opposite. Intoxicating, in fact. Bella loved the prospect of being with this man she loved so dearly, day and night. She wanted to bear and raise his children, to be there for him on their shared journey through life. But if he was having second thoughts, surely it was no more than his usual lack of confidence, this chip he carried on his shoulder. The mood would pass, if she ignored it.

  Bella began to tell him, in her usually bright cheerful fashion of Christmas Day with her family. She chattered on, making it all seem thoroughly entertaining and amusing, even her mother’s rendition of Christians Awake, in which she rarely struck a right note. She made much of the glass of sherry her father had finally produced for them, when it was almost time to leave. ‘Though it was little more than half a glass. He’s so mean these days,’ and then went on to describe her concern over Tilly. ‘I thought of going to the workhouse tomorrow, to try to find her. She might not actually be a resident, or inmate, whatever you call them but Edward says she’s been spotted queuing for soup. I’d like to find her, see that she’s all right.’

  ‘Aye, you find her. Then take her home and feed her, and find her a job, and look after her like you did Jinnie. Aye, why not? That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Looking after other folk. Sorting out and interfering in their lives, you and your ‘ladies’. You’ve time for everyone but them as matters most.’

  Bella had stopped walking to stare at him and listen to this unexpected tirade, a frown puckering her brow. ‘What was that little outburst supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nowt.’ He turned up his coat collar, shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and walked on, chin clamped down between hunched shoulders, leaving her where she stood in frozen dismay. Bella had to hurry to catch him up.

  ‘I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you. You were fine yesterday. What has changed?’

  ‘Nowt!’

  ‘It must have. You’re not usually this grumpy. I absolutely refuse to get into a silly squabble today, Dan. It’s Christmas for goodness’ sake and - and - damn it, I thought something special was happening between us, that you had something important to say to me about us.’

  He strode on, glaring fixedly ahead, refusing to meet her gaze. ‘It is. I did. Well, I might have had, anyroad.’

  ‘Good. Well then, why don’t you tell me?’

  ‘Cause you’d not want to hear it.’

  ‘Of course I would. I know I work too hard but I’m here with you now, aren’t I? I’m listening.’ She was scurrying beside his striding figure, laughing up at him, despite her scolding words. When still he did not respond, she dragged him to a halt. ‘Very well then, Dan Howarth, if you won’t say it, I will. The fact is, I love you, you great soft lump. There, that wasn’t so painful, was it? I - love - you! I adore you, in fact. I rather hoped that you might feel the same. Happy Christmas,’ And she flung her arms about his neck and kissed him; a full and loving kiss. His mouth instinctively responded, moving swift and hard against hers, his arms coming around her as he almost crushed her in his arms, so intense was the emotion between them.

  When he released her sufficiently to allow her to breathe again, she lay her cheek against his broad chest and sighed happily. ‘Do I take that kiss as confirmation of that whispered proposal yesterday? It does mean what I think it means, doesn’t it?’

  His response was a long time in coming. Too long. ‘Aye,’ he said at last. ‘I meant it right enough but everything’s changed now.’

  ‘Why? I still love you. You still love me. What can possibly have changed?’

  All the light seemed to have faded from his face and his expression was stony. ‘Just tell me that you don’t intend to keep it.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Keep what?’

  ‘I’d just like to know that you mean to find who it properly belongs to.’

  ‘The baby … is that what this is all about?’ Bella stared at him in disbelief. Could the arrival of one small baby make such a difference to his mood? Surely not, though she could think of no other reason. ‘Heavens, you’re surely not jealous?’ She began to laugh but as his face tightened with displeasure she stopped at once, for it was all too clear that Dan did not share her amusement. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve already said that’s what I intend to do.’

  Then he held her from him, looking deeply into her eyes. ‘There’s nothing I want more than for us to be wed but I want things to be right for us, that’s all, Bella. I don’t want us to be scratting about for every penny. I want us to be happy.’

  ‘Oh, we will be. We will be very happy.’ And then he was kissing her again and everything was good between them, just as it should be, and would continue to be, Bella was sure of it.

  Bella was not unduly concerned over Dan’s strange mood. She knew him for a prickly character at the best of times, loving, caring, steady, always there when she needed him and with the promise of something wonderful developing between them, but not an easy man to know.

  The warm glow of excitement which the prospect of married life with Dan had lit in her was tempered somewhat by his innate caution. But then you could never accuse him of being impulsive. Every decision was always carefully considered, measured and judged by its possible consequence. His one aim in life was to feel safe and secure, to be sure that he knew where the next meal was coming from, whereas Bella was usually one to jump in with both feet and worry about the possible outcome later.

  Unlike her own sheltered life, Dan Haworth had needed to work hard for his. Of course he wanted to provide well for her, for the sake of his pride and because security was desperately important to him. And was it any wonder? Life, for the Howarth family had never been easy, and it was hard for them just now with Mr Howarth unwell and so many children still living at home. But it would surely get better now that the family were growing up. Ernest had already left, he and his new wife and baby having gone to live with his in-laws. Soon, the little house would begin to empty as they each in turn went off to marry, or to make their own lives in the greater world. Georgie was already talking of going into the navy, and Kate was seriously walking out with her young man. Dan would then be largely free of his share of the responsibility to his family, and able to start one of his own. Though she was sure the entire brood would continue to give a helping hand to their loving parents when needed.

  Bella’s thoughts moved on to the problem of the abandoned baby. Dan was entirely right in that she really must make every effort to find the mother. And if she didn’t succeed? Much as it broke Bella’s heart to think of Holly being so casually left on a doorstep, was she the right person to take on the care of an orphaned baby? In her present circumstances, could she even afford the luxury?

  She lay awake much of the night worrying over the matter and by the next morning, had quite made up her mind to take the child at once to the Board of Guardians. By the time she’d bathed, fed and changed her, and of course played with her on the rug, her resolution had begun to fade. The bright blue eyes, so wide and alert and surely displaying a sharp intelligence; the sweet baby scent of her now that she was dressed in warm, clean clothes, the translucence of her eyelids, the miracle of each tiny finger and perfectly formed toe nail was a joy to behold. In no time it seemed, the morning was gone and it was almost dinner t
ime. Perhaps the visit to the Board of Guardians could wait a little while. Tilly was the greater priority.

  Bella tucked the child warmly into the bassinet, leant to her by Violet, and bowled happily along Liverpool street in the direction of the workhouse on Eccles New Road. Dinner time should be a good time to catch Tilly if she was a regular visitor to the soup kitchen. Bella’s intention was to hand over the envelope of money which constituted the maid’s Christmas Box from Father, then make a start on her usual home visits, calling in at the Guardian office on the way. There was nothing to be lost through a little delay.

  It was as she turned the corner of Hodge Lane that a hand grasped her by the elbow and a familiar grating voice hissed in her ear. ‘Were ye hurrying away from me, my lovely?’ Bella heard herself cry out in dismay, heart racing, as she realised she’d been right all along. Billy Quinn was following her.

  She managed to wrench herself free and swung away from him, her voice, when she found it, coldly furious. ‘Don’t you dare creep up on me like that.’ Bella half expected him to ask after the baby but he in fact ignored its presence completely, just as if she wasn’t hanging on to the handle of the bassinet like a protective weapon wedged between them.

  He apologised for having neglected her recently and while Bella was still reeling from that bit of effrontery, blithely informed her that he’d had a stroke of good fortune, winning a substantial sum on the horses over Christmas. ‘I’ve bought meself a fine house in Weaste, not quite the Polygon but I’m on me way. I’m going up in the world, so I am. I reckon ye can have no further objection to me now. Aren’t I a man of substance at last, fit to be considered acceptable even by the Miss High-and-Mighty-Ashton.

  Bella looked at him askance, eyebrows disappearing beneath the tumble of hair across her brow. ‘The fact that I have not behaved in the least bit ‘high and mighty’ towards you, is nearer to the truth, as well as ample evidence of my folly. It might have been better if I had been more, shall we say, circumspect.’