The Accidental Time Traveller

by Sharon Griffiths

  The noise in my room stopped completely. I knew that on the other side of the door Peggy had frozen at the sound of my voice.

  I limped along and pushed the bedroom door open.

  There was devastation. All the drawers and the wardrobe were half open with a lot of stuff obviously just taken out and flung to one side. I didn’t think I had much, but when I saw it scattered like that, I realised there was quite a lot really. And my handbag had been emptied out on the shiny, slippery green eiderdown.

  Peggy was sitting on the bed now. Her face was swollen and blotchy, her eyes red. She looked dreadful.

  ‘Peggy? What on earth are you doing?’ I limped towards her.

  ‘Where are they?’ she demanded. ‘Where do you keep them?’ Honestly, she seemed mad.

  I answered warily. ‘Keep what?’ I had absolutely no idea of what she was on about, but she was clearly in such a state I didn’t dare upset her any more.

  ‘The pills. Those tablets you told me you had to stop you having babies.’

  ‘Tablets? Babies?’

  I remembered our conversation at the kitchen table, the one that her mother had cut so vehemently short.

  ‘Oh Peggy, I haven’t got them with me. Anyway, you have to take them to prevent you getting pregnant. Though, of course, there’s always the Morning After pill …’

  Ah. Suddenly it all became clear. ‘Peggy, do you think you might be pregnant?’

  And with that she howled. A dreadful, stomach-chilling howl of misery and desperation. ‘Don’t say it!’ she shrieked at me. ‘Don’t say it!’

  ‘Hey,’ I said, as gently as I could. ‘It’s not that bad. It’s not the end of the world …’

  ‘What do you know about it?’ she screamed at me. ‘It’s not you, is it?’

  She flung herself face down on the bed, sobbing hysterically. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do.’

  Gingerly, I put out a hand and stroked her shoulder as she snivelled into my eiderdown. The sobs continued. I handed her one of my little lace-edged handkerchiefs that she had flung out of the drawer and onto the floor.

  ‘I haven’t got the pills with me. And even if I had, they’re no good to you,’ I said as gently as I could. ‘How far gone are you?’

  ‘I’ve missed one of my monthlies,’ she said, not looking at me, ‘and the other was due yesterday and it hasn’t, it hasn’t …’ She started crying again.

  ‘There’s still time for an abortion, just.’

  Suddenly I remembered the steamy bathroom, the smell of booze. I’ve seen Alfie and Vera Drake. I knew what went on.

  ‘So is that what you were trying that afternoon? Hot bath and gin – you were trying to get rid of the baby, weren’t you?’

  She nodded. ‘I didn’t know what else to do. But it didn’t work. Nothing happened,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t know who to ask about … well, you know. I’ve heard there’s someone who can arrange things. But I don’t know who she is. And I’m scared.’ She stared at me, panic in her eyes. I certainly believed her about being scared.

  Oh God, it was years before abortion would be legal. What a mess.

  Peggy was gazing at me in desperation. ‘Don’t you know anybody? You seem to be … well … as though it’s the sort of thing you would know.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Can’t help.’ And before she could start howling again I asked, ‘So, um, what about the father? Does he know? How does he feel about it?’

  ‘He can’t do anything!’ snapped Peggy. ‘Nothing! It’s hopeless.’

  She looked up at me, her face utterly bereft.

  ‘He’s married,’ she said simply.

  ‘Oh.’

  I remembered the proud smile, the way she smirked at the editor, the country bus to Middleton Parva … ‘Oh God, Peggy, It’s not Mr Henfield is it?’

  She sniffed a bit and then nodded.

  ‘Have you told him?’

  She nodded.

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said I was panicking. That it was a false alarm. That I was just late. And I hoped … I thought he might be right. He said women always panicked and I’d soon find out I was panicking over nothing. I thought he knew about these things. After all, he’s married. And anyway,’ she sniffed, ‘I wanted to believe him.’ She had screwed the little lace-edged hanky into a knot between her fingers.

  ‘How on earth have you managed to work for him still?’

  ‘He’s hardly there. He hasn’t been coming in much. And when he has, he just pretends it’s all as normal. We always did in the office, in case anyone noticed …’

  ‘Could it be a false alarm?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’m ever so regular normally.’

  ‘Then why …?’ I was getting really confused here. ‘If you were still trying to talk to Henfield about it, why were you so keen to go out with Lenny?’

  She looked at me and turned my little hanky around and around in her hands with such force that I thought it would rip apart.

  ‘Richard’s married isn’t he?’ she hiccuped. ‘I knew he couldn’t marry me, so I thought …’

  ‘So you thought Lenny might. Is that it?’

  She nodded.

  ‘But don’t you realise …?’

  She clearly didn’t realise where Lenny’s sexual preferences lay, and I didn’t know how to begin to explain.

  ‘I thought … I thought if Lenny and I, well, you know, if Lenny and I did it, did it, then maybe …’

  ‘Then maybe you could get him to marry you?’

  She sniffed and nodded.

  ‘Oh God, Peggy, you weren’t going to have sex with him and then try and fool him that the baby was his, were you?’

  She howled again.

  ‘I guess that’s a yes, then. But it didn’t work, did it?’

  ‘No. Lenny, well, he, well almost ran away from me. He said there was no point in us seeing each other again. That it was all over.’

  And suddenly I felt a bit responsible. Well, very responsible. I’d opened my big mouth and talked to Lenny as if he were Leo, rabbiting on about him and Jake being together. If homosexuality was still illegal then you could see why he wouldn’t want that news spread around the office too widely. What better way to quash any rumours than by getting himself a girlfriend? Pretty damn quickly. And there was Peggy, desperately on the hunt for a man, any man …

  If I hadn’t said anything, Lenny wouldn’t have needed a sort of cover by going out with Peggy in the first place. Then she wouldn’t have got ideas, and … oh God what had I started?

  Peggy was studying the pattern in the shiny green eiderdown while she tried to explain. ‘I tried to, well, you know, coax him … but he didn’t … he wouldn’t … he just said … he just said it wasn’t going to work and there was no point. And then he went. He couldn’t get away fast enough. It was dreadful.’

  ‘Poor girl. Poor, poor girl,’ I said. It was all so desperate that the image of Peggy trying to seduce Lenny and get him into bed with her didn’t even raise the ghost of a smile. It was a pretty shitty mess.

  ‘Richard won’t leave his wife. He says he can’t. They have a daughter.’

  ‘Well OK, so might you soon. And what about supporting you? If you have this baby …’

  ‘I can’t have it! I can’t!’

  ‘Shh now, shh.’ I put my arm around her. ‘Worst case scenario says you have this baby. And that’s not such a bad case is it? A little baby?’

  ‘My mother will kill me!’

  She looked really seriously frightened. And I must admit, I wouldn’t have relished facing Mrs Brown with that particular bit of good news myself, to be honest.

  ‘OK, I know your mum can be a dragon. But deep down you know she’s really kind. Think of how she looks out for Janice and her family. She’s got a really good heart.’

  Peggy gave me a stunned sort of look.

  ‘And I know it would be a shock to her, when you first tell her. It’s bound to be. But I’m sure she’ll get used to the
idea. I’m sure she’ll be great.’

  Peggy was crying again. Time to get off that tack, I thought.

  ‘Look, if Henfield’s the father then he has to support you. It’s his baby as much as yours. Even if he stays with his wife, he should give you enough money to live. He can’t get away with it, but you’ve got to tell your parents. You must do that. Apart from anything else, you need to look after yourself, go to clinics, check-ups, that sort of thing.’

  I wasn’t too clear on the details of ante-natal health but I knew you had to keep getting MOT type things.

  ‘I just want to die.’ Peggy flung herself back down on the eiderdown.

  ‘No you don’t. What you want is to be well and happy and have your baby. Really, you do. Honestly, lots of women do it where I come from. They have babies all on their own, no man around, and it works. They and their babies are happy and healthy.’

  I closed my mind to the Daily Mail type statistics here for a moment.

  ‘It can be done. Honestly. No one minds. There’s no stigma. Just wait, in a year or two, no one will take any notice.’

  And so I went on. We sat there for another hour or more as I extolled the joys of single motherhood. I don’t think she was persuaded but she stopped howling and did seem to be listening. I raked up every example I could think of, friends who had babies on their own, friends who were the babies of single mothers.

  Finally she stopped crying, calmed down and we reached some sort of decision. We decided that the next day she would tackle Henfield and persuade him into doing something for the child. And then, armed with that bit of provision, Peggy would come home and tell her parents. Her face still filled with fear at the thought, but I didn’t know what else I could do.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, still trying to be soothing, ‘I’ll be there for you.’

  But this sent Peggy straight back into a panic. ‘Where will you be? When will you be there?’ she asked, agitated. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I’ll help you all I can,’ I said. I tried to move and realised my leg had seized up.

  ‘It’s no good,’ I said. ‘I’m going to have to do something about these cuts and this ankle.’

  ‘Oh I’m sorry,’ sniffed Peggy. ‘You should have done that first instead of listening to me.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ I said, not wishing to provoke another flood of tears. ‘Now why don’t you go and have a wash and then get that pie out of the pantry and warmed up. You need to eat, and in any case, your mother will only play hell if she comes home and we haven’t eaten it.’

  Peggy nodded and dutifully went off to the bathroom. When she’d gone downstairs, I too hobbled off there and tried to clean myself up. I realised as I sat on the edge of the bath, holding my ankle under the icy water from the cold tap, that all the time I’d been talking to Peggy, I hadn’t given Will a thought. Only for an hour or two admittedly, but the longest I’d gone without thinking of him since I’d been here.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Right.’

  Monday morning and Peggy and I were standing outside The News office, both of us waiting to pluck up the courage to go in. I knew quite well why Peggy was so frightened. She had no idea why I was dreading the day.

  ‘OK, now remember,’ I said, ‘you tell Henfield you want to see him and have a proper talk to him. You’re entitled to some help and support. After all, he’s the one who’s married. He knew what he was doing and should take responsibility.’

  ‘Right,’ said Peggy again, though she didn’t look too sure. ‘Rosie you’ve been a real brick,’ she suddenly said, turning to me. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been very nice to you, but I thought with you working at The News you would realise what was going on and tell my mum. It suddenly seemed a frightful idea, you staying with us, and I wished I’d never thought of it.’

  ‘Well yes, now I have realised, but it doesn’t matter. In fact that’s a good thing. I can help you sort it out. And we will. Promise.’

  What was I saying?

  But Peggy was smiling – not much of a smile admittedly, but it was something.

  ‘Right,’ she said. And in we marched.

  Billy was sitting with his back to me and the diary open in front of him, talking to Alan and Brian. ‘Hiya kid!’ he said, turning around and giving me a wonderful smile. ‘Good weekend?’

  ‘Yes, yes, fine thanks.’

  Should I tell him I’d spent a large chunk of Sunday spying on him and his wife and family? No, I didn’t think so either. So I said brightly, ‘Shall I make the tea?’

  ‘What a marvellous woman you are, Rosie,’ said Billy.

  If only he meant it …

  I made the tea and brought it in just as Marje arrived in her normal flurry of hat, scarf, cigarette and shopping bag.

  ‘Ooh you’ve made the tea! What a pet you are!’ she said, reaching over and taking the cup I’d meant for myself. I went back and got another as Marje had a good cough and wafted the smoke away. Billy and Alan were busy on the telephone making the morning calls. I had other things and people to think of beside myself. Here was a chance. I’d promised Peggy I would ask. And Marje was the only person I could think of.

  ‘Marje,’ I whispered conspiratorially, ‘can I ask you something?’

  ‘Ask away, my dear,’ said Marje, hunting the ashtray under a drift of yellowing copy paper.

  ‘Well a friend of mine is in a spot of bother …’

  At once Marje looked up shrewdly at me.

  ‘Friend?’

  ‘Oh yes, honestly, not me …’

  ‘And what sort of bother would that be then?’

  ‘Well the usual one, I’m afraid.’ I whispered across the desk. ‘You know, young girl, older man and now …’

  ‘Got caught has she?’ asked Marje, inhaling deeply on her cigarette.

  ‘Well yes. And, well, she’s desperate. Really desperate. I don’t suppose you know anyone …’

  I let the idea, the question, hang on the smoky air. I didn’t want to have to spell it out, especially not with the men just yards away. Marje had found the ashtray. She put her cigarette in it, blinked the smoke from her eyes and came across to me, put her hands down on the desk and leant over my typewriter until her face was only inches away from mine. I could smell the tobacco on her breath and the powdery smell of her make-up.

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I do know someone,’ she said. For a moment I felt a surge of hope on Peggy’s behalf. ‘I know someone who promises to “help” young girls. Then the poor girl bleeds like a stuck pig and, if she’s lucky, she gets over it. They’re the lucky ones. The unlucky ones end up in hospital. The really unlucky ones don’t get that far. Let me tell you, Miss Rosie Harford, a friend of mine was helped by this woman. A lot of things went on during the war.

  ‘They managed to get her to hospital but she died anyway. Her husband came back from the desert to find his wife dead. Her parents never got over it.

  ‘Why on earth did the silly kid think her parents would rather have a dead daughter than a live grandchild, whatever the circumstances?’

  Marje’s eyes glittered.

  ‘Just tell your friend that she’s done what she’s done and now she has to live with it. It’s her mistake and she has to cope.

  ‘It’s not the end of the world. She can put the baby up for adoption and forget all about it. In a few months it will all be over and she can come home, make a fresh clean start and be more sensible in future. She won’t be the first and she won’t be the last. But please, please, tell her not to go near any woman who offers to “help”. Not if she wants to live and maybe have more children one day.’

  With that Marje went back to her desk, picked up her cigarette and moved the ashtray from one side of the desk to the other, just for the satisfaction of slamming it down … Billy and Alan looked across at us, sensing the conversation wasn’t the normal girly chat.

  ‘OK fellers,’ said Marje, with a flourish of her cigare
tte, let’s get on with some work, shall we?’

  A few minutes later Billy came over with the diary. He stood there, looking at me with that half-smile on his face, and as he spoke he waved the pen in the air. Such a Will gesture … I had to swallow hard.

  ‘So there’s the village feature, the preview of the spring flower show and the cheque presentation for the Hospital League of Friends. If you and Marje would like to sort those out between you?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Marje. ‘I could do the village feature – maybe Somerton – if Rosie does the flower show and the League of Friends. Or of course, you could send Rosie to Somerton, and, knowing the way things happen with her, she’ll probably find Jack the Ripper and Dr Crippen serving in the sweet shop.’

  Billy laughed. ‘She certainly has a knack of finding stories. Or of stories finding her. But Marje, I’ll put you down for Somerton.’

  Clever Marje. She knew the cheque presentation was in the early evening and she didn’t like working late.

  ‘Fine with me,’ I said. At least the flower show would get me out of the office.

  But first I had to go and see Peggy.

  She was sitting at her desk, motionless, ashen white.

  ‘Hi,’ I said quietly, after a quick check that no one was around, ‘I’m sorry. I’ve spoken to Marje and she doesn’t want anything to do with it. Says it’s better to go ahead now. Even if you have the baby adopted. Have you arranged anything with Henfield?’

  Peggy looked at me glassily. ‘He’s not coming in today. He rang in. He has to take his wife somewhere. I told him I wanted a proper discussion with him, said I had to see him, we had things that needed to be talked about.’ She looked bleak.

  ‘He just put the phone down on me, Rosie. He just put the phone down. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s going to be all right,’ I said as forcefully as I could without yelling. ‘Really. Look, we’ll talk about it tonight. Now don’t panic. You can talk to Henfield tomorrow. He has to agree something. I’ll see you later. We’ll sort it all out this evening.’

  A spotty young man from advertising knocked and walked into the office.