Walking My Baby Back Home

by Joan Jonker

  ‘Come on, I’ll give you a hand in the kitchen.’ When John stood up and stretched his arms above his head they nearly reached the ceiling. ‘I’m pretty good at doing poached eggs on toast, believe it or not.’

  ‘No, the kitchen’s too small for two of us, particularly with the size of you. We’d only get in each other’s way, so you sit down while yer’ve got the chance. I’ve a feeling it’s going to be a long day. Mind you, you don’t have to stay until the baby’s born, yer could go home and come back tonight. It may all be over by then, please God.’

  ‘No, I’m staying.’ John settled himself back in the chair. ‘I want to be one of the first to see the baby. I’ve never held a newborn baby in my arms and I’m really looking forward to it.’

  Dot went into the kitchen and John could hear her filling the kettle and lighting the gas stove. He was thinking about Mary, wondering what was going to happen after the baby was born and she had to go back to her own house and her brutal husband. His thoughts were interrupted by a sound which he couldn’t make out. Then he realised he could no longer hear Dot bustling around in the kitchen, and the sound he could hear was sobbing. He jumped to his feet and crossed the small room in three strides to find Dot leaning against the sink, her hands covering her face to muffle the sound of her weeping.

  ‘What is it, Dot? Why are you crying?’

  ‘I’m crying for the girl lying in Maggie’s bed, scared out of her wits.’ Her sobs became louder. ‘She’s not got one good thing in her life, nothing to look forward to. Even the baby is a worry to her because she knows what life’s going to be like for both of them with Tom Campbell.’

  John pulled her into his arms and rested her head on his chest. Stroking her hair, he said, ‘Don’t get yourself upset, Dot, or Mary will know you’ve been crying. You’ve done all you can for her, she couldn’t ask for a better friend. And when this is over, we’ll all pull together to help her.’

  Dot raised a tear-stained face. ‘You don’t understand, John. She hasn’t got a doting husband standing by her bed now, holding her hand and helping her through the agony of childbirth. All she’s got is worry. D’yer know what the last thing she said to me was? That he, that swine of a husband of hers, would spend all his wages on ale. He wouldn’t give her any money to pay Maggie for her keep, and he wouldn’t think of putting the rent-money to one side. Fancy being in labour and having those worries on top! It just isn’t fair.’

  John pressed her head against his chest and rocked her like a baby. ‘Hush, now, Dot, I don’t like to see you upset. I’m sure Maggie wouldn’t take money if it was offered to her. And as for the rent-money, I’ll see that Tom Campbell pays up. I’ll get if off him myself.’

  Neither of them heard young Colin come into the living room and stop in his tracks to stare through the open kitchen door at the sight of his mother in the arms of Mr Kershaw. Without making a sound, he placed the full basket on the table and backed out of the room. He didn’t hear his mother’s sobs; all he could hear was his own heart singing with happiness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Maggie handed a small hand-towel to Gertrude. ‘I don’t know whether that’s any good, but it’s all I can think of.’

  ‘That should do fine.’ The nurse twisted the towel lengthways until it was as tight as she could get it. ‘Here you are, Mary, take an end of this in each hand. When the pains start, pull at it as hard as you can and bite on it at the same time. It will help to make the pain more bearable.’

  Dot was standing beside the bed wiping her neighbour’s brow with a cool, damp flannel. ‘It won’t be long now, sunshine. Another half-hour and it should all be over.’

  ‘Can I have a drink of water?’ Mary’s voice was barely audible. ‘Me mouth’s dry.’

  ‘Sure, yer can, me darlin’.’ Maggie poured some water from a jug into a cup and handed it to Dot. ‘I’ll have to go down for a refill, the jug’s empty.’

  ‘Why don’t you stay down there for a while, Maggie, and rest yer feet?’ Dot said. ‘Betty will bring the water up.’

  ‘What about Gertrude? Sure, isn’t she more in need of a rest than meself?’

  The old lady shook her head vigorously. ‘I won’t leave this room until the baby’s born. It should be any time now. The head is ready to come out, so with the next contraction Mary will have to start pushing like mad.’ She closed her eyes briefly as she said a little prayer that the baby would be perfect. After all the girl had gone through, she deserved nothing less than a beautiful child. ‘Away you go, Maggie, and put your feet up for ten minutes. I’ll get plenty of rest tomorrow, there’s nothing to stop me staying in bed all day.’

  Three pairs of anxious eyes focused on Maggie when she opened the living-room door. ‘Any sign yet, Maggie?’ John asked hopefully.

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘According to Gertrude it should be any time now. It depends how much strength Mary has left. It’s been hard for the girl, and that’s the truth of it. And haven’t I said more prayers in the last couple of hours than I’ve said in the whole of me life?’

  ‘Here yer are, girl, you take my chair, I’ll go up now.’ Betty lumbered to her feet. ‘Until today, I’d forgotten what it was like having a baby. So although he’ll never know it, Mary has done my feller a big favour. He’ll be able to rest easy in bed every night now, without me trying to rouse some passion in him. Not that I’ve ever had much success, like, but I’m off it altogether after today.’

  Maggie handed her the jug. ‘Will yer fill that and take it up with yer, me darlin’? Mary’s mouth is as dry as sandpaper.’

  They could hear the big woman muttering to herself as she filled the jug. And when she was passing through the living room she narrowed her eyes to glare at John and Paddy. ‘The things you men put us women through, yer want horsewhipping. There’s not one of yer worth a light, not one.’

  The two men looked at each other and laughed. ‘And here’s us, begorrah, without a child between us,’ Paddy said. ‘Sure, the dear woman has got her wires crossed, so she has.’

  ‘Anyone watching us for the last few hours, Paddy, would be forgiven for thinking one of us is the father of the baby being born upstairs,’ John chuckled. ‘We’ve paced the floor, bitten our nails to the quick and jumped every time Mary screamed. I can’t think of anything we haven’t done that an expectant father would do.’

  Maggie had just settled herself on the couch, with her legs stretched out, when there came a loud scream from above. It was quickly muffled, and she had visions of Mary biting on the towel. ‘I wonder if I should go up?’

  ‘Rest yer legs, sweetheart. If yerself is needed they’ll give yer a shout.’

  Within minutes there came another scream, so tortured it turned their blood cold. ‘I’m going up.’ Maggie slid her legs over the side of the couch. ‘I want to be there when the baby’s born.’

  After she’d left the room, the two men sat in complete silence, their ears cocked for any sound. Then it came, the cry of a newborn infant. Both men jumped to their feet, and Paddy, his eyes filled with tears, blessed himself. ‘Thank God, thank God.’

  John was too full of emotion to speak. He’d never experienced anything like this, never felt as close to anyone as he did towards these people. And that new baby upstairs, he hadn’t even seen it, didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl, but he knew he was going to love it.

  The door burst open and Dot appeared, laughing and crying. ‘It’s a girl! A beautiful little girl!’ She clapped her hands as the tears rolled down her face. ‘Hot water, Paddy, quick! And will you carry it up? I’m shaking that much I’d spill the lot.’

  While she hopped from one foot to the other, she said, ‘Oh John, she’s gorgeous. Absolutely bloody gorgeous. It’s the first time I’ve seen a baby being born and it has to be the most wonderful experience in the whole world.’

  ‘How is Mary?’

  ‘Very weak, but very happy.’ When Paddy came through from the kitchen carrying a large bowl of steaming wa
ter, Dot made for the stairs. ‘I’ll take it off yer outside the door. Mary would die of shame if yer went in the room. And we’ll need plenty of hot water so keep the pans on the go. Oh, and could yer bring an empty bucket up and leave it outside the door, please?’

  The next half-hour was bustling with excited activity. The women took it in turns to bring down the bowls of dirty water, which they poured into the lavatory in the backyard and pulled the chain to flush it away. Paddy was waiting for them as they came back up the yard to hand them a bowl of fresh water. Everything was so well organised, John was filled with admiration and respect. He had good neighbours where he lived, but their kindness and generosity had never been put to this sort of test. He doubted if they would compare with this lot, who had, in the last few hours, shown him what real neighbourliness was all about. And been cheerful about it, too!

  Paddy held a bowl out to his wife. ‘Is there any chance of me and John seeing the baby yet, sweetheart? Sure, it’s on pins, we are.’

  ‘Not for a while, me darlin’. Betty is washing the wee mite and the nurse is still working on Mary.’ Maggie took the bowl from him and rested it on the table while she said what was on her mind. ‘I’d not be exaggerating at all if I said that Gertrude is a saint. She’s about thirty years older than Dot, Betty and meself, but glory be to God, she can run rings around the lot of us, so she can. Nobody could have handled Mary better than she did, always so kind and gentle, and never once losing her patience. It’s a saint she is, I’m telling yer.’

  When the two men were alone again, John said, ‘I don’t know about you, Paddy, but I feel like the father of this baby. Shouldn’t we have a drink to wet its head? And isn’t it usual for cigars to be handed out?’

  ‘It would be, if the baby had a normal father, John, but it grieves me to say that this one hasn’t. Sure, isn’t me heart full of pity for the poor wee child?’

  ‘I’m going to insist on being its uncle,’ John said. ‘How about you, Paddy?’

  The gentle giant of an Irishman beamed. ‘I’d be as proud as a peacock, so I would.’ He held out his hand. ‘Shall we shake on it? Uncle John and Uncle Paddy.’

  They broke their handshake when they heard Dot’s voice on the stairs. ‘Betty, I can’t see the flamin’ stairs with you in front of me. Ye’re blocking out the daylight.’

  ‘Stop yer ruddy moaning, girl! I’m walking in front of yer ’cos I’m frightened of yer falling and dropping the baby. This way yer’d have a nice soft landing if yer fell on me.’ Betty came into the room shaking her head and her chins. ‘I can’t do right for doing wrong with Dot Baker. She’s an ungrateful cow.’ But the big woman’s eyes were tender as she stepped aside to allow her friend to pass. ‘Here’s the little tinker what’s had us all worried out of our mind. But she’s a little love, worth every white hair she’s put on me head.’

  Dot held the precious bundle close. ‘Only a little look, then her mam wants her back.’ She parted the white baby blanket just enough for the two men to see the scrap of humanity they’d been waiting for. Pale blue eyes stared at them out of a red, crinkled face. And a tiny rosebud mouth was opening and closing as though asking for a drink.

  ‘Her eyes are open!’ John said, in wonder. ‘She’s looking at me.’

  ‘She can’t see yer, yer daft thing.’ Dot smiled up at him, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness. ‘All new babies can open their eyes, but they can’t see.’

  ‘Will yer look at the tiny fingers?’ Paddy marvelled. ‘So tiny, yet so perfect. It’s a miracle, so it is.’

  ‘Can I hold her, Dot?’ John’s eyes were pleading. ‘Just for a minute?’

  When the bundle was carefully placed in his arms he was moved to tears. Stroking the tiny fingers, he said, ‘I’m your Uncle John, darling, and you and me are going to be very good friends. And when you’re older, I’ll sit you on my knee and tell you what a beautiful baby you were.’

  Dot felt a pang of sadness as she watched. He should have children of his own, he’d make a wonderful father. But if he didn’t pull his socks up and find himself a wife soon, it would be too late.

  ‘What about Uncle Paddy?’ The Irishman’s arms were ready to cradle the precious bundle. ‘Sure, I’ll not be left out, that I’ll not.’

  John looked awkward as he tried to hand the baby over, so Dot took it from him. ‘Men! Yer haven’t got a flamin’ clue.’

  ‘I know, I know!’ John grinned at her. ‘And I’m expecting to be told I’m stupid when I ask if Mary’s got a name in mind for the baby?’

  Betty was fed-up being left out of things, so she answered before Dot could open her mouth. ‘She’s posh, she’s got two names. Gertrude, after the woman who worked so hard to bring her into the world, and Elizabeth, after Mary’s mother. The nurse was delighted, I could tell, even though she said it was terrible to lumber a baby with the name Gertrude. So she’ll be christened with the full titles, but called Trudy for short.’

  ‘Now that’s a nice name for a little girl.’ Paddy was hooked, he couldn’t take his eyes off the baby’s face. ‘She’s perfect, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Dot said. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Now we don’t know that for certain, girl, do we? Not until the doctor’s seen her.’ Betty saw Paddy about to open the blanket, curious to see the feet he could feel kicking out, and she quickly put a hand on his to stop him. ‘Don’t open that, Paddy, we don’t want the baby to catch a cold.’

  Dot laughed. ‘Betty, it’s the middle of summer!’

  But Betty was unrepentant as she took the child from Paddy. ‘There’s draughts in all these houses and I’m not going to be responsible for her catching cold. Anyway, I’m taking her back up to her mother.’

  ‘I’ll carry her up for yer,’ Dot offered. ‘You can follow me.’

  ‘You go and teach yer mother how to milk ducks, Dot Baker! Anyone would think I was helpless and bloody hopeless. I do know how to carry a baby, yer know. And so I should, having had plenty of practice with me own kids.’

  Betty sighed as she slowly climbed the stairs. Why did she have to be the one to offer to wash the baby? If she hadn’t been so quick to open her big mouth, she wouldn’t have this terrible weight on her mind. She hadn’t mentioned it because everyone was so happy and she didn’t want to be the one to take the smile off Mary’s face.

  As Mary watched the baby suckling at her breast she could feel the love flowing between herself and her daughter. It was so strong, it caught the breath in her throat. She had never known that love could be so powerful. This tiny being was hers, her own flesh and blood. And she’d make sure she came to no harm; she’d give her enough love to make up for the man who had sired her. The father who didn’t even know she’d been born.

  There was a gentle tapping on the door and Mary quickly covered her breast as best as she could. ‘Come in.’

  Gertrude’s head came around the door. ‘I’ve just popped up to make sure you’re managing all right. Is she taking the milk?’

  Mary smiled and nodded. ‘She took to it like a duck to water. She’s a greedy little beggar but I love her so much I could eat her.’

  ‘I’m going to take her off you now, my dear, so you can get some rest. You’ve had a long, hard labour, and you need to sleep.’

  ‘She can sleep in here, with me.’ Mary didn’t want to be parted from her daughter and held the baby close. ‘She’ll be all right, I’ll look after her.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mary, but I have to be strict with you over this. If you were in hospital the baby would be taken from you whether you liked it or not. Maggie has prepared a bed for her in the front bedroom, and she’ll wake you when the baby’s ready for another feed. But you need as much sleep as possible to get your strength back.’

  Mary was reluctant to agree, but she owed this little woman too much to disobey her. ‘Maggie will wake me, won’t she?’

  ‘If she doesn’t, the baby will, so don’t worry.’ Gertrude took the child from her. ‘Come along, Trudy
, let Mammy have some rest.’ She smiled at Mary. ‘To think I’ve gone through life being called Gertrude, which I’ve always disliked, when I could so easily have shortened it to Trudy. Still, it’s a bit late in life to fret about it now.’

  Mary watched the bedroom door close. The nurse was right, she was very tired. And for the first time in months, she was in a bed, not on her lumpy living-room couch. And this bed was a hundred times more comfortable and welcoming than the one next door. The bedclothes were crisp and clean and the feather pillows lovely and soft. Within seconds she was drifting off to sleep, happier than she’d been since the day she got married. And her last conscious thought was that she would never allow Tom Campbell to take this happiness from her.

  While Mary slept in the O’Connors’ spare bedroom, Dr Gray was examining the baby in the next room. ‘I’m sorry to call you out on a Saturday night,’ Gertrude said, ‘but I needed your opinion and your advice.’

  The baby was fast asleep and didn’t stir when the doctor held an ankle in each hand and pulled gently on her legs to straighten them. ‘You were right to call me, Gertrude. I would say the right leg is about three inches shorter than the left. That is not precise, of course, they would need to be measured properly. But there is a noticeable difference and I’m in no doubt the child will be somewhat lame.’

  The nurse sighed. ‘It’ll break her heart. And mine, if I have to tell her.’

  ‘Would you like me to tell her?’

  ‘No, thank you all the same. She needs to be told by someone she’s close to, someone who’ll cry with her.’ Gertrude very seldom lost her temper, and only swore in exceptional circumstances. ‘It’s that bloody husband of hers who should be here with her, to hold her hand and comfort her. What sort of a man is he, to treat his wife the way he does?’

  ‘He’s a rotter, Gertrude, an out-and-out rotter. She’d be better off without him, and so would this little mite.’

  ‘Look, she’s bound to ask questions, about whether the leg will grow to be the same size as the other as the child gets older, or whether it will even grow at all. What can I say to her?’