When the inn he frequented was closed for two days, I was more than relieved. The old Shapiro returned and for those couple of evenings, I learned how it could have been to be happily married. We ate dinner together and he talked to me and asked me questions, like he had done on my parents’ farm. It was then that he talked about having a family of our own, a son to take over the mill when his days were over. Having only ever been party to the conjugal rights he had exercised on the night of our wedding, I let him teach me more and we became closer physically and perhaps emotionally over the next few days.
It wasn’t long before I noticed changes in my body and realised that Shapiro’s son and heir was on his way. The prospect excited me more than I ever knew was possible. Having helped mother to look after my younger siblings, I knew of the hard work and sleepless nights ahead but I could not wait for my baby to arrive. I would have someone to share my days with, someone to teach and someone to adore. No longer would I be lonely or search for chores to fill my time. This new person wouldn’t judge me or hurt me but love me like I loved them.
It also occurred to me that Shapiro might change with the weighty responsibility of parenthood. Surely he wouldn’t want to spend every evening drinking with the other factory owners when he could be at home with us and without the vodka, I would no longer have to dodge his fists.
But no, this was far too optimistic; nothing changed at all. My life was to irreparably alter the night I told my husband of my dream. For almost a week, a dream had come to me of the daughter we were to receive. A small girl, with curly brown hair sat on my lap and together we sang until she fell asleep in my arms. She was so beautiful and so real that one night, before we went to sleep, I had to tell Shapiro of my vision, convinced that I’d seen into the future.
I thought this would warm his heart but I was wrong. His loud bellowing voice demanded that I stopped talking such nonsense; didn’t I know that wishing for a girl would create a girl when it was a son he needed to look after the factory at the end of his days? His booming voice rings clear in my mind even now, and he stood up, towering over me as I rested by the fire. Afraid of what might happen if he pushed me backwards in to the flames, I stood up and headed towards the other room. Shapiro took this as a sign I was not paying attention to his point and followed me. The moment he grabbed my shoulder to drag me back was the exact point at which I passed the top of the stairs. I’m not sure whether it was the shock of the whole episode or my increasing size which knocked my balance, but I lost my footing.
Time slowed down and I realised there was no substance beneath my body. As I tumbled down the stairs and my body was no longer in my control, I shouted for Shapiro. Lying at the bottom, unable to move any of my limbs, I saw him standing, motionless, frozen to the top step. Eventually he came down to help me but I knew what had happened already. I regained movement in my arms and legs and was able to sit upright but I glanced down and saw the blood flowing from my thighs. It was this, rather than the excruciating pain in my back, which made me cry. I knew my baby had been taken.
The rest of that night is unclear; I believe the mind has a way of erasing that which is truly unbearable. I know that a lady from the factory was brought over to deliver my tiny, silent child and I know that I slept for a very long time. But beyond that I see only black.
Maybe I died too that night. Or maybe I survived for a while and joined Shapiro in the annihilation that the life of an alcoholic can bring. But what I do know is that part of my soul fled with that child and as she greeted me at the end of my days as Klara, we sang those songs together once more.
ME
How did this not occur to me before now? All of this time I have focused on my future mother, but in doing so, I have ignored the men who may become my father. Yes, I know who they may be but I have paid little attention to the role they would play in my future.
As Shapiro taught me, when I was Klara, it takes two people to shape the life of a child. Perhaps he would have changed and been a good father but such alterations in Human Nature are rare and I suspect he would have continued to make me, and as such my child, utterly miserable. Of course, a child can survive without the influence of a decent man, but how much more enriched can they be with the emotional stability of a positive male role model? And equally, how much damage can be done by an inadequate one?
As my delivery draws ever closer, I am compelled to visit the men who might be my father and discover how they could help me grow. I don’t have enough strength left in my wandering soul to step inside their minds, but I can watch and learn nonetheless.
DAN
“Cheers, love,” Dan thanks a blonde lady who places two pints of lager on the wooden bar which divides them. She takes his bank note and returns some coins. Pocketing the change, he sits at a stool, sipping from one of the drinks. A troubled expression swims over Dan’s face; I sense that his mind is far away.
He returns to the warmth of his surroundings when the recipient of the second drink arrives. “’ow do fella?” he politely enquires and slides the glass along to the next bar stool.
John takes off his coat and accepts the invitation, explaining that he’s “grand” because he will be staying here for tonight’s football match, “’cos ah’ve got rid o’ satellite; it were too much bloody money!”
“Wish Vicky’d let me get rid o' ours but she’d never ’ear of it, not that she watches owt on it, like, but she’d never have the dish taken down. ’Tis too expensive, y’right. An‘ we could do wi’ all extra money now what wi’ weddin’ ’n’ baby ’n’ all that.”
“Aye, ’ow’s all that goin’?”
“Oh, y’know, she’s got it all taken care of; just gives me bills,” Dan laughs off.
“You alright wi’ it all though fella?”
“Ah never knew y’ cared!” Dan jokingly puts his arm around his drinking partner and draws him nearer in a show of mock affection which aims to hide the awkwardness of being asked about his emotions.
“Y’know what ah mean,” John is clearly trying his best to show concern for his friend, despite Dan’s attempts to retain their usual level of witty repartee.
“Yes, ah’ suppose I am, mate,” Dan concedes, “Vicky has always been the one for me, you know that. From moment she served me a pint, on this very spot, ah knew she’d be mine forever. Ah know y’ll laugh at that an’ say ah’m a right soppy bugga, but it’s true. Ah’d never been s’keen to get the next round in when she was the new barmaid!”
“Aye w’did notice!” John recalls.
“An’ when sh’ said sh’d come out wi’ me, ah’ couldn’t believe me luck. W’had such a laugh. An’ w’ still do. An’ she’s right hardworkin’ like, y’know, wants a nice life for us both. An’ sh’ still makes the effort with ’erslf, y’know?” he winks.
“Alright mate!” John almost chokes on his lager, “Ah get the picture!”
“Sorry, it’s just the last few weeks have ’ad me ’ead spinnin’. All ah’m tryin’ to say is that ah’m thrilled about baby an’ gettin’ married an all. But, well, ah don’t think ah’ve been as enthusiastic about it as Vicky’d like me to be. It’s just that, well,” Dan lowers his voice further so that John is his only confident, “You’ll understand that ah’m worried it’s all too good t’be true. I just keep remindin’ meself that Vicky’s different to Carrie an’ it’s not goin’ to ’appen again.”
“That’s what ah were meanin’ y’daft bastard,” John’s caring attitude is nearing it’s limit but it is clear that Dan has been waiting for someone with whom to share his worries and his answer has only just begun.
“Ah, jus’ couldn’t bear it if that ‘appened again; to be left there standin’ in front of all me family an’ friends, like a dick, wi’ everyone all dressed up an’ no bride turnin’ up.”
“No-one thought you were a dick, mate, we all jus felt sorry for y’. Does Vicky even know about any o’ that?”
“Nah, never seemed the thing to
talk about. She doesn’t really talk about exes so ah don’t neither. I mean me folks’ve mentioned Carrie once o’ twice when she’s been there but nothin’ so as she’d think it was anythin’ other than just an’ old girlfriend.”
“An’ ah’ s’ppose she doesn’t know that many of the folk ’round ’ere that would remember, eh?”
“S’ppose. But I’ll probably have t’tell ’er sometime soon if were goin’ have a child together, y’know. She’s got a right t’ know; ah’d want to know. But not now, not while sh’s on a high ’bout it all,” Dan mulls over his thoughts.
“D’y’ever ’ear owt from Carrie?” John tentatively asks, while ordering two more pints of lager.
“Y’must be fuckin’ jokin!” comes the reply.
“Ah, jus’ thought, y’know,” this time it is John’s voice which lowers, “sh’ might’ve been after y’ for money o’ somethin’ for the little ’un.”
“Nah, not even.”
And now I understand. There is a silence. It’s not an awkward silence but a comfortable one, between two people who know each other well enough to pause and take a rest from their conversation before it will inevitably resume in a moment or two.
“No, not a sniff of ’er shit since that text from ’er sister that told me sh’ thought ah had the right to know sh’d ’ad a baby.”
Again, there is time for digestion of this information as the two men continue to drain their second drink.
“So it was definitely yours then?” John probes further, “I mean, y’don’t ’ave to tell me owt but well, ah’ve never ’eard y’talk about it before now so ah didn’t like to ask.”
“Ah try not to think about it mate, t’be honest, but this last few weeks’s just brought it all back, y’know.”
“Aye, ah’ll bet it ’as,” John sympathises.
“’er sister told me it were mine but ’ow would ah ever know? It could o' been but then as you well know, she were shaggin' ’alf o’Freddock by all accounts.”
“Don’t know about that, Dannyboy, but that pillock from Freddock Butchers were the one ev’ryone were talkin' about. Bloody good job she’s never set foot back in t’village, really; plenty o' the lasses would be ready for words wi' ’er.”
“True. But that didn’t make my life any easier, did it? I never got to know where sh’ went when sh’ got found out. I mean, gettin’ jilted at the altar’s bad enough but not knowin’ where she was t’ get an explanantion ... an’ then findin’ out she might’ve been ’avin yer kid ...an’ ’avin’ to wonder about it for four years ... ah don’t know if ah’ve got a son or a daughter or nothin’ belongin’ to me out there ... an’ well, that’s enough to fuck up anyone, t’be honest,” Dan exhales deeply after his outpourings and lets go of the air it has taken to complete his lengthy sentence as well the anguish he has been carrying for so long.
“Well,” John finally contributes, “lighnin’ don’t strike twice, mate, an’ as y’say, Vicky’s not like that. Y’ve got to move on an’ jus’ let this one make y’happy.”
“Yer right, ah have. Ah’ve been ’alf waitin’ for summit t’go wrong but it’s not goin’ to, is it? This time we’re goin’ to ’ave the best weddin’ ah can afford an’ ah’m goin’ t’be the Dad ah’ve not been allowed to be for all these years.” There is a long pause before Dan catches the bar tender’s eye and with the first true smile I’ve seen from him, he requests, “Another couple o’pints please, love.”
RIC
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Ric but why d’you want me to come to the wholesaler’s with you? You always go yourself.” Jeanette asks as she opens the rusty passenger door of Ric’s once-white Caddy van.
“I, er, just thought you might want to learn a few more, how you say? Facets of the business,” comes the response. “I can leave you to clean the tables again if you like? Come on, they sell coffee.” I dread the confirmation of Nell’s suspicions as I see these two alone together.
Driving along, discussing the items they will need to purchase for the restaurant, there is little of the insight I need into this man and his relationship with the young waitress.
Finally, Jeanette asks, “So how’s your wife doing?”
“So so,” Ric shrugs as he changes gear. “My Nelly, she always tries to put a brave face on, you know? So she seem fine to everyone but only I know the truth when I look in her eyes. An’ even then, she not always tell me all of how she feels.”
“That must be difficult to cope with then,” Jeanette says while texting on her phone.
“Yeah, but she had a really tough time, you know. She’s a good Mama an’ all she wants is to have lots of bambinos to run aroun’ the house,” Ric explains. “When she lost the baby, she hurt so much, you know. An’ I’m not so good with these things; I never say the right words. It would have been better if she had her own Mama to talk to but she not with us any more. It so sad watching the one you love aching inside, when there’s nothing you can do to take that pain away,” Ric beats his chest emphatically to express his last point.
“Yeah, I know,” Jeanette agrees thoughtfully and pauses typing on her phone.
“So anyway,” Ric lightens his tone, “your Dad still looking for a business to buy for you?”
“Yeah, something like that. I mean I’ve got to finish my degree first but, all going well, he says it’s the sensible solution. There are so few graduate jobs out there and he’s got some cash to invest so we figure I might as well put ‘Business Management’ into practice.”
“You’d be good in the restaurant trade,” Ric hints but is interrupted by a shrill ringing from Jeanette’s phone.
After only a few moments, the conversation ends and Jeanette looks blankly at her handset.
“You lost signal? The reception’s shit out here,” Ric tells her, “Was that Emma?”
“Yep. Probably a good thing we got cut off. She was screaming at me to stop texting her.”
“I though you two would have sorted things out by now. It’s weeks since you had that bust up,” Ric pulls up into the car park but no-one gets out as Jeanette begins to weep.
“It’s just such a mess, Ric. It’s no better than it was last time I talked to you about it. She doesn’t trust me and thinks that every time I go out clubbing without her, I’m snogging someone else.”
“Well, you know what I think?” Ric offers, “I think that she not good for you; she suffocate you. But, if you love her and want to be together, then I think you are too young to be living together. Move out. Find another student house. It would be much healthier. You gonna end up like an’ old married couple before you’re twenty one!”
“Easier said than done though. The rent on our house is pretty much the cheapest around so I’d have to ask Mum and Dad for more money for another place, which would mean explaining why and ...” Jeanette trails off.
“Ah,” Ric guesses, “They don’t know you’re gay?”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe you should tell them, Jeanette. Would it be so awful? Maybe they would surprise you. Lots of gay people say their families were jus’ waiting for them to say something because they already guessed.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! They’d freak out completely. Dad would never be able to look me in the eye again and Mum, well, she’d pretend it was okay but I know it wouldn’t be. It’s not the sort of thing they would be able to boast about when they go down to the Golf Club and compare notes with other couples about whose kid’s doing which degree at which Uni, blah, blah, blah,” she mocks.
“I bet they’d come ’round eventually. Being a parent means loving your kid whatever they tell you. You don’t always have to agree with them, or their choices, but the love bit, well, it overrides everything. I would love my Rosie whether she straight or a poof.”
“You can’t say that!” Jeanette laughs but as usual, Ric is blindly unaware of his inappropriate terminology.
“What?” he mocks injury.<
br />
“Nothing. I just wish I could talk to them the way I can talk to you. I’ll always be grateful for the night you let me stay at yours. I was so embarrassed getting upset at work like that; it didn’t help that the restaurant was full of couples in love! I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t insisted on driving me home. And then when I told you I couldn’t face going into the house and you offered to take me to yours, your spare room bed was so nice and cosy. Just having some time away made it all bearable again in the morning.”
“Well, you women are all pretty much similar creatures, eh? So I thought, what does Nelly do when she’s felling shit? Puts those bloody smelly candles on, has a good old English cup o’ tea, a hot bath and goes to bed. Works every time for her.”
“Well, it did work. I just felt awful when you checked your phone to see where your wife and daughter were and realised that your poor wife was in hospital and you were looking after me not her.”
“I know. I’m such an idiot sometimes. I loose track of the time. I can’t believe I didn’t get a speeding ticket on my way to the hospital that night.”
Jeanette smiles. “I will sort it out with Emma. One way or another. I can’t go on like this, that’s for sure. My relationship with her is dominating everything and I can’t let it ruin my chances of a good degree. I’ll have no chance of getting Dad to buy me a business then if I’m gay and degree-less!”
Ric finally opens the door and Jeanette takes his lead. “Ready for Pasta Buying Lesson One?”
RHYS
“An’ ’ow’s college goin’ on a Wednesday son?” Rhys’s boss asks him as he lowers the bonnet of a long, grey estate car.
“Dead good actually,” comes the reply as Rhys wheels himself out from underneath the vehicle. “I mean, I always thought that it would be borin’ but it’s quite interestin’. The tutor wants to sign me up for a business course on a Thursday night ’cos I got some ’alf decent GCSEs, y’know, so ‘e thinks I can manage it as well as the NVQ. Says it would come in ’andy if I ever ’ad me own business, like. But I don’t know about that.”
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