by Anne Bennett
No, Janet thought, no way could she risk walking through the estate. She mustn’t be seen by anyone at this time of the morning, yet if she lingered in the playground she was sure to be seen by one of the teachers, and she wasn’t going back into school either. She had to find somewhere to hide out till lunchtime, when she could go home.
Westmead Crescent was the last road on the estate, and ahead of her was Woodacre Road, the start of the private houses. Janet left the playground, her eyes darting up and down the crescent. As no one was in sight, she crossed and began walking cautiously down the road.
She had to skirt carefully past the shops, because Mr Freer the shopkeeper knew everyone, and often stood at the doorway looking out, but there was no sign of him. Then she saw that the gates to Holyfields Sports Ground opposite the shop were open. She’d never seen them open before, and without thinking she slipped inside. She could hear a motor mower on the sports field and guessed the groundsman was up there cutting the grass, but she wasn’t going to go that far up. There were plenty of places to hide by the steel railings, because shrubs had been planted against them on the inside, and if she crawled in amongst them no one would see her.
She had to take her throbbing hand from her armpit, where she’d held it for comfort since she’d left the school, and drop to her hands and knees to crawl between the bushes. The straggling branches caught and snagged on her clothes, thorns pulled at her hair and sharp roots dug into her knees, but she paid no heed. Not until she was well hidden in the bushes did she take time to examine her hand.
It was crusted with damp earth. Janet wiped it as gently as she could with the hem of her dress, but still winced at the smarting pain of it. The slashes were deep and had cut into the flesh, where they’d bled a fair bit. The ridges where the cane had bitten into the palm were purple-red and angry-looking and hurt like hell. ‘Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!’ said Janet, and was surprised to find she felt better for saying it. She wondered then if she could convince her mother she felt ill and then she might give her the afternoon off school. God, she did feel ill. She’d never felt pain like this, and she just might get away with convincing her mam she felt sick.
But what could she do about tomorrow, and all the tomorrows till July? She wondered if she had the courage to defy Miss Wentworth again, but she doubted it. She knew Miss Wentworth had hit her harder than she’d ever seen her hit anyone, and she didn’t think she could put up with such a beating day after day until July without dissolving into a blubbering wreck. She’d like to be able to, because she’d feel she’d scored a victory if she could. She knew Miss Wentworth had been confused and almost hurt by her defiance that morning.
She wished with all her heart that she didn’t have to go back to school tomorrow. She wished that when she woke up in the morning it was September and time to begin Whytecliff High. Suddenly she remembered the priest telling them about the power of prayer. She’d gone to mass on Easter Sunday with Gran at St Peter and St Paul’s. She didn’t mind mass. She liked the flowers, and the fancy altar with the decorated cloth on, and the smell of the stuff he swung around the church that Gran said was incense. She liked the flickering candles and the statues and pictures all along the edges and the service that was in Latin. She couldn’t understand it, but she liked to listen. It was like music.
Most times she didn’t listen to the sermon – that was the boring bit – but there was plenty to look at while the priest was going on. She hadn’t intended to listen on Easter Sunday – she had heard the story before, after all – but the priest had captured her imagination. ‘Jesus performs miracles today, in people’s lives,’ he said. ‘Jesus said that if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can move mountains.’
Janet didn’t know how big a mustard seed was, but it didn’t sound very big. And she didn’t want to move mountains either, they suited her just fine where they were. She wanted something much more important.
She shuffled on to her knees in the damp soil and prayed: ‘Please, Jesus, can You fix it so I don’t go to Paget Road School again. Thank You. Amen.’ She wondered if that was easier to arrange than moving mountains about the place. She had no doubt it would be achieved, for her faith would have filled a whole mustard pot, but later she was to marvel and be awed and a little frightened at the power of prayer.
It was a tedious morning for Janet, and her hand and arm continued to throb. She wished she had a book to read, to take her mind off things, but she hadn’t even brought her bag with her. And she realised with horror that she’d left her coat behind. Oh, she’d catch it now.
Sometime that morning she dozed off, sitting up, with her head leaning against a shrubbery bush. She woke stiff, cold and uncomfortable.
It took a minute for her to remember where she was. Then she crawled carefully out and, glancing to right and left, walked to the gates. She saw the children on their way home to dinner and realised she’d probably been woken by the dinner bell. Fortunately, few children from Woodacre Road went to Paget Road School, and none of those who passed spotted Janet hiding in the bushes. As soon as the streets were quieter again, Janet pelted home.
Gran opened the door, and Janet could tell she was cross. For a moment she imagined that Miss Wentworth had been to the house, for Sarah McClusky burst out, ‘What time do you call this, miss?’ Then she exclaimed, ‘Mother of God! Have you seen the state of yourself?’
Janet looked down. One black stocking had a hole in the knee and the other a long tear, and Janet remembered the trailing thorn that she’d caught it on. She saw that the thorn had entered her skin and globules of blood were oozing through the stocking.
‘Look at your dress, child,’ Gran went on, indicating the brown soil staining the checked dress, ‘and what have you done to your hand?’
Fortunately, Janet’s hand was too dirty for Sarah to see exactly what had happened to it. She went on, ‘Your face is all over dirt. Dear God, Janet, as if we haven’t trouble enough.’
‘I’m sorry, Gran, I fell over, I was running,’ Janet gasped out. ‘But what trouble?’
‘Your mother’s on her time,’ Gran said. ‘You’re to go to your Aunt Breda’s. Duncan’s gone already. He’s been home this long time.’
Janet felt faint. The baby wasn’t due yet, not for weeks. Now she understood why her gran had kept her on the doorstep. A shuddering scream came from above.
‘But I want to see Mom,’ Janet cried. She attempted to rush past her gran, but Sarah was too quick.
‘Oh no you don’t, my girl,’ she said.
Another agonising scream rent the air, and Janet almost leapt from her grandmother’s arms.
‘Janet, Janet,’ said her gran pleadingly, ‘you can’t do anything for your mother. Be a good girl and go to Aunt Breda, there’s a love.’
‘She’ll be all right, Gran, won’t she?’ Janet asked.
‘Of course, my dear,’ said Sarah, but she didn’t meet Janet’s eyes. ‘I’ll have to go back upstairs to help. You must go now.’
‘Sarah! Sarah!’ Janet heard the voice of Mrs Williams, the midwife, and knew her gran was needed. She turned away without another word and made her way to her auntie’s.
‘You took your time,’ Aunt Breda said as Janet went in through the kitchen door. Then she turned and caught sight of her niece’s appearance, and said, as her mother had:
‘Mother of God, what happened to you?’
‘I fell over.’
‘Well, get yourself washed and something inside you and you’ll feel better. You’d better strip off those stockings and I’ll try and darn the tears, though it’s your mother who’s the best darner. The teachers were always praising her for her neat stitches. She …’ Breda’s voice trailed away, for her eyes met those of Janet, who suddenly burst into tears.
‘Oh, Auntie Breda, Mom’s bad, isn’t she?’ she gasped.
‘Oh, lovey,’ Breda soothed, gathering Janet in a hug. ‘She’ll be all right.’
Noel and Conner were sitting up to t
he table attacking their stew with their spoons. They caught the seriousness of the atmosphere and it frightened them. They began to bawl too.
Duncan couldn’t stand it. ‘I’m finished eating,’ he said. ‘Can I go?’
‘Take the two boyos with you,’ Breda said, indicating the twins.
‘Haven’t I to go back to school then?’ Duncan said, surprised.
‘No, I might need you to give a hand,’ Breda said.
‘Well, I still don’t see why I’ve got to take the twins with me,’ Duncan said mulishly.
‘Because I said so,’ Breda snapped, ‘and because they’re only little and they’re frightened and don’t understand anything, and it won’t hurt their big brother to think of someone other than himself for once.’
Duncan felt momentarily ashamed. He was a bit scared too. He knew things weren’t right with his mother having the baby so soon, and he was turned twelve and a half. His brothers were only babies.
‘Stop snivelling,’ he told them sternly. ‘If you do, I’ll take you up the park.’
The two little boys gulped and tried manfully to stem the tide of tears. Breda, still hugging Janet, said, ‘Get a tanner from my purse on the mantelpiece and buy some sweets for you all. The sweet coupons are behind the clock.’
That brought smiles to all their faces. As Janet watched them go down the road she said:
‘He doesn’t care, our Duncan, he doesn’t care.’
‘Of course he cares,’ Aunt Breda said. ‘But he’s a man, or nearly a man. They deal with things like this by going away and pretending it isn’t happening. ’Tisn’t as if they can do anything. They’re best out the way.’
‘Can I … can I stay off school this afternoon too?’ Janet said.
‘Well, I don’t think you’d concentrate much, would you?’ Aunt Breda said with a smile. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t go in that state and I’ll not darn those stockings in five minutes, nor get the stains out of your dress. You’ve not had a bite to eat yet either, and anyway, you’re more use to me here.’
Later, as Janet washed her stinging hands and smarting legs in a bowl of hot water, she prayed silently, Not this way, Jesus, please don’t let anything happen to my mom. I didn’t mean You to do it this way.
Claire finished the register quickly, and leaving it on the desk, went out to find Janet. It didn’t occur to her that Janet had left the building. She thought she was hiding away in the school somewhere and she returned to the classroom deep in thought. The children watched her with reproachful eyes. When the boy Claire chose to take the register to the office reported that Janet wasn’t outside the door any more, whispers started to go round the room. They remembered the look on Claire’s face as she beat Janet. They thought she’d taken her to the Head for further punishment, and that wasn’t considered fair.
Claire set the class some exercises and went off to search for Janet. She found her coat and bag on her peg, and decided that she’d pop across to the Travers’ house with them at lunchtime. It was a trying morning. The whole class, Claire realised, seemed to blame her for the incident. They were silent in disapproval. No one answered the questions she asked after lessons, and no one volunteered to give out books or apparatus. There was no pleasant interchange between teacher and pupils as there had been formerly, for the children refused to play. Claire felt the barriers go up, and though they were all icily polite, by the end of the morning she was exhausted.
At lunchtime, a staff meeting was called, so Claire had to stay in school instead of going over to Janet’s house. The girl did not materialise that afternoon either, and time seemed to drag slowly. Just before four o’clock Claire overheard a conversation between two mothers waiting in the playground outside her window.
‘I hear Bet Travers is in a bad way. Our Elsie bumped into Sean going for the doctor.’
‘She’s been bad this long time.’
‘Yes, but she’s been in labour all day, they say, and the screams of her can be heard down the street. She’s not due for another few weeks.’
‘Be the hospital for her, likely.’
‘Yes, and God help them if it isn’t the crematorium for one or the other.’
Oh my God, what have I done? Claire thought. Perhaps Janet’s mother was in labour before she came to school, and in her anxiety she was rude to me. And I lashed out at her. Why didn’t I take her from the room and talk to her? Janet’s never acted that way before. Why didn’t I imagine it was something like that?
She wondered if someone had come for Janet while she was outside in the corridor. Leaving her bag and coat behind seemed to suggest a headlong flight prompted by agitation. As soon as the last bell had gone, Claire caught up Janet’s coat and bag and took it up to the house.
Mrs McClusky opened to her knock. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘you’re Miss … Miss …?’ Worry had driven the name from her mind. ‘Our Janet’s teacher. I thought you were the ambulance.’
‘The ambulance!’
Suddenly, Dr Black was running down the stairs. ‘Is that them?’ he demanded, then, seeing the young woman at the door, he barked, ‘In or out, please, the ambulance will be here shortly and I can’t have the hall cluttered with people.’
‘How is she, Doctor?’ Mrs McClusky asked.
‘Sleeping at last,’ the doctor said grimly. ‘I’ve anaesthetised her. She was worn out.’
Claire was aware of heart-rending sobs. They came from a man sitting with his head in his hands in a chair in the living room. Through the half-open door, she recognised him as Janet’s father, who had arrived late and merry at the party.
The man’s grief shook her. ‘She’s not … Mrs Travers isn’t …’
‘She’s very ill,’ Mrs McClusky said. ‘We’ve had the priest. He gave her the sacraments, you know. He told the doctor if it has to be a choice between the mother and the child, the Church’s teaching is clear, it must be the child. I say bugger the Church, begging your pardon, miss. Where would the children be without our Betty, not to mention him there?’ She indicated the sobbing Bert. ‘Big gormless lump he is without my lass behind him. We need her here.’
Mrs McClusky’s voice broke. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Claire, ‘but we’re distracted with it all. Was you wanting something?’
‘No,’ Claire said, thinking that they all had enough to worry about. ‘I’ve just called with Janet’s coat and bag. She left them at school.’
Mrs McClusky thought that odd, and any other time she would have questioned it, but at that moment the sirens were heard. ‘You must excuse me, that’s the ambulance,’ she said.
Claire watched on the pavement with a knot of neighbours until she saw Mrs Travers carried to the ambulance, Bert stumbling behind her in his distress so that they had to help him too. The doctor got in his car and offered Mrs McClusky a lift.
‘When we see how she’s doing I’ll bring you back home,’ he said.
Mrs McClusky knew he meant ‘if she pulls through’, and with a sigh she climbed in beside Dr Black. Claire watched as they drove away.
You deserve to be flayed alive for what you did to Janet Travers today, she said to herself. And I don’t know how you’re ever going to make it up to her.
SIX
When Dr Black called round to Breda’s the next morning to tell them the news of Betty and the baby, he wasn’t surprised to find that Breda had taken all the Travers children in, although only Janet was up, and drinking tea with her aunt and uncle.
‘They’re fine,’ the doctor assured the three of them. He looked at Janet and said, ‘You have a baby sister. She’s small but she’s a fighter. She’s in the special care unit, being so premature.’
Janet felt little for the baby that had disrupted their lives and would continue to do so for years to come. ‘What about Mom?’ she said.
‘Well, she’s had a tough time,’ Dr Black said, ‘but she’ll be all right.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ Breda said.
Janet felt like crying with relief. ‘Can I
see her?’
‘Not at the moment,’ the doctor said. ‘They’re only allowing Bert and her parents in. Later I’ll see what I can do.’ He nodded across at Peter and said, ‘Could you tell them at the factory that Bert won’t be in today. He’s been up all night. I told him I’d see to it.’
‘No problem,’ Peter said.
‘And Mammy must be bushed,’ Breda said. ‘I’ll keep the children with me today. I’ll have to go and get some clothes for them in a minute.’
‘Have we to go to school?’ Janet asked.
‘Not today,’ Breda said. ‘I could do with you at home anyway to give me a hand with the twins and Linda, but tomorrow you should be back.’
Tomorrow could look after itself. Janet let her breath out in a sigh of relief. Dr Black glanced up at her and said, ‘Thought you liked school?’
‘I do usually,’ said Janet. ‘Only I don’t particularly want to go today, ’cos I’m worried about Mom.’
‘I can understand that,’ Dr Black said. He stood up. ‘Well,’ he sighed, ‘I’ll have to be off or I’ll have patients beating the door down.’ He looked at Breda and added, ‘I’ll drop you at your sister’s if you like, it’s on my way.’
Janet saw Breda hesitate. ‘I’ll be here to see to the others if they wake up,’ she told her aunt.
‘Well, I certainly need to get them some clean clothes,’ Breda said. ‘The twins have gone to bed like a couple of tinkers and Janet here came home yesterday with holes in her stockings and her dress only fit for the rag bag.’
Janet, who’d been loaned a pair of Breda’s pyjamas for the night, saw the doctor’s eyebrows raised quizzically, and explained, ‘I fell over.’
She said the same thing, just a few minutes later, when Peter had left for work and Breda had gone upstairs to change out of her slippers. Dr Black and Janet were alone. Janet reached across the table to collect the cups to rinse in the sink and suddenly Dr Black took hold of her hand and turned it over gently.