Ellen’s heart started to pound. She couldn’t change into anything else. Nothing else would fit her. In the two weeks since Chris had walked out on her, she’d really ballooned. Her bump had exploded outwards and the constraints of the roll-on couldn’t hide and flatten it any more. She was so warm wearing the roll-on. She was permanently soaked in perspiration. She couldn’t fasten her jeans so she had to wear a big loose jumper to camouflage the gap. It was one of the warmest summers she could ever remember.
Since Chris had disowned her and her child she hadn’t heard one word from him. He hadn’t phoned and his secretary told her that he was unavailable when she’d tried to reach him at work. When she’d phoned him at home, he’d silently hung up. His rejection of her devastated Ellen. She lay awake at night replaying their entire relationship in her head, from start to finish. Especially the finish. All she could think about was Chris. He was in her thoughts first thing in the morning and last thing at night and every other minute besides. He drove a red Cortina. She’d stare out the window of the shop looking for red cars and her heart would leap when she’d see one coming down the main street, only to plummet when it went by and it was the wrong make and model. Every time the phone rang hope would rise, only to be dashed. Her nerves were in shreds. She was having dreadful palpitations and panic attacks, especially late at night when she tossed and turned in bed, desperate for sleep. She knew the time was coming when she’d have to tell her parents she was pregnant. It was either that or disappear off into the night and never be seen again. She knew she wasn’t brave enough to go it alone.
‘Ellen, are you all right? Will I call your mother?’
‘Jesus, no! Don’t do that!’ Ellen exclaimed in alarm. ‘I’m all right.’
‘You don’t look all right. You look ghastly.’
Ellen burst into tears. The strain of keeping it to herself was unbearable. ‘Miriam, I’m pregnant. What am I going to do?’
‘Oh my God!’ Miriam paled and sat down quickly herself. ‘How far gone are you?’
‘Nearly five and a half months, I think.’ Ellen tried to compose herself as the tears streamed down her cheeks and great sobs racked her body.
‘Ssshhh, Ellen. Someone might come in,’ Miriam said frantically. ‘Come into the pantry and close the door. We’ll talk in there, it’s nice and cool.’
They walked over to the door leading off the kitchen. Miriam was right, the pantry was cool. The familiar childhood smell of freshly cooked bread and scones was faintly comforting. Jars of pickled onions and jams and chutneys and preserves stood in serried rows along oilcloth-lined shelves. Pots of butter and jugs of cream and buttermilk filled a small recess under the tiny muslin-covered window through which a prism of sunlight lightened the cool dimness. A dozen freshly laid eggs gleamed speckled gold and brown in a blue ceramic dish that had been passed down from her great-grandmother. Emma might have a big modern fridge, but nothing could compare with Sheila’s spotless well-stocked pantry.
A calmness came over Ellen. Now that she’d actually told Miriam she felt somewhat unburdened.
‘Have you been to a doctor yet?’ Miriam asked worriedly.
Ellen shook her head.
‘God, Ellen. You’ll have to go and see one soon. You’ve got to get yourself checked out. You should be taking iron tablets.’
‘I know.’ Ellen wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘I’ve just been putting it off.’
‘What about Chris?’ Miriam asked delicately.
‘He’s dumped me.’
‘The bastard!’
‘It’s my own fault. I was warned. I should have listened to you and Vincent. But I love him and I always will.’ She broke down in tears again.
Miriam put her arms around her. ‘Don’t cry, Ellen. Don’t! He’s not worth it. You’ll find someone who’s worthy of you.’
‘Me and an illegitimate baby. No-one’s going to take us on, Miriam. My life is ruined. Can you imagine Bonnie Daly and the gossips around here? They’ll have a field day. Mam and Dad will probably throw me out. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’
‘They won’t throw you out,’ Miriam comforted. ‘Anyway, if the worst comes to the worst, you can always move in with me and Ben.’
‘Thanks, Miriam, you’re the best friend a girl could have.’ Ellen was utterly grateful that Miriam hadn’t uttered one word of reproach. It was a huge relief to know she had at least one ally.
She turned to hug Miriam and their bumps collided. They started to giggle. The more they laughed, the worse they got.
‘I’m going to wet myself, please stop,’ Ellen gasped hysterically.
‘It’s not funny, I don’t know why I’m laughing,’ wheezed Miriam as tears rolled down her face. ‘I just know how Humpty Dumpty felt. Look at the size of me. Emma looks like she’s got a pea in her pod compared to me.’
‘Oh Lord!’ Ellen stopped laughing. ‘I’ll have to tell them too. Vincent’s going to eat the face off me.’
‘It’s not his business to eat the face off you.’ Miriam scowled.
‘He warned me about Chris.’ Ellen grimaced.
‘It’s too late to think about that now,’ Miriam said firmly. ‘I think the best thing you can do is tell your parents and get that over with and see how it goes from there.’
‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Ellen sighed. The ordeal had to be faced.
‘What on earth are you doing in here? Bonnie and Mona Cullen have arrived. Could we have a cup of tea or do I have to come out and make it myself on my birthday?’ Sheila peered into the pantry.
‘Coming right up.’ Miriam pretended cheeriness.
‘I’ll bring in these cocktail sausages seeing as they’re cooked. Oh and here’s Vincent and Emma. You can make tea for them too,’ Sheila ordered as she went to greet the new arrivals.
‘If Madame thinks I’m waiting hand and foot on her she’s got another think coming,’ Ellen muttered as they walked back into the kitchen. ‘How come she’s not over here mucking in the way you do?’
‘Ah, she’s really sick, Ellen,’ Miriam said placatingly.
‘Huh.’ Ellen wasn’t impressed. Time hadn’t improved her relationship with Emma.
‘I feel very sorry for her, getting caught on her honeymoon. She doesn’t want this baby at all,’ Miriam remarked as she heated the teapot.
‘It’s a pity about her, at least she’s got a husband,’ Ellen said tartly as she dolloped fresh cream on the trifle and sprinkled it with hundreds and thousands.
Miriam said nothing. There was nothing she could say. Ellen was in the very worst predicament a girl could be in and when Sheila heard the news all hell was going to break loose. When a young single girl in the town had got pregnant last year, Sheila had been vociferous in her condemnation. As indeed had most of the women’s guild. There hadn’t been one ounce of Christianity towards the poor unfortunate who’d been made to give her child up for adoption. She’d been treated as a pariah in the town ever since. Ellen was going to get the very same treatment. Sheila’s social standing would be damaged beyond repair. She and Ellen would be the subject of gossip and conjecture. Miriam’s heart sank at the thought of the undoubted traumas ahead.
‘Right, let’s get this show on the road.’ Ellen jabbed some candles into the icing on the cake and marched into the front parlour where the guests were assembled. Miriam brought up the rear with the pot of tea.
Ellen thought the evening would never end. Sheila sat, queen-like, in her winged high-back chair, accepting congratulations and good wishes from family and friends. She was in her element. Bonnie Daly and Mona Cullen made a great fuss over Miriam and Emma and were all questions about the pregnancies and imminent arrival of the new offspring. Ellen could see that Emma hated every minute of it. She empathized with that at least.
Emma looked palely delicate in a beautiful embroidered cheesecloth maternity top and loose-fitting trousers. Her bump was very neat. She hardly looked pregnant at all. She’d have had no problem concealing her st
ate had that been necessary, Ellen thought crossly. She felt big and ungainly in comparison. She was terribly warm and uncomfortable. As soon as she told her mother about the baby she was going to take off that damned roll-on for the rest of her pregnancy and to hell with concealment.
A sing-song started. Oh God! They’d be at this for hours. Ellen groaned in dismay as Tim Nolan, a neighbour, went to get his accordion. The older people were in great form, singing lustily with enjoyment. As a rousing rendition of The Boys of Wexford ended, Bonnie launched into a solo, quavering in a thrilling high-pitched soprano voice, ‘This is my happy day . . . This is the day I will remember, the day I’m dying . . .’
Ellen caught Miriam’s eye and snorted into her tea, spluttering it all over herself. ‘Excuse me,’ she murmured weakly. Trying to contain hysterical laughter she made for the kitchen. She collapsed onto a chair and muffled her laughter in a tea towel.
Miriam followed, giggling. Tears streamed down Ellen’s face as she gasped for air. ‘I surely will remember this the day I’m dying, all right. How apt. Maria Callas has nothing on her.’
Emma appeared at the door. She stopped short when she saw her two sisters-in-law bent double.
‘Don’t mind us,’ Miriam chortled. ‘But have you ever heard anything like Bonnie Daly in your life?’
A smile lightened Emma’s pale face. ‘She’s awful, isn’t she? Did you hear her saying she always wanted a dildo rail like the one I have in the hall. I thought Vincent was going to burst.’
The other two couldn’t contain their heavy guffaws. Emma laughed in spite of herself.
‘Oh dear.’ Miriam wiped her eyes. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to keep my face straight when I go back in there.’
‘Do you think Mrs Munroe would feel insulted if I went home? I don’t feel very well,’ Emma asked.
‘She wouldn’t be a bit insulted,’ Miriam said reassuringly. It was a pity about her if she was, she thought privately.
‘Go while the going is good,’ Ellen said dryly. ‘They’re only warming up in there. Bonnie Daly’s had two glasses of sherry. She’ll sing for the night.’
‘Oh God!’ Miriam paled and gave a gasp.
‘What’s wrong?’ the other pair queried in unison.
Miriam drew a sharp breath, ‘I think I’ve started.’
‘But you’re not nine months yet.’ Emma was horrified.
‘I know. Maybe it’s a false alarm. Get Ben. I better go home.’
Emma flew out the door as if the devil was on her heels.
Miriam groaned. ‘Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph. This isn’t a false alarm, Ellen. You better ring Doctor Elliot.’
Ben and Sheila rushed in. ‘What’s wrong?’ Ben put his arm around Miriam’s shoulders as she doubled up in pain.
‘The baby’s coming. I better get home. I’m very sorry, Mrs Munroe, for spoiling your party.’
‘Now you don’t worry about a thing, dear. I’ll come with you. Bonnie and Mick will look after the children here. Vincent’s phoning for the doctor. Ellen, you come with us,’ Sheila ordered briskly. She was not one to panic in a crisis. ‘Vincent is going to give us a lift, seeing as you walked over.’
Miriam groaned again as another contraction overwhelmed her. ‘They’re very close together. It’s not at all like Connie and Daniel,’ she gasped.
‘Thank God for small mercies,’ Sheila said. ‘A nice quick birth is always a blessing. When I had Ellen I was only in labour for an hour before she popped out.’
Vincent came into the kitchen. He looked anxious. ‘Will we go?’ He was petrified Miriam was going to have the baby in the back of his car. Emma was in floods of tears upstairs. The sight of Miriam in pain had frightened the daylights out of her.
Ellen felt scared herself. Miriam was going through what she was going to have to endure in another few months. She didn’t want to see the baby being born. She didn’t want to have to think about it. But she couldn’t leave Miriam in the lurch, especially as it was an emergency.
‘Come on out to the car. We’ll go around the back so all the neighbours don’t see you,’ she suggested, taking Miriam’s hand. Miriam gripped it hard.
‘Don’t come if you don’t want to,’ she whispered.
‘I want to,’ Ellen lied.
The journey took less than five minutes. ‘Boil the kettle,’ Sheila instructed Ben as she and Ellen assisted Miriam to her bedroom.
‘Do you want me to stay?’ Vincent asked, hoping against hope that the answer would be no.
‘You go back to Emma, she got a bit of a fright, I think,’ his mother advised. Vincent’s relief was almost palpable as he hurried out the door.
They helped Miriam undress. The contractions were very severe and perspiration dripped down her face.
‘I hope the baby is all right,’ she whimpered, as Ellen sponged her with a damp facecloth. ‘I hope Doctor Elliot gets here in time.’
So do I, Ellen thought fervently. It was awful to see Miriam in such pain. It seemed like hours but it was only twenty minutes before Doctor Elliot arrived. Ellen was never so glad to see anyone in her life.
‘Now Miriam, I’m just going to examine you,’ he said reassuringly as he pulled back the bedclothes and eased up her nightdress.
‘This one’s in a hurry to get out,’ he remarked as he gently made his investigations. ‘It won’t be long now.’
It all happened so quickly, Ellen didn’t have time to be scared. She held Miriam’s hand while Sheila supported her daughter-in-law’s legs as the doctor gave instructions about when to push and when not to. The baby slid out as Miriam yelped in pain, her eyes bulging out of their sockets.
‘Good girl,’ Doctor Elliot said with satisfaction as he held the baby aloft and gave her a smart slap on her little bottom. A little cry made them all sigh with relief. ‘I’ll cut the cord now, pet, and then you can hold her,’ he said as Sheila stood, beaming, with a towel ready to wipe the baby off.
‘Go and tell Ben, he’s got a fine little baby girl,’ Doctor Elliot smiled at Ellen. ‘And put the kettle on for a cup of tea.’
Ellen was shaking as she left the bedroom. In four months, maybe sooner, she’d give birth to a tiny little human being. She was going to have to tell her parents and she was going to have to decide about her future.
She’d deliberately not thought beyond the birth. It was time to take her head out of the sand and stop behaving like the proverbial ostrich.
‘It’s a girl, Ben. She’s fine and so is Miriam,’ she said shakily to her brother who was pacing around the kitchen, smoking.
‘Thank God for that,’ Ben exclaimed. ‘I shouldn’t have let Miriam do all that work for Ma’s birthday party. It wasn’t fair to expect it of her. I should have put my foot down. Ma expects too much of her. No fear of Emma mucking in.’
Ellen said nothing. She knew it annoyed Ben the way Sheila treated Miriam like an unpaid servant. But it was up to him and Miriam to have it out with Sheila. She had enough problems of her own without getting involved in a family squabble.
‘Just make a pot of tea,’ she said wearily. ‘I’ll look after Connie and Daniel tonight. They can stay over. I’ll go and get some clothes for them.’
‘Thanks, Ellen. I’m very grateful.’
Suddenly she wanted to tell her brother that she was pregnant. She wanted to get it over with. But she knew it would be selfish to tell him now. He was harassed enough.
‘No problem.’ She patted him on the shoulder affectionately. She and Ben had always been close.
When she went back into Miriam’s bedroom, she felt a lump rise to her throat when she saw her weary sister-in-law beaming down at the dark downy little head nestled close against her.
‘Isn’t she lovely? We’re going to call her Rebecca,’ Miriam said proudly.
‘That’s a pretty name. She’s beautiful,’ Ellen murmured.
‘Any sign of the tea?’ Doctor Elliot inquired cheerfully as he packed away his instruments. Sheila was folding the soiled
bedlinen.
‘It’s on its way. I’m going back over to the house. Connie and Daniel can stay there for the night. I’ll look after them.’
‘Thanks a million, Ellen. Thanks for everything.’ Miriam leaned up and kissed Ellen on the cheek.
‘See you tomorrow.’ Ellen was almost too choked up to talk. She slipped out of the room and hurried along the hall to the front door. As she walked down the garden path the tears she’d been keeping in check overflowed.
Why couldn’t it have been like this for her and Chris? Why couldn’t they have shared precious moments with their new baby as Miriam and Ben would? Instead of love and pride and happiness, she’d suffer fear and shame and guilt.
She leaned against the old wooden gate overlooking Blackbird’s Field and sobbed her heart out. She’d never felt as scared in her life. The sight of Miriam’s newborn baby brought it home to her that she had more than herself to consider. Would it be better to hand up her own baby for adoption, so that it would have a normal life with a mother and father? Something it wouldn’t have if Ellen decided to bring it up herself. Chris was finished with her. That was obvious. She’d meant nothing to him. The pain of that was worse than any pain she’d feel in labour. She’d never be able to think about him without anguish. That was Chris’s legacy to her. That and the child who kicked and moved inside her. Ellen laid her palms on the round curve of her belly. She wondered if her baby was a boy or a girl. She hoped it was a girl. A boy would make her think of Chris. She’d be worried that he’d grow up as mean and as selfish as his father. It was illogical, she knew, but logic had long flown out the window. One minute she wanted to keep the baby, the next she wanted to put it up for adoption. One minute she hated Chris, the next she was crying her eyes out over him. She was in such turmoil she couldn’t think straight.
Eventually, she composed herself. It was long past the children’s bedtime. After she’d got them to bed, she’d wait for Sheila to come home and then she’d tell her. There was no point in putting it off any longer.
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