‘Mrs Fairbrass,’ she said. ‘I think there’s something you should know …’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Oliver lived in Headingley, a long way from Quarry Hill to the north of the city. He always made his lodging sound very basic, but the broad, tree-lined streets were nicer than anything Christine had ever seen, full of well-proportioned houses with bay windows and neat front gardens. There were cars too, not like the plodding horses and carts that plied their trade in Quarry Hill. Christine had to keep looking over her shoulder to stop herself from being run down.
It was a cold, windy November afternoon but she was sweating inside her thick coat. Her arms ached from carrying the heavy books she had pretended she needed to take back to the library. At least her mother wouldn’t be expecting her back for a while, she thought. She understood that Christine could lose herself for hours in the library, surrounded by books.
It was the excuse she’d often used when she went off to meet Oliver.
She stopped on the corner, her heart bumping in her chest. The conviction that had carried her on to the tram and brought her all the way to the other side of the city suddenly failed Christine as she stood within sight of his lodgings.
She felt the now familiar stirring in her belly and put her hand over it. It had taken her by surprise when it first happened. It had felt out of place, like the fluttering of butterflies trapped low down inside her. She’d had no idea what it was, until it dawned on her that it was her baby starting to move.
Her baby … Her mind still rejected the idea every time she thought about it.
She still wasn’t showing too much, which was a blessing. Christine had no idea how far along she was, or how many weeks or months it might be before the baby arrived. She had tried to work out how many monthlies she’d missed, but once she’d reached six she was so panic-stricken she couldn’t count any more. Instead she would lie awake at night, feeling it shifting inside her, too terrified to sleep in case she woke up and found herself in labour.
She knew it would hurt, when it happened. Her mother was always whispering to the neighbours about what a terrible time this woman or that had had, giving birth to their latest. They would all shake their heads and agree that no woman should have to go through such agony.
How bad was it? Christine would have liked to ask. And where exactly did the baby come from? She had tentatively examined herself under the covers, but couldn’t find a place big enough for a baby to pass through.
She had so many questions, but no one to ask. She couldn’t even look it up in the medical book from the library, because the librarian had started to watch her and she was afraid she would soon start to ask questions.
Her mother would know, of course. Lil Fairbrass had brought six babies into the world: childbirth held no mysteries for her. She would be able to advise Christine, tell her what to do.
Or perhaps that young nurse? She’d seemed kindly enough, that day at the school. Surely she would understand.
But then, Miss Sheridan was so prim and proper, she would probably look down her nose at Christine. And she didn’t think she could bear that.
Besides, she didn’t want to ask anyone’s advice, because then it would all be real, and Christine didn’t want it to be real. As long as she didn’t allow herself to think about it, she could pretend it wasn’t happening.
But she didn’t know how much longer she could go on ignoring it. Now the baby was moving, making its presence felt, and Christine had to accept it was a living thing, with arms and legs that shifted around restlessly inside her.
And all too soon it would want to come out. Which was why she needed Oliver.
He was the only one who could truly share her predicament, the only one who could help her. At first, Christine had been too proud and angry to contact him, but as time passed and her fear grew, she knew she had to seek him out.
It had been over two weeks since she’d seen him. She had started to look for him in the school field, but he was never there. Which was why she’d taken the drastic step of coming to visit him at his home. She knew he would be angry, but he had left her no choice.
The wind tugged at the scrap of paper on which she’d written his address, nearly tearing it out of her hand, as Christine walked down the road where he lived. Her footsteps slowed as she approached the tall Victorian house and she had to force herself up the short flight of stone steps to the front door.
She knocked and waited, hands thrust into the pockets of her coat to stop them from trembling. It was all she could do not to turn and flee.
The door opened and a well-dressed woman stood before her, her arms folded across her chest.
‘Yes?’ she said, looking Christine up and down haughtily. ‘What do you want?’
Christine lifted her chin, determined not to be cowed. ‘I’ve come to see Mr Umansky.’
‘He isn’t here.’
She had been building up to this moment, nerves thrumming with anticipation. Now she didn’t know what to do.
Christine cleared her throat. ‘Do you know when you’re expecting him back? Only I have some books to return to him …’ She held up the library books she had carried all the way from Quarry Hill.
‘I’m not expecting him back. He’s gone.’
‘Gone?’ Christine stared at her.
‘That’s right. Settled his rent and cleared off. Over a week ago now.’
‘Do you know where he went?’
‘Back home, I think. That’s what he said anyway. Didn’t leave a forwarding address. Not that it’s any of my business anyway.’
Christine stayed rooted to the spot. She had played out all kinds of imaginary scenes in her head on the long tram journey, but this wasn’t one of them.
The woman looked down her long nose at her. ‘Was there something else you wanted?’ she asked. ‘Only I can’t stand here freezing all night.’
‘No,’ Christine said heavily. ‘No, there’s nothing else. Thank you for—’
But the door had already closed in her face.
The journey back to Quarry Hill was long, but Christine hardly noticed as she sat huddled on the tram, her coat pulled around her, lost in a turmoil of thoughts.
Her last shred of hope had gone. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had been clinging to the idea that Oliver might relent and want to marry her after all. Or at any rate, that he would look after her. But instead he’d run away, abandoned her to her fate.
And now she was completely alone.
She felt the stirring in her belly. No, not completely alone.
The tram dropped her off in Vicar Lane and she made her way past the shops and factories of Lady Lane. The sweet aromas of chocolate, toffee and ginger scented the air around Henry Thorne & Co., the cocoa manufacturer, mingling with the stench of fish from Kirkgate Market.
By the time she reached Quarry Hill, Christine had made up her mind. She had no choice but to throw herself on her mother’s mercy. She could only hope that she would forgive her, that she would understand at least …
She could hear the shouting as she walked into the yard.
‘I won’t have her in my house again!’ her mother was shrieking. ‘Do you hear me? She in’t setting foot over that step again!’
Rene Wells was in the yard, taking in the washing. She seemed unperturbed by the commotion coming from inside the Fairbrasses’ house. Like all the other neighbours, she knew Lil was always angry with someone.
‘Sounds like your ma’s had another set-to!’ she chuckled. ‘I wonder who’s upset her this time.’ Rene thrust the sheets into Christine’s arms. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d best take these in, since it’s set to rain. Get them aired round the fire, there’s a good lass.’ She gave her a wink.
‘Thank you.’ Christine could feel Rene watching her as she struggled to lift the latch on the front door with her free hand and let herself in, staggering under the weight of the armful of damp washing.
There was a shocking s
cene going on inside the kitchen. Two of her brothers, Eric and Alfie, had her mother pinned to a kitchen chair. But even the two of them struggled to hold her down, such was Lil’s angry strength. Christine’s eldest brother Tony was pacing around. He was still in his work clothes, his overalls dusted a rusty orange from the brickworks.
‘Calm down, Ma,’ he was saying. ‘You’ll not sort anything out in that state.’
‘Calm down? I’ll give you calm down! You let me go!’ Lil tussled to free herself, her eyes wild. ‘I’m going to belt the life out of her, so I am! Pregnant! I’ll give her bloody pregnant!’
The strength ebbed from Christine’s arms and the washing slid to the stone-flagged floor. She wanted to run but her legs wouldn’t move.
‘Christine!’ She jumped at the sound of her name. Tony was standing over her.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he hissed. ‘Get that washing picked up before Ma sees. She’s beside herself as it is.’
Christine bent to scoop up the sheets. Her mother hadn’t noticed her yet. But it was only a matter of time before she did, and then the washing would be the least of her concerns.
‘I’m going down there,’ Lil was saying. ‘I’m going to go down to that nurses’ home and complain. I’m not having her coming to this house, making all kinds of accusations about my girl!’
There was a buzzing in Christine’s ears, a high-pitched hum, as if a bee were trapped inside her head. She shuffled towards the fire, still holding the washing, but the movement caught Lil’s attention.
‘There you are!’ she said. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I told you, I had to go to the library.’ Christine didn’t meet her mother’s eye as she forced herself to fold the sheets calmly.
‘The library! You see?’ her mother addressed the others. ‘Now does that sound like the kind of girl who’d go and get herself in the family way? Does it?’
Every muscle and sinew in Christine’s body stiffened. ‘What’s been going on?’ Her voice sounded high and strange.
‘Oh, you missed a right show,’ Tony told her. ‘Ma attacked the district nurse!’
‘She was asking for it!’ A vein pulsed in her mother’s temple. ‘You should have heard her, sitting there all prim and proper, telling me all kinds of lies!’
Christine draped the sheet over the clothes horse and tried to appear unconcerned. ‘What did she say?’
‘I’ll tell you what she said.’ Lil pointed a shaking finger towards her son. ‘She were stood there, right where our Tony is standing now, and she says to me, “Did you know your daughter was pregnant, Mrs Fairbrass?” Can you believe it? You, lass! An innocent bairn.’
‘We came in and found Ma dragging the poor girl across the kitchen,’ Eric added cheerfully.
‘I was throwing her out,’ Lil muttered.
‘You would have half killed her if we hadn’t come home when we did!’ Alfie put in.
‘Aye, and I still would!’ Lil’s jaw was clenched. ‘She’d better make sure she never crosses my path again. Hoity-toity little madam, coming here with her airs and graces, spreading vicious gossip and upsetting decent people!’
‘I don’t reckon she’ll want to come back, don’t you worry!’ Eric said. ‘She couldn’t get out of here fast enough.’
Christine finished hanging the sheets over the clothes horse. ‘I’ll go and make us all a brew,’ she said.
She stood in the scullery, staring at the kettle as she waited for it to boil. What was she going to do now? Agnes Sheridan had ruined everything, jumping in like that. If she’d had time, Christine could have talked to her mother in the right way, explained everything. But now Miss Sheridan had decided to make it her business, she’d taken away the only chance Christine had to break the truth to Lil gently.
‘Chrissie?’ She swung round. Tony stood in the doorway, watching her. ‘That’s going to boil dry in a minute.’ He nodded towards the kettle, which was filling the scullery with billowing steam.
‘Oh. Sorry.’ Christine went to grab the handle, then snatched her hand back as the hot metal burned her skin. She reached for the pot cloth instead.
‘Reckon we might need a nip of brandy in that tea,’ Tony commented.
‘Is Ma still in a state then?’
‘Not for her. For you. You’re as white as one of those sheets round the fire.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘Are you all right, love?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit of a shock, that’s all.’ She forced a smile in Tony’s direction.
‘Aye, it’s a rum thing.’ He paused then said, ‘Dunno what that nurse was thinking of, do you? Where do you suppose she came up with an idea like that?’
Christine didn’t like the long, considering look he was giving her. ‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged.
‘I mean, she must have got the notion from somewhere. It’s not the sort of thing you’d make up, is it?’
‘I suppose not.’ Christine concentrated on stirring the tea in the pot.
‘So why do you think she said it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Are you sure?’
Christine glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His face was full of kindness and sympathy. He would help her, she thought. Tony was the eldest, the man of the house. He would make things right with her mother.
But she still couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
‘Perhaps she got me mixed up with someone else?’
His face cleared. ‘Yes, I daresay that’s it,’ he said. ‘I mean, imagine you, being daft enough to get caught like that. Our little Christine. The brains of the family. It’s daft when you think about it, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Christine agreed heavily. ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘We’ve had a complaint, Miss Sheridan.’
Agnes stood before Miss Gale’s desk, her hands locked behind her back. Bess Bradshaw stood by the door, as stiff as a sentry.
‘Mrs Fairbrass has been to see us,’ Miss Gale went on. ‘She claims you have slandered her daughter.’
‘I only spoke the truth,’ Agnes said. ‘And if anything, I should be the one complaining about her!’ A day later, her scalp was still sore from where Lil had dragged her across the kitchen by her hair.
‘Nevertheless, she says you barged your way into her house and made spurious claims that her daughter was pregnant.’
‘She is pregnant.’
‘Not according to Mrs Fairbrass.’
‘What does she know about it?’ Agnes dismissed. ‘She’s too blind or too stupid to see the truth in front of her eyes.’
She heard Bess’ sharp intake of breath. ‘The girl herself denies it,’ Miss Gale said. ‘And she should know, don’t you think?
Agnes looked down at the ground. ‘Perhaps she just isn’t ready to admit it to herself?’ she said quietly.
‘Perhaps,’ Miss Gale conceded. ‘But the fact remains that you had no right to say such things.’
‘I was only trying to help.’
‘Oh yes, that really helped, didn’t it?’ Bess muttered, tight-lipped.
Agnes swung round to face her. ‘What was I supposed to do, say nothing?’
‘There’s a first time for everything,’ Bess shot back.
‘Please, Mrs Bradshaw, this is not getting us anywhere.’ Miss Gale turned back to Agnes. ‘I want you to write a letter to Mrs Fairbrass, apologising for your actions.’
‘But that’s—’ Agnes started to protest, but Miss Gale held up her hand.
‘That is my final word on the matter, Miss Sheridan, and I don’t want to hear any further argument. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, Miss Gale. Will that be all?’ Agnes muttered through tight lips. She needed to escape. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold on to her simmering rage.
‘For now. But I hope we won’t have any cause to reprimand you again.’
‘No, Miss Gale.’
The Superintendent
looked at her over the rim of her spectacles. ‘You’re a very hard-working nurse, Miss Sheridan. And extremely bright, too. But you need to consider the consequences of your actions.’
‘Yes, Miss Gale.’
Agnes escaped to the district room. The morning’s calls were over, and Polly and Phil were busy loading the steriliser ready for the afternoon.
‘What did Miss Gale want?’ Polly asked.
‘To tell me off.’ Agnes was so angry she could barely speak. ‘Mrs Fairbrass has complained about what happened yesterday.’
‘Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,’ Phil said, closing the lid of the steriliser.
‘But I only told her what she needed to hear!’ Agnes protested.
‘I still can’t believe you actually confronted her,’ Polly said. ‘You were very brave.’
‘Foolish, more like,’ Phil muttered.
Agnes glared at her. ‘I’ve a good mind to go to the police and charge her with assault!’ she said.
‘Oh, don’t do that!’ Polly looked dismayed. ‘You don’t want to make matters worse, do you?’
Phil laughed unkindly. ‘I would have loved to have been there last night and seen her dragging you round the kitchen by your hair.’
‘It’s not funny,’ snapped Agnes, massaging her tender scalp. She hadn’t been able to brush her hair properly that morning, it had hurt so badly. ‘I truly thought she was going to kill me. She might have done too, if her sons hadn’t come in when they did.’
‘Still,’ Polly said, ‘at least you’ve escaped with only a reprimand. You could have been dismissed.’
‘Not quite,’ Agnes said. ‘I have to write a letter of apology to the awful woman. Although I don’t know why I should bother, since the ignorant creature probably can’t read anyway!’
‘Agnes!’ Polly looked shocked. ‘You shouldn’t make assumptions about people. Just because they’re poor, it doesn’t mean they’re any less than you.’
Her reproach stung. Agnes pressed her lips together, ashamed of her outburst. But before she had chance to reply, Dottie rang the bell for dinner.
The other nurses were already gathered around the dining table. The conversation ceased and all eyes fell on Agnes when she walked in, flanked by Polly and Phil.
The Nurses of Steeple Street Page 20