by Anne Bennett
‘Yes,’ breathed Janet.
‘And that’s probably the path your own life will take,’ Mary said.
‘Yes,’ said Janet again. ‘Yes, yes, yes, that’s what I want.’
Later that same day, when Claire and Janet were discussing the merits of Keats’ poetry, Janet suddenly said, ‘Have you ever had anyone else pass the eleven-plus before me?’
‘I haven’t,’ Claire admitted. ‘That’s not to say other colleagues haven’t, but remember the disarray the country was in for six years. Many children had part-time or sporadic schooling, or none at all. You’ll find now that most of the schools like Paget Road will have a steady increase in the numbers of children going through the scholarship scheme.’
‘I hope so,’ Janet said. She felt odd and different being the only one, and wished there was another girl to go with.
Claire didn’t say that she found coaching Janet more exhausting and time-consuming than she’d thought, and it put severe restrictions on her private life. She’d already decided that any further children would be taught in extra lessons at school – she’d not open her home again, nor would she get so involved – but all these thoughts she kept from Janet.
She didn’t explain either that she didn’t intend to live like a nun for the rest of her life. She didn’t tell Janet about David Sunderland, who she’d met at a teachers’ conference after work one day, or about how he’d complained bitterly when she’d explained how her weekends were tied up. She didn’t tell Janet that they’d been out together a few times and she liked him very much.
She didn’t understand the pedestal Janet had put her on, and didn’t know Janet assumed she would work her way through life independently and free of any man, because Janet could tell her none of this.
The Easter holidays were looming and Claire believed that the day of reckoning would come before they returned to school. Betty Travers eventually gave up work. The baby was expected at the end of May and she thought it was time. Mary had had her plaster cast removed and had returned home where the obliging neighbours, the Pritchards, would be able to take her to the hospital in their car for physiotherapy.
Claire would have missed her mother more if David Sunderland hadn’t been around. Janet’s presence at the house was intermittent now and she could never stay long, as her mother’s confinement was getting closer.
David didn’t like Claire constantly talking about the girl. ‘You’ve done more for her than for any other child in your class,’ he said. ‘You have forty-nine others to concern yourself with, often from far worse homes and tragic beginnings.’
Claire couldn’t disagree with David. He was right. ‘You’ve given her a start few others have had, and certainly no one else at your school,’ he went on. ‘Now she’s either got fed up or is needed at home, but whatever the reasons for her absence, you must let her go, Claire.’
It was true, Claire knew that. Janet was strangely elusive, even at school. She arrived often just as the bell was ringing, flew out of the door at lunchtime and left on the dot of four in the afternoon.
It was hard to find out how things were when Claire wasn’t even able to snatch a quiet word with her. By tacit consent neither of them spoke about Janet’s visits to Claire’s house. They were well aware that the other children would make Janet’s life a misery, and even the school authority might view it unfavourably. They knew, of course, that the Travers’ girl was in line for a grammar school place and were pleased with that. However, Claire knew they would frown on what would be termed ‘overfamiliarity’ between a teacher and a pupil.
A general enquiry such as ‘How is your mother, Janet?’ was met with: ‘She’s all right, thank you, Miss Wentworth.’
A request from Claire to stay behind met with an agitated entreaty: ‘Oh please, Miss Wentworth, I can’t, my mother relies on me. I really must go straight home.’ How could Claire argue with that? She hoped that the birth of this fifth child into the Travers house might go smoothly and that afterwards life would settle down a little for Janet, but she didn’t say any of this to David.
FOUR
By the time the Easter holidays were a few days off, Betty Travers had been in bed for over a week with high blood pressure. The family doctor, Dr Black, had wanted her shipped to hospital, but she became so distressed that he relented, but warned, ‘No slipping downstairs to peel the odd potato or do a spot of ironing, mind.’
For Bert and Duncan, life went on just the same. Sarah McClusky took on most of the housework, Breda looked after the twins a lot of the time and a heavy load fell on Janet.
One day the doctor called not long after Janet had got in from school. She’d cooked tea for Duncan, the twins and herself, prepared a tray that she was going to take up to her mother and was getting her father’s dinner ready to cook while she tried to stop the twins killing one another. The doctor watched her for a few minutes, then remarked, ‘You’re a splendid girl, Janet, and I know you’re a grand help, but don’t work yourself too hard. Get Duncan to help you.’
‘Duncan, Doctor?’ Janet said in amazement. ‘He’s a boy.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ Dr Black said with a smile.
‘Well, boys don’t do anything, do they?’
‘What about your father?’
Janet stared at the doctor for a minute, but didn’t speak. He gave a grim smile and asked, ‘Aren’t you going to point out that he’s a man?’ Without waiting for a reply, he said, ‘Tell your father I’ll be round to see him this evening after surgery. I think we need to have a chat.’
When Janet reported to Auntie Breda what the doctor had told her, she said, ‘About time someone spoke to him. You two better come to me for your tea. I’ll ask Mammy to see to Betty and your dad and get Conner and Noel to bed, but you two had better be right out of the road. Bloody good job it’s Friday and I haven’t got a job to go to.’
After their tea at Auntie Breda’s, Duncan and Janet were sent into the living room to look after Linda while Breda talked to Peter in the kitchen. Duncan was disgusted.
‘Boys don’t look after babies,’ he said. ‘Can’t I go out to play with my mates?’
‘No, you can’t,’ Auntie Breda told him. ‘I’m not having you hanging around your house. As for boys not looking after babies, you’ll probably have your own one day.’
‘Yeah,’ Duncan said, ‘but that will be my wife’s job, won’t it?’
‘You have a lot to learn, young Duncan,’ Breda said. ‘The modern woman and what she wants will be like a slap in the face to you and those like you. In this house, you’ll start by doing what you’re bloody well told.’
Still sulking, Duncan allowed himself to be propelled into the living room, where he kicked disconsolately at the skirting board and said to Janet:
‘I don’t know why they’ve sent us round here. It isn’t as if we don’t know what Dr Black wants to see Dad about, is it?’
‘Isn’t it?’ said Janet. She’d picked up that the doctor wasn’t pleased with her dad, but she didn’t know what it was all about.
‘You really are stupid sometimes, our Janet,’ Duncan snapped. ‘He’s going to tell our dad to stop doing it … you know …’ He looked at Janet’s puzzled face and burst out, ‘Well, they don’t want more babies, do they?’
At that moment, Breda’s voice came clearly from the kitchen.
‘Well, someone had to speak to him, Peter, and he’d never listen to me. Someone had to tell Bert Travers to keep his bleeding hands off our Betty and put them in the washing-up bowl more often.’
Peter murmured a reply but neither of the children heard it. They picked up Auntie Breda’s voice more easily, high-pitched as it was with indignation.
‘Well, I don’t trust him. He might do what the doc says now, but as soon as that baby’s born, he’ll be back to groping.’
‘See,’ Duncan said with satisfaction.
‘Ssh,’ Janet cautioned, for Breda was still talking.
‘He’s a man like all
the rest, only after one thing. I’m getting her down that clinic, get her sorted out, as soon as that kid’s born.’
‘What does she mean?’ whispered Janet.
‘Oh, it’s just women’s talk,’ Duncan said airily. He wasn’t going to admit to not knowing.
But Janet knew Duncan didn’t understand. She didn’t either, but she pieced together what she did know. According to Auntie Breda, Dr Black was going to tell her dad he couldn’t touch her mother any more. That would mean he couldn’t kiss her, because he couldn’t do that without touching. Not that her parents went in for that sort of thing much, but she supposed they did in bed. There were lots of things people did in bed that she wasn’t sure of. Groping sounded pretty awful, and Janet wondered what it was. Her father obviously used to do it to her mother, because Auntie Breda said he’d be back to it. That was probably it. This groping was the thing they did that brought the babies, and Dr Black was going to tell her dad there was to be no more of it.
Bert Travers was very subdued when the children went back after Sarah had sent word that the doctor had left. He’d been soundly told off for allowing his daughter to become a drudge.
‘Considering how sick your wife is, I’m surprised you’re not giving more of a hand,’ the doctor had continued. ‘After all, Janet’s not old enough to be doing everything, is she?’
Bert hadn’t even really been aware of it. He never thought about what Betty did. He knew that everything got done, but she’d never complained. He’d never considered it hard work. After all, he did the hard day’s work in the factory and he wasn’t keen on starting again when he came home.
‘Your wife is fretting upstairs,’ Dr Black said. ‘She says Janet looks pasty and run-down. Worry is the last thing she needs. No wonder I can’t get her blood pressure down. Go on in the selfish way you have been and you’ll have a sick daughter as well as a sick wife, and then where will you be?’
Bert felt suitably chastened. He hadn’t realised, he said. He’d do more, and draft in young Duncan to give a hand.
But the doctor hadn’t finished. ‘While we are on the subject of selfishness, you do understand that this child must be the last?’
Bert gulped. ‘We hadn’t intended this one, Doc, not after the twins, you know.’
‘Intending is one thing, making sure is quite another,’ Dr Black said grimly. ‘You must ensure, if you wish to continue marital relations with your wife, that you take precautions.’
Bert stared at the doctor until he snapped irritably, ‘You know what I’m talking about, man, they’re on sale in all the barber’s shops.’
‘I’m not using them things. What do you bleeding well take me for?’ Bert gasped.
‘Well, I hope you’re just a fool and not a cruel idiot into the bargain,’ Dr Black said sternly. ‘I’m telling you straight, Betty has had a hard pregnancy and she has the classic signs of a hard birth. She’ll not go through another one totally unscathed and I would be worried for her very survival. Take precautions or curb your natural desires, the choice is yours.’
‘Some bloody choice,’ Bert said gloomily.
‘Well, I’ll leave you to decide,’ the doctor said, walking to the door. There he turned and said, ‘About young Conner and Noel …’
‘What about them?’
‘They seem to have boundless energy and Janet is hardly able to control them. Your wife will have her hands full in the summer with a new baby as well, and she’ll need to rest at times. They could start at the Gunter Road nursery in September. There is a waiting list, but I do have some influence and I could put in a word.’
‘I don’t know whether Betty would like them to go to a nursery,’ Bert said doubtfully.
‘Talk to her,’ the doctor said. ‘Point out the advantages. No need to make a decision yet. I’ll say good evening to you, Mr Travers, and I’ll be along on Monday to see your wife.’
Bloody doctor! Bert said to himself as he watched the doctor’s retreating back. Bloody interfering sod!
‘Bert! Bert!’ Betty called from upstairs. ‘Bert, was that the doctor I heard?’
Oh, bloody hell, Bert thought as he went upstairs. He told Betty how the doctor thought he might be able to get the twins into the Gunter Road nursery in September. He had just called in to tell them so they could talk about it.
‘Wonder he didn’t come up,’ Betty said, ‘and as for the twins, I don’t really know. None of the others have been to nursery.’
Looking at Betty’s white, strained face, Bert felt ashamed of his behaviour. It was obvious that Betty was far from well. Her lank hair, scraped back from her face, had silver streaks in, he noticed with surprise, and she heaved herself up in the bed awkwardly. His mother-in-law, sister-in-law and daughter had been the ones running up and downstairs with cups of tea and meals for Betty while he’d just slipped into bed at night and out again in the morning and hadn’t really looked at his wife at all. Now, though, he understood the doctor’s concern. Something will have to be done, he thought, because I don’t want to put her through this again, and another child would cripple us financially anyway. We’ll have to have a talk about it when Betty is feeling stronger.
There was a get together at the McCluskys’ on Easter Sunday afternoon. Janet thought it strange going without her mother, although she liked her relations. Bert promised to bring Betty some tasty goodies from the table which, Janet knew, would be groaning with food. Satisfied, Janet was glad to visit her grandparents’ house, which was almost as familiar as her own. She knew Breda would be there with Peter and Linda, as well as Brendan and Patsy. They’d seen little of Brendan since his marriage. According to Mrs McClusky, part of the reason for this was that Patsy lived too near to her own mother.
‘She’s there so often she might as well not have left,’ she’d confided to Janet.
‘Now, now, Sarah,’ Sean McClusky had said. ‘The lassie’s only young, and sure, it’s only natural. You’d have something to say if our girls didn’t visit often.’
A sniff was Gran’s only reply. Grandad had winked at Janet, and she’d been hard pressed to prevent a giggle escaping from her.
‘Anyway,’ Grandad had continued, ‘isn’t Brendan up to his eyes in work this minute and has been run off his feet these last months?’
Janet knew that was true, because Brendan was a carpenter and in great demand after the devastation of the war.
‘Likely to be that way for years,’ Bert had put in, ‘with the government promising new housing for the hundreds made homeless.’
‘Humph,’ Gran had said. ‘Governments’ promises are like pie crusts – made to be broken.’
Janet liked her Uncle Brendan, and she was glad that he had plenty of work. Not everyone was as fortunate. She liked his wife too, though she’d never had the opportunity to speak much to her until that Easter Sunday.
She realised almost immediately that Patsy was pregnant, just like her mother, and must be near her time too. She was, she told Janet, a shorthand typist, and though the work was fairly interesting, she had been glad to give it up and was excited about looking after her baby when it came.
‘It’s a shame your mother is so poorly,’ she commiserated with Janet. ‘Mind you, it must be a strain having a family to cope with too.’ She cast an eye over the boisterous twins, who were threatening to bring the table of goodies down on top of themselves, and remarked, ‘I mean, Conner and Noel seem full of beans, enough to wear anyone out, I’d say.’
‘They are,’ Janet agreed wholeheartedly, watching as her grandad hauled her brothers away from the table and gave them both a little shake to remind them of their manners.
‘I’ll bet you’re hoping for a wee sister?’ Patsy continued.
Janet realised with a sudden jolt that she’d not really thought about the sex of the baby her mother was soon to have. She would be eleven years old, for it was her birthday a few days after Easter, so it hardly mattered, and yet she already had three brothers, so she turned to Patsy and said
:
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Have your parents chosen any names yet?’
‘No,’ said Janet, ‘at least they haven’t said anything.’ It was odd, really. As far as she knew, names had not even been discussed. It was as if the new addition to the Travers household was not a real person at all.
‘You can’t expect our Janet to be interested in mundane things like names for her baby brother or sister,’ said Brendan teasingly. ‘Professor Brainbox she is, be above the likes of you and me before she’s much older.’
Breda saw the pink flush on Janet’s face and said sharply, ‘Leave the girl alone, Brendan, you’re embarrassing her.’
‘Don’t mind him,’ Patsy advised. ‘He’s so proud of you really and tells everyone he meets about his clever niece who’s off to grammar school.’
Janet was mortified. What if she should fail now? she thought. She wouldn’t just disappoint herself; she’d let her whole family down. Everyone was depending on her. Breda, watching Janet, was aware of what was going through her mind.
Janet crossed over to her aunt. ‘What if I fail?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t think you will,’ Breda told her confidently, ‘but if you do, the earth won’t stop spinning on its axis and civilisation as we know it won’t come to a standstill.’
‘I know, but …’
‘Stop it, Janet,’ Breda said. ‘You can’t carry the hopes and expectations of the whole family on your shoulders. Patsy and Brendan have their own dreams to build on. Do you think they’ll really care whether you’ve passed or failed when they hold their own child in their arms in a few weeks’ time?’
Janet looked across to where they stood, arms linked. ‘Suppose not,’ she said.
‘Everyone has to follow their own star,’ Breda went on, ‘and have their own aims and desires to reach for. They can’t hitch on the back of other people. I’ll be pleased if you pass for grammar school, because you want to go. All the family will be disappointed if you don’t get in, for your sake, but our lives and yours will go on as before, either way.’