Mother’s Only Child

by Anne Bennett

  ‘You’re not kidding,’ Maria said under her breath as Jack burst out, ‘What does a losing wicket mean?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Maria said.

  ‘Uncle Sean said it’s good to ask questions,’ Jack said. ‘It’s how people learn, he says.’

  Maria sighed. ‘Uncle Sean doesn’t have to put up with you all day and every day. Give Greg a rest or he will begin to wish he had never asked to walk home with us.’

  ‘No, Maria,’ Greg said. ‘I would never do that.’

  ‘See, he don’t care,’ Jack said.

  ‘OK,’ Maria said. ‘Maybe Greg doesn’t mind, but I do. Be quiet, for pity’s sake, and give us a bit of peace.’

  Jack was a bright boy and he knew when his mother spoke in a certain way, it was best to do as she said. He contented himself with swinging his legs, a look of injured indignation on his face that caused Greg to bite his bottom lip to prevent a smile that he thought Maria probably wouldn’t approve of.

  Maria sighed in relief as they turned in Woodacre Road. ‘Not long now.’

  ‘You should have let me push the pram,’ Greg said. ‘It must be heavy with the two of them.’

  ‘No, really,’ Maria said. ‘And it is all downhill. I’m just jiggered. I’ve been on the go all day and I need a chance to put my feet up and get certain people to bed.’

  ‘She means me,’ Jack said to Greg knowingly. ‘Mommy always says things like that when she means me.’

  ‘Jack, I’m warning you.’

  ‘I’m just telling Greg…‘

  ‘Well, don’t. He doesn’t want to hear you,’ Maria said, and went on before Jack could leap in with anything else, ‘You lived in Aston before, didn’t you, Greg?’

  ‘Yeah, all through the war we did,’ Greg said. ‘Nancy lived with her parents till I was demobbed, and Aston took a pasting. At times, I was more worried about Nancy and Anna than myself.’

  ‘I know,’ Maria said. ‘I wasn’t here through those times, but Martha, the widow Uncle Sean married, had her family near wiped out.’

  ‘I can well believe it.’

  ‘Where do you live now?’

  ‘Holly Lane,’ Greg said. ‘The top end, near the convent.’

  ‘They are big houses there,’ Maria said surprised. ‘Expensive too. Won the pools, have you?’

  ‘Not quite,’ Greg told her with a smile. ‘Like I say, Nancy lived with her parents. She saved and so did I, and with my gratuity after my demob, we were able to rustle up enough for a deposit on a small house. Nancy wanted to stay in the same area. Her father was a bruiser of a man and a bully into the bargain. I tell you, no one shed a tear when he dropped dead just a year after we moved out, but Nancy was real close to her mother. She was all right, the mother, although quite timid at times—I should imagine the husband made her that way—and frail-looking, like Nancy herself. She never really got over losing her son at Dunkirk, though she took pleasure in Anna, and then Shirley, of course.’ He smiled and went on, ‘Nancy chose their names. A bit fanciful for my tastes because Anna is really Annabel, and Shirley, as you might imagine, was called for Shirley Temple.’

  ‘Ssh,’ Maria warned in a whisper. ‘With the slightest encouragement, the boyo here will give you a tuneless rendering of “The Good Ship Lollipop”. Anyway, we’re here, thank God,’ she said, pushing the pram up the path and fumbling in the bag hanging from the pram handle for the key. ‘You’ll come in for a cup of tea at least?’ she said to Greg as she opened the door, not knowing whether it was sensible to invite him in, but going to do it anyway.

  ‘Will it be all right?’ Greg said. ‘Your husband won’t mind?

  Maria wondered why Sally hadn’t said she hadn’t a daddy when Shirley had told them of her own mother’s demise, but then neither Sally, Deirdre nor even wee Theresa ever mentioned Barney’s name unless they were forced to. In a way, it was as if the man had never existed for them. So Maria said, ‘I shouldn’t think it will bother him in the slightest. He died last December.’

  ‘Oh, my dear,’ Greg said, ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ Maria said. ‘If I am honest, I was relieved. You’ll know him from Moville. I married Barney McPhearson.’

  Greg was surprised. He wouldn’t have thought Barney Maria’s type at all. ‘I did know him,’ he said. ‘Not well, although we were the same school year.’

  ‘You missed nothing not knowing him better,’ Maria said slightly bitterly, but she didn’t elaborate further because Jack was listening intently. ‘So will you come in now?’ she said manoeuvring the pram up the step.

  ‘If it won’t put you out.’

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ Maria said. ‘Though I will have to get Jack to bed and make up a bottle for Martin to give to him when he wakes.’

  ‘I ain’t tired,’ Jack said,

  ‘Jack,’ Maria snapped, lifting him from the pram, ‘I’m not even going to discuss this. Get into the bathroom. You’ll have to do with a lick and a promise tonight.’

  ‘Maybe I should go,’ Greg said. ‘You said you were tired.’

  ‘I’d welcome adult company,’ Maria said. ‘And one thing we could always do was talk, wasn’t it? Anyway, you’ll be the worst daddy in the world if you go up for the girls too soon.’

  ‘Oh, don’t I know that well enough,’ Greg said, with a rueful grin. ‘And I would be glad to stay if you are sure.’

  Later, with Jack in bed, they sat with a cup of tea and some of the wedding cake Martha had pressed on Maria as she was leaving.

  Maria asked gently, ‘How did your wife die, Greg?’

  ‘She had a tumour, on her lungs,’ Greg told her. ‘They said she must have had it for years and, thinking back, she never really picked up after Shirley’s birth and was often short of breath. She never complained, though. She always said she was fine and she was determined to have another child, a son for me, though I told her not to fret, that I was happy enough with the girls. She was determined, though, and she became pregnant when Shirley was three. She miscarried when she was about five months gone, and when they had her in the hospital, they found the tumour. They told me there and then that they could do nothing and that I was not to tell Nancy.’

  He looked at Maria and went on, ‘She knew, though; she was no fool and even then, all she worried about was me. Poor Nancy. I always felt guilty about her, for she loved me so much and I could never love her the same way. For a while, I didn’t know what to do. I was truly saddened to lose her, for she had been a good wife and a first-rate mother. The children, of course, were distraught. Everything in the house, the area, reminded them of their mother and they felt truly bereft when Nancy’s mother died less than six months after her daughter. I think she just lost all reason for living.

  ‘I decided to move right away, though of course these things take time,’ Greg said. ‘But eventually I sold our house and the much larger house that had been Nancy’s family home. With the money I put a hefty deposit on the house in Holly Lane and bought part shares in a garage on the Bristol Road.’

  ‘You have done well for yourself,’ Maria said. ‘I am sorry about Nancy, although of course I never knew her.’

  ‘Didn’t you resent her?’

  Maria thought back to the time when she had found herself pregnant and unmarried, and the despair she had felt when Barney had seemed reluctant to marry her at first. She said, ‘No, I never did, and if Anna was your child, you had to stand by her. What else was poor Nancy to do?’

  ‘You are very understanding.’

  ‘As I said before, it was years ago.’

  ‘And what of you?’ Greg said. ‘You have had my life story, now I’d like yours.’

  ‘There’s not much to say,’ Maria said. ‘Barney was a bully of a man, and worse. I don’t want to go into it, but I am happier without him.’

  ‘You have to get over these things and go on anyway, if you have children,’ Greg said. ‘I suppose you found the same.’

  Maria nodded and then, in an
attempt to lighten the atmosphere and to prevent Greg asking probing questions about Barney, she said, ‘And I think this fixation many have about having boys is madness. They are, in my opinion, very overrated. I mean, look at the performance Jack gave this evening.’

  Greg laughed. ‘He is a sharp boy, all right.’

  ‘Aye, so sharp he’ll cut himself one of these days,’ Maria said grimly. ‘I’d prefer to call him precocious. The child isn’t four years old yet and I’m sure I don’t know where he gets some of the expressions he comes out with, though, of course, he mimics his older sisters. Then Sean’s two stepsons and Sean himself think he is terrific and encourage him. The girls are nothing like him. In fact Sally often gets embarrassed by her young brother.’

  ‘Oh, I’d say she will survive,’ Greg said. ‘Phil and Billy used to embarrass the life out of me at times.’

  Maria heard the wistful note in Greg’s voice and said, ‘Do you miss the family, Greg?’

  Greg shrugged. ‘Not so much now. You can get used to anything if you have to.’

  ‘Didn’t you think of contacting them when Nancy died?’ she asked.

  Greg shook his head. ‘No. To be frank, I didn’t think of anything much at first and then…how could I take two young girls still grieving for their mother to visit people who hadn’t accepted her when she was alive?’

  ‘Yes, I see that.’

  ‘I suppose I was cross too,’ Greg admitted. ‘I had to put my own grieving on hold anyway to cope with my mother-in-law who took sick almost as soon as Nancy’s funeral was over, and there were the girls fretting and missing their mother terribly, yet I still had to go to work to ensure we kept a roof over our heads. I had little time or energy for anything else.’

  ‘Oh, I do see that so clearly,’ Maria said. ‘For me it was totally different. My marriage generally was not a happy time for me. Let’s leave it there and talk about more pleasant things.’

  They reminisced about the times they could remember in Moville. Maria remembered other things, like some of the gestures that Greg used and expressions, the little smiles that crinkled up his eyes and the way his laughter would ring out. With each jolt of memory, she would feel her heart thud against her ribs, and it was as if she had butterflies in her stomach. She felt like a love-sick teenager, and when their hands accidentally touched, she didn’t imagine the tremor that ran through her whole body. She saw by Greg’s face he had felt the same.

  ‘Maria…‘ Greg began.

  But Maria was confused and not ready for anything more that friendship with Greg for the moment. She didn’t want him to say anything to spoil that yet, and so she cut across him, ‘Goodness, is that the time?’

  Greg took the hint and got to his feet. ‘I can’t remember when I have enjoyed myself more,’ he said. ‘It’s good to talk over old times. Can I come again?’

  Maria was glad the baby had begun to stir and she was able to turn her flushed face away from Greg to attend to him. She forced herself to speak calmly as she said, ‘Of course. I am always glad to see an old friend.’

  She missed the expression on Greg’s face at her words as she was lifting Martin out of the pram, but later, as she fed the baby the bottle, she wanted to hug herself in delight at the prospect of seeing Greg again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Greg called to see Maria the following Saturday, just after lunch, and had Shirley and Anna with him. They were a little shy and reticent with Maria, though they were different again with Sally, quite prepared to tolerate Theresa, were amused by Jack and enchanted with little Martin. Maria dispensed cordial and biscuits, and she and Greg took their tea at the kitchen table with the door open, so that they could keep an eye on the children in the garden.

  ‘Sorry I can’t ask you to stay,’ she told Greg. ‘But the girls have Irish dancing lessons on Saturday afternoon.’

  ‘Irish dancing lessons,’ Greg said. ‘Mine might like something like that. Where is it?’

  ‘The church hall at the abbey.’

  ‘And it carries on through the holidays?’

  ‘Through the summer, it does,’ Maria said. ‘The teacher, Mrs Bellingham, says she has to start all over again with some of them if they have a lay-off of seven weeks or more, and then she hardly has the time to whip them into shape for the shows they have at Christmas. Deirdre goes too, and she is a cracking little dancer.’

  ‘Could I come along with you today and see if my daughters would like it?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Maria said. ‘I usually take a turn around Erdington while they are there, and then I am on hand to bring them back. Martha usually comes with me, but she has something on today and, to be honest, I would value the company.’

  Anna and Shirley liked the look of the dancing and agreed to stay and watch. Then they could start the following week when they had the regulation plimsolls with them. ‘The Irish costume dresses look lovely, don’t they?’ Greg said, as Maria turned the pram towards the village. ‘I bet they are a price, though.’

  ‘You only need them for a show or competition,’ Maria said. ‘And the mothers are good about selling them on. I mean, it isn’t as if they are worn out, but I get a lot of the new orders.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ Maria said with a laugh. ‘You knew that I had won that scholarship to the Grafton Academy before Daddy had his accident and I had to have talent to win that. It was Patsy suggested I use it, and to tell you the truth, it changed my life and that of the children too, because, you see, Barney was a drinker and a gambler. The dressmaking at least ensured that the children had enough to eat.’

  It was said in such a matter-of-fact way, and yet Greg, watching her eyes, could guess how she had suffered. He wished he could hold Maria in his arms and tell her the bad times were over, but he had thrown away any right to do that, and Maria was nowhere near ready for such a declaration. He faced the fact that she might never be. He might have hurt her so badly that she wouldn’t be able ever to trust him totally again, and if that was the case he would have to accept it. Just to look at her set his heart racing. He thought her so beautiful, but now hers was a mature beauty, and he knew he loved her as much as he ever had.

  Maria wasn’t aware of what was in Greg’s mind. She thought only how pleasant it was to be with him and how good he was with the children. Already Jack and he were the best of friends, and when the child’s legs got tired, rather that put him up on the pram, Greg swung him up on his shoulders. Jack squealed in excitement, and little Martin laughed and clapped his hands.

  When they dropped Deirdre home that day, Maria took the opportunity to introduce Greg to Martha and Sean. Sean remembered Greg slightly and told Martha later of the boy who had asked Maria to marry him and then had left her in the lurch and married another.

  ‘It fair broke her heart at the time,’ he said.

  ‘Why did he do that?’ Martha asked.

  Sean shook his head. ‘I never did get to the bottom of why he just upped and left the way he did. Maybe he just didn’t love her in that way.’

  Martha smiled. ‘Maybe he didn’t, but he sure does now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean the man is besotted by our Maria,’ Martha said. ‘He can barely keep his eyes off her. She is unaware of it so far, anyway, and while I wouldn’t push her into anything, I think I will find something to occupy me every Saturday afternoon and let them have a bit of time to themselves.’

  Sean chuckled and shook his head. ‘You women,’ he said. ‘You’re terrible schemers.’

  ‘I want Maria’s happiness. Don’t you?’

  ‘You know I do, more than anything,’ Sean said. ‘And I don’t want her to go through life alone. She’s only a young woman yet.’

  ‘So, let’s give them the chance,’ Martha said.

  When Martha said the following week she had something she had to do on Saturday afternoon, Maria was glad, though she hid it well. She had so enjoyed the time she
had had with Greg the previous week. As before, after leaving the girls at their dancing class, they strolled up the High Street, looking at this and that.

  In the market, Maria was stocking up with reels of cotton, buttons, lace and other sundry items. When the children got bored, Greg wheeled the pram around and they went to see what they could get at the sweet counter, returning with a couple of bags of cakes, and sweets for everyone. Maria chided him for spoiling them.

  ‘Come on,’ Greg said. ‘It’s just a few little treats, so take the frown from between your eyes, Maria Foley.’

  ‘Huh. It’s a long time since I have been called that.’

  ‘You will always be Maria Foley to me,’ Greg said softly. And then, because the urge to hold her in his arms threatened to overpower him, which might alarm Maria, he said briskly, ‘D’you fancy going to the Milk Bar? I could just murder a cup of coffee.’

  As Greg left her at the house that day, he said, ‘Maria, can I see you tomorrow?’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘The truth is, I hate Sundays,’ Greg said. ‘It’s such a family time.’

  Maria knew exactly what Greg meant. She was often lonely on Sundays herself, and yet would hesitate to land at Sean and Martha’s door every week, feeling they needed time on their own sometimes. So she said. ‘Yes, all right, Greg.’

  ‘We could go to Sutton Park, if the weather’s as pleasant as it is today.’

  Sutton Park was a massive place that Maria had never been to, though it wasn’t that far away. It had vast areas of woodland, and others of meadows, with streams running through them, feeding the five large lakes. It could be reached either by the Midland Red bus that ran along the Birmingham Road at the top of Holly Lane, or the little diesel train from the station at Wylde Green, just a little further along the Birmingham Road. Maria hadn’t felt she could manage such an outing with four children to see to on her own, but with another pair of hands, it could be achieved. ‘Oh, Greg that would be wonderful,’ she cried. ‘Can we go on the train? The children would love that.’

  ‘Well, I thought we might take the car.’