The Lost Daughter of Liverpool: A heartbreaking and gritty family saga (The Mersey Trilogy Book 1)

by Pam Howes

  She set the table and smiled as he came and stood behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. ‘Alone at last,’ he murmured into her hair. She turned in the circle of his arms and kissed him. They had so much to look forward to and she couldn’t wait to share Agnes’s good news with him too.

  CHAPTER 29

  MARCH 1950

  Weighing in at a healthy seven pounds four ounces, Jacqueline Mary Rodgers came into the world on Sunday 12 March. Her birth had been easy, much to Dora’s relief. She hadn’t even realised she was in labour, although she’d had twinges all day; they hadn’t been significant, and she and Joe had been at the local park with Carol for most of the afternoon. It was only after tea when she went to pay a visit that things started to happen and her waters broke, just like they’d done when the twins were born. She’d panicked and Joe had called for an ambulance, as they’d been instructed to do should labour begin. She’d been in the maternity home since just before seven and her baby had arrived just after half past nine.

  Joe took Carol to Mam’s and then Frank dropped him off at the maternity home. He’d been allowed in to see them both once Dora and the baby were cleaned up and ready. Dora was relieved that she’d had no forceps or stitches this time, and she was keeping her fingers crossed that she would be able to breastfeed her new baby. She smiled at Joe as he looked tenderly at his tiny daughter with wonder in his eyes.

  ‘Isn’t she gorgeous?’ She smiled proudly, her love for her new daughter overflowing.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ he said softly. ‘Blonde and blue-eyed, just like her mammy.’

  ‘Well that’s one like each of us now. Carol’s like you and Jackie’s like me.’

  ‘So we’re calling her Jackie for short, are we?’

  ‘I think so. Bet Mam will be pleased that we’ve added Mary as well.’

  The door opened and a nurse appeared with a trolley. ‘Mr Rodgers, you’ll have to go now, I’m afraid. Your wife needs to rest. Visiting times are two until three and seven until eight each day, except weekends and then it’s two until four. Children are allowed to visit for a short time, weekend afternoons only.’

  Joe nodded. ‘Thanks, Nurse. Your mam’s keeping hold of Carol for now,’ he told Dora. ‘I rang Agnes to tell her and she said if she’s not in here herself tomorrow, she’ll come and see you in the afternoon. She said congratulations and she sends her love. I’ll see you tomorrow night. Dolly said she’d look after Carol for me. I’ll sort out some holiday leave when I nip into work in the morning. Sleep tight, love, and well done. I’m so proud of you.’

  Ivy pursed her lips when she came back from a visit to the ladies to see Joe being patted on the back and congratulated by the workforce on the birth of his new daughter. She fixed a smile on her face and went to shake his hand.

  ‘I’m glad it all went well this time, Joe,’ she said, hoping she sounded genuine. ‘Give Dora mine and Flo’s best wishes.’ She walked away, crossing her fingers in her apron pocket. She didn’t wish his new daughter any harm, but she hoped that Dora had another mad spell and that Joe would confide in her again. This time she might not get better. Ivy had all the time in the world to wait. She’d put her life on hold for him, so what was a few more years?

  She and Flo had paid one further visit to his home for the dress fitting, but he’d been out at a football match. Flo’s dress was beautiful and transformed her shape. The burgundy fabric dotted with soft pink flowers suited her. With her hair nicely set and a bit of make-up on, she’d looked passable and had even been asked to dance a couple of times over Christmas. But when she suggested asking Dora to make another dress, Ivy told her not to and reminded Flo that Dora was taking a break. It hadn’t taken Ivy long to realise why when Joe proudly announced her pregnancy to all and sundry. So much for that; but it had left her with a tiny seed of hope that Dora might have a relapse following the birth.

  ‘Don’t poke the baby, there’s a good girl,’ Dora said as Carol sat beside her on the bed scowling at her sister, who was being breastfed. Dora had tried to read a story to Carol, but she wasn’t paying any attention except to Jackie, so she’d given it up as a bad job.

  ‘My do that?’ Carol asked, pointing.

  ‘No, darling, you have your milk in a cup. You’re a big girl now.’ Joe had had a week’s holiday to care for Carol, but had gone back in today. They were waiting for Dora’s mam to arrive to help out. Dora had been discharged from the maternity home yesterday afternoon. Jackie had been easy to feed from the word go and she was such a contented baby, far more settled than Carol had ever been. Dora felt very protective towards Jackie and couldn’t bear it when anyone else held and cuddled her. She was terrified they’d pass on germs or colds and was forever telling people to wash their hands before they picked her up. The midwife was calling in later and would come each day until Jackie was fourteen days old.

  Poor Agnes still hadn’t gone into labour and was being admitted to the maternity home today to be induced. She’d told Dora she wasn’t looking forward to it as a neighbour had put the fear of God in her, telling her all sorts of tales about things that could go wrong. Cords wrapped around necks and babies getting stuck and having to have limbs amputated. The kindly nurse who’d looked after Dora tried her best to reassure Agnes and told her that inductions were very common and she and her baby would be just fine. Dora wondered how she was getting on; she would have been in there for at least four hours now. Hopefully there would be a call from Alan later with some good news.

  As Jackie stopped sucking Dora cuddled her close. She could sit here all day holding her like this. It was such a nice feeling and she felt sorry that she’d missed the experience with Carol, those precious first weeks when a mother gets to know her newborn. Maybe that was why Carol played her up a lot. At times she seemed closer to Joe and Mam and Frank than she was to Dora herself.

  ‘Only me,’ a voice called from the hall.

  ‘Ganny’s here, goody!’ Carol shot off the bed and Dora breathed a sigh of relief. She could relax now and shut her eyes for a while.

  Her mam popped her head around the door, Carol in her arms, looking smug. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late. Queue in the butcher’s was right outside the door. He’d got lamb chops in and word had got around.’ Although rationing was officially over in the main, it was still hard to get a lot of things. ‘I got a couple for yours and Joe’s tea, and some nice lean mince for tomorrow, and the butcher had just made some potted beef, so I got some of that as well. Do for our dinner today and Joe’s sarnies tomorrow.’

  ‘Thanks, Mam. There’s some money in the kitchen cupboard in a little toffee tin. Take what we owe you out of that.’

  ‘I will. Now I’ll make you a nice cuppa before the midwife comes, and I’ll get this little monkey sorted out. Uncle Frank’s sent her a colouring book and some crayons, so I’ll put a cloth on the table and she can sit on a cushion on a big girl’s chair and do a nice picture for Mammy and one for Uncle Frank to say thank you.’

  Carol beamed and went off quite happily with Granny. Dora lay back with a sigh of relief and wondered how she was going to cope on days when her mam couldn’t be around. She’d had a congratulations letter the other day from Sadie and Stan, her friends from the village, with an invite to pop in for a cuppa any time she was in town. She wondered how they coped with two babies so close together – and Sadie was now expecting a third. That would be three under-fours in a house with no bathroom or inside toilet, and still no sign of the new house or flat they’d been hoping to get by moving from her mother’s overcrowded house in Knowsley and into the slum clearance area down near the docks. It didn’t bear thinking about, all those germs near a new baby. Even though Dora would like to see more of Sadie, the thought of visiting made her feel sick. Sadie deserved a nice home and a decent length of time in-between having her babies. There was no way Dora ever wanted more. They had a perfect family now. Joe would have to sort things out before she’d let him near her again.

  Dora stirred
as Joe called her name. She sat up slowly, feeling light-headed. She must have dozed off again after feeding Jackie, who was asleep against her breast. The bungalow was quiet, which meant Carol was also sleeping.

  ‘That was Alan on the phone. Agnes has had a girl. Patricia-Anne. Eight pounds, dead on. Born at ten past seven.’ He was reading from a piece of paper and he looked up from it and smiled. ‘Thought I’d better write it all down. You know what you women are like for wanting all the details.’

  ‘Oh, thank goodness for that. And are they both okay?’

  ‘They’re fine. Not so sure about Alan though, he sounded a bit shell-shocked.’ Joe laughed and came to sit on the bed. ‘Would you like a drink of something? Your mam said Horlicks is good for you when you’re feeding. She showed me how to make it before Frank picked her up. Said she’d see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you, Joe, that would be lovely. I’m so happy for Agnes and Alan. Did he say what colour hair the baby’s got?’

  ‘Yeah, red like Agnes’s.’

  Dora laughed. ‘Me and Agnes thought it would have red hair, no matter what it was. I can’t wait to see them.’

  ‘Well she’s in all week, so why don’t you go and visit on Saturday and I’ll look after the kids. There’s no home game so I won’t be going to Anfield.’

  A feeling of panic came over her as Dora thought about leaving her baby. ‘Oh I’m not sure, Joe. I can’t really leave Jackie; she might need feeding while I’m out.’ Not only that, what if she picked up germs from the hospital? Saturday was family visiting day. When she’d been moved into a four-bed ward while she was in with Jackie, a woman’s husband and five grubby little boys had come to visit. One of them, a skinny little thing with scabby knees and a pronounced squint, had sauntered over to her bed and gawped at her while she was cuddling Jackie. Dora had seen lice running on his scalp and the tell-tale sores of impetigo on his chin. She shuddered at the memory of the fetid smell that had wafted from them all as they passed by her bed on leaving the ward, feeling sorry for the pleasant woman who would be taking her first daughter back to a home that was less than clean. ‘I’ll wait until they come home,’ she muttered.

  By the time Jackie was six weeks old Dora felt worn out. Her hands were red and sore from constantly bleaching everything she came into contact with. Joe had complained the bungalow smelled like a hospital ward, because she wiped everything down with Dettol on a daily basis. He’d pushed away his meal last night and said the bacon and eggs tasted odd. When she’d taken a sniff she could smell bleach and threw it in the bin. Joe had settled for a Spam sarnie but she could tell he wasn’t happy; he had gone to bed early in a sulk.

  The district nurse had been to weigh Jackie and check her progress and had expressed concern when Dora said she wouldn’t be bringing the baby to the clinic for regular weight checks as she was worried about her picking up germs that might make her poorly.

  ‘But, Mrs Rodgers, it’s important that you bring Jackie so we know she’s doing okay,’ said Miss Stokes, the health visitor. ‘We do our best to keep everywhere as germ-free as possible in the clinic, just like you do in your own home, dear.’

  ‘That’s what I told her,’ Mam said, coming in from the back garden where she’d been hanging nappies on the washing line. ‘And a few germs never hurt anyone. You’re being too fussy, chuck.’

  Dora turned to her mam. ‘I’m not. I need to look after her. I couldn’t bear to lose another baby, Mam. It must have been something that I did wrong. I’m not taking any chances with Jackie. You don’t know what she might pick up where there are crowds of people.’

  Mam shook her head. ‘Sweetheart, losing Joanna wasn’t because of anything you did. It was just one of those things that sometimes happen with birthing babies.’

  Miss Sykes nodded her agreement. ‘What if we give you a separate appointment for a week or two? Then you can come and be long gone before we get busy.’

  ‘Can’t you come here like you’ve done today?’ Dora asked. ‘Bring the scales with you again.’

  ‘Let me have a word with Doctor Owens, Mrs Rodgers. I’ll come back and see you in a couple of days. Meantime, keep up with the four-hourly feeds and if you feel Jackie isn’t getting enough milk from you, then you’ll need to top her up with a bottle feed. If you come to the clinic, you can use your milk tokens for the National Dried Milk, and you can get vitamins and orange juice for Carol too. We also need to book you in for your postnatal check-up. It’s due this week.’

  Dora nodded and sat back on the sofa with Jackie in her arms while Mam showed the health visitor out. When she came back into the sitting room, Dora looked up.

  ‘You think I’m going daft again, don’t you, Mam?’

  Mam raised an eyebrow. ‘I can understand what’s behind your obsession for going mad with the cleaning, love, but it’s not right. Now listen. Jackie’s fast asleep. Carol’s playing in the back garden with Dolly’s little Alice and you, my girl, are going to get in the bath and have a long soak while we’ve got some peace. Go on, you’ll feel better. And wash your hair while you’re about it, you’ve been scratching again and you’ll make your scalp sore if you’re not careful. Put Jackie in the cradle and I’ll sit with my knitting for a while.’

  Dora lay back in the lavender-scented bubbles unable to shake off the feelings of anxiety that were permanently with her. She appreciated all her mam’s help and couldn’t manage without her, but at times she felt she didn’t fully understand her concerns about germs and keeping Jackie safe, and neither did Joe. The only person who would have understood her worries was no longer here. She was missing Joanie more than ever now. Joanie would have known how she felt and she was thankful she had her photograph to talk to. She sighed, dunked her hair under the water and rubbed some soap into her scalp. The clinical smell was horrible, but since leaving the maternity home she couldn’t get the thought of picking something up out of her head. She’d overheard her mam and Joe whispering about her the other day while she’d been trying to sleep. It was obvious they thought she was going mad with the depression again, and although they’d not actually said anything to her, she could see it in their faces. They just didn’t understand, so there was no point in confiding her worries to them.

  While Dora took her bath Mary’s thoughts tumbled round in her head. Her daughter was showing signs of not coping again. It had started as soon as she was discharged from the maternity home. She’d complained of her hair feeling itchy. Mary had checked her scalp several times but had found nothing, even though Dora still scratched her head all the time. Joe had told her of his concerns while Dora was sleeping the other day. The poor man couldn’t seem to do right for doing wrong at the moment. She didn’t really have an answer but she knew what might buck Dora up a bit – a visit from her pal. She got up from the sofa and found Dora’s address book on the hall table by the phone. Agnes picked up right away and promised to pop over tomorrow afternoon. Dora had only seen Agnes and baby Patsy once since her birth. It would be a lovely surprise for her. Mary would make sure she was here nice and early to help her daughter tidy up and then there’d be no excuses that she was too tired for visitors.

  She went to the back door, called Carol in and sent Alice back to her mother. While Mary’s back was turned for a moment as she watched Alice slip through the gaps in the fencing, Carol ran into the sitting room. Mary called her back, told her off, as shoes weren’t allowed on the carpets when they’d been out in the garden, and washed the little girl’s grubby hands and face.

  ‘Now go and sit at the table and I’ll bring your milk and biscuits through,’ she ordered. ‘Mammy’s in the bath and baby’s asleep so we’re going to be nice and quiet for a while, aren’t we?’

  Carol shrugged in that couldn’t-care-less way kids had, but did as she was told.

  Dora dried herself, sprinkled on talc and brushed her hair. She felt much better for the long soak and her scalp had ceased to feel itchy for the time being. She chose a short-sleeved white cotton dres
s with buttons down the front for ease of feeding, slipped it on over fresh underwear and dabbed a bit of Poppy perfume behind her ears. Apart from the weight of anxiety, she actually felt almost human again. She thought about what the health visitor had said and that maybe she should accept the appointment offered to go to the clinic early before the other mothers arrived, so she could get away quickly. Once she felt confident that Jackie was not going to get ill and die, it might be easier to cope. Carol was laughing in the sitting room and Mam was singing nursery rhymes to her. Her daughter was marching up and down to ‘The Grand Old Duke of York’ but paused and scowled as Dora walked into the room.

  ‘Oh, you look better, chuck. Think our Jackie’s getting ready for her tea. She’s doing a bit of grunting and snuffling, but that might be me waking her up with my singing. I’ll make us a nice cuppa.’

  Dora bent to pick up her baby as Carol giggled excitedly. ‘Worm in there for baby,’ she said, pointing at the cradle. Dora let out a scream that had her mam running in from the kitchen, clutching her chest.

  ‘Oh my God. What is it? Is she okay?’

  Dora shook her head and pointed. Mam looked down and saw the fat worm wriggling its way towards the baby’s head, leaving a trail of soil on the spotless white sheet. She snatched up Jackie and passed her to Dora. ‘She’s come to no harm, chuck. Go in the bedroom with her. I’ll deal with this.’ She stripped the cradle of its bedding and fixed Carol with a firm glare. ‘Go and sit in your room, young lady.’ Carol ran off, for once needing no second telling.