Kelly dug her long pink nails into her palms to halt her tears. She would not let herself think about it. She was only nineteen and who wanted to be tied down with a squalling baby at her age? Mick Todd had done her a favour really. Carol was welcome to him. The man she ended up with would love her and take care of her and they’d have all the babies she wanted in time.
She turned and smiled at Sid. ‘Give us a kiss, Sid man,’ she ordered.
He tasted of pickled onions and beer, but she enjoyed the warmth of his embrace, the quickening of desire that he always aroused in her. Sid would probably do.
They never went back into the club, but slipped away and ended up in one of the shelters round the bowling green. Later, a little drunk on beer and lust, Sid said to her, ‘Why don’t we get wed, Kelly? I’ve always fancied you. How about it?’
It was hardly the romantic moment she had dreamed of, chilly and rain-spattered on a bench by the bowling green, with an inebriated Sid struggling back into his trousers. Still, it would be something to boast to Carol on her return from honeymoon. And it would mean escape from Mafeking Terrace and cancel out for ever the mistake she had made with Mick Todd.
‘Aye, go on then,’ Kelly agreed.
Sid looked at her in surprise as if he had not expected such a quick victory.
Kelly gazed at him dubiously. ‘You’ll not forget what you’ve said in the morning, will you?’
Sid laughed. ‘Come here and give us a kiss, Mrs Kelly Armstrong-to-be!’
Kelly giggled and snuggled into his hold, liking the sound of her new name. Maybe this was what she had been looking for all along, she thought with rising optimism, and kissed him back.
Chapter Ten
1979
Carol lumbered to the door of their colliery house in Dominion Terrace and turned her face to the early May sunshine. Mick had gone over to Grandda Bowman’s to drive him to the polling station in their new red Cavalier. They had kept the motorbike for old times’ sake, but it stood in the yard, shrouded in tarpaulin and unused for months. Mick had said, ‘We’ll not be needing it any more now the bairn’s on the way. It’s time we had a family car - fill it up with little Todds.’
Carol rubbed her aching back and felt the baby stir restlessly. She looked down at her inflated body and laughed. ‘There’s no room in there any more, is there, little pet? Well, don’t think of coming today, ‘cos your dad’s busy with the election and politics comes first in this family - you’ll soon learn that.’
‘Who you talking to?’ Linda startled her from behind. She had let herself in the back with her silent friend Denise, who followed like a faithful shadow. They were tall, bare-legged fifteen-year-olds with bored, stroppy expressions and Carol knew she would have them hanging around the house all day as the school was being used as a polling station. On several occasions recently Linda had been playing truant and she was impatient to leave school at the end of term when she would turn sixteen, though to do what, Carol had no idea.
‘I was having a conversation with your nephew or niece-to-be,’ Carol smiled.
‘Weird. Do you think it can hear?’ Linda asked, stretching out green-painted fingernails to touch Carol’s bump. Linda was into heavy metal now and was growing her fair hair long and shaggy to cover the love bites she acquired on weekends at the pub discos she and Denise sneaked into without their parents knowing. ‘Eeh, I felt it move! Denise, have a feel.’
But her friend just stood there mutely uninterested, her wrists jangling with bracelets as she pushed back her jet black hair in an impatient gesture.
‘You go on in,’ Carol told them, ‘and put the kettle on. You can help me with the jewellery later.’
They padded back into the terraced house in their bare feet and Carol heard the blare of the television as the girls made themselves at home. She sighed and sat on the step, rubbing the neck of Magpie, their stray black and white cat that had turned up over a year ago and found the place to his liking and so stayed. Mick had been optimistic that the black and white cat was an omen of good fortune for both them and Newcastle United and so had given him the club’s nickname. Magpie appeared to have done more for them than for Mick’s favourite football team, Carol thought, as she sat out of the sea breeze feeling lazy and content like a becalmed vessel, not wanting to move.
She and Mick were happy together in their own home, which they had decorated in fresh yellows and blues and whites: seaside colours, as they had explained to a sceptical Lotty. Carol had decorated the bathroom and kitchen with collages of shells and driftwood and pieces of old fish netting that Captain Lenin had given her. She had painted fish and crabs on the tiles and now she was selling her hand-painted tiles and shell jewellery in Val’s shop. It was a side-line she intended keeping going once the baby was born and now that she had finally finished at Vic’s office.
Her brother-in-law had offered to take her back on in six months’ time but without offering her any maternity benefits in the meantime and Carol had thought it a good excuse not to go back. Even the fact that she was noticeably pregnant had not stopped Vic’s attentions - nothing that could be really complained about, just a touch here, the lingering of a hand there, the standing too close and the suggestive remarks. She did not need to put up with Vic’s innuendoes any more; Mick was making decent money at the pit and she would soon have their baby to love and look after.
Fay was a different matter. Since the wedding, Carol had kept in touch with her sister and offered to help out when Fay gave birth to twin girls shortly afterwards. At first she had been rebuffed and the designer-dressed babies, Jasmine and Ngaio, had been cared for by a succession of young live-in nannies. But none of them had stayed more than two months and Carol had wondered if this was owing to the interference of a fussing Nancy or the unwelcome attentions of Vic. Probably both, Carol sighed.
The outcome was that on the days when Nancy was occupied with aerobics and coffee mornings or shopping in Sunderland and Newcastle, Fay now frequently dropped off the young toddlers at Carol’s small house while she rushed off to her successful healthfood shops.
Occasionally Carol met her mother at Fay’s, having pushed the twins back up to Brassy in their de luxe double pushchair, but they had avoided any personalconversation by fussing over the girls. Her father she had not spoken to for nearly two years.
Carol heard the loud-hailer of a campaigning car reach the top of the street and stood up to see if her father-in-law was in it. There was talk of the Conservatives getting into power after the industrial unrest of the winter and the mood in Septimus Street had been gloomy for weeks. Even an amusing letter from Eddy working in the Midlands did not seem to have cheered them up and Carol wished Mick’s friendly uncle had not suddenly up and left last year to work away. It appeared Eddy was never going to settle down. Poor, faithful Lesley had finally tired of waiting for him. At Christmas, Paul Dimarco had begun to court her and by Easter they had married. Lesley had left the pit canteen to help her husband in his cafe.
Suddenly a sharp twinge gripped Carol’s belly and she cried out in pain. The campaign van sped past and she saw her father-in-law wave grimly, but she could not wave back as she clutched herself.
‘I need Mick!’ she shouted instinctively, but the blare from the loud-hailer drowned out her cry and the van passed.
The jab of pain subsided and Carol felt foolish for panicking. She turned and went inside. Denise was riveted to the TV programme, but Linda was messing about with some shells and card and glue on the new blue sitting-room carpet. Carol was about to sit down when another spasm clutched her stomach and she gasped aloud.
‘I haven’t spilt owt!’ Linda cried defensively.
‘Ohh!’ Carol groaned again. ‘I’m not worried about that.’
‘What’s wrong, Carol?’ Linda demanded in alarm. ‘Bloody hell, you’re not going to have the baby here on the new carpet, are you?’
Carol laughed through the pain. ‘I think I get more warning than that, Linda man.’
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br /> Linda scrambled to her feet and gave Denise a shove. ‘Haway, our Carol’s going to have her baby! Let’s go and find Mam, she’ll know what to do.’
Denise stirred reluctantly and got up, shaking the crumbs off her lap from the last of Carol’s biscuits.
‘Linda,’ Carol stopped her. ‘Just go and tell Mick to get himself home while I ring the hospital, will you?’
‘I don’t like to leave you on your own,’ Linda said, looking unsure.
‘I’ll be all right. I’ll ring Kelly at the shop if I need anyone.’
The girls fled and Carol went upstairs to pack some things for the hospital, glancing in at the small bedroom they had done up for the baby in blue, because she was convinced it was an energetic boy she was carrying. By the time she got downstairs again, the contractions were fierce and more frequent. Carol was alarmed that it was all happening so quickly; everyone had kept telling her that she would be in for hours of labour with the first one.
Half an hour passed, but there was no sign of Mick. Then Lotty arrived, followed quickly by Kelly because the girls had gone flying into Val’s boutique and babbled about Carol’s pains.
Lotty saw the agony Carol was in already and shooed her on to the settee.
‘I think this one’s ready for off,’ her mother-in-law announced. ‘Call an ambulance now, Kelly.’
When Linda returned, having failed to track down Mick, Carol began to weep. She attempted to stand up, but at the movement a gush of liquid poured between her legs. Linda screamed and Carol flopped down, feeling faint.
‘It’s just your waters. Don’t go getting upset,’ Lotty chided. ‘You’ll need all your breath to get this baby out. Linda, upstairs and get some sheets and towels.’ Both Carol and Linda stared at her in horror. ‘Just in case the ambulance is too late. Gan on, Linda!’
‘I’m off,’ Denise said abruptly and disappeared. They were the first words Carol could remember her saying for weeks and this unnerved her more than anything.
‘Well, fat lot of use she is when she’s needed,’ Linda complained and clattered upstairs. Carol lay breathing hard, listening to Linda banging cupboard doors in search of sheets.
‘Take them off the bed!’ Lotty shouted up. ‘Breathe deeply, pet, until you feel the next contraction.’
Carol relaxed a little at her mother-in-law’s calm directions as she bustled about. Kelly came out of the kitchen, saying the ambulance was on its way. She took one look at Carol’s agonised face and retreated. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
Ten minutes later, Lotty had Carol stripped of her maternity dungarees and underpants and lying on a bed of towels over bin liners in an attempt to save the new settee, and was giving instructions to pant and not push. At this point Linda lay down on the floor, complaining of faintness and left Kelly to hold Carol’s hand.
Carol panted and roared and sobbed as the labour took hold and engulfed her body in waves of pain. She could feel the baby’s head now between her legs, tearing at her flesh.
‘Time to push now, when you feel the contractions,’ Lotty ordered gently. ‘Go with it, pet.’
Carol pushed and felt relief she could now flow with the pain rather than be battered by it. As she yelled and pushed, she was aware of someone else in the room behind her.
‘You get yourself next door to Evelyn’s,’ Lotty commanded sharply.
Carol stretched round to see Mick standing in the doorway, stunned by the scene.
‘Carol?’ he gasped in concern, rooted to the spot.
‘Stay,’ Carol croaked. ‘Please.’
Mick looked between his mother and wife, quite paralysed by the unexpected sight of the frantic women and the smell of blood. Carol was seized by another contraction and started to push again.
‘Come over here, you soft bugger!’ Kelly ordered. ‘Take Carol’s hand and help her bring out the bairn.’
Mick moved quickly to his wife’s side and let her grip his hand hard, not daring to look at what was happening at the other end of the settee. Lotty and Kelly shouted encouragement, while Linda rolled over and switched on the TV to drown out the noise.
Carol was vaguely aware of a commentary about the election as her baby thrust into the world on to the gold Dralon settee. They were interviewing voters coming out of a polling station.
‘What is it?’ she croaked, still panting. Mick craned over cautiously.
Lotty was bundling the slippery infant into a towel. ‘A girl,’ she said, with a relieved smile. ‘Look, her eyes are already open.’
Mick took the bundle and held her close so Carol could see. ‘She’s sharp, just like her mam,’ he said hoarsely and kissed Carol tenderly.
Carol held her daughter and felt tears of triumph and emotion flood down her face. Her baby had dark eyes that seemed to hold her gaze as if to say she had not been able to wait any longer to be with her.
‘She’s bonny!’ Mick boasted.
‘She’s bald,’ Linda pointed out, having crept forward to look.
‘She’s both,’ Carol laughed and hugged her closer protectively and kissed her sweet, puckered face. She was ready to smother this baby with the love she had been denied as a child. For the first time in her life she felt gripped by a strong sense of purpose and it made her deliriously happy.
‘What are you going to call her?’ Linda asked.
‘Anything but Margaret, please,’ Lotty winked, ‘or Charlie’ll not speak to you both.’
Carol and Mick exchanged looks.
‘She’s Laura Kelly,’ Carol announced with a tired smile and looked over at her oldest friend. ‘Laura ‘cos we like the name and Kelly ‘cos we’d like you to be godmother.’
For a moment Kelly stared at her with a strange look and then she laughed, a little hysterically. That instant, they heard a siren blaring outside as the ambulance arrived.
‘I’ll let them in,’ Kelly said, still laughing, and rushed from the room.
Carol sank back, too exhausted to think of Kelly’s reaction as strange.
It was only Lotty who, two hours later, finding the red-haired Kelly in the back yard crying her eyes out, pondered on it. Afterwards she told Charlie that she thought it odd and wondered what had really gone on between Kelly and their son. ‘Do you think the lass could be jealous of Carol being so happy with our Mick?’
But her husband was not listening, for by that time it was clear that the Conservatives had won the election and that Margaret Thatcher was making history as the first British woman Prime Minister.
‘Margaret Thatcher, the milk snatcher!’ Charlie growled with disgust. ‘Now we’re about to find out what else she wants to snatch from working people.’
‘Come to bed,’ Lotty yawned, too weary with the day’s events to worry about tomorrow.
‘Aye,’ Charlie said, deeply despondent, ‘we might as well get some kip now, for we’ll not dare sleep for the next four years.’
Chapter Eleven
1983
In the autumn that Laura started school, Carol went back to work for Val Bowman. She and Mick had finally bought their own house, but Carol felt achingly lonely when she returned from seeing Laura safely into school, her new winter coat unbuttoned and hung on its peg and her sandshoe bag hanging next to it. Where had her babyhood gone? Carol wondered tearfully, gazing at her daughter’s chuckling baby face and mass of fair curls in the photograph on the mantelpiece. Since the startling birth, Carol had immersed herself in caring for Laura. But now her daughter did not need her as much, would never be as dependent on her again, and she had taken Val’s offer of a job to fill the great void in her life.
What a companion Laura had been these past four and a half years, Carol thought tenderly, and what a bridge builder. For Laura had been the catalyst for the truce with her parents. They could have gone on for years not speaking. But Lotty gently chivvied her into going round to see them with Laura.
‘Seems a shame for them not to see what a bonny grandbairn they’ve got.’
�
�They’re quite happy spoiling Jasmine and Ngaio,’ Carol had answered, fearful of the idea.
‘Those little terrors!’ Lotty had snorted. ‘Let your mam and dad see what they’re really missing - a granddaughter to be proud of.’
So Carol had plucked up courage and gone one Saturday afternoon when Mick had been playing rugby away at Horden. She found her father alone in the garden. Laura had tottered over to see him, fallen into a tray of new bedding plants and Ben had reached her before Carol could. Laura had put a pudgy, soily hand into his mouth and grinned at him with her gummy smile and Carol had seen her father’s stern face soften.
He had become quite boyish and taken his granddaughter round to the side lawn where an array of garden swings and slides and climbing frames had been erected for Fay’s girls. Ben put Laura gently into a baby swing and chuckled at her enjoyment.
‘Jasmine and Ngaio spend about five minutes on all this and then say they’re bored,’ he confided.
He asked Carol polite questions about her house and her jewellery-making, until she could not bear the falseness of it all and said she would have to go. All her pent-up anger at his violent rejection of her and her new family, his refusal to come to her wedding and the wasted years of not speaking, threatened to boil over. She was so furious with him! But she bit back angry words so as not to upset the unsuspecting Laura. With the innocence of a baby, Laura accepted everyone she met with the same uncritical warmth and trust; Carol wished she could protect her daughter from the pain of growing up.
‘Tell Mam I came round,’ she mumbled.
‘Stay till she comes back from shopping,’ he urged and Carol had the impression he really did not want her to go.
Durham Trilogy 03. Never Stand Alone Page 12