by Kitty Neale
Yvonne bit her lower lip, looking like she was about to cry, so Dottie said, ‘I know it isn’t just losing your job that’s upsetting you. My mum used to say that a problem shared is a problem halved, so come on, tell me what the problem is and maybe I can help.’
Yvonne said nothing at first, but then she burst out, ‘I-I’m having a baby, but I ain’t married. What would your mum have said if it had happened to you?’
The question caught Dorothy off guard, but she thought quickly and answered truthfully, ‘It did happen to me, Yvonne, and at first my mum wasn’t too happy about it. She came round though and started to knit things for the baby, but … but then I lost it.’
‘Sorry, Dottie,’ Yvonne said sadly as her eyes welled up and tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I-I miss my mummy, and … and I got one of the other girls at work to help me to write her a letter … but … but I ain’t had nothing back. I’m scared, Dottie. They said it hurts when you have a baby and … and I want my mum!’ She sobbed, and wiped her snotty nose down the arm of her blouse.
Dorothy’s heart went out to the poor girl. She knew how it felt to want to speak to your mum. There wasn’t a day went by when she didn’t miss Alice, and there were numerous times when she’d have loved to turn to her for advice. This was the first time Yvonne had ever mentioned missing hers. When she’d moved in with them, it hadn’t occurred to Dorothy to ask Yvonne if she had any family that could take her in, assuming that, if she had, she’d have gone to them for help. ‘Yvonne, where is your mother?’
‘She … she lives in Clacton.’
Puzzled, Dottie asked, ‘When was the last time you saw her?’
‘I dunno … last year, I fink. She moved to Clacton with me sister, but she said I had to stay in London.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘It’s like I told Robbie. She … she said I’m a lia-liability.’
‘Robbie told me that your father threw you out. Is that why you didn’t go to him?’
Yvonne frowned. ‘No, that’s not right. My dad didn’t throw me out. He left my mum a long time ago.’
That was bad enough, but Dorothy wondered what sort of mother could leave her daughter behind, especially one as vulnerable as Yvonne. The girl needed looking after and surely her mother had known her daughter’s limitations. Poor Yvonne – despite being abandoned, she was still desperate to see her mother. ‘I’ll have a word with Adrian and I’m sure he’ll be happy to take you to see her. If you’d like that, we could drive down to Clacton on Sunday.’
‘Oh, yes, yes, I’d like that, but … but what do you think she’ll say about the baby?’
‘Once she gets over the shock, I’m sure she’ll be happy. Now come on, no more tears, and we’ll take my dad with us. I’m sure he’d love a day at the seaside.’
‘Oh, Dottie, thank you,’ Yvonne said excitedly.
It was lovely to see Yvonne looking happier now, but Dottie was beginning to wonder if she’d done the right thing. It worried her that Yvonne’s mother had left her behind to fend for herself.
What sort of mother would do that? And what sort of reception was Yvonne going to receive?
Chapter 49
On Sunday, Adrian enjoyed getting out of London. He had been driving for an hour, and the air was now fresher and the surroundings greener. It was nice to get away from the heavy atmosphere that lingered at home whenever Robbie was around.
‘How about a sing-song then?’ he suggested, hoping to lift Yvonne’s spirits. She looked ever so worried, sat on the back seat chewing her nails. ‘I’ll start us off – “There once was an ugly duckling, with feathers …”’
Dottie burst out laughing, ‘Adrian, we aren’t eight-year-olds. Let’s try this one – “Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be …”’
Yvonne joined in, and though Adrian didn’t know the words he hummed along, and was pleased to hear Bill whistling. They sang a few more popular songs, but then Adrian glanced in the mirror to see that Yvonne was beginning to fidget. ‘Everything all right back there?’ he asked.
‘Err, yeah … but … I … err … need the lavvy,’ Yvonne said and visibly squirmed.
There wasn’t much further to go, but there was only countryside around them. Adrian pulled over. ‘Sorry, Yvonne, that bush over there is the best I can offer.’
Yvonne wasted no time in jumping out of the car and making a dash for cover, calling out a thank-you to Adrian over her shoulder.
Adrian turned to look at his wife, who was busy applying some fresh lipstick. ‘You don’t need more make-up. You already look stunning,’ he said.
‘Thank you. I wish I could say the same for Yvonne. The poor girl looks pale and drained.’
‘Maybe she doesn’t travel well.’
‘I don’t think it’s that. It’s probably because she’s nervous about telling her mother that she’s pregnant.’
‘I thought you said she’s already written to her.’
‘Yes, but as she hasn’t had a reply, Yvonne thinks her mother didn’t get it. I haven’t said anything to Yvonne, but my worry is that she didn’t write back because she wants nothing to do with her.’
Before Adrian had a chance to reply, the back door opened and Yvonne climbed into the car. He drove off, frowning at the thought of what sort of reception they might receive in Clacton.
Unaware of the conversation that went on in the car while she was out of it, Yvonne settled down in the back seat and saw that Bill had dozed off. She smiled. It wasn’t long before they came to the brow of a hill and she could see the sea in the distance. She’d only been to the seaside once, and recalled a sweet memory of building sand castles with her sister. They had taken their shoes and socks off to paddle in the sea, jumping the small waves that rolled to shore. It’d been smashing, until she had lost one of her shoes, which had annoyed her mother. She’d got a good hiding for it, and no dinner that night.
‘Here we are,’ Adrian said after he’d driven for another fifteen minutes, and he pulled the car over to stop outside a small bungalow.
Yvonne’s jaw dropped at the sight of the pretty pansies in troughs on the window ledge and the roses blooming in the well-kept garden. It was a far cry from the two rooms she’d shared with her mother and sister in a flat in Battersea.
‘It looks really nice,’ Dorothy commented.
‘Yeah … lovely. Blimey, fancy my mum living somewhere posh like this!’ Yvonne said, and scrambled out of the car.
‘Wait for me,’ Dorothy called, but Yvonne was already down the neat path and was about to knock on the smart front door.
She turned to Dorothy who had caught her up on the doorstep. ‘What if me mum goes mad when I tell her?’
‘Don’t worry, love, I’ll help explain everything to her.’
‘But you won’t tell her what I did … you know … what Robbie made me do?’ Yvonne said, suddenly panicking.
‘Of course not!’ Dorothy answered.
‘Your dad’s still asleep so I’ve left him in the car,’ Adrian said as he joined them and leaned forward to rap the door knocker. ‘So, what were you waiting for?’
‘Yvonne is just a bit nervous,’ Dorothy told him.
The door began to open and as it did, Yvonne felt a surge of excitement. She was going to see her mum … but instead she saw a short, tubby, older woman and bewildered she blurted out, ‘Who are you?’
‘I could ask you the same, young lady,’ the woman replied.
‘I’m Adrian Ferguson, this is my wife Dorothy, and this is Yvonne,’ Adrian said, stepping forward. ‘We’re here to see Yvonne’s mother, Mrs Woodman. I believe she lives here with Yvonne’s sister?’
The old woman shook her head. ‘No, she doesn’t and she never has. I’ve lived in this house all my life, and I’ve never heard of a Mrs Woodman round here.’ She paused. ‘But come to think of it, I have seen that name on a letter that was mistakenly delivered here.’
‘That was me. I wrote that letter. But if my mum isn’t here, where
is she?’ Yvonne asked.
‘Sorry, dear, I don’t think I can help you,’ the old woman said.
‘Well, thank you for your time and I’m sorry we disturbed you,’ Adrian said.
‘Come on, Yvonne, let’s get back in the car,’ Dorothy urged quietly as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Yvonne allowed herself to be led back up the garden path, confused as she climbed back into the car. Adrian turned to her from the front seat and said, ‘Let me have a look at that address again.’
Yvonne handed him the piece of paper that her mother had left for her. Adrian looked at it, hoping that he’d come to the wrong place, but then said, ‘There’s no mistake. This is the same address.’
‘I don’t understand … where’s my mum?’ Yvonne asked.
‘I wish I could tell you. Have you got any other family – cousins, aunts, your mum’s friends, anything?’ Dorothy asked.
‘I don’t think so. After me dad left, my mum moved us around a lot. My sister said it was ’cos she couldn’t pay the rent and that’s why we always did a midnight bunk. I had lots of new uncles, but they didn’t stay long and I don’t know where any of them are now.’
‘In that case, I’m sorry, love,’ Dorothy said gently, ‘I’m not sure what we can do to find her.’
Yvonne didn’t want to cry again, but she couldn’t help it. Her mum had given her the wrong address. She’d done another midnight bunk, only this time she’d left her behind too, and that must mean she didn’t want to be found. ‘She … she doesn’t want me,’ she choked, unable to stop the tears from flowing.
‘I know you’re upset, and it might not be much consolation,’ Dottie said kindly, ‘but you’ve still got us.’
Yvonne hadn’t realised until a hand reached out to grasp hers that Bill was awake. She clung on to it, and that, along with Dottie’s words, made her feel less alone.
Chapter 50
Malcolm rolled over in the bed he shared with his wife in their new home. It was a few doors down from Nelly’s parents’ house, and just about affordable. He reached underneath and pulled out a small package wrapped in red Santa Claus paper. It was a Saturday morning in mid-August, a long way from Christmas, but the paper had been going cheap. Adrian was generous with the wages he paid, but his and Nelly’s earnings had to cover their own rent and bills as well as his mum’s.
He rolled over onto his side and raised himself up on his elbow to gaze at his sleeping wife. He studied her face, admiring her upturned nose and full lips. Even her snoring like a steam train endeared him.
As if aware of his scrutiny, Nelly opened her eyes, yawned and asked, ‘What are you looking at, you silly bugger?’
‘The loveliest girl in the world,’ Malcolm replied and placed the small package on Nelly’s heaving chest.
‘What’s this?’ she asked, pushing herself up.
‘Open it and see.’
‘What have I done to deserve a present? It isn’t my birthday or anything.’
‘You’ve been my wife for three months today, so it’s a sort of an anniversary,’ Malcolm said, and kissed Nelly’s rosy cheek. ‘Happy three-month anniversary, darling.’
‘You’re a proper softie,’ she said, smiling at him affectionately before unwrapping the present.
Malcolm delighted in seeing his wife’s face light up as she looked at the home-made wooden plaque he had carefully made. ‘See, it says,
We hope you find our home to be,
a wellcum plase for a cup of tea.
Its full of love and happynis to,
so heres a bit from us to you
and then I’ve signed it, ‘Malcolm & Nelly x’. What do you think? I thought it would go nice in the hallway near the front door.’
Nelly’s eyes welled up which made Malcolm think she must really like it. After all, his wife wasn’t one for soppy sentiment. She refused to give Malcolm any sympathy about Robbie, even though he was still plagued by nightmares and guilt over the accident. It had got to the point where she wouldn’t listen to his feelings on the subject, so he’d found it easier to just shut up about it.
‘I love it, thank you, but we’re going to have to give you some spelling lessons,’ Nelly said with a chuckle.
‘Oh, no,’ Malcolm said, feigning hurt, ‘have I cocked it up?’
‘No, it’s perfect as it is,’ Nelly answered. ‘Actually, I’ve got something for you too.’
‘Really? What is it?’ Malcolm asked like an excited child at Christmas. He hadn’t been expecting Nelly to realise the significance of the date, let alone get him a present.
Nelly took his hand to place it on her flabby stomach, a soft smile on her face as she said, ‘Say hello.’
It took a moment, but then the penny dropped. ‘Nel, you’re pregnant?’
‘Yes, and it didn’t take you long. I’m two months gone and somewhere under all that fat there’s a little baby growing.’
‘Oh, Nel, that’s bloody marvellous! I’m chuffed to bits, I really am,’ Malcolm said, feeling overcome.
‘I am too, but I’m worried about telling Dottie. You know how much she wants a baby and what with Yvonne being pregnant too …’ Nelly said.
‘Don’t be daft. She’s your friend and she’ll be happy for you.’
‘I know, but I’ll keep it to myself for now and that means you’ll have to keep your gob shut too.’
‘But I’d love to tell my mum.’
‘Just leave it for a few weeks, love. It can be our little secret until then, something that only we know about to cherish.’
‘All right,’ Malcolm agreed but he felt he was bursting at the seams to announce the news.
‘I don’t know how we’re going to cope financially. I’ll work as long as I can, but when this baby makes an appearance we’ll only have your wage coming in. I know Adrian will find you some overtime, but I don’t want you working all the hours under the sun.’
Malcolm hadn’t had time to think that far ahead, but he could tell his wife was very concerned. ‘Don’t worry, love, we’ll manage. If Adrian will let you do less hours, and one of our mums or your sister will watch the baby, you could still go to work.’
‘Possibly,’ she answered. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. I know my sister would appreciate a bit of extra cash so I could bung her a few bob.’
‘There you go,’ he said, glad he’d offered a solution.
‘Right, that’s sorted, now you get a hammer and I’ll put the kettle on,’ Nelly said.
‘What do you want a hammer for?’
‘It isn’t for me, you daft sod. I want you to put that plaque up.’
‘Give us a kiss first,’ Malcolm said as he pulled his wife into him.
‘Get off, you big lump. I haven’t got time for hanky-panky this morning. I’m going up the Junction with Dottie. We’re going on a shopping spree for Yvonne’s nipper-to-be.’
‘Cor, I drove past her last week and she looks like she’s ready to drop. Big as a bleedin’ bus, she is! I feel sorry for the poor kid though – there’s some right horrible things being talked about her,’ Malcolm said as he pulled his trousers on and his braces over his shoulders.
‘I know, but what can you expect? She’s got no husband and Robbie won’t have nothing to do with her. Still, she’s lucky to have Dottie and Adrian looking out for her. Gawd knows what would have happened to the little blighter without them on her side.’
Malcolm felt his stomach knot at the mention of Robbie’s name. Every time he heard it, he saw the image of the man lying at the bottom of the stairs and wondered if it would ever go away.
‘Yvonne … surprise,’ Yvonne heard Dorothy shout. She rushed out into the hall to see Dorothy pushing a new navy-blue pram over the threshold, with things piled on top of it. Nelly was laden with shopping bags too.
‘It’s a Silver Cross pram and one of the best,’ Dorothy said.
Yvonne was overwhelmed. Speechless but grateful, she ran to Dorothy and threw her arms around her neck.
‘All right, calm down,’ Dorothy said, laughing, ‘it’s only a pram. I’ll leave it there and we’ll go into the living room. I can’t wait for you to see the things we’ve got for the baby.’
Like an excited child, Yvonne clapped her hands together, and finally squealed, ‘Oh, Dottie, thank you.’
‘I really enjoyed our shopping spree,’ Nelly said as she opened one of the bags to pull out a white bedding set for the pram. ‘Look at this. Isn’t it gorgeous?’
Yvonne reached out to feel the lovely soft material. ‘I love it,’ she said and soon more baby things were being pulled out of bags.
‘Do us a favour, love, put the kettle on, I’m parched,’ Nelly said as she flopped back on the sofa.
Yvonne nodded and waddled through to the kitchen. She was excited to see what other goodies the bags held, and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the kettle to boil. As she walked back through to the lounge, she tensed when she heard Robbie’s voice.
‘What the fuck is this doing here?’ he shouted.
‘The pram must be blocking his wheelchair,’ Dottie said, and when she walked out to the hall her voice carried when she spoke to Robbie. ‘I’ll move it, but there’s no need for that kind of language.’
‘It’s my fucking house and I’ll say what I like. Get this shit out of my way!’ Robbie yelled. ‘Don’t you think it’s hard enough for me to get around without finding this bloody thing blocking my path?’
Yvonne didn’t hear Dorothy answer but she must have moved the pram because the wheelchair appeared in the living-room doorway. She tensed when Robbie looked at her, and quickly turned away, but she couldn’t avoid the sound of his voice.
‘I’m warning you, Yvonne, when you give birth to that bastard I don’t want to see its shit all over this house, and you’d better keep the fucking thing quiet!’
‘You’re a nasty piece of work,’ Nelly yelled after him as he wheeled himself away.
Yvonne let out the breath she’d been holding, but tears pricked her eyes. Robbie was so cold and cruel, and still said the baby wasn’t his.
‘Take no notice of him,’ Dorothy said as she walked back into the room. ‘He’s still bitter and twisted about his disability, but I’m sure that once he sees the baby he’ll soften.’