A Nest of Singing Birds

by A Nest of Singing Birds (retail) (epub)

  Eileen was more forthright. ‘A queer time to go away, isn’t it?’ she said to Anne. ‘August Bank Holiday. You’d think he’d be taking the opportunity of getting out with you and the kids.’

  ‘I don’t want to go out,’ Anne said. ‘I’m happier in the house or the garden at present.’

  ‘But he could take the children off your hands and do things in the house to help you.’

  ‘He does a lot to help,’ Anne said. ‘I’ve been able to do very little for months and John’s done washing and ironing and cleaning for me. He takes the kids out too and does the heavy shopping. Anyway, he’s asked Maureen to stay with me.’ No matter how much she might secretly criticise John, Anne always flew to his defence if anyone else said something derogatory about him.

  Eileen said no more but Anne wondered whether there had been some discussion within the family when Helen suggested taking Gerry and Laura for the Bank Holiday weekend. ‘Moira would love to have someone to play with,’ she said. ‘And you and Maureen could talk in peace, Anne.’

  Tony was with Helen and his manner towards Anne seemed even more tender and loving than usual. This seemed to annoy John who plunged in, ‘You’re in the Peace Corps, Tony. And you know how important this protest is. I’m surprised you’re not taking part in it.’

  Tony looked at him unsmilingly. ‘I leave that to people without commitments,’ he said curtly. ‘I have a wife and child to consider.’

  John’s face grew congested with anger. ‘All the more reason,’ he said, his voice rising in temper, but Helen said hastily, ‘Oh, Tony, I’ve left that bag of sweets and fruit in the car. Will you get it for me, please?’

  Unseen by Anne Helen gestured towards her and looked pleadingly at the two men. Tony turned and went out and John went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water. The discussion was not resumed. Before Helen and Tony left arrangements were made for them to collect Gerry and Laura on Saturday morning and keep them over the weekend.

  On Saturday morning Gerry ran happily to meet Moira but Laura clung to Anne and cried when she realised that she was to go without her mother. Anne was upset too but Helen gently coaxed Laura away, telling her that she could ride on Moira’s rocking horse and play with her doll’s pram then come home to her mother.

  Maureen and Anne sat in the garden for a while but Mrs Rooney came to tell them tearfully about Con and his wife moving out and the rows that had taken place. They sympathised then she started again to tell them the same details until Barty came out and told her that she had been standing too long and must sit down and have something to eat.

  He drew her into her house and Anne and Maureen went indoors too. ‘I’m sorry about that, Maureen,’ Anne said. ‘She isn’t always like that. She’s just upset about Con going off.’

  ‘I know. I’ve talked to her before,’ Maureen said. ‘It’s a good thing the other son is still there.’

  ‘Barty? Yes, he’s a smashing fellow,’ Anne said warmly.

  They had a simple lunch then Anne slept while Maureen cleaned the kitchen and did some ironing. In the evening they sat talking together and knitting baby clothes. Maureen talked about Chris. ‘He insists that I keep up with my friends and with all my church affairs,’ she said. ‘I’d like to spend all my time with him and I know that’s what he wants really. He says knowing me is his only reason for living, but he still says I should keep going to the Children of Mary and the Altar Society, and having nights out with Mona or Annie Keegan.’

  ‘He must think it’s best for you to have other interests,’ Anne said gently. ‘He’s very unselfish, isn’t he?’

  Maureen agreed. ‘He is, but I don’t want to take advantage of his unselfishness like that wife of his.’

  ‘What’s happening with her?’ Anne asked.

  ‘She’s still living in a flat with the ex-matron. Another rock for that limpet to cling to,’ Maureen said bitterly, then added, ‘I shouldn’t have said that but it makes me mad. Beryl always seems to fall on her feet, yet she’s still bleeding Chris dry for money.’

  The conversation turned to family matters. ‘Joe and Tony are made up with their houses, aren’t they?’ Maureen said. ‘Anything Dad builds is well done. No jerry building for him.’

  ‘No. Sarah said that – how well the house was built,’ Anne agreed. ‘Eileen’s house is much shoddier. Flimsy little skirting boards and gaps round the window although it’s a new house, too. Joe’s making a good job of the garden at their house.’

  ‘Yes, he must have green fingers,’ Maureen said, smiling.

  ‘They’re very happy, aren’t they?’ Anne said. ‘Still absolutely wrapped up in each other.’ She spoke more wistfully than she realised and Maureen glanced at her and said gently, ‘They’ve a lot of time to make up, Anne. All those years when they had to hide how they felt about each other.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she agreed.

  Maureen laughed. ‘When the children start growing up, Sarah and Joe might start arguing. Theresa says children are a fruitful cause of disagreement and she should know. The rows she has with Jim.’

  Anne chuckled. ‘At least Theresa doesn’t throw things at Jim like Aunt Carrie used to do at Uncle Fred.’

  ‘Tess said that to Eileen,’ Maureen agreed. ‘She said it was because of the shortages after the war but she might start now that things are coming back in the shops.’

  Anne went to bed feeling cheerful and happy after her talk with Maureen but spent a restless night, troubled by pains in various parts of her body. She was woken by a searing pain to find herself lying in a pool of blood.

  ‘Maureen, Maureen!’ she screamed and her sister came running into the bedroom.

  ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’ she exclaimed.

  Anne closed her eyes and turned back the bedclothes and Maureen gasped in horror. She looked wildly at the clock. Five o’clock and not a sound outside.

  ‘Get Mrs Rooney,’ Anne gasped. Her face was contorted with pain and Maureen ran and hammered on the door of the next house.

  Barty opened the door, a coat flung over his pyjamas and Maureen shrieked: ‘My sister! The baby! Your mother…’

  He understood instantly and said, ‘All right. Go back to her. Ma’ll be in in a minute. I’ll come to ring the hospital.’

  Mrs Rooney was on the stairs and had heard. In spite of her bulk within minutes she followed them into the house. She bent over Anne and said reassuringly, ‘You’re all right, girl. It’s coming early, that’s all. Barty’s getting the ambulance.’

  He had got through to the hospital and called to Maureen, ‘What date is it due?’

  ‘About the fourth of October,’ she said, and he repeated this, then Maureen heard him say, ‘No, it’s a third child. Yes. Normal births. How did it start?’ He looked enquiringly at Maureen and she said, ‘She woke up. The bed was full of blood. She’s in awful pain.’

  Barty repeated this and then he said, ‘No, I’m just a neighbour. Her husband’s away and her sister’s staying with her. Thank you.’

  He replaced the receiver and looked at Maureen. ‘The ambulance is on its way and the hospital has got all the details now,’ he said. She sat down suddenly as though her legs had given way. She looked about to faint and Barty pressed her head forward between her knees.

  After a moment she sat up then rose to her feet. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not much use,’ she said.

  ‘You’ve had a bad shock,’ he said calmly. ‘The ambulance will be here soon. Will you go up and tell them?’

  Maureen went up to the bedroom to find Anne still curled up in pain, sweat running down her face, and Mrs Rooney getting out a clean nightdress for her. Together Mrs Rooney and Maureen removed Anne’s blood-soaked nightdress and Mrs Rooney wrapped a bath towel around her like a napkin before they put her into the clean nightdress.

  ‘Go and get your clothes on quick so you can go with her,’ Mrs Rooney said and Maureen quickly flung them on. The next moment the ambulance arrived and the ambulancemen spok
e reassuringly to Anne before taking her downstairs.

  As she was carried past Barty on the stretcher she tried to smile at him and mouth ‘Thanks’ and he said gruffly, ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be all right.’ The next moment they were gone and Barty and his mother were left looking at each other.

  ‘I wonder if anyone else in the family is on the phone,’ he said. ‘It’s too much responsibility for her sister.’

  He looked at the notebook beside the telephone in which numbers had been written. Most were connected with John’s various activities but there were numbers for Tony and for John’s father.

  ‘Tony and Helen, they’re the ones what have got the kids,’ Mrs Rooney said. ‘Better ring his father.’ By this time several neighbours had been drawn to their windows by the sound of the ambulance and Milly had come over to see what was happening.

  ‘History repeating itself,’ Barty said grimly, ‘but at least her sister was with her this time.’

  ‘Of course he’s away, isn’t he?’ Milly said. ‘Some march or other, Anne told me. At least last time he was working and couldn’t help not being here.’

  Before Barty could stop her his mother exclaimed, ‘Working! Don’t you believe it. He was out then at one of his poxy meetings. Poor girl.’

  ‘But Barty said…’ Milly began and he interrupted her. ‘I know I said he was working. I thought she would prefer people to think that. I’m going to ring John’s father now.’

  ‘Will you give me a hand with the bed, Milly?’ Mrs Rooney asked, leading the way upstairs. ‘Good job them poor kids are at her brother’s.’

  Greg Redmond answered the telephone, obviously newly roused, but all trace of sleepiness disappeared when he heard the news. ‘Which hospital?’ he asked, and when he was told said immediately, ‘My wife and I will go there right away. May I ask your name?’

  ‘Bartholomew Rooney. My mother and I live next door to Anne. Her sister went with her in the ambulance but I think she’s in a state of shock too.’

  ‘We’ll be with them within half an hour,’ Greg said. ‘Thank you for letting us know and we appreciate very much the help you and your mother have given them. I’ll keep you informed. Thank you again.’ Very different to his blasted son, Barty muttered as he replaced the receiver.

  * * *

  Neither Anne nor Maureen could afterwards remember much about the journey to the hospital nor what happened immediately afterwards. For Anne it was just a blur of pain but at one point she remembered a doctor bending over her and saying, ‘You have a little girl, Mrs Redmond, but she’s very small.’ Then she slipped into merciful unconsciousness.

  A nurse brought a cup of tea to the waiting room for Maureen and she asked eagerly about Anne. The nurse could only tell her that everything possible was being done. She went away but Maureen found that she was shaking too much to hold the teacup. She kept going into the corridor but everywhere seemed deserted.

  When Cathy and Greg appeared Maureen fell into Cathy’s arms, weeping uncontrollably. ‘Has something—?’ Cathy asked fearfully but Maureen managed to say, ‘No. I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t find anyone to ask.’

  Greg went out of the room immediately and Cathy held Maureen close, weeping with her. Greg was back shortly.

  ‘I managed to find a doctor,’ he said. ‘Anne’s had the baby and they’re both holding their own, he said.’

  ‘Thank God,’ Maureen said fervently but Cathy looked searchingly at Greg. ‘What else did he say?’ she asked.

  ‘Anne’s been given a blood transfusion and the baby’s in an oxygen tent. It’s very small but of course it’s two months premature. It’s perfectly formed.’

  ‘And Anne’s going to be all right?’ Maureen said anxiously.

  ‘Yes. She’s weak at the moment and very shocked, but the blood transfusion will help and she has youth on her side,’ Greg said.

  ‘And the baby? What is it?’ Cathy asked.

  He looked confused. ‘I don’t know. The doctor just said the child and I didn’t think of asking.’

  He went out again and a sister came to the waiting room and beckoned to Cathy. ‘Are you the grandmother?’ she asked. And when Cathy said she was, the sister asked if a name had been chosen. ‘Julie Anne for a girl,’ Cathy began and the sister whispered, ‘I’m giving her conditional baptism but don’t despair. While there’s life there’s hope.’

  ‘It’s a girl,’ Cathy said when she went back to Maureen but told her nothing more. Greg had been allowed to see the baby but the doctor advised against letting Cathy or Maureen see her. ‘If she survives she’ll look better in a few days,’ he said. ‘No use distressing them now.’ And Greg agreed.

  He had been shocked at the sight of the baby, tiny and wizened, dark blue in colour, and could see little hope for her.

  They were allowed to see Anne very briefly but she was asleep with a tube in her arm and a bottle of blood suspended above her.

  They left and drove to Anne’s house to tell Mrs Rooney and Barty what had happened. ‘She’ll need plenty of blood, God help her,’ Mrs Rooney said. ‘I nearly dropped dead when I seen what she’d lost. I’ve got the sheets in soak but I can’t do nothing with the mattress.’

  ‘I’ll arrange for a new one,’ Greg said quietly and Cathy protested that Mrs Rooney should have left the sheets to her.

  ‘No trouble to me,’ she said. ‘Just so long as Anne’s all right. I love the bones of that girl.’ She dabbed her eyes and Cathy said gently, ‘She’ll be all right, I’m sure. She was asleep when we left and my mother always says sleep heals.’

  She spoke as much to reassure herself as Mrs Rooney. She had seen that Anne was in a drugged sleep and had been terrified by the sight of the girl’s paper-white face and shallow breathing. John will never forgive himself, she thought, if anything happens to her and he is not here.

  Maureen had collected her clothes and they took her home then returned to their own house. ‘If John tries to ring and doesn’t get an answer, he’ll try here,’ Greg said. And later John did telephone. Greg could hear his voice but John evidently could not hear his father’s.

  ‘I can’t get through to Anne either,’ Greg could hear, then there were crackles and clicks before the line went dead. On Monday John tried again and after some delay managed to get through.

  ‘Dad,’ he shouted, ‘can you hear me? I can’t get any answer from our phone. Is everything all right?’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Greg said. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘In Cheshire. The van broke down. What’s happening?’

  ‘Anne went into hospital early yesterday morning,’ Greg said curtly. ‘The baby was born prematurely.’ Cathy was standing beside him and she could hear John’s agitated voice.

  ‘Tell him they’re all right,’ she whispered but Greg shook his head.

  ‘Yes, she’s had blood tranfusions. The baby’s in an oxygen tent. She’s been conditionally baptised, Julie Anne.’ There were more agitated questions from John and his father relented. ‘No, I think Anne’s out of danger now,’ he said. ‘But get yourself home as soon as you can.’

  The telephone went dead and Cathy said indignantly, ‘Why did you tell him all that? He’ll be worried to death now, stuck somewhere trying to get home.’

  ‘He should never have been away,’ Greg said. ‘And he’s overdue for some worrying.’

  Sally stood up. ‘It’d be no kindness to tell the lad everything’s fine, Cathy, when we know what he’s got to face when he gets home. It’ll be a long time before Anne gets over this, no matter how it goes with that poor little baby.’

  John returned home on Monday evening and dashed off to the hospital, still dirty and unshaven. Anne was again in a drugged sleep, her right arm attached to the transfusion bottle and a drip attached to her left arm.

  John sat beside the bed for a while but Anne still slept and a nurse offered to take him to see his daughter. He was shocked at the sight of the baby in the oxygen tent. ‘Why is it blue?’ he as
ked. ‘Will it live?’

  ‘She has a chance,’ the nurse said cautiously. ‘I don’t want to raise your hopes, laddie, but she’s survived for over twenty-four hours.’

  John peered again at the child. ‘It has no nails,’ he exclaimed but the sister told him that was normal. He turned away, visibly upset.

  ‘My wife will go mad,’ he said but the sister said kindly, ‘Don’t give up hope. We’ve had even tinier babies who survived. One less than two pounds.’

  ‘What weight is it – she?’ he asked.

  ‘Three and a half pounds,’ the sister said. John went back to sit beside Anne’s bed until he was told to go while she received treatment.

  Greg was waiting outside and drove John back to his house where his mother and grandmother waited anxiously for news. ‘Anne was asleep all the time I was there,’ John said. ‘But the nurse said she was improving.’

  ‘Thank God,’ both women said together and Cathy asked about the baby.

  Greg had warned John that his mother only knew that the baby was small so he said briefly, ‘It’s very tiny but the sister said smaller babies have lived. It hasn’t got any nails.’

  ‘That’s not unusual,’ Sally said. ‘Remember Duggan’s lad who was in the Air Force? He was born at seven months. I wrapped him in cotton wool soaked in olive oil and we fed him with a fountain pen filler at first. Nobody thought he’d live but he made a big strong lad in the end. He was born without nails but they grew.’

  John seemed scarcely to be listening. ‘I wonder will they tell Anne I’ve been when she wakes up?’

  ‘I’m sure they will,’ his mother said soothingly.

  There was a message from Helen that she would keep the children for as long as John wished. He wanted to go to see them but his mother pointed out that they would be in bed and persuaded him to go to see Maureen instead.

  ‘She and her sister went to see Anne this morning,’ Cathy said. ‘But you can tell them how she is now, and the baby, and thank her for all she did for Anne. Poor girl, it was a terrible shock for her.’