by Comfort Me
James covered her face with kisses again. ‘Anna, I love you. I’m the luckiest man alive,’ he said, and she realised that tears were sliding down his face. She said nothing though, only kissed him tenderly and held him close to her. O God, let me make him happy, she prayed silently. Let me make it up to him for that awful childhood.
They slept, then woke to make love again, then slept again. They rose early and bathed and dressed but over breakfast they were unable to stop smiling at each other.
Every touch of their fingers as they passed the breakfast things to each other sent a tingle through them and Julia watched them indulgently. ‘Sure they’re terrible happy this morning,’ she told Frances. ‘They must be glad the doctor took that madwoman away.’
‘Dorrie was a lovely girl, Julia,’ Frances said. ‘Real beautiful and a lovely nature. Always the pleasant word and a nice smile.’
‘She didn’t look beautiful yesterday,’ Julia said. ‘Far from it and screeching like a fishwife. The poor missis was properly upset.’
‘She must have taken strange ways living down in London,’ Frances said. ‘Or else she’s taken after her mother. God forbid. Still, the main thing is Anna and James are happy. God knows they deserve to be.’
‘Indeed, aren’t they kindness itself to everyone,’ Julia said. ‘I say a prayer every night for Dr O’Brien for finding me this place. I’m so happy here.’
‘And I pray every night that they’ll be blessed with a baby. It’s the one thing needed to make life perfect for all of us,’ said Frances. ‘You know, girl, I never thought I could care about anyone the way I care about James, because he’s like a son to me, but I love Anna just as much. If I could have picked anyone in the whole world for him it would have been her.’
‘Indeed, as God made them He matched them,’ Julia said, then she said practically, ‘Are you all right, Miss O’Neill, or will I pour out some medicine for you?’
‘No, I’m fine. A good talk does me as much good as a bottle of medicine,’ Frances laughed.
The following weeks were like a honeymoon for Anna and James. Their nights were filled with passion and they drifted through the days in a state of bliss, although they managed to appear normal.
‘I feel as though I’m living on two levels,’ James told Anna. ‘On one, I’m the sober chief clerk chasing an insurance claim for crates damaged in transit, and on the other, your husband in a permanent state of bliss. What was that Shakespeare play where stardust was thrown in their eyes?’
‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ Anna said, laughing. ‘It’s the same with me, except I mix up the two levels. I’m altering clothes for the poor children, or helping in the kitchens, and all the time I’m smiling like an idiot.’
Even when the first joy died down, they were still blissfully happy, enjoying every day. They did a great deal of entertaining and visiting but Anna felt unable to face visiting her mother. She saw her aunt at church and Clara asked why they had not been to the house in Westbourne Street.
‘I found that Mama was spreading lies about our marriage,’ Anna said. ‘I don’t feel I can visit her, at least not yet, but you are always welcome at our house. You know that, Aunt Clara.’
‘Yes, I know. I don’t blame you, Anna. She’ll never learn and she’ll finish up with nobody,’ Clara said. ‘Even Dorrie hasn’t been to see her for ages, too busy with her new friends, and she only writes scrappy letters now.’
Anna looked troubled but she said defensively, ‘She hurt me very much, Aunt Clara. If I went to see her now I’d feel a hypocrite.’
‘I understand, Anna. I know your mother’s pretended to be ill for years but she really is ill now. Brought most of it on herself of course. More worry for my poor brother.’
Anna repeated the conversation to James and told him she was uncertain what she should do. ‘With Father away it doesn’t seem fair to leave it all to Aunt Clara,’ she said. ‘As the elder daughter I should take the responsibility, but I don’t know how I could speak to her, let alone kiss her.’
James considered for a moment, then said, ‘If you don’t go, Anna, you’ll be worrying about it all the time. We could go for a brief formal call. I’ll do most of the talking and if Clara’s there she’ll help.’
‘Why should you, James?’ Anna said. ‘It’s not your problem.’
‘Of course it is, if it’s worrying you,’ he said. ‘And she is my mother-in-law, no matter how unwillingly.’ He grinned, then said, ‘On a practical level, she won’t dare to be rude to you if I’m there, and you can just talk about – what is it you say – the price of fish.’
They went and the visit passed off easily. Anna could see that her aunt was right. Her mother looked shrunken and coughed constantly although the weather was mild. Anna spoke to her aunt in the kitchen. ‘Has the doctor seen her?’ she asked and Clara shrugged.
‘She won’t have Dr O’Brien because he’s been right about her for years and I think the other fellow, Dr Hogan, is useless. Just tells her what she wants to hear. That she must rest and take care of herself. When has she ever done anything else? Light, nourishing food, no exertion and no excitement.’
‘Is it too much for you, Aunt Clara?’ Anna asked. ‘I feel I should take some responsibility.’
‘No, I do what’s necessary and no more,’ said Clara. ‘She’s got Nelly waiting on her hand and foot. Why should you, anyway? She’s never given tuppence for you, it’s always been Dorrie this and Dorrie that. Well, let her come and take responsibility for her mother. Anyway, my brother’ll be home in a couple of months. Put it out of your head, Anna.’
Anna took her advice and found little time to dwell on it since her life was so full. In addition to their many friends and the garden, she was becoming more and more involved in working for the poor. When she was single she had gone with Kate Deagan to help to prepare dinners for destitute children and it had been a sad day for her when she had had to withdraw, no longer able to face the shame of being unable to donate money as the other women did. As soon as she had her own money after her marriage she returned enthusiastically to the scheme and also altered the unwanted clothes donated for the children.
‘I don’t know why you bother, Mrs Hargreaves,’ one lady said. ‘You know they usually finish up in the pawnshop anyway.’
‘Yes, but the children should enjoy wearing them while they can,’Anna said hotly.
One of the organisers, a Miss Bentley, a friend of Eleanor Rathbone, was nearby and she said, ‘I do agree, Mrs Hargreaves. All little girls like to look nice, it makes no difference that they’re poor.’
‘They’re only used to rags. These clothes are sent to cover their nakedness,’ the first woman said. Miss Bentley and Anna exchanged a glance and from then on were firm friends. Anna attended a meeting held by Eleanor Rathbone, who was now the first woman to be a Liverpool City Councillor, and agreed with her aims and ideals, although Anna was less concerned with wider issues, such as women’s suffrage.
She felt that she was bursting with energy and happiness and James told her he felt the same. ‘I feel as though I could move mountains,’ he said. Their nights of passion continued and they were not surprised a few weeks later when Dr O’Brien confirmed that Anna was expecting a baby.
‘Due late March, beginning of April, I’d say. It’s early days yet,’ he said. ‘I’m delighted, Anna, and I know you and James are. This baby will have a good start in life. Just be sensible. Don’t behave like an invalid but don’t do too much. No lifting or stretching and eat well.’
‘I won’t have much choice,’ Anna laughed. ‘Julia will surpass herself. I still feel guilty that you sent her to me and you could have had all this lovely food yourself.’
‘No, no. Mary suits us very well. I enjoy myself at other people’s tables but meals here are chancy affairs. I never know when I’ll be called out.’
‘I wonder whether it’ll be a girl or a boy,’ Anna said happily. ‘Either will be welcome,’ she added hastily.
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sp; The doctor sighed. ‘Yes, this is one I can be completely happy about,’ he said. ‘Too often down there round Great Homer Street I know half the babies delivered won’t see their first birthday. They don’t have a chance.’
‘I know. It’s not fair,’ Anna said. ‘But Miss Rathbone says it shouldn’t happen in a wealthy country like this.’
‘Yes, but what’s her solution?’ the doctor said and went on before she could answer, ‘Rowntree found that young couples marry, rent a room or rooms and are reasonably comfortable while there’s only two of them and even up to two children. With every child after that they become poorer and more desperate and the children have less chance.’
‘Miss Rathbone says the country should give them money for each child. She says we could afford it.’
‘She doesn’t say they should limit their families? That’s the usual cant,’ Dr O’Brien said. ‘How can they, Anna? It’s all right talking about a safe period but how can they work it out? It takes them all their time to survive, to find enough to eat and keep a roof of some kind over them. Someone said complete abstinence is the answer. Rubbish. It’s the only free pleasure they’ve got.’
Anna hid a smile, thinking that Mrs O’Brien would have a fit if she heard him, but she agreed with him.
‘But you don’t want to think about sad things now, Anna. You want to enjoy this moment,’ he said. ‘But I suppose you felt fairly sure anyway.’
‘I told James I did but we didn’t want to get too excited until I’d seen you. Thank you, doctor,’ Anna said.
She stood up and to her surprise the doctor came round and kissed her. ‘Congratulations!’ he said. ‘I’ll take care of you, never fear.’ As he opened the door for her he whispered, ‘This’ll put paid to Dorrie and your mother, anyway.’
Anna felt as though she was walking on air as she walked home. She glanced at the watch pinned to her dress. James had said he would try to come home at lunchtime and she hurried her steps. A few minutes after she entered the house he arrived.
‘Well?’ he asked.
She nodded, smiling. ‘Late March or early April,’ she said and he swept her into his arms, murmuring her name and kissing her.
They were still not talking coherently when Julia looked in, ‘Will I serve the lunch?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Nectar and ambrosia, please,’ James said, then at Julia’s puzzled face he said, ‘It’s all right. I’m only joking.’ As soon as Julia went he said eagerly to Anna, ‘Should we tell them? Julia and Frances. They should be the first to know.’
Anna would have liked to hug her secret to herself for a while but she knew James was bursting to announce the news. I could tell him, she thought, so he should be able to tell someone, so she agreed.
Luckily Julia had gone to Frances’s room so they followed and James sat down by Frances’s bed and took her hand. ‘We wanted you to be the first to know, and Julia,’ he said.
Before he could say any more Julia gasped, ‘You’re going to have a baby,’ and burst into tears, flinging her arms round Anna. James found that Frances was in his arms, kissing him and crying and he looked round the three weeping women.
‘God Almighty, I’ll never understand women,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d all be happy.’
‘We are,’ Anna told him. ‘That’s why we’re crying.’ He shook his head, smiling, and she said suddenly, ‘Listen, we won’t bother with a proper lunch. You stay and talk to Frances, James, and Julia and I will do some sandwiches to have in here – if that’s all right with you, Frances?’
Frances nodded, wiping her eyes, and Anna and Julia rapidly made beef and egg-and-cress sandwiches and a pot of tea. As Anna had looked at Frances and James together she had suddenly remembered how much Frances had helped him to endure and then recover from his awful childhood. Our baby will never experience anything like that, she thought thankfully.
Before he returned to the office James asked if he could tell Henry Mortimer. ‘Of course, whoever you like,’ Anna said gaily. ‘I think I should tell Aunt Clara before she hears it elsewhere, though.’
‘We could call into Westbourne Street tonight,’ said James. ‘Tell Aunt Clara and make a formal announcement to your mother.’
When James returned he told Anna that he had only told Henry his news. ‘Plenty of time to tell others,’ he said.
He refrained from telling her that Henry had advised this. ‘I’m sure everything will be fine but you never know with the first,’ he said. ‘We had two false starts and it was embarrassing. The fellows felt awkward. Better to wait, then toast the baby in style.’
James had brought home a bottle of champagne and before their meal he carried Frances into the dining room to lie on a sofa while they all drank to the good news. Julia and Anna had prepared a special meal and after it neither Anna nor James wanted to go out, especially not to Westbourne Street, but they knew it must be done. ‘I wish we hadn’t got to go,’ Anna groaned. ‘I’d love to just sit in the garden.’
But she was glad later that they had. Her mother’s face was a study when they made their announcement. Conflicting emotions passed over it and she stammered, ‘But I thought…’
‘Yes. You thought,’ James repeated in a challenging voice but she took refuge in easy tears, which could have been regarded as tears of joy. Clara was genuinely delighted and showered them with questions about when the child was due and their choice of names.
‘We haven’t had time to discuss that yet, Aunt,’ Anna said, laughing. ‘I only went to Dr O’Brien this morning.’
‘You’ll be well looked after with him. I’ve every confidence in him,’ Clara said, with a glance at her sister-in-law, but Mrs Furlong said nothing.
Anna wrote to her father and to Isabel with her news but not to Dorrie. ‘I feel mean about Michael,’ she said to James, ‘but I know Aunt Clara and my mother will write to tell Dorrie.’
She felt well and happy and immediately started to sew and knit a layette for the baby. Everything she made was shown to Frances, who talked constantly of holding the baby in her arms, but it was obvious to all of them that she was sinking fast.
Dr O’Brien gave her morphia to ease her pain. ‘It can’t matter now,’ he told Anna. ‘She won’t last long enough to become addicted to it and I’ve room to increase the dosage if she gets worse. It’s wonderful she’s lived so long, with the strain on her heart from the pain.’
Anna wept. ‘We’ll all miss her but James will be broken-hearted,’ she said. ‘She’s like a mother to him and she’s done so much to help him.’
‘Yes, and you’ve both been good to her. She had a rotten start in life, a selfish family, but her life changed for the better when James’s mother died.’
‘So did his,’Anna said grimly. ‘He’d have been lost without Frances.’
‘Well, she’s been happy for many years, especially since you came to this house. She told me she didn’t think she’d ever be as fond of anyone as she was of James, but that was before she met you. Don’t cry now, Anna. Think of how happy you’ve made her, holding court there in that lovely room.’
‘And scoring off her sister-in-law,’ Anna said, drying her eyes and smiling.
‘Have you heard from your sister?’ the doctor asked abruptly.
Anna shook her head. ‘No, but I haven’t written to her,’ she said. ‘I know Mama or Aunt Clara will give her the news about the baby.’
‘I thought she might have written to apologise,’ Dr O’Brien said, ‘but she’s probably trying to pretend it never happened.’
Anna smiled. ‘How well you know us all,’ she said.
It was true that Dorrie had dismissed the entire episode from her mind, including the quarrel with Michael. He was anxious to make a completely fresh start and never mentioned it but something had gone from their marriage, never to be replaced.
The letters from her mother and her Aunt Clara were a shock to Dorrie and made her face the fact that she had made a fool of herself. Clara’s letter, in particula
r, made the position clear.
‘Anna and James,’ she wrote, ‘are not people who make a great show but I have always thought them very well suited and happy together. This will be a crowning joy for them. Your mother seems to dislike the prospect of being a grandmother but your father will be delighted at the news.’
Mrs Furlong thought Anna and James very vulgar and brazen. ‘The sort of news which is whispered by one lady to another was announced by both of them with your brother-in-law ready to bite off my head if I spoke,’ she wrote.
In bed that night Michael heard Dorrie sobbing and took her in his arms. ‘I’m so unhappy,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t think I will ever have a baby. It’s God’s judgement on me for what I did.’
‘Nonsense,’ Michael said. ‘It’s early days yet. You’ve got to give yourself time to get Rafferty’s poison out of your system and then who knows? We could have a houseful in no time.’
‘Oh, Michael,’ Dorrie said, but she thought he was probably right and began to take Epsom salts, ‘as much as would lie on a sixpence’, in an effort to speed up the process.
Michael told her she should write to congratulate Anna and she made a vague promise, with no intention of keeping it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Isabel’s wedding had been planned for early October. Anna had made Isabel’s wedding dress in white satin and bridesmaids’ dresses for herself and Wilma, now a pretty blonde ten year old, in pink silk.
Isabel’s first question to Anna when she heard the news was whether she would still be able to be bridesmaid. ‘Of course,’ Anna laughed. ‘I might have to let out a seam or two but I’ll be quite respectable.’
‘That was selfish of me,’ Isabel said. ‘I’m truly happy for you and James, Anna, but I would hate to have anyone but you for my bridesmaid. It’s going to be hard enough…’ Her eyes filled with tears.