The Rainbow Years

by Bradshaw, Rita

  ‘I’ll see how I feel.’ She knew she wasn’t going to stay in bed. There was the funeral to arrange, for a start; her granny wasn’t going to have a pauper’s send-off. She would be buried with respect and then folk could come here for the reception. She had to contact her uncle and Kitty, and let May and her cousins know what had happened. And then there was Bruce. Perce was a different kettle of fish; she would let Aunt May inform her eldest son of his grandmother’s passing. There were a hundred things to do and she would feel better if she kept busy.

  The six days between Muriel’s death and the funeral felt like six months to Amy, but eventually the burial took place on a warm summer’s day, the birds singing and the sun resplendent in a blue sky full of fluffy white clouds. Amy remained stiff and controlled throughout the short service and the burial in the churchyard, but her heart felt as though it was being torn out by its very roots. It didn’t help matters that Charles had vanished on one of his ‘business trips’ two nights before, returning the next morning very much the worse for wear. He’d excused his bleary eyes and sickly appearance by saying he had a bad headache and hadn’t slept well. Amy, upset and near the end of her tether, hadn’t challenged him, afraid she would say more than was prudent.

  Charles knew how much she needed him at the moment, she told herself bitterly. How could he leave her just before the funeral? And what would happen when the baby was born if he couldn’t even support her now? Would he continue to disappear every so often when the fancy took him? Or, worse, would he take to drinking at home again with all the horror and difficulties that brought with it? She supposed she had been naive and foolish to believe their having a child together could change him, but she had thought so, deep inside. Or perhaps she had just hoped so.

  Amy glanced at her husband as he sat, silent and appropriately solemn-faced in the smart funeral carriage beside her. Ronald and Kitty were sitting opposite them. Kitty had declined to accompany Ronald at first but when she’d learned that May had refused to attend, even going so far as to ban the children’s presence too, she had travelled up with him and come to the funeral.

  The Prices were in the next carriage, quite overcome with the grandeur of the cortège, and Bruce was with them. Many of Muriel’s old neighbours and friends were following too.

  Charles caught Ronald’s eye. ‘I’m glad Bruce was able to come,’ he said quietly. ‘I understand he’s working in Sheffield as an apprentice mechanic and you correspond regularly.’

  ‘Aye, that’s right.’ Ronald ran his finger round the inside of his starched shirt collar which was chafing his neck. He knew his mother had understood his leaving the town but he wished with all his heart he had been able to see her one last time. ‘He seems to have landed on his feet.’

  Charles nodded. ‘He tells me the two of you get on well.’

  ‘Oh aye. Bruce is a good lad, always has been.’

  As the two talked on, Amy listened to them with only half her mind.The circumstances had made seeing Bruce and Kitty again bitter-sweet. Her precious, precious granny was gone and it was hard to believe she would have to start living the rest of her life without her. She sat quite still in the carriage, her gaze fixed on her hands lying in her lap. What am I going to do without her? she thought. How will I bear it? And then the child in her belly kicked hard and instinctively she covered the place with her hand. She would have her baby and she would get used to the loss of the little woman who had been so much more than a grandmother. Her granny would expect that.

  Sally said much the same thing later in the afternoon. Her grandmother’s friend was standing with her husband and Ronald and Kitty, and as Amy passed, she caught her arm, drawing her into their circle. ‘Your gran would be right pleased with how you’re coping, lass. I can tell you that. She was never one to wear her heart on her sleeve, was Muriel, but she thought the world of you. Oh aye, she did that. And with the little one coming she would have wanted you to knuckle down and get on with things.’

  Amy nodded. ‘Yes, I know, Mrs Price.’

  ‘And she’d have been tickled to death with such a send-off, ’ Sally added with unconscious dark humour. ‘Put great store by a good wake, did your granny, but then you know that, lass. Aye, you’ve done her proud, right enough.’

  Amy nodded but it was an effort. She wished this awful day would end and everyone would go home, but as yet there was no sign of this happening. Everyone was enjoying themselves too much for one thing. Charles had arranged for his kitchen staff at the restaurant to provide a wonderful spread which had been brought to the house, and with a good supply of beer, wine and spirits to augment the copious cups of tea some of the old ladies were drinking, it had turned into quite a party. But Kitty’s mother was right, her gran would have loved to think her departure from this mortal plain was accomplished with such gusto.

  Amy smiled at Kitty and Kitty smiled back, mouthing silently, ‘You’re doing fine.’ It warmed Amy, especially because there had been an awkwardness between the two of them when they had first greeted each other at the church. She wished Kitty well, she really did, but everything was different and she hadn’t expected it to be. She had imagined herself perhaps confiding in Kitty and asking her advice about Charles’s drinking but now she saw that wasn’t possible. Kitty was with her uncle and likely to tell him everything and she didn’t want that.

  Amy left the group and continued her duties as hostess. She noticed Charles and Bruce deep in conversation, a glass of whisky in their hands. Dear Bruce. Her eyes misted as she looked at her cousin. He was just the same as ever despite the air of affluence the smart suit he was wearing gave him. She had hugged him at the church as though she would never let him go but he didn’t seem to mind. She wondered now what he thought of Charles.

  Charles had had several whiskies. They were apparent in his flushed countenance and overloud voice. She wished she could take the glass from his hand and order him to drink no more. She knew the signs. Soon he would become irritable and quarrelsome, it happened every time. And he had promised her on his oath that he wouldn’t touch any alcohol when he had insisted they couldn’t have a ‘dry’ wake as she’d requested.

  She walked over to the two men but it was Bruce she spoke to. ‘I’m so glad you could come. Were they all right about you having the time off work?’

  ‘Aye, no problem. Not after I’d explained why.’ His voice low, he added, ‘My mam wouldn’t come then?’

  ‘No, and she wouldn’t let any of the girls come either.’

  ‘That’s a pity.’ He turned his eyes to where his father and Kitty were standing. ‘I can understand it though.’

  Amy’s gaze followed his and she nodded. ‘I’m glad you’re doing what you’re happy at,’ she said quietly, ‘but it’s as well you got out when you did, for more than one reason. You wouldn’t have wanted to have to choose between your mam and your da and you’re far enough away now to be neutral.’

  Bruce’s voice was wry when he said, ‘Aye, that hadn’t escaped me either. Mind, Mam’s not unhappy where she is, far from it. I think she actually prefers it with her mam and da although she would never admit to it; she likes to play the wronged woman for all it’s worth. But Da drove her mad most of the time as you know. Not that that would persuade her to give him a divorce. He’s written to ask her several times, you know.’

  Amy shook her head, her face betraying her shock.‘I didn’t know.’ She hadn’t met one Catholic who had ever contemplated a divorce though perhaps she should have expected her uncle and Kitty would want to get married.

  ‘I think he could wait till hell freezes over and Mam will still dig her heels in but that’s up to them.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Amy smiled at him before turning to Charles. She gave him a straight look and then dropped her eyes meaningfully to the glass in his hand. He ignored her but she had expected him to.

  It was as the first guests began to leave that Amy found herself alone with Kitty for a few moments. Ronald was deep in conversa
tion with Bruce across the other side of the room and Amy found she felt more comfortable with her old friend without her uncle being present.

  Kitty must have realised how she felt because she said straightaway, ‘I know it was a bolt from the blue, me and Ronald, but I’d always carried a torch for him. I’d never have let on, not in a million years if he’d been happy with May, but . . .’ She shrugged.

  Amy didn’t know what to say. Eventually she managed, ‘He’s happy now. You only have to look at him to see that.’

  Kitty grinned. ‘Oh aye, he’s happy all right.’ Then, her face straightening, she said, ‘And you, lass? Are you happy? Oh, I know this with your granny has knocked you sideways, but I mean with him. With Charles. Is everything all right?’

  Amy stared at her, taken aback. She didn’t know if Kitty had picked up on something or whether she was enquiring because they hadn’t seen each other since the wedding, but suddenly it was natural to say, ‘Not completely. He’s got business worries and he’s drinking too much. Much too much, Kitty.’ There was a break in Amy’s voice as she said this and Kitty hesitated for a moment before taking Amy in her arms and hugging her.

  ‘I’m sorry, lass. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You won’t mention what I’ve told you to anyone, not even my uncle? Please, Kitty. I’d hate for him to think the worse of Charles and I’m sure when the business picks up he’ll be his old self again.’

  There must have been a lack of conviction in her voice because Kitty now said, her voice low, ‘Look, lass, if ever you want to get away for a bit there’s always our place. It’s rough and ready, I don’t deny it, and nothing like this, but you would be more than welcome any time. And of course I won’t say anything to Ronald if you don’t want me to.’ Kitty rubbed her little snub nose as she was apt to do when agitated or concerned. ‘Promise me you’d come if you needed to?’

  Amy nodded. ‘Thanks, Kitty.’

  ‘I’ve missed you, lass.’ Kitty’s voice was soft. ‘We’d have been hung, drawn and quartered if we’d stayed round these parts but I’d have liked to stay near you. Especially now, with the babbie an’ all.’ They hugged again, both near tears.

  It wasn’t long after Amy’s chat with Kitty that the house began to empty, and not before time. Amy was feeling exhausted. By twilight all the clearing up was finished, the housekeeper and the maid had retired to their quarters for the night and Amy had taken a glass of warm milk up to bed with her. Charles had disappeared into his study with a bottle and Amy hadn’t had the energy to challenge him. If the past was anything to go by, he would remain there until morning and the way she was feeling it was the best thing. She felt terribly let down and sad that he had put his desire for a drink before her at such a time.

  She drank the milk as she lay fully clothed on the bed, too tired to begin undressing immediately. Eventually she roused herself. She took the pins out of her long hair and let the thick waves and curls hang down her back as she began to undress. The black alpaca dress had a row of tiny ebony buttons all down the front, with stiff little buttonholes, and Amy was halfway through unfastening these when the door to the bedroom suddenly burst open.

  ‘Charles.’ She jumped, her hand going to her throat as she spun round. ‘Whatever is the matter?’

  ‘Thinking of leaving me, are you?’

  ‘What?’ She stared at him as he kicked the door shut. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I heard you.’ He came towards her with an unsteady gait, his eyes bloodshot and his tie hanging loose. ‘Talking to that little baggage about me. Didn’t know I was the other side of the alcove, did you? I heard all of it.’

  Amy stood her ground. ‘If you heard what I said then you know I didn’t mention leaving you,’ she said steadily. ‘I confided in Kitty because she is the one person I can trust and because I’m at my wits’ end. Don’t you know how your drinking is affecting me, affecting us?’

  ‘Don’t give me that.’ He made a movement with his hand as though to swipe something away but still she didn’t flinch. He was frightening her but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing it. ‘I know what you’re up to. I saw the way you looked at your dear cousin, and now you’re conveniently arranging a visit to your uncle’s place. He’s in on this, isn’t he? What was your cousin going to do, wait till you got there and then “drop” by?’

  He was right in front of her now and the full force of his whisky-soaked breath nauseated her. Suddenly she felt angrier than she ever had. She had endured the sort of day she wouldn’t have wished on her worst enemy and the least he could have done was to be there at her side supporting her. Instead he had slowly drunk himself into this state and he was now accusing her of having an affair with Bruce, if she had heard him correctly. She glared at him, her eyes flashing as she said, ‘I am going to have your child in nine weeks’ time, Charles. Have you completely lost your senses? Bruce is like a brother to me and I’m like a sister to him.To suggest anything else is ridiculous.’

  For a moment he looked taken aback at her vehemence. Then he recovered himself, growling, ‘I heard you, damn it. She invited you to stay with them.’

  ‘And what is wrong with that? Kitty’s my friend and Ronald is my uncle. And while we’re on the subject, I might just take her up on the offer if only to give you a chance to pull yourself together. In a few weeks there is going to be a baby in this house and I’m not having our child brought up amid such contention. If you won’t take hold of your drinking for me or for yourself, then do it for our child.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.’ His face had taken on the ugly look she recognised of old.

  ‘Someone has to.’ She needed to rest her hand against the wall, she was feeling faint, but she didn’t want to show any sign of weakness. ‘And don’t think you can manhandle me again because I won’t stand for it, not now. Those days are gone for good, do you hear me?’

  He shook his head slightly as though he was having difficulty following what she was saying, and Amy seized the moment to slip past him, running across the room and wrenching the door open. She had seen what was in his eyes and if he shook her violently or slapped her as he had done in the past it might harm the baby. If she could reach the housekeeper’s quarters she would be safe. The fact that the housekeeper and maid would be party to their domestic problems didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at this moment except protecting the child in her belly.

  She was halfway down the stairs when he caught hold of her, swinging her round to face him with such force that she lost her footing and fell against him. He staggered back and let go of her arm. As he sprawled on the stairs, Amy found herself trying to clutch him to steady herself but then she fell backwards in what was almost a crouching position, her back hitting the stairs first.

  She didn’t feel anything until she was lying at the bottom of the staircase in a crumpled heap, but even as she lost consciousness, she knew what had happened. The explosion of red-hot pain which began in her womb and then spiralled up through her body told her the baby was coming.

  Chapter 14

  By the time Amy reached the hospital she was fully conscious and in the grip of such pain she felt she was dying. But she was willing to give up her life, she prayed, as long as God protected her baby. She had bargained with the Almighty all the way in the ambulance, promising Him she wouldn’t scream or cry out or make a fuss as long as He allowed her child to live. That was the only thing that mattered now.

  When the ambulance men had suggested Charles accompany her to the infirmary, she had become hysterical, so it was the housekeeper, her face ashen, who had ridden with her, but once at the hospital Amy had been whisked away to a side ward. The pain was forcing her knees up and her chin down into her chest constantly but she was determined not to make a sound. She was still praying everything would stop, that somehow Mother Nature would realise it was far too soon for the baby to be born and allow it a few more weeks. Even one or two. Anything.

>   In her feverish state it seemed to Amy that she had a crowd of doctors and nurses around her. From the way they were scurrying about, she knew they were concerned. She wanted to tell them to concentrate on the baby and not her, but no sooner had the nightmarish contractions ended than they began again without even a pause, and speech was impossible.

  She could hear someone moaning in the background and the sound was so horrible she wondered why the doctors didn’t do something to help whoever it was. She didn’t realise the sound was coming from herself.

  She lost all sense of time as the pain caused her to retch over and over; a huge vice squeezed her belly until she had no breath left. At some point one of the medical staff took hold of her hand and Amy clung on to the solid link with reality with all her might, refusing to let go even when she began to push.

  She was vaguely aware of a doctor working on her with forceps as she pushed down. He was squeezing and manipulating and just when she thought she didn’t have any more strength to try, the nurse holding her hand said, ‘That’s it, Mrs Callendar, the head’s out. Just one more push.’ As she strained down she felt the baby slip from her and then something warm follow. ‘My baby . . .’ She was shaking uncontrollably as she raised herself the moment after the cord had been cut, and she just had time to catch a glimpse of a sweet little face before the nurse said,‘Lie back, dear, you’re bleeding quite heavily. Just keep still now.’