From the Ashes

by Deborah Challinor

  ‘Auckland.’

  ‘Have you been away to have your baby?’ Bao asked.

  Pauline was amazed by her frankness. She decided she quite liked it. ‘I have, actually.’

  ‘And you’re keeping him?’

  Pauline nodded.

  ‘You’re very brave. Good on you.’ Bao giggled. ‘My mother and father would skin me alive if I brought a baby home. But he’s so lovely. You must be very proud of him. Does the father not want him?’

  ‘He died.’

  ‘Well, that stinks.’

  Pauline laughed. ‘It does. And it’s not really funny. It stinks a lot.’

  But, she decided, having Lee Bao as a companion on the way home to Auckland wouldn’t stink. She was chatty but not in an annoying way, she was interesting, and she was refreshing. And she seemed delighted by Daniel. When she tentatively asked if she could hold him, Pauline was happy to let her, and nipped to the loo while she had the chance. And then when he woke for a feed, Bao held up his blanket to give them some privacy. Breastfeeding on a train would have been awkward enough, but she didn’t have a maternity bra, so exposing a breast for Daniel could have been a disaster. The same applied when it came time to change him: behind the blanket curtain they were nice and private and no one could stare at his tiny little bottom, or see that she wasn’t very good at pinning nappies yet.

  But Bao really came into her own at the refreshment stops. Bloody hell, that girl would be handy at the pie cart, Pauline thought as she watched her shove and barge her way off the train and through the crowd to the front of the queue. A few minutes later she was backing out of the tearoom, elbows tucked in, barking at people to watch out, a cup of tea balanced in each hand, sandwiches and biscuits sticking out of her jacket pockets.

  And then they’d share the feast, accompanied by squashed grapes and barley sugars, as Daniel lay across their laps and the train rattled on up through the North Island. They dozed and woke, dozed and woke, until finally the train pulled into the Auckland city terminus down near the docks.

  Pauline and Bao gathered up their things and disembarked, and stood on the platform in the cool, pre-dawn air, stretching while Bao waited for her luggage to be unloaded from the baggage van.

  ‘Which way are you heading?’ Pauline asked.

  ‘Up to Grey’s Avenue.’

  ‘Chinatown?’

  Bao nodded. ‘My family have a restaurant there. Which way are you going?’

  ‘Over to Orakei.’

  Spotting her suitcase, Bao dived in and grabbed it. The crowd of passengers on the platform was starting to thin out now.

  The girls hugged and Bao kissed the top of Daniel’s head. ‘Good luck, Pauline.’

  ‘Thanks, Bao. You too.’

  As she walked off Bao suddenly turned and called, ‘Keep in touch, if you like. The restaurant’s called Mr Lee’s.’

  Pauline waved. Then she stood, wondering what to do next. She probably had enough left for a taxi home, thanks to Frances, so she walked to the rank up the road and waited. A taxi appeared fairly quickly, so she got in and asked to go to Orakei.

  ‘You’re up early,’ the driver said. ‘Or is it late?’

  ‘Late. Just got off the train from Wellington.’

  ‘Well, let’s get you home, then.’

  Pauline relaxed. She’d half expected him to say something rude about Daniel. He couldn’t have known where they’d come from, but the nasty memory of the Wellington taxi driver was still fresh.

  Unfortunately, when the taxi pulled up outside her parents’ house, the fare the driver quoted was a little more than the amount of money she had left.

  ‘Wait on,’ she said, ‘I’ll run in and get the rest. Won’t be a minute.’

  She left her suitcase on the lawn and hurried down the path and up the steps and banged loudly on the back door. Nothing happened for a few minutes but eventually a bleary-eyed Colleen opened it.

  ‘Pauline! What are you doing home!’

  ‘Hi, Mum. This is Daniel, your grandson. Can I have some money for the taxi?’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Auckland, December 1956

  ‘He really does look like his father, doesn’t he?’ Colleen said, gazing down at Daniel.

  The baby was nestled in the crook of his grandfather’s arm, while Sid drank his morning tea and read the paper out loud to him.

  ‘He does,’ Pauline agreed. ‘I don’t think he’s that interested in the news, Dad.’

  Colleen said, ‘Get off your backside, Sid, and make some toast. Come on, it’s my turn to hold him.’

  Pauline smiled to herself. They’d been home four hours and so far her mother and father hadn’t been able to keep their hands off Daniel. To think how much she’d worried about telling them she wasn’t giving him up. Even more to the point, to think about the lectures her mother had given her about how she’d have to! What a lot of agonising for nothing. They’d fallen in love with him, just like she had.

  She yawned. ‘I need a sleep, and so does Daniel. And we both really need a bath.’

  ‘I’ll give him his bath,’ Colleen volunteered.

  ‘Don’t you have to go to work?’

  ‘I’ll phone in and say I’m sick. It’s not every day your grandson comes home.’

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want me to keep him?’ Pauline said.

  ‘I didn’t, but you have, so things have changed.’ Colleen looked at her. ‘It won’t be easy, you know. People will talk about you.’

  Pauline shrugged. ‘I don’t really care. But you will, won’t you?’

  ‘I will, but . . .’ Her mother looked down at Daniel. ‘Well, we’ve got him to think about now, haven’t we?’

  ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Sid said, setting a plate of singed toast on the table.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Sid, throw that out for the birds. Yes, I have changed my tune. And aren’t you lucky I’m such an accommodating person?’

  ‘Accommodating?’ Sid snorted and put more bread under the grill.

  ‘Mind you, Pauline,’ Colleen said, ‘you’ll have to get a job to buy the baby all the things he’ll need, which means you’ll have to pay for child-minding, and that’ll probably eat up all your pay so you’ll end up back where you started. I can’t give up work to look after him, you know.’

  ‘I’ll look after him,’ Sid said.

  ‘You? You’re too old to play at being a father.’

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘And you’ve probably ruined your chances of getting a husband,’ Colleen went on. ‘Daniel’s a lovely little thing, he really is, but what man wants to take on another man’s child?’

  ‘I don’t want a husband,’ Pauline said. ‘I only wanted Johnny.’

  ‘Look, love, I know you say that now, but things will change. Time will pass and one day you’ll find yourself wishing you had someone to share your life with.’

  ‘I’ll have someone to share my life with. Him,’ Pauline said, pointing at the baby.

  Colleen shook her head. ‘Tell me that when he’s thirteen and up the street with his friends, and you, me and your father are sitting here playing Chinese Checkers and Snap.’

  Pauline had to admit that did sound pretty awful. She’d still only be thirty years old by then. ‘Well, I don’t know what might happen, do I? I haven’t got a crystal ball.’

  But Arabella Fortune had tarot cards. Perhaps she should go back and see her. She’d been right about the baby and all that stuff about tragedy.

  Sid opened the kitchen window and threw out a second lot of burnt toast. ‘You’d better come and do this, Col. I seem to have lost me touch.’

  ‘No, I’m about to bathe the baby.’

  ‘What in? The copper? We haven’t got a baby’s bath.’

  Colleen said, ‘We’ll have to do it in the basin in the bathroom.’

  ‘Why can’t I just put him in the bath with me?’ Pauline suggested.

&
nbsp; ‘It’s dangerous. You might drop him.’

  ‘Bollocks I will.’

  Sid remarked, ‘I see they also had classes in social graces at that Bethany.’

  ‘I can feel a shopping expedition coming on,’ Colleen said, not unhappily. ‘And I must ring Allie and Donna.’

  ‘Taiho,’ Sid said. ‘Ring Donna if you like, but think on before you talk to Allie. You know how she is about babies.’

  Affronted, Colleen replied, ‘I know my own daughter. I’ll not tread on her toes.’

  *

  The Mana ladies were knitting at Allie’s place today, and had begun arriving at around nine o’clock. All six were now crowded into her front room, as well as some of the stock about to be sent to shops, which had been stored in the spare room currently occupied by Gina, and Gina herself. But at least Mr De Valera was on the outside, perched precariously on the window ledge glaring ferociously in through the net curtains at the women who’d usurped his domain.

  Allie had made tea for everyone before they’d started work, and now she had an announcement. Ana knew, but so far no one else did.

  She clapped her hands to get attention. ‘I’ve got some really good news to tell you. In terms of our proposed junior and adult lines—’

  ‘Ooh, get you!’ Kura said.

  Everyone laughed and so did Allie. It did sound a bit lah-di-dah.

  ‘OK then, as far as our big kids’ and grown-ups’ jumpers and cardigans and vests are concerned, we’ve had confirmed orders from eight specialist stores and four of the department stores, and that’s on top of the children’s wear.’

  The women all cheered and clapped.

  Allie grinned, while keeping a surreptitious eye on Gina, who was on her hands and knees and heading towards the back of the sofa. You had to watch her all the time; no wonder poor Awhi was exhausted.

  ‘So while that’s really good news, and the new range isn’t due for delivery till February, it means we’re going to be knitting our heads off over Christmas and the summer holidays to get it ready. Sorry, ladies. Is there anyone who can’t be available?’

  ‘My kids are at the neighbours’ today,’ one of the part-timers said, ‘but some days I might have to bring them with me. Is that all right?’

  Gina’s little dark head popped up behind the sofa.

  ‘Why don’t we pay someone to look after all the kids?’ Wiki suggested.

  ‘You’d have to pay them a small fortune,’ Kura said. ‘Especially for my lot.’

  ‘Just the little ones,’ Wiki said. The bigger ones can look after themselves.’

  Suddenly Gina whipped back the net curtain and bellowed ‘Boo!’ at Mr De Valera. The cat shot off the window sill, several of the women shrieked, more than one cup of tea was spilt, and Vincent started bawling, his little face turning bright red.

  ‘Gina!’ Allie exclaimed.

  ‘Pussy got a fright.’

  ‘Christ almighty, so did I.’ Kura fanned her face, her hand on her ample chest.

  ‘This is what I mean, eh?’ Wiki said. ‘Someone who can manage this sort of thing.’

  ‘I don’t know who that would be,’ Ana mumbled.

  The phone rang. Allie, whose heart was still galloping, picked up the handset and stepped into the hallway, stretching the cord.

  ‘Hello, Allie Roberts speaking.’

  ‘Hello, this is Colleen Roberts speaking, your mother.’

  Allie rolled her eyes. Her mother always announced herself like this when she rang. ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘I’ve got some news, Allie. Pauline’s home.’

  ‘She’s home now? Last time I talked to her she wasn’t due back till after Christmas.’

  That had been four or five days ago and Pauline had told her she’d have to stay at the maternity home until she’d recovered from giving birth and her milk had dried up.

  ‘She had the baby a couple of days ago,’ Colleen said, ‘and she’s kept him.’

  Allie felt suddenly quite dizzy. ‘She’s kept him? She’s got him now?’

  ‘I’ve just given him a bath and they’re both asleep in Pauline’s room. They arrived on the train this morning. She’s called him Daniel John.’

  ‘Well, you’ve done a bloody great about-face, haven’t you?’

  ‘You need to see him, Allie. He really is the sweetest little thing.’

  ‘Does he look like Johnny?’

  ‘The spitting image.’

  Oh God, Allie thought, what she going to tell Kura?

  *

  Allie and Pauline had a bit of a row about it. Allie, of course, thought Daniel was gorgeous, and said so.

  She also said, ‘It’s not easy, Pauline, raising a child by yourself. You need all the help you can get.’

  ‘I know you’re only trying to help,’ Pauline replied, ‘but how would you know? You’ve never raised a baby on your own.’

  ‘No, I haven’t, not on my own. And we only had Hana for four months, and there were two of us, and even that wasn’t easy. But I can’t see it being any easier with one parent with all the getting up during the night for feeds and the lack of sleep, and the endless washing and trying to get things dry, and never having a minute to yourself. You’ll be expecting Mum and Dad to help you, and they’re getting too old for all that.’

  ‘You will be too,’ Colleen said.

  Pauline said, ‘No I won’t.’

  ‘He’ll be waking us up anyway, probably, so we might as well help.’

  Allie said, ‘The point I’m trying to make is the more people you have to help you with him, the better.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So why don’t you tell Johnny’s family about Daniel?’

  ‘No.’

  Colleen said, ‘I think maybe you should, Pauline.’

  ‘I said no!’

  ‘Why not?’ Allie asked.

  ‘Because he’s mine.’

  ‘He can still be yours. What’s wrong with sharing him a bit with his other grandparents and his aunts and uncles?’

  ‘They’ll end up taking him over.’

  ‘No, they won’t. Why would they?’

  ‘They will. They’re like a great big sponge, that lot. They just . . . absorb people.’

  Allie said, ‘What are you talking about? That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Kura was very nice to you, wasn’t she?’

  Pauline looked away. ‘Not always.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Colleen demanded. ‘When were they not nice to you?’

  ‘Oh God, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does matter,’ Colleen insisted. ‘When were they not nice?’

  ‘Well, when Johnny died, if you must know.’

  ‘Why, what happened?’ Allie asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Pauline said, sounding about eleven.

  ‘Something must have.’

  ‘They didn’t include me! They wouldn’t take me down to the funeral!’

  ‘But love, they probably had so many other things to think about,’ Allie said. ‘And the grief. They would have all been heartbroken. I’m sure it wasn’t deliberate.’

  ‘I was heartbroken too! And I had the baby to think about. All I got told was I had to go away and give him up.’

  Allie glanced at her mother, who had the good grace to look guilty.

  ‘So if they couldn’t be bothered thinking of me when I needed help,’ Pauline said, ‘I’m not going to think of them now.’

  Allie opened her mouth to speak, but her mother beat her to it. ‘That is so childish, Pauline. Call yourself someone fit to raise a baby? All I can say is you’re going to have a very lonely and difficult life.’

  ‘I know for a fact Kura would feel awful if she knew how upset you were at not going to Johnny’s funeral,’ Allie said. ‘And she’d feel a hundred times worse if she knew you thought it was her fault. She’d die.’

  Pauline said nothing.

  ‘She thinks you’re a lovely girl,’ Allie went on. ‘She keeps telling me to tell you to visit them, and I’ve
been having to keep on making up excuses about why you can’t, because you haven’t been here because you’ve been away having her grandson, but you won’t let me tell her that, and you won’t tell her yourself because you’re so bloody stubborn and selfish!’

  ‘Don’t call me selfish!’

  ‘Well, you are,’ Colleen said. ‘It’s dreadful to have lost a lover—’

  ‘Not a lover! Johnny was the love of my life!’

  ‘I know, love, I know,’ Colleen soothed. ‘But try and imagine what it might be like to lose a child. Imagine what it would be like for you if you loved and adored and raised Daniel for eighteen years, and then he died. I’m sure that won’t happen, but that’s exactly what’s happened to Johnny’s mother. You’ve suffered horribly, but so has Mrs Apanui.’

  Allie said, ‘You need to tell her, Pauline. Let her have part of Johnny back.’

  There was a long, long silence.

  Finally, Pauline said, ‘I’ll think about it.’

  *

  On the day before Christmas, which was a Monday, Pauline was looking out the window of her mother’s front room, patting Daniel’s back in the hope that he’d do a decent burp. Her milk was well in now and he was a proper guts, drinking and drinking until his little tummy was quite tight, and then he’d grizzle until he’d let out a good bit of wind. She was sure he’d grown already, though her mother said probably not as babies tended to lose a little weight after they were born. She must get him signed up at Plunket. She must get herself on a diet too. Her own stomach had gone down a lot but the waistband on her capris was definitely snug.

  As she patted and soothed Daniel, she saw women arriving next door at Ana Leonard’s, including Allie and Kura Apanui.

  ‘Mum,’ she called down the hall. ‘What’s Allie doing next door?’

  ‘They’ll be knitting, for the business,’ Colleen’s voice came back.

  Pauline rubbed and patted some more, until finally a satisfyingly resonant burp came out of Daniel, and also, unfortunately, some sick, which landed on her shoulder. She wiped it off with his wrap and went into the kitchen.

  ‘What time are you going to work?’ she asked her mother, who was ferreting around in her handbag.

  ‘Soon. Why?’

  ‘I thought I might take Daniel to see Kura. Did you want to come with me?’