A Daughter's Shame

by Audrey Reimann

  Between Monday and Friday her mind turned it all over repeatedly – Mollie Leadbetter’s getting into trouble and the shame of her own birth. They sewed in the evenings, working quietly, Mam smoking and sipping her port, listening to the BBC on the beautiful wireless with a loudspeaker that sat on a little table in the corner of the room. Hidden under the table were two accumulator batteries. Mr Chancellor had set it up for them and taught them how to connect the wires to the batteries.

  On Thursday night there was a talk on the wireless by an old doctor, who said that young women were risking wrinkles and consumption with their abnormal lives: nights of frivolity and days of excitement, coupled with poisons like tobacco and alcohol. Across the table Mam was smoking and drinking and unwrinkled, and as Lily watched she thought how little she knew about her mother; how unpredictable Mam was. She had not been drinking hard or gossiping this week.

  Lily wanted to unburden herself of guilt for having read the medical record, but she could not bear to hurt Mam or discover that she, Lily, was the result of any dirty business under the railway bridge.

  Then, on Friday, she came home at midday to find Mam already seated at the table, silent and preoccupied.

  Lily said, ‘You haven’t forgotten? I’m going to Nanna’s after school. I won’t be home till Sunday.’

  ‘I’ve remembered.’

  ‘You are quiet.’

  Mam leaned back slowly in her chair and pushed her plate away. It was fried fish, and normally she ate most of it. Today she was pale, with washed-out eyes.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Lily asked.

  ‘Mollie Leadbetter’s dead.’ Mam spoke in a whisper. ‘They rushed her into the Infirmary last night.’

  A cold trickle of horror ran down Lily‘s spine. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Septicaemia, Lil.’

  ‘Oh, Mam.’ The knife and fork slid from her fingers. ‘Was it true? Nellie Plant told Doreen about taking a baby out of Mollie.’

  There was a little silence before she heard Mam’s shuddering breath. Then, ‘Yes,’ Mam said in a dead voice. ‘Poor child. Sixteen, that’s all she was.’

  Lily wanted to cry but no tears came, only numbing coldness.

  ‘There’ll be an inquiry,’ Mam said, in the same, quiet voice ‘It’s an illegal act, doing away with a pregnancy. I don’t think Mollie can have a Christian burial. You can’t if it’s suicide and that’s an illegal act.’

  ‘Doreen said it was Ray Chancellor’s baby. She said Ray would have to marry Mollie to make it legal and right. Is it true?’

  Mam slammed her hand down on the table. ‘It won’t bring Mollie back, knowing who’s responsible. But since you and Doreen … No! I believe Frank. Chancellor is the best-respected name in Macclesfield. Ray would never bring disgrace on his mother. And under all his importance and bluff, Frank is a man of principle. Frank would have taken care of Mollie if he thought his son …’

  But it was bluff with Mam, too. She put her hands about her face and began to sob, great, gulping sobs that shook the table. ‘Oh!’ she cried. ‘Oh! I can’t bear to think about it.’

  Nor could Lily. If she were hard she might have said, ‘Suppose it had happened to you, Mam?’ She would have learned the truth there and then, Mam was in such a state. Lily was ashamed of her thoughts. Mam had kept her secret perhaps with good reason. Lily ought not to feel sorry for herself. She was alive and lucky to have been born; lucky Mam had not done away with her and risked dying from the operation, like Mollie Leadbetter.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Poor little Mollie. There’ll be another death. See if I’m right.’

  Nanna prophesied another death on Saturday, at Lindow. Lily sat with her head leaning against the back of the settee, waiting her moment to ask Nanna for the truth. Nanna was sitting close to the fire, her crochet hook twisting slowly in and out of the piece of work she was doing. Normally she did not sit in in the afternoon, yet here she was, at only three o’clock, crocheting by the fire like an old woman.

  Grandpa had gone to the bottom field to fetch the horses in and bed them into loose boxes, out of the icy-cold easterly wind that had been blowing sleet and rain before it all week. ‘Grandpa’s taking a long time,’ Lily said.

  ‘It’s too much for him now. He can’t keep them much longer. Four horses to fetch in,’ Nanna said. ‘He’s had to sell the top fields and the cattle. And Grandpa’s slowing.’ Nanna gave one of her perceptive looks. ‘What is it, Lily? You‘ve been waiting till Grandpa’s gone to get me to yourself. What’s matter?’

  ‘I hope you don’t mean Grandpa.’ Lily stared into the flames. ‘Talking about dying.’ Nanna was nearly always right in her prophecies.

  ‘I don’t mean Grandpa. I wish I’d never said it.’ Nanna put down her crochet. ‘I asked, what’s up?’

  ‘Everything …’ Lily hesitated, wanting to ask, dreading it and saying. ‘I don’t like seeing Mam upset.’

  ‘Poor Mollie Leadbetter …’

  ‘And Mr Leigh’s wife,’ she reminded Nanna.

  Nanna’s fingers stopped. ‘Who?’

  ‘Howard Willey-Leigh. His wife died.’

  Nanna looked puzzled. ‘I thought she must a’ died long since.’

  ‘She had been in a nursing home for years.’ Lily tried to say it carelessly, and then, in a shaky voice, ‘Do you like him, Nanna?’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Nanna’s brows came together in two deep lines. ‘What would you think of Mr Leigh for a father?’

  ‘I hate him!’ Lily leaped to her feet. ‘I don’t want Mam married to anyone except my own true father.’

  ‘I am sorry, Lil.’ Nanna struggled to her feet and held out her arms. ‘I was mistaken. I shouldn’t a’ said it.’

  Lily shrugged out of Nanna’s embrace and went to the window, pretending to look up the lane for Grandpa. She heard Nanna behind her, poking the fire. She had upset Nanna. It was the first awkward silence ever between them, and she heard Nanna saying softly, ‘Two deaths. There will be another.’ Then, ‘Don’t tell Grandpa, Lil. He says superstition is the devil’s work.’

  She had upset her darling Nanna. Lily tried to do the trick of the mind, concentrate on something, think about the RSA exams, but it didn’t work. She stared through the little squares of glass into the fading white light of the late afternoon that made the lane and the drystone walls, the bare trees and the distant hills appear soft and smoky, the edges blurred. She tried to concentrate on the view. That didn’t work either, but her anger had gone and her courage had come.

  She turned and looked straight at Nanna. ‘I saw my medical record. It said, “Miss Elsie Stanway”. Miss not Mrs. It said, “Father unknown”.’

  The colour drained from Nanna’s face. ‘You know …’

  ‘Why did you lie, Nanna? You taught me that hiding the truth was as bad as lying.’ Nanna’s lying to her had hurt almost more than anything.

  Nanna was deathly pale. ‘It wasn’t my secret to tell.’

  Lily drew in a long breath to steady herself. ‘Who was my father?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Lily could not believe that Mam had kept her secret from everyone. Nanna was pale, but Lily said in a voice that belied her tight, aching throat, ‘You must know. You’re Mam’s mother.’

  ‘This is dreadful. I never expected this.’ Nanna’s voice was weak. ‘Your Mam refused to name him.’

  ‘Why?’ Lily’s throat went tighter. ‘Wouldn’t she tell Grandpa?’

  Nanna went to stand in front of the fire. Then, in a great effort at self-possession, she drew a deep, steadying breath. ‘Grandpa demanded but I wouldn’t have given tuppence for his life if our Elsie had told him who was responsible.’ She added softly, ‘Your grandpa asked, “Is he alive?” and Elsie said “Yes”.’

  Lily’s control was going. ‘But if he was alive, then …’

  Nanna’s eyes were full of sadness. ‘I said to Elsie, “You will have to tell the child, one day.” And she said, “It happens all the tim
e. It’s nobody’s business but the mother’s.”’

  ‘But if it happens all the time, children could grow up not knowing their own brothers and sisters. Marrying them …’ Lily whispered.

  Nanna said, ‘I said the same thing. Elsie said, “There’s no chance of that happening. None at all.”’

  So the man who was her father had no children of his own? Then why didn’t they marry? Lily’s knees went weak. ‘Was Mam speaking the truth? Saying he had no children.’

  Nanna said, ‘I’d stake my life. Your Mam’s not a liar.’

  ‘Not much!’ Lily’s throat was tight and painful. ‘She’s lived a lie with me all these years.’

  ‘Don’t, lass.’

  Lily tried to drive back the pain that was a heavy weight in her chest. ‘Mam made you lie too. And Grandpa, who won’t break commandments. It’s bearing false witness telling lies!’

  Nanna looked old and wretched now, but Lily couldn’t stop. She had to find out. ‘Did you stop asking?’

  Nanna said, ‘No. I said, “If nothing else, a father should pay.”’

  ‘What did she say to that?’

  Nanna said, ‘It was hurtful to your Mam, saying that. She said, “I’ll support my own child. I’ll not ask you and Dad for a penny.” I felt so small. I felt as if I’d let her down.’

  ‘You didn’t. Mam let you down when she had me.’ Then, realising that this at least was true, Lily dropped on to Grandpa’s chair, covered her face with her hands and, choking on the tears she’d held back so long, said, ‘I don’t want to live like this – afraid in case anyone finds out. What can I do?’

  Nanna, seeing Lily crumple, gathered herself. She would never be crushed by anything, no matter how deep their troubles might be. She said, ‘You can do nothing. It won’t help – upsetting yourself.’

  The old fear, the afraid of being found out fear, was back. Lily’s voice had almost gone. ‘That record … Will it follow me for the rest of my life?’

  ‘Only doctors will see it,’ Nanna said with absolute certainty. ‘They’ll have asked for your birth certificate when you were enrolled.’

  ‘You can’t hide the truth for ever, from everybody.’

  Nanna said, ‘No. There is no father’s name on your birth certificate.’

  Hopeless tears were rolling down Lily’s face. She said, ‘The only clue I have is that once I heard Mam say that I was called Lily Isobel after my two grandmothers.’

  ‘She never said that to me …’

  Lily said, ‘Mam says now that I’m imagining. But I’m not.’ She looked up at Nanna.

  ‘I don’t know anyone of my age called Lily. It’s a common enough name. But no – I don’t.’ Nanna put her hand out to touch Lily’s arm.

  Lily flinched away. ‘Your generation never use Christian names, except for children and close family, do you?’ Lily’s eyes were blinded with tears as she said, ‘When will I find out? I have to, one day. Anyone would … Anyone would be curious.’

  Nanna went to the settle, sat down and said quietly, ‘No crying, our Lil.’ She spoke with a calm authority. ‘I want to tell you something. It may be hurtful, but … but sooner you stop dwelling on it, faster you‘ll get over it.’

  Lily went to sit beside her. ‘I can’t …’

  ‘I prayed that one day you would understand. What I have to say has to be said for your own good.’ Nanna took hold of her hands.

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘You have to do some good in this life. You are not here just to please yourself or to please other people. You are here, on earth, to do your bit. God will tell you what. You can only ask God for thanks.’

  ‘I don‘t want to be thanked. I’m crying because–’

  Nanna would not listen. ‘Don’t expect anyone to feel sorry for you. Especially if you have a little bit more of anything they want themselves – money, or good looks …’

  ‘Or a dad?’ Lily whispered.

  ‘You have to be strong, Lily.’

  ‘But I have to know …’

  ‘You mean, you want to.’ Nanna stood. ‘There is nothing more certain. If she won’t tell me, Elsie won’t tell you. In this life we all have our loads, our crosses to bear. What’s for you, what’s coming to you won’t pass you by. It’s how you bear your cross that matters. Only you can fettle it. We have to shift for ourselves. Sooner you learn that, better.’

  Nanna’s strength was helping. Lily held fast and tried to ask, without tears, ‘If I were to be baptised, could I get a new birth certificate? Would it make it right? Would I still be illegitimate?’

  ‘Oh, Lil! You were born out of wedlock. You can’t have a new birth certificate unless someone adopts you and you change your name. It has nothing to do with being baptised. You have to make something of your life, love. God’s given you talents. Don’t dwell on what can’t be helped.’

  She would have to summon her will, put this to the back of her mind until the time came to shift for herself. Before she could bury it deep she had to ask for as much as Nanna would tell. ‘Will you tell me all you know?’ she said. ‘I’ll never mention it again.’

  Nanna smiled at last and patted her cheek tenderly. ‘Come on. Put your coat on. We’ll walk down the lane. Meet Grandpa. I’ll tell you.’

  The lane was frozen hard. Here in the hills the snow had lain. Little drifts had been blown against the grassy sides of the drive, narrowing the way, and Lily clung on to Nanna’s arm as they went slowly along, listening intently as Nanna recalled in a low voice the years before Lily was born.

  ‘Before the war, when Elsie lived at home with us, she was as happy as a lark. Eeh! She was beautiful! Frank Chancellor and John Hammond were sweet on her.’

  With a sick feeling Lily remembered the photographs. ‘You don’t think Mr Hammond or Mr Chancellor … ?’

  ‘No,’ Nanna said firmly. Then, ‘You were born in nineteen twenty. By then Frank Chancellor and John Hammond were well and truly married, both with young families. And away in France, fighting a war. Elsie couldn’t have – and she wouldn’t. Not with a married man.’

  Nanna held faster on to Lily’s arm and pulled her close. ‘It would be a terrible sin breaking the seventh commandment, Lil. And your mam had proposals galore from single men. She’d met Howard Willey-Leigh and brought him to meet us. He was single and he never went in the army. But he was condescending, I thought. He acted as if he was too good for Elsie. He was going to inherit a title and a manor at Didsbury, but before we knew what, his old uncle married and had two sons and that was end of Howard’s big talk. Then Elsie fell out with Howard Willey-Leigh. Only she was expecting.’

  ‘So Howard Leigh might be my father?’ Lily had to say it. She had to put it into words, although everything in her revolted at the thought of being the result of anything between Mam and Howard Leigh.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Nanna said, then, feeling the stiffening in Lily’s arm, she added, ‘I always thought Howard was smitten with Elsie but against his better judgement. I didn’t believe he had all that money. He was putting it on.’

  ‘I think you are right.’ Lily was sure Nanna was right. Howard Leigh was not the wealthy, well-bred gentleman Mam thought him.

  ‘Elsie dropped him and Howard Willey-Leigh went off and married a rich widow-woman. I’d a feeling Elsie just let him go, never told him she was expecting. I never heard his name mentioned again until today.’

  ‘I can’t understand it.’ Howard Willey-Leigh could not be her father. A father would not do those things – touch a girl’s bare bottom, wink and ogle at his own flesh and blood – would he? ‘What about Tommy Stanway?’

  ‘He was real. A cousin who had gone to war. Elsie couldn’t brazen it out in Macclesfield. We sent her to Manchester. When Tommy Stanway was killed at Ypres, we put it about that Elsie was his widow.’

  ‘But anyone could have worked out that I was born soon after they were married.’

  ‘That’s nothing, love. Many a proud woman in Macc had to get married quick. S
pecially in wartime.’

  ‘Is that true?’ Lily could hardly believe it.

  ‘Oh, yes! There’s plenty of shotgun weddings. No long dresses and bouquets; no photos. A quick trip to church or registry office and no questions asked. There’s never been enough men to go round, see? Young men go off adventuring or fighting wars. Good girls had to make the most of their chances. Precious few married women can talk about anyone else.’

  ‘People do talk. You and Mam talk. Mr and Mrs Chancellor had to marry, Mam said. Because she was having a baby when Mr Chancellor went off to war. You said the baby was not premature because it had fingernails.’

  ‘I know. I felt right ashamed of meself after.’ Nanna sighed. ‘There has always been hypocrisy and plenty of talk inside families, plenty of speculation. Nobody can afford to spread it about for fear of skeletons coming a-popping out of their closets.’

  Lily’s feet were freezing but her face was burning at the thought of all this gossip, this bearing of false witness. ‘I think it’s disgraceful!’

  ‘It is. But it’s life, lass and it’s what people are like in Macc. I dare say people are the same all over.’ Nanna patted Lily’s arm. ‘You’re not. Grandpa and I are proud of you. You’ve had a good religious background.’

  ‘So had Mam,’ she replied quickly.

  ‘Don’t be harsh. Lil,’ Nanna said. ‘It’s the good Lord’s place to judge,’ and seeing Lily’s hurt face, ‘no matter what you do, people will talk.’

  The injustice, the hypocrisy was hateful. ‘So what will people say about Mollie Leadbetter? Will they say she asked for trouble?’

  ‘They will not speak ill of the dead. Nobody will do that.’

  Lily quietened down as they went on slowly through the fast darkening afternoon, then she asked, ‘Did Mam ever think about a bortion, Nanna?’

  Nanna stopped in her tracks. ‘No, lass! She wanted you. I admired her for it. We know that God punishes wrong, sending dead babies or babies with club feet and such as a punishment. But after I’d recovered from the shock I said, “Our Elsie, it might be only one you ever have. Some of us can’t have babies to order. Good Lord intends that you have a baby. It’s God’s will. I’ll stand by you.” And your mam would not have had any more. She had to have everything taken away after you were born. Our Lord must a’wanted you to do his work. You were a perfect child.’