by Martina Cole
Molly was an intrinsically selfish woman, and the decision once made was easy to accept.
She followed Briony from the house and out to her car.
Kerry was in pain, a deep racking pain that surprised her with its ferocity. Nothing had prepared her for the sheer agony, the feeling of having her body split into two.
‘Oh, it hurts, Bri. It’s a fucking nightmare!’
Briony smiled. ‘I know. I remember me own labour. Not the pain, you forget the pain. But the memory of being a part of something bigger than you doesn’t ever fade.’
‘Never again, I’ll never do this again.’
The midwife laughed now. ‘If I had a penny, love, for every time someone said that to me, I’d be a millionaire!’
Kerry grimaced as she was once more torn in two. ‘I want to bear down. It’s coming. I can feel it.’
Molly sat in a chair by the window looking out at the snow which was now a blizzard. A thick whiteness covered the roofs of the houses and all the gardens looked beautiful. She heard the grunting of her daughter as she pushed and bit on her lip.
‘Please, dear Mary at the throne of Christ, don’t let this child breathe. Let it be born dead.’
The prayer came from her mouth in a whisper. She heard her daughter grunting again, remembered her own births, particularly the dead boy. She wished now he had lived. He would have been coming up to manhood. A big strong son, with her blonde good looks and his father’s strength.
Kerry’s breathing changed and the midwife pushed everyone away. Pulling back the covers, she exposed Kerry’s bottom half. Her legs wide open on the bed, she lay back against the pillows and began to push.
Briony stared fascinated as a darkness appeared between Kerry’s thighs. A deep blackness. Briony shrieked with delight.
‘Its head’s here, I can see its head!’ She laughed out loud in excitement.
At the window, Molly closed her eyes, her prayers intensifying.
‘Dear God, in all your wisdom, take the child from her. Don’t let it ruin the rest of her life. Make it go away. Take its breath as it comes into the world.’
Kerry had her sweating face on her chest, a deep animal-sounding moan escaping her lips as she gave another great push.
Her whole body screamed out with the pain inside her. In her mind she begged God to take the child from between her legs before she fainted away with the pain!
Briony and Bernadette both clapped their hands in excitement as the baby pushed its head out from inside its mother.
The midwife looked at its face and stood stock still. It was so dark. Its skin was dark. Then, her natural instincts taking over, she said, ‘It’s got the cord caught. The cord’s around its neck.’
Hooking her little finger underneath the cord, she pulled it over the child’s head.
‘Now come on, Kerry, give one more push. It’s nearly over, love, nearly over... Come on, push.’
Kerry answered crossly, ‘I am pushing for fuck’s sake.’
Then, after one more almighty push, she felt a queer sensation come over her body. The child slipped easily from her and she felt a great peace. Relaxing back on to the pillows, she let out a deep-throated, heavy sigh.
Briony looked at the child on the newspapers underneath Kerry’s buttocks. It was covered in blood and vernix. It was not very dark! It was the cord around its neck that had made it look so black. It was nearly white. Foreign-looking, but not black.
‘Oh, Kerry, she’s beautiful. Gorgeous!’
Kerry pulled her head and shoulders off the bed and laughed delightedly.
‘Is it a girl? Let me have a look then!’
The midwife cut the cord and the baby gave a lusty cry. Over at the window, Molly felt the sting of tears. It was alive then, this baby. It lived.
Briony picked up the precious bundle and gave it to Kerry, Bernadette was crying softly, and Briony, Kerry and Bernie all bent over the tiny scrap of humanity and admired it.
Kerry’s voice was incredulous. ‘Briony, she’s nearly white! Look at her, she looks white!’
Molly heard the words and turned from the window.
‘Mum, Mum, look at her. She’s beautiful. Oh, she is beautiful.’
Kerry’s voice had the tired pride of many a woman before her. The midwife carried on cleaning her up, acting deaf as she heard the exclamations around her about the lightness of the child’s skin. So that was what all the secrecy was for. The big wad of money she had been promised. Kerry Cavanagh had stepped way out of line if the father was a black man. Well, the child was dark enough to cause comment. Not that anyone would say a word to their faces, of course.
Molly stepped gingerly towards the bed, and as she caught sight of the child, let out a long slow breath. It was dark, but it wasn’t black. It could be a Jewish child, or an Italian. She nearly smiled at the grim irony of an Irish Catholic over the moon for a child that looked like a Jew. But that’s how desperate she had become.
‘She’s lovely, Kerry, a very beautiful child indeed.’ Molly’s voice came out much happier than she had expected. It was the relief. The relief of seeing a nearly white child that had done it. And the little girl was beautiful, she was one of the most beautiful children Molly had ever clapped eyes on, and when Kerry pushed the child towards her she took it instinctively.
But as she looked down on the baby’s features, the child yawned, its mouth a pink hole in its dark face, and the revulsion she felt was almost tangible. So deep was her dislike for this innocent child, it took all her might and willpower not to throw it from her physically. Instead, she passed it to Briony who took the small bundle tenderly. Laying it on the bed beside its mother, she unswaddled it from its blanket and kissed the tiny hands and feet, even though they were still bloody.
‘Oh, Kerry, I love her to death already. She is beautiful, wonderful. I could kiss her and eat her!’
Bernadette and Kerry laughed.
‘You’re bloody mad! Oh, Kerry, she is lovely though. Look at those great big eyes, she’ll break a few hearts when she grows up.’
The child’s deep black eyes reminded everyone of what she was and the room went quiet. Kerry pulled her baby to her naked breasts and said softly, ‘Oh, Briony, I never believed I could love something so much. But I do. Oh, God help me, I do.’
Briony smiled down at her sister and put her hand on top of hers where it held the child’s head.
‘I told you, didn’t I? And I’ll tell you something else. That feeling never goes away. I know that myself. Isn’t that right, Mum?’ All the animosity had gone from Briony now as she looked at her mother, and Molly, feeling a great big lump in her throat, said: ‘No, Bri. You never lose that feeling for your children. No matter what they do.’
Even as she spoke the words, she knew they were lies. Kerry was nothing to her now, and this grandchild was even less. The knowledge, accepted and admitted, was nevertheless true. And like most truths, the knowledge ripped her apart inside, because it hurt.
It was Christmas Day. No one had slept, but the dinner was still festive and gregarious. Molly was drinking heavily, and no one minded. The whole house was full of good will and camaraderie. Molly sat in the kitchen with Mrs Horlock, who was also full of beer, and the two women discussed the situation in the house in hushed tones.
Mrs Horlock could sympathise with Molly, even though she couldn’t totally agree with her. The new child had been adopted by the whole household. Briony and Bernadette could not bear to be away from her for any length of time, and they all talked about her incessantly.
Upstairs in Kerry’s room Briony looked at the baby for the thousandth time and said, ‘She is the best Christmas present ever. All we need now is Eileen’s little baby and we’ll have a whole new generation of Cavanaghs under one roof.’
Kerry got upset, knowing that Briony was thinking of her own son who was enjoying his Christmas Day with others.
‘Thanks for standing by me, Bri.’ Her voice was thick with tears, the enormity of wh
at she had done just now hitting her. Bernadette and Briony cuddled her as she wept.
‘I don’t know why I’m crying, I’ve never been so happy in me life!’
Bernadette laughed out loud.
‘You’re just tired, that’s all. Mum always cried after a baby.’
Briony nodded in agreement.
‘Mum cried because she wasn’t sure how she was going to afford the new arrival. Well, Kerry ain’t got no worries on that score.’
‘That’s the truth. Come on, Kerry, drink your glass of port. The midwife said it will build your blood up, whatever that means!’
Bernadette held the glass to her lips and Kerry sipped the thick red liquid as she had been told.
She wiped her eyes with her fingers. ‘How’s you and Marcus, Bern?’
‘We’re all right. He’s getting me a ring after Christmas. At least, we’ve talked about it anyway.’
Briony made a face, making Kerry laugh through her tears. ‘That should please Mother, a respectable married woman in the family. Good luck to you, Bern, he’s a nice bloke.’
‘Give me the baby, Bri.’ Briony picked up the child and placed her in her mother’s arms.
‘What you going to call her?’
Bernadette cried: ‘How about Noel, as it’s Christmas?’
Briony tutted loudly.
‘Don’t be stupid, Bernie, that’s like naming her Turkey.’
They all laughed.
‘How about Christine then, the feminine of Christopher? Bearer of Christ? It is Christmas after all, the birthday of Christ himself. Christine.’ She tried the name again. ‘That’s a nice name.’
Kerry shook her head.
‘No, I know what I’m going to call her.’
Briony and Bernie stared at her.
‘Well, bleeding tell us then!’
Kerry smiled down at her daughter and said, ‘Liselle. It was Evander’s mother’s name. It’s all I can give her of her father.’
Briony nodded.
‘It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Look at that hair! It’s already long and curly.’ She poked her face down at the child. ‘Lissy, Lissy Cavanagh, can you hear us, eh? We’re all talking about you. You’re the only little girl in England, in the world in fact, with three mums!’
They all laughed again.
‘Lissy! Her name’s Liselle.’ Kerry’s voice was indignant.
‘Oh, come on, Kel. It’s a bit of a gobful, ain’t it?’
Bernie agreed. She stroked the little girl’s hair and said, ‘Lissy is nice, it suits her. It’s soft somehow. She’ll be Lissy to me, I think.’
Kerry grinned.
‘Oh, all right! Lissy it is. I wonder how Eileen will get on when her time comes?’
Briony shrugged.
‘She’ll be all right. I hope she has a boy, then we’ll have one of each! You’re still coming tomorrow, aren’t you, Bern? Only I was worried about driving down on me own in this weather.’
‘Marcus will drive us, he’s coming later anyway. By the way, have you opened your presents? I mean other than this big present here!’
They both shook their heads and Bernadette ran from the room to get all their presents from under the tree.
Liselle snuffled into her mother’s breast and, looking down at her, Kerry felt a rush of protective love.
‘I’m glad Mum came. I didn’t think she would. Did she take much persuading?’
Briony shook her head, saying lightly, ‘Nah, in fact I got the impression she was glad to be asked, you know?’
Kerry grinned.
‘Love her, I bet she was relieved all the hag was over.’ Briony got off the bed and walked to the window. ‘Look at that weather. I’m looking forward to seeing Eileen tomorrow, I hope the weather don’t stop us.’
Kerry pushed herself painfully up on the pillows. ‘I shouldn’t think it’ll deter you, Briony. I like it to snow at Christmas. It’s fitting somehow.’
Briony agreed, glad the conversation had veered away from their mother.
Bernadette came in with her arms full of presents. Kerry gave the baby to her and she and Briony began opening theirs.
Briony picked up a small present wrapped in gold paper. She opened it carefully, a deep abhorrence of wasting anything stopped her tearing the paper apart. Inside was a small velvet box. She opened the lid and gasped.
Lying on plush red velvet was a choker. It was a large diamond-studded B with either side a thick black ribbon with which to tie it around her neck.
Kerry and Bernadette both gasped along with her.
‘Bloody hell, Bri, that’s some present! Who’s it from?’ Briony shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Kerry.’
Bernadette smiled then, taking a small envelope from her skirt pocket, gave it to Briony.
‘Marcus was asked to deliver it, here’s the card that went with it.’
Ripping open the envelope, Briony pulled out the card. It had a silhouette of a woman against a gold background. Opening it, she read: ‘Happy Christmas, Briony. I saw this and I had to buy it for you. Because you are a B, in the nicest sense of the word. Be happy, Tommy.’
Briony’s eyes burned with tears. He hadn’t forgotten her, and even if they weren’t together, as she wanted, he was saying he still cared about her. If he still cared enough to do this, there was hope for them yet.
Briony fingered the beautiful choker with wonder. What with the birth of Liselle, and the present from Tommy, a present that said though they were no longer a couple he still thought of her, still admired her, this was a better Christmas than she could ever have anticipated.
Chapter Thirty-one
‘So what do you think then? It’s March now, we could have the opening night for the Manor in ten days. Make it a Friday night and we can cater to the clients for the weekend. Those who want to stay on, of course.’
Mariah watched Briony from under heavy lids. ‘If you want the opening then, that’s fine with me. It was you who delayed it to build a swimming pool.’
Mariah had been set against the pool, the conservatory to house it had cost a small fortune on its own. That was without getting the pool dug, and the mosaic tiling which Briony insisted had to be the best. She hoped it wasn’t going to be a big white elephant.
Briony smiled. ‘Listen to me, Mariah, I know one thing, and that is you have to spend money to make money. Men are going to pay a small fortune to use that house, and you get what you pay for. It’s a good excuse for the girls to be undressed as well. I think women walking around half-naked in a house like that doesn’t really give the right impression. We can dress them in wonderful costumes. They can skinny dip, cavort all night in six foot of water, I don’t care. But it adds to the value of the property and it’s something different. Most large estates are having pools put in, along with tennis courts. It’s a sign of wealth and also a sign of the times. It will pay for itself in six months.’
Mariah lit another cigarette and pulled on it hard. ‘You do realise there’s a depression out there?’ She pointed at the window.
‘Depressions only affect the little people, never the big ones. And we are big people, don’t ever forget that.’
Mariah shook her head. ‘What about all this talk of more strikes...’
Briony interrupted her.
‘I ain’t interested in all that. Let them strike’til the cows come home. It don’t affect us, or the people we deal with. I have five cabinet ministers champing at the bloody bit to get into the Manor. I’ve made sure it’s talked about in my houses, as I hope you have and all. The rich are like the poor, they’ll always be with us, and if I can remove a portion of their wealth, and ding it in me own pocket, I will. I don’t know what’s got into you lately, Mariah, you’re like a bear with a sore arse!’
She laughed.
‘I don’t know, Bri. There’s trouble brewing in this country...’
Briony cut her off impatiently.
‘Then let it brew. Once it affects my businesses, I
’ll take an interest. My betting boys have never done so well, so there’s money somewhere. But then there’s always money for a bet, even when there ain’t none to feed their kids. That’s my working class, Mariah. A pint of Watney’s, jellied eels or pie and mash, and a bet on a Saturday night. The old woman in best bib and tucker down the local with the old man, a few gins, a good row or a good fuck, depending. Those are the people you’re talking about. Christ almighty, what do you want from me? I ain’t interested in those people. I give to charity, I do me bit for the orphans, and I also make sure no one on my manor goes too hungry. That is it. I ain’t old JC himself, and quite frankly, I don’t want to be. So drop all your bleeding hearts’ speeches and let’s get the bloody Manor up and running.’
Mariah nodded in agreement. ‘All right, I was only saying! How’s Kerry and Lissy, by the way?’ Mariah’s voice was genuinely interested. Lissy had captured the heart of everyone she came into contact with.
‘Oh, she’s great, my Lissy. You want to see her now. She’s growing by the day. Her eyes are like dark pools. Honestly, Mariah, she’s exquisite. Clever and all! She pulls her head up to look round. Now would you credit that, not four months old yet?’
‘She’s strong, I felt her grip last time I saw her. She’ll be a beauty and all. That long black hair. I’ve never seen such hair on a child.’
Briony smiled widely.
‘And how’s Eileen faring?’
Briony’s smile faded.
‘She ain’t right, Mariah. Due any day, too. That nun’s coming tonight, Sister Mary Magdalene. I think she’ll be a great help. Eileen really thinks the world of her, she can get through to her. But she’s so thin! No matter what you give her to eat, she don’t put on a pound. All she has is this great big belly, and her arms and legs are stick thin! She looks weird.’
Mariah nearly said ‘She is weird’, but stopped herself. She couldn’t take to Eileen but could never tell that to Briony.
‘What’s the doctor said?’
Briony shrugged. ‘Not a lot. Just that her nerves are not all they could be. She drinks port wine every day for her blood and eats plenty of liver, once more for her blood, and takes a lot of rest. In fact, she ain’t got out of bed this last three weeks. I reckon she should be made to have a walk or something. The room stinks of her. I know that’s horrible but it’s a bitter smell. It’s in her sweat, I think.’