Of Different Times

by Agnes Kirkwood

  Things were left at that for a while, but as time went by my sister’s words kept coming back to me. Especially at times when we were all together, I could sense Stan liked me in a different way from just being a friend, and I knew I was beginning to feel the same. Whenever I felt a situation that Stan was getting too close, I’d back away, I was afraid of being hurt again when he found out I was pregnant, after all who would want to go out with someone who was having someone else’s baby?

  My mum and sister took me into the lounge one night for a chat, and told me I would have to go to the doctor. I said I didn’t want to, but mum insisted I get myself sorted out. She said she’d stood back long enough and she couldn’t see me doing anything about my situation. I would have to report my pregnancy to the doctor, to make sure the baby was all right. That hurt me, because it was all I thought about day in and day out. I said I didn’t care about Billy’s baby, because I didn’t want it anyway because it has given me nothing but grief. My mum got angry, and told me it wasn’t just his baby it was mine as well and it was part of this family if I like it or not, and I had to be a bit more responsible for it. She insisted I go to the doctor with her as she has made me an appointment, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Wilma, said it was for my own good, because that baby will be born if I like it or not. She said she was a lot further on than I am and that when the doctor was called to her, and he was angry at her not trusting him in the first place, after all everything is in confidence. It wasn’t just her life she was risking, it was an innocent baby’s as well. That made me shudder thinking she was talking about my little niece.

  Mum insisted I had to go to the appointment because she had to arrange for me to get help from the midwife about what hospital I have to give birth in. I already knew I would have to give up work when I was six months pregnant, and that I’d be able to claim maternity benefit, but I didn’t realise the doctor was the only one that could fill in all the appropriate forms, and that was another reason I had to see him, as I only had a couple of months to go before I had to stop work. This was all getting too much for me, as if things weren’t bad enough walking about like a robot with a tight corset around my stomach, now I was being over powered with things I hardly knew anything about.

  The doctor was an old man and looked as if he should have retired years ago, but he was nice. He told me I was silly for leaving it late in going to see him. He examined me, and asked when my last period was, I told him I didn’t know the exact date, but I told him it was about a week before we came to live in England. Mum knew the exact date we moved and he worked it out from there, so I gave the doctor the date when we had the farewell party and that must have been when it happened. He worked it out and gave me the 11th of November, but he said it could be a few days either way of that date. At least that gave me a positive attitude it was really happening and I had to make my mind up fast what to do for the best. It didn’t matter what mum or my sister says it was all up to me to make the final choice.

  When we left the doctor’s surgery mum told me she hoped it wouldn’t be born on the thirteenth because it was an unlucky date in our family. When I asked her why, she said Gran lost a thirteen-month-old baby on the thirteenth. Her oldest son got killed in an explosion down the pit on the thirteenth. She got so paranoid about the number thirteen she got the council to change the number 13 on her door to 14A. My little baby brother was buried on the thirteenth. I know it was only a coincidence, and not that I knew it then; but mum died on the thirteenth.

  I would sit at night and rub my hand over my bump, by then I could actually feel life inside me. I’d look around as if in a world of my own and try to imagine me with a baby and for the love of me I could not visualise it. All I could see was a lifetime of ridicule, and people pointing a finger at us.

  As the weeks passed my bump was getting bigger, so I wore a tighter corset and looser clothing than normal to try and hide it. Things were really getting awkward at work I didn’t know if it was my imagination but, I was sure the women were getting a bit suspicious, because I was having a day off nearly every week to go to the clinic. One day Stan came into the shed for his un-needed wires and asked me why I was having the next day off. I told him I had a doctor’s appointment, and he asked me if I was ill. I reassured him I was all right, but he said no one goes to the doctor as often as I have been lately for nothing. I was stuck for words, and couldn’t think of an excuse quick enough, so I told him it was nothing to do with him anyway. He told me it was because he thought the world of me and if there was something wrong with me he wanted to know because he was worried. My stomach fluttered at his words, and I came right out and told him I thought the world of him too, but nothing could come of it. He couldn’t understand and asked why. I fumbled for words but didn’t know what answer to give him, so I just came right out and told him I was expecting a baby, and that was that. I stood silent waiting for a reaction but he went quiet, so I just ran out of the shed and headed for dad’s office. Dad asked me what was wrong. So I told him. He clucked his tongue, shook his head and shouted,

  ‘Jesus Christ lassie, what do you expect, you should have told the laddie long before now, couldn’t you see he was falling for you?’

  ’I know, I know,’ I shouted back, ‘I was frightened to tell him because I was falling for him as well. I stayed in dad’s office until it was time to go home. I waited until everyone was in the van then I crept in last, and looked out the back window all the way home. When we all got out of the van I walked in front and never looked back. My brother came running up to me and asked what that was all about. I said I told Stan about me being pregnant, and he just answered, ‘Oh!’ then we walked home in silence.

  That next night when my brother came home from work he told me Stan was coming down and all four of us could go down to the park and just hang out, as we often did.

  I just couldn’t face him after what happened the previous night, so I told him I didn’t think that would be a good idea. I went upstairs after dinner and just sat looking out the window. I convinced myself I was just bored, but if truth be known, I was watching for Stan coming. After about half an hour I saw the lone figure cycling up the street. My heart skipped a beat as he walked under my window and down the entry to the back door. I could hear my mum telling him to come in, then my brother talking to him. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I did hear them go out the door. I watched them walking down towards Winnie’s house. I knew exactly where they were going. when I saw my brother run back up the garden path. I knew exactly where he was heading so I quickly dived into bed and covered myself up with the blankets. I pretended to be asleep when he barged into the bedroom. He said he wanted me to come out with them because Stan wanted to talk to me. I said I knew exactly what he wanted to say, and to tell him not to worry his self about me because I will get over all this. My brother told me I had the wrong attitude, because he thought he still liked me, in fact he talks about me all the time. He said Stan confided in him at work and the message he got was that he still wanted to go out with me. I wanted to rush out of bed and run outside into his arms, but my pride wouldn’t let me. I don’t know if it was my brother exaggerating just to get me to go, or was it sheer stubbornness on my behalf, anyway I refused to go. As he ran downstairs I jumped out of bed and rushed to the window. My heart felt as if it were breaking as I watched them walking down the street, I cursed myself for not going.

  Next day Stan came into my shed at work, he proceeded to talk as if nothing was wrong. He brought the New Music Express for me and I took it and thanked him as you would to an assistant at a paper shop. I felt drained of conversation and left all the talking to him. He told me that being pregnant did not change the feeling he had for me, and that he had been miserable the last couple of days, and if I didn’t want to have him for a boyfriend surely we could still be friends. That really plunked my heart strings, I just looked at him with relief and said of course I would love to be his girlfriend, but did he know what
he was getting himself into. He said he would stand by me and take things as they came. That was when he came over and kissed me for the very first time, and I returned it.

  The doctor made me an appointment with the nurse at the village clinic. When I went to see her she examined me and said everything was fine. She asked if I had any worries, and how I was going to cope in the future with a baby. I told her that my parents wanted me to keep the baby, and they would bring it up as their own, or until I got married in the future. I was thinking about getting the baby adopted. She looked shocked and asked if I was sure, because it was a big decision to make for someone so young. I said I had thought of nothing else, and that I thought adoption might be best for everyone concerned, and that I was seriously thinking about it. I told her my parents were appalled that I could even consider adoption. It made things awkward at home for me I felt pressurised with it all. She agreed that I must be worried because it was probably the biggest decision I would ever have to make in my whole life, and it wouldn’t be as easy as I thought. She told me not to worry that she would give me all the information I needed on adoption. I had to make sure I read it all, and to understand all the implications it involved. Then if I decided to go ahead, she would help me all she could, but at the end of the day it would have to be my choice as to what I wanted to do, not my mum or anyone else’s.

  The next time I saw her I told her I still hadn’t made up my mind. Deep down I wanted to keep it but, when I looked around our house I could tell it was overcrowded, and I just couldn’t see room for me bringing a baby home. I told her my younger sister and me already share a bedroom with my parents, because my married sister had come from Scotland to live and until they get a place of their own; which I didn’t know how long that would take, I just couldn’t for the life of me see it working out. She told me not to worry that things are never as bad as they look, and that she’d arrange an appointment for a health visitor to have a word with me and run through all the procedure to help me make up my mind.

  True to her word the health worker came that very week to our house and we spent an hour in the lounge talking. I told her all my worries, and that I was so confused whether to agree with my parents and keep the baby, or to follow my own instincts telling me the baby would be better off in a loving home, with parents that could give it more than I could. She went through everything about adoption and left me with a lot of information, and told me she would call back in a week’s time. She was very nice, and I thought a lot about what she was telling me.

  I was glad I had my brother William, Winnie and Stan to talk to, I felt as if they were the only ones on my side. The visit from the health worker proved to my parents that I was seriously thinking about getting the baby adopted. All I got from mum and dad was I was doing something that I will regret for the rest of my life. Every time mum and I were alone, she’d start her lectures about how it was her grandchild, and how I would change my mind when the baby was born. I got to the point that I tried not to be alone with her, because she was just confusing me from trying to make a decision. Even my sister was on to me all the time. Luckily my brother never once mentioned my pregnancy or asked me any kind of questions, which I was glad about.

  Dad asked me to see him in his office one morning. Straight away I thought my mother was behind it, but when I asked him if it was a lecture mum asked him to give me, he promised it was just a talk between him and me. I sat down on the chair opposite him at his desk and waited. He came right out and said he believed that Stan loved me, and he believed he loved me enough to stand by me and in time if we ever got married accept the baby as his own. I was shocked and told him there was no way I would even expect him to take on my problems, besides I had only just started going out with him, so how did I know once I had the baby we would still feel the same for each other. I wasn’t going to be beholden to anyone for my mistakes. I told him I had been seriously hurt by Billy, and was making sure I wouldn’t be hurt again. It was my problem not Stan’s, and I’d be the one to sort it out. I told dad I would do what I thought was right, after all, he was the one that told me, ‘Always follow your instincts and you can’t go wrong.’ I intended to do just that, and whatever I thought was right; I would do because I wanted to make my own mind up. He nodded and said it was up to me, but he hoped for my sake in the end I would make the right decision. Dad never intervened again on the subject.

  When the health lady came back to see me she asked what I had decided to do. I told her I had made my mind up to get the baby adopted, because it would be better all round. I explained we had only lived here in England for five months and a fresh start would be ideal for me and the baby. At least the baby would go through life in a family that could give it more that I could.

  The health worker told me there was a home for unmarried mothers in Liverpool, and if I agreed she would try and get me into it. Straight away I agreed, and said if I got in the unmarried mothers home it would be ideal,

  She said it was normally for girls that had problems at home, and said that she knew my home problems were nothing like some of the girls she deals with. Mainly the girls who go there have nowhere to go because their parents have thrown them out as soon as they found out they were pregnant. Some work away from home and don’t want their parents to know; then after they have the baby adopted they go home, and their families are none the wiser. Some tell their parents after their baby’s born in desperation, because they can’t go through with the adoption. Others have their baby and decide to keep it and take it home and face the consequences. Some work out and others don’t. It was a harder decision than I thought.

  I struggled to stop myself crying, the lump in my throat hurt and as I looked at her with tears forming in my eyes, I blurted out it wasn’t fair because the father was at home in Scotland enjoying his life with not a care in the world, and here was I in a different country going through all this. She put her arms around me and told me she would do her best to get me in if that was what I wanted. I agreed and started to cry.

  Mum was upset at the idea of a health worker coming into her house. I think she thought it was her job to sort me out, but I stood my ground and got my own way in the end.

  When I told Stan what I intended to do, he seemed to be pleased, and I got the impression he felt relieved that I had taken a lot of pressure off him, because I think he was worried about how he was going to tell his family about me; so now he wouldn’t have to. I said to him that three months was a long time not to see each other, because it would be too far for him to travel, besides, I wasn’t sure if you were allowed visitors. I said I didn’t expect him to stay in and wait for me, and I wouldn’t blame him if he met someone else then.

  He said he would never do that, he would wait for me because he thought the world of me. When I finally got word from the health worker that I had a place in the Unmarried Mothers Home I was relieved, it was like a ton weight off my shoulders. I could see life at the end of the tunnel, and just prayed that everything would turn out for the best. I had to report six weeks before the baby was born and stay there for six weeks after it was born. I think I must have read the rules over and over again, and every time I did they made me wonder what I had got myself into. But I put on a brave face as if I couldn’t wait to go in, but deep down inside me was a different story; I knew I’d be homesick, because the only time I could have visitors was on a Saturday for three hours. I worried that I wouldn’t get on with the other girls; after all we spoke different would they understand me? Most important, would Stan wait three months for me? Three months was a long time and Liverpool was a long way to travel in buses and train, so I knew I wouldn’t see him until I had the baby and came back home. He might even forget all about me and find someone else. I felt sick at the thought. But this was all my decision and I had to stick by it, there was no turning back.

  I’ll never forget the last two weeks at work. I don’t know what was worst; sweltering in thick baggy clothes, or having to wear a tight corset all d
ay; both were very uncomfortable to the extent I felt like giving up and ripping them off and just let nature take its course, but I struggled on.

  When I turned six months pregnant I finally left work. Mum got a job in the same place as Wilma, and I had to look after my niece and run the house until it was time to go into the Home then my sister would give up her job and take over.

  It was hard work, but I soon got myself into a routine, I babysat, cleaned the house and made the dinner at night for everyone coming home from work. I‘d stay in the house all day, because I didn’t want anyone seeing me. Then at night I’d put on my tight corset because Stan came to our house every night, and I’d go out with him, Wiliam and Winnie. I had a red swagger coat that I wore that hid me to a certain extent, and only if you were looking for evidence of pregnancy would never think I was having a baby.

  Next door to us there was a Catholic church and school, and the headmistress lived in the big house next to us. One day when my niece was having her afternoon sleep, I decided to clean out the sideboard, and was on my knees. Someone came to the back door and knocked; I automatic looked up and saw the Headmistress from next door through the window. I shouted for her to come in. She walked in and started to talk to me. I didn’t want to get up because I didn’t want her to know I was pregnant. I got the impression that she was waiting for me to rise but I stuck it out, that was until she asked if I could lend her some sugar as she had just ran out. Inside I was tempted to tell her no, but then I rose up breathing in as far as I could and hurried into the kitchen, without giving her time to have a good look. I immediately grabbed the towel to hide my bump. I got a bag of sugar from the cupboard and told her to take the whole bag, as it would be easier giving back a bag rather than some in a bowl. She thanked me and left. When I told my mum, she said she was only being nosy, as she has never spoken to her all the six months we lived there.