Dancing in the Moonlight

by Rita Bradshaw

  Every time the child moved or kicked, she wanted to tear it out of her; it was as though its father was violating her again and it was a constant reminder of what had happened. Each night she prayed it would be stillborn. In truth she had little hope that a holy God would answer such a prayer, but she prayed it nonetheless in spite of her immortal soul. She wouldn’t let herself think about what she would do if He refused her.

  By her calculations the baby was due in the middle of February, but the time came and went, and it was on a bitterly cold morning at the end of the month in the middle of a snowstorm that she had her first pains. Ruby and John had already left with Matthew and the twins, for which Lucy was thankful. She and Perce had kept her pregnancy from the children as long as they could, suspecting it might bring back bad memories for Matthew, and they had been right to be concerned. His little face had turned chalk-white when they had broken the news and he hadn’t been himself since; the nightmares had returned and, added to that, he had taken to sleepwalking. One night just after Christmas John had awoken in the early hours to find the window open and Matthew sitting on the ledge, still deeply asleep, but with his eyes wide open as he’d gazed into nothing. John had had the presence of mind to quietly guide the child back into bed and close the window, and when he’d informed them about it in the morning, Perce had wasted no time in nailing the window shut. But it had upset them both, particularly Lucy, who felt wholly responsible for the little boy’s misery.

  Now, as she stood looking out of the window into the swirling snow, she prayed another prayer and this one was for the little child she’d come to love. ‘Let this be quick, God, so it’s all done and dusted by the time he comes home from school. Don’t let him be here. Spare him that.’

  This time God answered in a way that had Perce running for the midwife within a couple of hours, and at two in the afternoon Lucy gave one last push and a small but perfect baby girl made her appearance into the world on a gush of liquid as her mother’s waters broke at the moment of birth, splashing the midwife in the process.

  ‘By, lass,’ the good woman said, wiping her face before she cut the cord, ‘this one is going to be a child of the sea all right, but then with her da bein’ a fishmonger that’s as should be. An’ a nice quick labour an’ all – you’re goin’ to have ’em as easy as shellin’ peas.’ Wrapping the crying baby in a towel, she dumped her in Lucy’s arms, not noticing the new mother’s instinctive recoil, and began to wash her hands in the bowl of water Perce had brought up earlier.

  Her arms stiff, Lucy made herself look down at her daughter. A pair of blue-grey eyes in a tiny sweet face stared back at her and one little hand with minute fingers escaped the towel and reached up, as though asking for reassurance. And Lucy fell in love. As swiftly and completely as that.

  With tears of joy and relief and wonder, and a whole host of other emotions she couldn’t have named, streaming down her face, she kissed the tiny hand and then each tiny finger, barely aware of the midwife at her elbow. She couldn’t remember much about Ruby being born, but John and the twins had been wrinkled and red and squashed-looking. This baby, her baby, was beautiful, she thought mistily. So sweet, so pure, so exquisite.

  ‘Let me have her for a minute, lass, an’ I’ll get her cleaned up afore her da comes in, an’ you an’ all,’ said the midwife briskly, whisking the baby away before Lucy could protest. ‘She’s a bonny one all right,’ she added chattily as she began to see to her tiny charge, who showed her disapproval of the proceedings by squawking loudly. ‘On the small side, but then you’d expect that with her comin’ early.’

  Lucy looked hard at the midwife, but the woman didn’t appear to mean anything other than what she’d said, and had clearly accepted that the child was a few weeks premature. ‘What does she weigh?’

  ‘Just under six pounds, but she’s breathin’ all right so don’t worry about it.’

  The midwife flashed her a reassuring smile, which made Lucy feel guilty, and she said softly, ‘Thank you, Mrs Todd. You’ve been so good.’

  ‘Aw, go on with you, lass, you did it by yourself. I wish all my ladies were like you, but you’ll have to watch out with the next one. If you had your first this quick, a good sneeze’ll do it next time.’ She chuckled at her little joke and Lucy smiled weakly. It was a reminder of something she didn’t want to think about. She liked Perce, and over the last months since the wedding her fear and repulsion had been replaced by a deep gratitude and warmth towards the big man who had taken them in, but that other side of their union – the intimacy which so far had been put on hold – was something different. Just the thought of being touched and handled made her feel physically sick.

  The midwife continued to chat as she swiftly changed the bed and helped Lucy into a clean nightdress, settling her against the heaped pillows and handing her the baby before she went to call Perce. ‘He’ll be tickled pink,’ she said before leaving the bedroom, ‘a little lassie after two lads, an’ one that’s the spittin’ image of her mam.’

  Was she? Lucy gazed down into the sleeping face of her daughter, searching each tiny feature of this perfect little being that belonged to her, awe and wonderment flooding her once more.

  ‘Thank you, God, thank you,’ she murmured through fresh tears, knowing she was thanking Him more for not answering her prayers than anything else. If her child had been born dead . . . But she hadn’t been, she hadn’t been. She clutched the warm little body tighter to her. And she would make it up to her. All those wicked things she had prayed, all the times she had wanted to pound her belly until the evidence of Tom Crawford was gone, she’d make it up to her daughter somehow. And this child was hers, only hers. Fierce maternal love swept through her. She had Perce’s name, and she would always be grateful to him for that, but this little person was wholly hers and she would fight to the death to protect her.

  Perce opened the door with Charley in the crook of one arm. He tiptoed over to the bed slowly, in a somewhat ludicrous manner, his big red face abeam. ‘It’s a little lassie then?’ Lucy nodded, turning the baby so that Perce could see her properly and opening her other arm for Charley, who snuggled beside her.

  ‘By, lass, she’s a beauty,’ he said reverently. ‘She don’t look real. She puts me in mind of one of those dolls in Tollett’s toyshop window, an’ Mrs Todd’s right, she’s goin’ to take after you. How do you feel?’ he added awkwardly. ‘All right now?’

  Anyone else might have thought he was asking after her physical condition, but Perce was the only one who had known how she had struggled with the child growing inside her. Lucy smiled at the man she’d come to see as a gentle giant. ‘I love her,’ she said simply.

  His face mirrored his relief. ‘Aye, well, that’s as it should be. You thought of a name yet?’ She had refused to discuss possible names before the birth, for it had panicked her.

  Lucy looked down at the delicate little face. ‘Daisy,’ she murmured softly. ‘I’ve always thought they are the most beautiful little flowers, so dainty and perfect. Daisy Agnes, after my mam. She – she would have liked that.’

  ‘Daisy it is then,’ said Perce gruffly, pretending not to see the tear accompanying her mother’s name. Shows of emotion always embarrassed him.

  Mrs Todd bustled into the room, her round homely face benevolent as she looked at the four of them. ‘Didn’t I tell you she’s the bonniest bab this side of Durham?’ she said to Perce. ‘Now I’m off for a bit to put the dinner on for my lot, but I’ll be back come evening, an’ you’ – here she spoke to Lucy – ‘you get some rest, lass. All right? An’, Perce, you make sure she stays in bed for a good few days. You say her sister is goin’ to take charge for a bit?’

  ‘Aye,’ nodded Perce. This had come about some weeks before when he’d announced his intention to pay a neighbour to come in during Lucy’s lying-in period. Ruby had vehemently protested and insisted that she would see to things, saying a few days off school was neither here nor there as she hated every minute anyway. Perc
e had agreed to it when Lucy had admitted to him that she had been dreading another woman in the house. She knew full well that, without exception, Perce’s friends and neighbours had been shocked to the core at him taking another wife so soon after Ada’s death. The gossip had been vicious, especially when it became known that she was expecting a baby. Perce had weathered the storm in his usual good-natured fashion. Having a thick skin, he hadn’t been unduly perturbed, but after Ruby had repeated the odd remark that she had heard in the shop Lucy had been doubly glad she didn’t have to meet the hostility before her baby was born.

  Tired as she was, Lucy found she couldn’t sleep until the children were home from school. She needed to see for herself that Matthew’s fears had been fully laid to rest when he saw little Daisy and herself alive and well, and that he was happy about the baby. She had grown so close to Perce’s firstborn over the last months that she didn’t want the little boy to feel pushed aside or uncertain about the future and his place in her affections.

  She was sitting up in bed with her hair brushed and a ribbon threaded through the plait, and Daisy fast asleep in the bassinet, when she heard them. The crib had been Matthew’s and Charley’s and it was a good one. Perce had placed it at an angle to the glowing fire in the bedroom’s small fireplace.

  The twins and Charley bounded into the room first, followed by John and then Ruby, who was telling the little ones to be quiet and behave themselves. For a minute or two Lucy was smothered by the younger three, who jumped on to the bed, flinging their arms round her before Ruby marshalled them off. When the pandemonium had died down and Ruby was supervising the others who were peering into the crib, Lucy looked to the doorway where Perce was standing with Matthew in his arms.

  The little boy’s eyes were wide and he was very still in his father’s embrace as Perce said softly, ‘There she is, Matthew. I told you she was all right, didn’t I? And you’ve a baby sister an’ all. Do you want to have a look at her?’

  The glance he gave at the bassinet was almost fearful and Lucy said gently, ‘He’ll see her in a minute. Come and sit with me first, Matthew, and tell me what you’ve been doing at school today.’

  Perce carried the child to her, placing him beside her, and as Lucy put her arm round him she felt him quiver. His eyes enormous, he whispered, ‘The baby’s out of your tummy now?’

  ‘Yes, she’s in the crib over there.’

  ‘So she’s been borned?’

  ‘Yes, she’s born, and now she’ll grow and get bigger like the rest of you.’

  ‘So she won’t’ – the child swallowed painfully – ‘she won’t have to be borned again? Not ever?’

  ‘No.’ Lucy wanted to gather him to her and rock him, but she forced her voice to be matter-of-fact. ‘She’s here, Matthew. She’s out of my tummy and she’s safe, and so am I. This is a happy night. A very happy night for all of us.’

  She felt the small tense shoulders relax as he leaned against her. ‘Richard Duffy says you can’t have two mams.’

  The statement, apropos of nothing they had been talking about, threw her for a moment.

  Matthew went on, ‘He said you only have one mam and one da ever, but he’s wrong, isn’t he?’

  Now she did pull him closer, kissing the top of his head. ‘Aye, he’s wrong. You and Charley are living proof of it. You have your first mam in heaven, where she’s living with the baby who’s your little brother, and you have me, your second mam, here with you. And I’m not going anywhere.’

  He sat for a moment more and then wriggled to the edge of the bed. ‘Can I see her? My baby sister?’

  The others made room for him round the crib and after a second or two he turned, looking at Lucy as he said excitedly, ‘She’s got fingernails, like a real person.’

  ‘That’s because she is a real person.’ Lucy smiled. ‘Just a very small one.’

  ‘Can I hold her?’

  Lucy looked at his eager face and breathed out slowly. It was going to be all right. He was going to be all right. ‘Come and sit beside me again and your da will bring her then.’ And as the others began to clamour, she added, ‘Each of you can have a turn after Matthew.’

  The children came clambering onto the bed as Perce picked Daisy out of the bassinet. He carried the little bundle over to Lucy, who had Matthew beside her, and very gently placed the baby into his son’s arms, which Lucy had positioned to hold the infant. As he straightened, his eyes met hers and the look they exchanged was one of harmonious accord and unity, like any other couple concerned about their children.

  Lucy blinked. For the first time she felt they were a family, and the tenderness this rough, hulking, simple man induced in her went up a notch. Telling herself she couldn’t cry, for hadn’t she told Matthew this was a happy night, she glanced at the row of fascinated faces at the end of the bed. Every pair of eyes was fixed on Daisy, even Ruby’s, and a soothing warmth filled her soul. Again she thought: It’s going to be all right; but this time she wasn’t referring to Matthew.

  The next few weeks were tiring. Being a small baby, Daisy demanded feeding every two or three hours, night and day, and in spite of her fragile appearance, everyone in the house soon came to understand that what Daisy wanted, Daisy saw to it that she got. But Lucy didn’t mind. Even on the odd bad day when the infant seemed forever glued to her breasts until her nipples became cracked and sore, Lucy relished motherhood. And gradually, as the snow and ice and sleet gave way to milder weather and the time between feeds stretched until Daisy was sleeping through the night, Lucy faced the fact that she couldn’t ask Perce to be patient any longer.

  He had come to care for her. Love her. She knew this, although he had never spoken of it, that wasn’t Perce’s style. Instead he showed his affection in a hundred little practical ways that often caused a painful sensation to come into her throat because she knew that if she lived to be a hundred she could never love him. Not in that way. Nevertheless, she had a duty to fulfil and a debt to pay, a debt that meant she had to make Perce as happy as she could all their married life. But for him, Ruby and the others might well be in the workhouse and she would never have seen her sixteenth birthday. It seemed incredible now that she had contemplated ending it all and that she had been in such anguish about Daisy – the light of her life. But she had. And Perce had saved her, saved them all, and in so doing had allowed Daisy to come into the world. If only for that one thing alone, nothing he asked of her would be too much.

  This was the nature of her thoughts in the cold light of day and she meant every word. But on a cool night towards the end of May, a month after her birthday, which had gone unnoticed by everyone, she stood shivering and shaking in the wash-house in the yard. She had filled the tin bath with plenty of warm water and had bought a tablet of scented soap for the occasion, and now she forced herself to strip completely.

  Half an hour later she couldn’t put off returning to the flat any longer. Perce raised his head from his paper when she walked into the sitting room. ‘All right, lass? You’ve been a while.’

  It was beyond her to do more than nod before she scuttled into the bedroom. After checking Daisy, who was fast asleep in the bassinet in a corner of the room, she sat down on the bed. She knew Perce would go downstairs and have his nightly wash-down and shave shortly, and she waited until she heard him clomp down the stairs before she stood up and began to undress.

  Instead of pulling on her old calico nightdress on top of her shift and drawers, she stripped completely. Then she reached under her pillow and drew out the new nightdress she’d made herself with a roll of material she’d bought from the Old Market especially for the purpose. The soft white lawn had been a pleasure to sew and now, as she pulled the nightdress over her head, she stood looking at herself in the mirror. The garment was sleeveless and quite plain, except for a wide blue ribbon which gathered the bust into a ruched effect. It showed off her new curves in a way that caused hot colour to flood her cheeks and the trembling to begin once more.

&nb
sp; Taking down her hair, she brushed the golden-brown waves until they shone and rippled in the light of the oil lamp. For the first time since her marriage she didn’t plait it, but left it loose to flow over her shoulders.

  The last thing she did was to unfasten the thin silver chain holding the little heart from around her neck. Very deliberately, she wrapped it in a piece of paper and placed it under her clothes in the chest of drawers. She would never wear it again. From this night forth she was someone else’s wife. Some might say she had been Perce’s wife from the day she was wed, but she knew differently. Inside, where her heart and soul lay, she had still been Jacob’s. What she was about to do tonight would alter that. It had to. And it was this last act, rather than anything else that had gone before, which completed her transformation into a woman.

  Instead of seeking cover under the bedclothes, she made herself sit quietly on top of the bed awaiting his appearance. The first move in this would need to come from her, she was aware of that, and Perce being Perce, she would have to make her intentions abundantly clear, because subtlety was lost on him.