‘So that’s how you intend to punish me, is it, Maisie… by choking me to death?’ When Maisie fell back laughing, Beth laughed too. She knew instinctively that all was well. Thank God she had not lost the child, although when she woke earlier, it was to fear the worst.
For a long emotional moment, Beth kept hold of the little woman’s hand. Then, in a low trembling voice, she asked, ‘The baby’s safe, isn’t it, Maisie?’ Beth vaguely recalled how she and Cissie were coming along Larkhill when she was overwhelmed with a series of painful contractions, and oh, how tired she had felt; a dragging tiredness deep within her like she had never known before.
‘Aye, lass,’ Maisie quickly reassured her. ‘Your bonny babby’s safe, don’t fret now. I’ve just this minute shown the doctor out, an’ he’s told me the very same. Your babby’s strong as a little ox, an’ you’re to be got outta bed on the morrow. But yer to take it easy, mind!’ she warned. ‘No gallivanting about. In fact, yer not even to set foot outside this house until he tells yer. An’ if I have any say in it, my girl, you’ll stay inside these four walls until that little soldier decides it’s coming into this ’ere world.’
All the while Maisie had been ranting on, all manner of things were going through Beth’s mind, making her increasingly anxious. She had no idea a doctor had been attending to her. What was more, she had no idea how this doctor would ever be paid. Turning her head away from Maisie’s scrutinizing gaze, she looked towards the window. She was astonished to see that it was daylight. The sky was dull and speckled with dark drifting patches here and there. But… it was daylight! Beth was under the illusion that she had been in her bed for only a matter of hours, and she expected it still to be dark. ‘How long have I been asleep?’ she asked Maisie.
‘Two days… on and off.’
‘Two days!’ Beth was horrified. Struggling to sit up in bed, she leaned into the bolster, her large dark eyes stretched wide and seeming like black pools against her white face. ‘I’ve been laid up here for two days?’ she asked incredulously.
‘That’s right, lass,’ confirmed Maisie. ‘You’ve been in yer bed since Sat’day afternoon, an’ it’s now four o’clock of a Monday. I’ll tell yer some’at else an’ all,’ she went on with a wave of her chubby finger. ‘You’ll stay in yer bed another two days if needs be.’ She passed her hand over Beth’s pale forehead and gently lifted the long brown hair aside. ‘Oh, lass… lass… lass,’ she murmured. ‘As God’s my judge, I were afeared we’d lost you and the babby both.’ A teardrop trickled from the corner of her eye, before she swiftly wiped it away and forced a smile to her podgy face. ‘We’ve a lot to be thankful for though,’ she said in a brighter voice. ‘Yer fine an’ dandy, both on yer.’ She laughed aloud, hugging herself. ‘Fine an’ dandy, an’ that’s the way we’re gonna keep it,’ she said. ‘The doctor reckons yer were dangerously exhausted, body and soul. An ain’t I told yer afore about pushing yerself to the limit? Well, ain’t I?’ she demanded. ‘Up at the crack o’ dawn… bent over that bloody dolly-tub wi’ yer arms up to their elbows in soap suds… sneaking down the stairs while I’m still asleep, an’ beating the parlour mats ’til the swirls o’ dust reach heavens high… on yer knees scrubbing the scullery floor, and washing down the yard when there ain’t no need of it.’
Pausing to take a breath, Maisie clicked her tongue and shook her head in exasperation. ‘An’ if that ain’t enough, yer up ’til all hours, writing letters for folks as can’t write ’em theirselves. An’ now look what it’s brought yer to, eh? To the end o’ yer tether, that’s what! Time and time again I’ve told yer, “Slow down, lass. Take it easy, for God’s sake!” But do yer listen? No, yer bloody well don’t! Yer like a thing demented; acting like there’s no tomorrow. But you’ll listen now, my girl, else I’ll lock yer in this ’ere room ’til you’ve grown some sense.’ She put her two chubby hands to her face, rolling her eyes. ‘My God! I must have aged forty years since Sat’day,’ she groaned.
‘Oh, Maisie, I’m sorry to be such a worry to you.’ Beth was shocked to learn that she had been in her bed for so long. The last thing she recalled was being gathered into someone’s arms. Her heart skipped a beat and she caught her breath, a crimson blush darkening her face… someone’s arms! At once she wanted to know. ‘Maisie, who put me to bed?’ In her mind she could hear the man’s voice: ‘Gently now. Don’t fight me.’
‘Why, Mr Miller the rentman, o’ course,’ Maisie chuckled at the naked horror on Beth’s face. ‘Oh, don’t worry, child,’ she said with a serious expression. ‘It were me as put yer in yer bed. Yer surely don’t think I’d let a fella… any fella… see yer in a state of undress? Well, with the exception of the good doctor, o’ course,’ she corrected herself. ‘I’ll tell yer some’at though, my girl, if it weren’t fer that Mr Miller I don’t know how I could ever have got you up the stairs an’ into this ’ere bedroom. He were kindness itself, the feller were… laid yer on this ’ere eiderdown like yer were a china doll, he did.’
‘Oh.’ Beth was lost for words. The thought of Mr Miller actually carrying her all the way up the stairs and laying her on the bed made her feel deeply embarrassed. Apart from which, in her present condition she was no easy burden. ‘The poor man,’ she said now, a mischievous smile creeping into her lovely dark eyes. ‘It’s all I can do to carry this weight around,’ she said, patting the great bulge beneath the eiderdown. ‘It’s a wonder he didn’t do himself a damage.’ She saw the twinkle in Maisie’s eyes and tried desperately to stifle the giggle that was bubbling up inside her, but it was no good, because when Maisie suddenly erupted in a fit of laughter, she couldn’t help herself either, and soon the two of them were hugging each other and giggling like two naughty children.
‘Come to think on it, gal,’ Maisie chuckled, ‘his narrer legs did have a bandy look when he took his leave. With a bit o’ luck he’ll not bother coming fer the rent on Sat’day next,’ she cried. ‘Happen the poor bugger’ll be laid up wi’ a bad back.’ Her last word ended in a whoop of delight, and the tears rolled down her face.
‘Shame on you!’ chastised Beth with her whole face creased in a grin as wide as Maisie’s. ‘Wishing the poor man ill, after he helped us like that.’ All the same, she had a vision in her mind of Mr Miller struggling up the impossibly narrow stairs and his thin wiry figure buckling beneath her weight. And in spite of her deeper gratitude, it was a vision that appealed to her sense of humour. Now that her initial fear and panic had long subsided, Maisie too was relieved to dwell on the lighter side of the entire episode. She responded to Beth’s ticking off with another fit of the giggles.
After a while, Beth felt the need to question Maisie further. The real issues had not gone away, but the laughing had done her good, even though her sides ached and she felt suddenly uncomfortable. Now, though, her thoughts ran deeper. ‘Maisie?’ she began.
‘Yes, darlin’?’ After drying the tears of laughter from her eyes, Maisie was busily plumping the bolster behind Beth.
‘You said the doctor had been to see me?’
‘That’s right, lass… Dr Morgan. He were fetched straight away on Sat’day afternoon, an’ he’s been three times since. Now stop yer worrying, Beth. The good doctor found nothing untoward with the babby. He reckons the young ’un will go its full term… nigh on a month yet.’ Maisie knew well enough what Beth was thinking, and she had no intention of giving her any more information than was absolutely necessary. At least, not until she was forced to. She had to feign deafness though when Beth put the question direct. ‘What’s that yer say, lass?’ she muttered, hurrying from the bed and making for the door as quickly as she could.
‘I said… who fetched the doctor?’ Beth felt instinctively that Maisie was hiding something from her. ‘And more importantly,’ she insisted, ‘how in God’s name are we to pay him?’
‘Look, lass, I’ve some broth simmering on the stove,’ Maisie said, flinging open the door and rushing through it. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ she called f
rom the other side. ‘Just you bide quietly ’til I get back.’
‘Maisie!’ Beth had no intention of biding quietly. Although she still felt as though she was carrying two bags of coal strapped to her middle, and her strength was not fully recovered, she was certainly not going to lie in bed like an invalid while poor Maisie waited on her hand and foot. All right, maybe she wasn’t allowed outside. And to be truthful, she had neither the inclination nor the stamina to trudge the cobbles just yet. But there was no reason for her to stay cooped up in the bedroom either.
On an impulse Beth threw back the eiderdown and inched her legs across the mattress, until in a moment her feet were resting against the cold hard lino. Even that small achievement took its toll. Sitting on the edge of the bed, with her head bowed and her two hands spread behind her to support her weight, she took a moment to gather herself, wondering whether Maisie wasn’t right after all to insist that she stay in her bed. But no, she couldn’t do that. As long as she was able, Beth meant to keep mobile, and to be of help to Maisie wherever she could. And there was still this business of paying the doctor. He would have to be paid, there was no escaping that. Maisie had no money, bless her heart, and Beth’s own little nest-egg was sadly depleted. She felt guilty and ashamed to have been such a trouble to this family, when all they had shown her was love and kindness. There was no doubt that she had created a problem here, and it was only fair that, somehow, she must be the one to deal with it. But how? How on earth could she pluck money out of thin air? And yet there must be a way, she reasoned.
For one brief painful second she thought of her brother. Could he perhaps help? More to the point, would he help? No, of course he wouldn’t! Hadn’t he shown his contempt for her? Hadn’t he made his feelings plain enough? Rightly or wrongly, Ben had blamed her for their father’s being struck down. He would not forgive her, of that Beth was certain. Now, when she thought of her father and that last terrible scene, it was inevitable that she also thought of Tyler. Bitter-sweet memories overwhelmed her and the prayer was on her lips before she could stop it. ‘Dear God, will I never get him out of my heart?’ And she knew she never would.
The room was stifling, claustrophobic. Determined, Beth reached out and collected her dressing-robe from the foot of the bed. The cream robe had been a present from her father; its silky texture was unashamedly luxurious, with a fringed tassel around the waist and the skirt falling in deep swirling folds to the hem. It was a lovely thing. For a long poignant moment, Beth held it against her face, deriving pleasure from caressing its smooth surface, and hurting inside from the memories it evoked. She had lost so very much… the love and respect of both Ben and her father. And Tyler. ‘Oh, Tyler,’ she moaned now, ‘why did it all have to go wrong for us?’ The tears rolled down her face. She paused to wipe them away, closing her eyes for a moment and wondering how she could ever justify the badness in her; for she was bad, or she would never have slept with a man outside marriage. She thought of Tyler, of the wonderful times they had enjoyed together, and recalled the night when this little being was conceived. All manner of emotions raged through her… pride, fear and shame. And rising above all of these was a love so great that it towered in her heart, diminishing all beside it.
After waiting these long agonising months, Beth had to believe now that Tyler was never going to find her; maybe didn’t want to find her; perhaps had never intended to find her again. Oh, how she had fought against believing the terrible things that girl had told her. Fought and prayed, and hoped against all reason that one bright morning she would look up and there he would be. But he never was. And now she knew he never would be. And yet… and yet, she went on loving him. In that dark silent place where dreams were made, she went on loving him with all her heart. But not hoping. Not now. The hope was long gone, as were the dreams. Only the reality remained; a stark reality that left her without her man and with an empty future. All she could look forward to was her child. Tyler’s child. The consequence of a love that she had dared to believe would last a lifetime.
Suddenly, she did not want to go on. ‘What would it matter if I died?’ she murmured. Yet even as the awful words disturbed the air, Beth was mortified. ‘Shame on you, Beth Ward!’ she told herself. ‘How dare you talk like that, when you have a new life inside you?’ When her thoughts encompassed Maisie, her shame was tenfold. The thought of her child heightened her shame and made her immensely proud at the same time. The baby. This tiny being that moved and fidgeted inside her. No one would ever know how much she was looking forward to holding this baby in her arms; sometimes in the dead of night when she couldn’t sleep because of its frantic movements, Beth would imagine how it would be, this perfect being that was both her and Tyler. Would it be a girl with tawny-coloured hair and dark eyes? Or would it be a boy, with long, strong limbs, handsome features and striking green eyes that would remind her constantly of Tyler and tear her apart with every glance?
Tenderly, she placed the palm of her hand over the place where the baby lay. ‘You can’t know how I’ve prayed that he would be here to see you born,’ she whispered softly. ‘But he’s not coming for us, little one. Your father isn’t coming for us.’ A warm sad smile shone from her eyes as she stared ahead, ‘I have to let you go, Tyler,’ she murmured brokenly. ‘Or never know another moment’s peace for as long as I live.’
Slipping her arms into the robe, Beth raised herself from the bed and stood unsteadily for a while before tying the belt around her, afterwards making her way carefully across the bedroom. It was little more than twelve feet square, with faded green walls and a tiny prettily tiled fireplace that was presently emitting a cheery warmth from the glowing coals in the grate. An old cracked mirror hung from the picture rail above the fireplace; Beth could see herself in it now, fragmented and distorted. She smiled at the weird image, thinking how aptly it reflected the way she felt. The one small wardrobe was of the same light brown wood as the little chest of drawers that stood beside the narrow dresser. There were two beds, each well-used and sagging in the middle, with shiny brass knobs atop the corner struts of the iron frame; a hand-stitched eiderdown in coloured squares covered each bed, and a small crucifix hung on the wall between them. The bed nearest the window was Beth’s, and the other was Cissie’s; but since Beth was nearing her birthing, Maisie had swapped beds with her young daughter, dispatching the protesting Cissie into the next bedroom to share with her brother, who had protested even more vehemently: ‘Don’t want no girl in my room.’ But Maisie had shouted down his objections. ‘You’ll do as yer told!’ she had instructed them both. ‘Else yer can bloody well sleep in the yard wi’ the rats.’
After that, the complaints ended and the two youngsters made the best of the situation. Often they could be heard talking into the early hours, Cissie recounting her dreams of being ‘rich and famous one day’, and Matthew laughing good-naturedly. ‘I’ll be rich and famous afore you, Cissie Armstrong!’ he told her with pride. After all, he was the man of the house now, wasn’t he? And she was ‘only a snotty-nosed girl’.
‘Good Lord above, woman!’ Maisie was just pouring the hot steaming broth into an earthenware bowl when she swung round to see Beth emerging from the stairway. ‘Whatever do yer think yer doing?’ Rushing forward she took Beth by the arm, intending to turn her gently about. ‘You’ll get right back to bed this very minute, my girl!’ she ordered, her homely face creased in anxiety. ‘Else I’ll fetch the doctor an’ no mistake!’
Stiffening herself, Beth pleaded: ‘No, Maisie. Let me stay down here with you. I’ll be fine, honestly.’ When she felt the dear woman’s hand relax on her, she looked straight into those concerned violet eyes, saying in a firm voice, ‘I can’t stand being cooped up there in the bedroom. And it makes me feel guilty, having you running about after me. There’s nothing wrong with me, Maisie. I can’t come to any harm sitting down here, now can I?’
Maisie wasn’t too easily convinced. There were certain signs in Beth that had her worried. For a start her
colour was too high, and the ankles that had been dainty and trim were slightly swollen. On top of all that, the baby seemed not to be lying as low as it should be at such a late stage. All the same, though, if Beth was getting agitated cooped up in the bedroom, happen it would be best if she did sit down here awhile. After all, she would be under Maisie’s eagle eye the whole time, so like Beth rightly argued, what harm could she come to?
‘All right then,’ Maisie conceded, pointing to the big old rocking chair beside the fire-range. ‘Sit yerself there, an’ mind yer don’t move, my girl! Else it’s back up them stairs an’ no mistake!’
With great fuss and deliberation she insisted on helping Beth across the room and into the chair, afterwards setting the bowl of hot broth and a chunk of her best crusty bread on to a wooden tray, which she then wedged on Beth’s ever diminishing lap. ‘Get that down yer, my girl,’ she said, standing before Beth with her chubby legs wide apart and her podgy fists on her hips. ‘Every drop, mind,’ she warned.
‘You’re an old tyrant,’ Beth teased. But the rich warm aroma from the broth had made her realise just how hungry she was, and so, under Maisie’s relentless scrutiny, she finished it off right down to the last spoonful, intermittently breaking up the crusty bread and soaking it in the thick relish of barley, onions, potatoes and meat. Afterwards she gave Maisie a cheeky smile, telling her, ‘There! You don’t have to stand over me now. Unless you want me to eat the bowl as well!’
‘No,’ Maisie replied with a smile. ‘But I’ll make us a fresh brew of tea, and the pair of us can sit an’ talk awhile. ’ She bent to collect the tray from Beth’s lap. ‘What do you say to that, eh?’
Don’t Cry Alone Page 15