by Kitty Neale
‘All…all right,’ she said finally.
Percy got ready, all the time keeping an eye on Ellen. They all knew how bad it was going to be for her today, and though Ellen didn’t know it, they’d talked about it yesterday. Gertie had said he should follow Ellen’s lead. If she wanted to stay at home, that was fine, and if needed, he should stay home with her. Hilda and Doug were going to the cemetery too, Gertie saying that it didn’t matter if they were all late for work; that Maureen would open the shop and stay there until they arrived to take over.
‘Ready?’ Percy asked now.
‘I…I just need to cut some flowers.’
‘We’ll do it together,’ he said.
They went into the back garden, Ellen’s eyes filling with tears as she looked around.
‘I wanted roses, but they’re nearly finished now. It…it’ll have to be chrysanthemums.’
‘They’ll be fine,’ he said, cutting some choice blooms.
It was a quiet walk to the cemetery, the day slightly overcast, and when they reached Sarah’s grave Ellen appeared all right at first as she knelt to remove the old flowers. Percy handed her the bottle of fresh water, but then stiffened as Ellen suddenly wailed in anguish. Before he could stop her, she flung herself across the grave, crying as though her heart was breaking.
It was then he heard Hilda’s voice. ‘Oh, darling, come on, get up.’
Together he and Hilda crouched down and managed to get Ellen to her feet, while Doug stood by, watching helplessly, face chalk-white. Ellen ran to him, flinging herself into her father’s arms.
‘Oh, Dad, I want her back. I want my baby back!’
‘I know, pumpkin, I know,’ he said, holding her close.
Percy stood watching and, as Hilda held out her hand, he clutched it, until at last he saw Ellen becoming calmer. She moved from her father’s arms, bending down to pick up the new flowers she had dropped, and, saying nothing, knelt to arrange them in the vase.
‘I…I’ve got some too,’ Hilda said, leaving Percy to add yellow dahlias to the arrangement.
At last, Ellen was ready to leave, but as they walked towards the gates, she said, ‘I…I can’t bear to think there’s nothing of Sarah now. There has to be more, Percy, there just has to.’
Doug walked with Hilda behind Ellen and Percy, wondering if coming to the cemetery just made things worse. He didn’t like it that Ellen had got involved with the spiritualist church and, as far as he was concerned, searching for an afterlife was a waste of time. With all the horrors he had seen during the war, he’d long since given up on believing in God. He had seen men shot, burned, drowning, and many had cried out to God to save them. It hadn’t done any good. Despite their pleas, the sea had taken them, just as it had almost taken him.
Hilda had her head down, sniffing as they neared the cemetery gates. Giving her hand a squeeze, he asked, ‘Are you all right?’
‘How can I be? Seeing Sarah’s grave…seeing the state Ellen’s in brought it all back again. She’s only eighteen, Doug, but already Ellen has been through too much.’
‘I know, and I wish we could do more to help her.’
‘I don’t think she’s in any state to come to work today.’
‘What about you? You don’t sound up to it either.’
‘I’d rather be doing something than sitting at home.’
‘What if Ellen needs you?’
‘If she does, then I’ll stay with her.’
They caught up with Percy and Ellen, Doug saying, ‘We should get to work, but if you need your mum, Ellen, she’ll go home with you.’
‘No, it’s all right. I’ll go home to change, but…but then I’ll come to the nursery.’
‘Are you sure?’ Percy asked.
Doug saw the concern on his son-in-law’s face, and he was glad that Ellen had agreed to marry him, despite his initial reservations. Percy cared deeply for Ellen, and before this dreadful tragedy he knew that his daughter had come to care for him too. If they could get through this, Doug felt they could get through anything, and though this was a dreadful day, so far the signs were still good that their marriage was strong.
Despite saying she’d go to work, Ellen found that she could barely hold herself together, and wanted to be alone to give full vent to her grief. She was holding on, just, and said, ‘Percy, I can’t face the nursery yet. You go and I might come in later.’
‘I don’t want to leave you to face this on your own.’
‘Look, there’s no point in you being here. I’ve got a splitting headache and I just want to go to bed for a while.’
‘I think I should stay.’
‘No, please, Percy, just go.’
He looked doubtful, but finally nodded his head. ‘All right, but if you’re not at work by lunchtime, I’ll pop home to see how you are.’
At last he left, and moments later, Ellen broke down, and it was nearly an hour later before her tears were spent. Her eyes were red, sore, and she leaned over the sink to splash them with cold water. She had dreaded this day – a day when there should have been birthday cards on the mantelpiece, presents for Sarah, but instead there was only this awful pain that sat like a rock in her stomach.
It was one of those days when Ellen felt she couldn’t go on, when she wished she had the courage to end it all, but how could she do that now? There was something she had to tell Percy, but not now, not today. Her head really was splitting now and all she craved was to escape into sleep before she broke down again.
Ellen climbed into bed, closed her eyes, and at last, at least for a while, she found the peace she sought.
Chapter 55
It was nearly a week later, on a Sunday morning, when Ellen told Percy.
He looked shocked at first, but then his eyes lit up. ‘I can’t believe it! Are…are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. I wasn’t at first, especially as my monthlies have been a bit haywire, but I am now.’
‘A baby! We’re having a baby? But how…when?’
Ellen managed a small smile. ‘I should think the how is obvious. As for when, I’m three months pregnant so the baby will be born next year, around March.’
‘It’ll be 1950 then, Ellen, and our baby born into a new era. Do your parents know?’
‘Of course not, I wanted to tell you first.’
Percy hugged her, but then he pulled away a little, asking as he looked down at her face, ‘Ellen, is it all right? Are you happy about it?’
‘Yes, I’m happy.’
‘Come on then, let’s go and tell your mum and dad.’
They walked up to the Hogs Back, Ellen’s heart thumping and the awful memories returning yet again as they crossed the road. As though in understanding, Percy clutched her hand tightly. It had taken a long time, and though Ellen would never forgive herself for the accident, she knew it was time to move forward. She was having a baby, bringing a new life into the world, and though she would never, ever, forget Sarah, the pain had eased a little.
Soon they were walking towards her parents’ cottage, Percy saying, ‘I can’t wait to see their faces when you tell them.’
Ellen smiled, anticipating their reaction too, and they walked inside to find her mother up to her elbows in flour and her father reading a newspaper. Her mother looked surprised to see them, and strangely, Ellen thought, a little guilty too.
‘Ellen, I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘We’ve got a bit of news, but you look busy. What are you making?’
Hilda bit on her lower lip, then saying, ‘It…it’s a cake.’
Ellen was puzzled, but then the penny dropped. ‘Pauline will be two soon and you’re making her a birthday cake.’
‘I…I’m sorry, love,’ Hilda stammered.’ As I said, I wasn’t expecting you and wouldn’t have upset you for the world.’
Ellen could see how worried her mother was, the distress in her eyes. Her parents had been through enough, had suffered too when Sarah died, but, so wrapped up in her own pain, s
he’d hardly spared them a thought. She wanted to change things now, to bring them a little happiness. Ellen smiled gently, and said, ‘It’s nice you’re making a cake for Pauline, Mum.’
‘You…you don’t mind?’
‘No, but even nicer, you’ll have another one to make in March next year.’
‘What do you mean? Why would I be making another birthday cake in Mar…?’ Hilda asked, the sentence unfinished as her eyes widened. ‘No…no…you’re not…?’
‘Yes, Mum, I am. I’m having a baby.’
‘Oh…oh, Doug. Did you hear that?’ Hilda cried, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears.
‘Of course I did,’ he said, standing up to pull Ellen into his arms. ‘Congratulations, pumpkin.’
‘Dad, when are you going to stop calling me pumpkin?’
‘Sorry, it just sort of slips out,’ he said ruefully.
‘It’s all right, Dad. I’m only kidding. I don’t mind really.’
‘Good, ‘cos as much as I’ve tried, I ain’t likely to stop.’ And with that, he released her to turn to Percy, grabbing his hand and pumping it madly. ‘Well done, lad, and congratulations to you too.’
‘Thanks, but I’m curious. Where did the nickname pumpkin come from?’
‘Yes, tell him, Dad,’ Ellen urged. She knew the story, and smiled as she listened to her father.
‘When Hilda was carrying Ellen, she was thin, other than her tummy, which got as big as a pumpkin and I used to tease her about it. I suppose you could say the nickname is down to her really, because as soon as she gave birth and held Ellen out to me, she said…well, you tell them, Hilda.’
‘That’s it, blame me,’ Hilda said, but she was smiling. ‘All I said to him was, “Here Doug, meet Baby Pumpkin.” It was meant as a joke, but somehow the nickname stuck.’
‘I rather like it. It’s cute,’ Percy said.
‘Now don’t you start calling me pumpkin too,’ Ellen warned, though glad to hear her parents’ laughter. Yes, it was time to move forward and for the first time in over a year she felt a surge of happiness, true happiness. There was one thing she still had to do, and now at last felt strong enough. ‘I think I’ll go along to see Val. It’s time I saw her new baby, and I’d like to tell her the good news.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Percy asked.
‘No, it’s lunchtime and Bob is sure to be at the local pub. I’d rather go on my own.’
‘Percy, how about you and I go to the pub for a drink too?’ Doug said. ‘I think this news calls for a celebratory drink.’
‘All right,’ Percy agreed. ‘I wouldn’t say no to a pint.’
They left first, Ellen then turning to her mother. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Take your time, love. It’ll give me a chance to finish this cake, but oh, Ellen, I can’t tell you how happy I am. You are too, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, Mum, I’m happy, though a bit nervous of how Val’s going to react when she sees me. I’ve cut her out, refused to see her, and I wouldn’t blame her if she shuts the door in my face.’
‘Don’t worry, Val won’t do that. She understands, and I know she’s missed you.’
‘Right. I’ll see you later,’ Ellen said, hoping her mother was right as she walked along to Mayflower Cottage.
Instead of getting on with the cake, Hilda flopped onto a chair, her heart singing with joy. Ellen was having a baby and she hugged herself with happiness. When Mabel and Jack heard about it they’d be overjoyed too. A new life, a new beginning, and now she wondered if Ellen was having a boy or a girl. In a way she hoped it would be a boy – fearing that in some way they would see a girl as a replacement for Sarah. No, she then decided. This new baby would be a child in its own right, and she would love it in that way too, just as she had loved Sarah.
Hilda felt a surge of pain now, the grief still with her at the loss of her granddaughter. Inevitably, as they often did now, her eyes went to the mantelpiece. Her mother had loved the angel and Hilda wished she hadn’t smashed it. She’d been devastated, angry, and had used the angel as a scapegoat. It had been a daft thing to do, silly to think an inanimate object was watching over them. Her hand went to her mother’s necklace. She had ripped that from her neck in anger once too, but at least she had got it back, and somehow still drew comfort from it.
Hilda stood up. She still had the cake to make and had better get on with it but, as she mixed the fat into the flour, Hilda couldn’t help wondering how things were going in Mayflower Cottage. She hoped Ellen wouldn’t be too distressed when she saw Pauline and that she’d fall in love with Val’s baby boy. Robert, named after his father, was adorable, and Pauline so cute and endearing. She just hoped that, like her, Ellen would find both children hard to resist.
Soon, in six months, Ellen would have another baby to love, and maybe, with her daughter knowing that, it would help.
‘Ellen! Oh, Ellen, I can’t believe it. Come in. Please come in.’
Val looked so pleased to see her, and any doubts Ellen had were dispelled now as she stepped inside. The first thing she saw, the first thing that her eyes were drawn to, was the hearthrug – the place where Sarah and Pauline had sat playing together. It was empty. She looked around the rest of the room, finding Pauline nowhere in sight.
As though aware of her thoughts, Val said softly, ‘Pauline isn’t well. She’s got a bit of fever and I put her down for a nap. Robert’s over there, in his pram.’
‘Pauline’s all right, isn’t she?’
‘It’s just a cold, and as I said, a bit of a fever, but please, Ellen, sit down. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you.’
‘I’m sorry, Val. I know it’s been ages.’
‘It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.’
Ellen drew in a deep breath, and instead of sitting down she went over to the pram, looking down at the baby’s face. He was lovely, dark-haired like his father, and softly she said, ‘He’s beautiful, Val.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, smiling.
Ellen moved away from the pram to sit down. ‘I’ve got something to tell you, Val. I’m having another baby.’
‘You are? That’s wonderful and I bet your mum’s over the moon.’
‘Yes, she is, and it was lovely to see the expression on her face when I broke the news.’
‘I can just imagine it. I bet your dad’s pleased too, and of course, Percy,’ Val said, but then hearing a cry she stiffened. ‘That…that’s Pauline. I might have to get her up.’
‘It’s all right,’ Ellen said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.’
‘Are…are you sure? Your mum said…’
‘Go, Val, I’ll be fine,’ Ellen broke in as Pauline cried out again, hoping she was right as Val hurried from the room.
It was a little later when Val returned, Pauline red-faced, crying, and runny-nosed in her arms.
‘I…I’m sorry, Ellen. I couldn’t get her off to sleep again.’
Ellen had dreaded this moment, feared it would be too much, but instead found her heart going out to Pauline. ‘Oh, look at her, the poor thing.’
Val sat down, Pauline on her lap, and pulling out a handkerchief, she wiped her daughter’s nose. The baby started to cry too, and worriedly, Val said, ‘Please, Robbie, not now.’
‘I’ll see to him,’ Ellen said, rising swiftly to her feet and lifting the baby gently into her arms. ‘There…there,’ she soothed.
‘He’s due for a feed,’ Val said. ‘Come on, Pauline, you sit down there for a little while.’
With Pauline now on the hearthrug, Val thrust a few toys in front of her and then took the baby from Ellen’s arms, opening her blouse to put him to her breast. ‘He’s such a hungry baby and still needs feeding every two hours. I’ve forgotten the last time I got a decent night’s sleep.’
‘I suppose I’ve got that to look forward to,’ Ellen said, smiling softly at the scene. There was something soothing about watching a baby being fed, and for a time all was quiet in the room. P
auline had stopped crying too, and Ellen looked down at her, the little girl playing with a toy, giggling and chatting away to herself.
‘It’s not like her,’ Val said, frowning as she looked at her daughter. ‘She usually demands attention when I’m feeding Robert.’
‘Perhaps she’s jealous.’
‘Yes, I expect so, but this makes a pleasant change.’
Val continued to feed the baby, then moved him to her other breast, and soon Robert was once more sucking contentedly, while Pauline continued to chatter and play in some sort of make-believe game.
Ellen watched Pauline as she held out a toy, but then stiffened. No, no, she was imagining it! She had to be imagining it. Swiftly she turned her head to look at Val, but her friend was absorbed in feeding the baby and obviously hadn’t heard. Ellen looked back at Pauline, her breath held, but then she slumped. Yes, the child was talking, chattering, but it was just a sort of gibberish really, her words indistinct. She’d imagined it – of course she’d imagined it.
‘So, you’re done,’ Val said, laying Robert against her shoulder to wind him. ‘The trouble is he doesn’t take enough and I think that’s why he needs feeding every two hours.’ He burped dutifully and, smiling, Val rose to her feet to lay him in the pram again.
‘Right, Ellen, I think it’s time I made us both a drink.’
‘Me dwink, Mummy,’ Pauline appealed, ‘and Erra.’
‘What did you say?’ Val asked.
‘Dwink, please, Mummy.’
‘No, no, I didn’t mean that. Oh, never mind. Yes, I’ll get you some orange juice.’
‘Wait, Val. Please wait,’ Ellen appealed. ‘Didn’t you hear what she said?’
‘Yes, something about wanting Erra, but goodness knows what that is.’
‘Val, you might think this is mad, but I think she said Sarah.’
‘What? No, surely not?’ Val said. Her face paled and she went over to crouch in front of her daughter. ‘Pauline, you asked for a drink and something else. What is it you want, darling?’