Walking My Baby Back Home

by Joan Jonker

  Dot was about to make a joke of it, but changed her mind. She made jokes of a lot of things these days, then regretted it afterwards. ‘Of course it was, sunshine. It brought a new friend into our house, didn’t it?’

  Man and boy looked at each other and shrugged. No matter what they said, they couldn’t break down the barrier that Dot had built around herself where John was concerned. ‘Would you allow your new friend to make a suggestion, then?’

  Dot was immediately suspicious. ‘Oh, aye, what is it now?’

  ‘Let me give a party in my house on Christmas Day. You could all come, and we could ask the Masons, the O’Connors and Billy. And Mary, of course, if she could make it. I’d like to have a party to pay everyone back for the hospitality they’ve shown me over the year.’

  ‘Oh John, I’ve already asked the Masons down for a drink on Christmas Day, and Mary’s going to the O’Connors’.’ Dot saw the disappointment on his face and felt as though she’d kicked a man while he was down. ‘I took it for granted you’d be coming here – we all did, didn’t we, Colin? Anyway, all those people, it would be a lot of work for yer.’

  ‘I was going to ask you to help me.’

  ‘Oh, yer make me feel like a right heel, now. But Mary and the O’Connors had already made their plans before I knew anything about it.’ Dot groaned inwardly. Why was it she always seemed to put a damper on anything he suggested? He was a real gentleman, so kind and generous, yet she treated him like a child. ‘I’ll tell you what we can do, John, if it’s OK with you. Let’s have your party in this house, eh? Yer can have yer Christmas dinner with us, then the rest of the day will be yours. I’ll help yer, we all will, but you say what yer want, who yer want, and yer can pay for all the food and stuff.’ When he didn’t answer, she went on, ‘The O’Connors would come, and Mary. She’d have to leave early because of the baby, but she’d come for an hour or so.’ When there was still no response, she put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. ‘John Kershaw, will yer open yer ruddy mouth?’

  John was smiling when he looked up. Was this a step forward? ‘You mean you will actually let me pay for all the food, and the drink? We’ll have to have a few bottles in, otherwise it wouldn’t be a party.’

  ‘It’ll be your party, yer can be in total control.’

  He jumped from the chair. ‘Right now you are at your most Delightful, Dorothy. So much so I have this urge to kiss you.’ He did so quickly, before she could move out of his way. ‘That has quite made up for the disappointment I felt.’

  ‘Ay, you!’ Dot wagged a finger under his nose. ‘Have yer forgotten that my son is watching?’

  ‘Oh yes, I had forgotten, I’m sorry.’ John winked at the boy who had suddenly let hope into his heart. ‘Colin, do I have your permission to kiss your mother?’

  ‘Yer certainly do, Mr Kershaw!’

  ‘Right, thank you.’ As he turned, Dot was backing away from him. When her legs struck the edge of the couch she fell backwards and her hands flayed the air trying to balance herself. John reached out to try and save her, and when Dot fell back on to the couch he couldn’t right himself and fell on top of her. It happened so quickly Colin was dumbstruck for a few seconds, then, roaring with laughter he made a giant leap and landed on top of both of them.

  ‘Get off, both of yer.’ Dot’s muffled voice was a mixture of laughter and embarrassment. She could feel her skirt riding up her thighs and couldn’t get to it. ‘Me blinkin dress is around me neck, now get off.’

  ‘Shall we keep her there, son, to teach her a lesson?’

  ‘Is she laughing?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘As long as she’s laughing, we’re all right. But as soon as she stops, get as far away from her as yer can ’cos she’ll murder us.’

  Tom Campbell was passing the Bakers’ window and heard the laughter. ‘Silly cow,’ he muttered to himself. ‘All these years without a man, she can’t be made right.’

  His hands deep in his pockets and head bent against the cold wind, he quickened his pace. He’d fancied Dot Baker himself at one time, but not now. Oh, not now. She’d probably be a cold fish in bed, like his wife. There’s no way they could satisfy his needs as Esmée did. They’d die rather than do some of the things she got up to.

  It was a long walk to Seaforth from Edith Road, but he couldn’t afford to get a tram or bus, not if he was to keep up with his twice-weekly visits. Anyway, the walk did him good, whetted his appetite for the pleasures to come. He was very sore between his legs though, and it didn’t seem to be getting any better. Esmée had told him it was nothing to worry about, he should ask the chemist for some cream. But he didn’t have the nerve to do that, wouldn’t know what to say. He’d look a right nit walking into a shop and saying, ‘I’ve got a sore on my thingy.’

  The pub was crowded and a waft of warm, smoky air hit him when he pushed the door open. He elbowed his way to the bar, ordered a pint of bitter and let his eyes roam the room in search of Esmée. She’d be expecting him, this was one of his regular nights. There was no sign of her however, so he leaned on the counter and slowly sipped his beer. She’d come breezing in any minute and would seek him out. She didn’t waste any time, because time was money for her.

  Tom looked at the clock on the wall behind the bar. It was nearly nine o’clock; she’d never kept him waiting this long before. Then he saw Elsie coming through the door with a foreign sailor on her arm. It was she who’d introduced him to this life, and to Esmée. He beckoned her over and she pushed her companion towards an empty seat before joining him at the bar.

  Her voice was abrupt. ‘What d’yer want? I’m a working girl, I’ve got no time to spare.’

  ‘Esmée’s late tonight. D’yer know where she is?’

  Elsie, whose real name was Alice, stared at him hard for a few seconds, then jerked her head towards the door. ‘Come outside for a minute. What I’ve got to say is for your ears only.’

  Tom hunched his shoulders when the cold air hit him. ‘What’s up? Is she sick?’

  The prostitute looked right and left before answering. ‘Oh, she’s sick, all right. Only got the bleedin’ clap, hasn’t she? Syphilis, no less.’

  The implication took a while to sink in, then the sensation between his legs seemed to magnify. ‘Oh no, don’t tell me that.’

  ‘Oh, bleedin’ yes, I will tell yer that! And she’s probably passed it on to all her punters – you included.’

  ‘But how d’yer know?’ Tom’s heartbeat was racing and he began to break out in a cold sweat. ‘Are yer sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m bleedin’ sure, yer stupid bastard! D’yer think I’d make something like that up? The stupid cow must have known for months that she’s got it, but she carried on without saying a word. Now all the poor buggers she went with will have it, and they’ll pass it on to their wives and girlfriends.’

  ‘How did yer find out?’

  ‘One of her regulars came lookin’ for her, and she scarpered as soon as she saw him. Bloody good job she did, he’d have strangled her. The poor sod went to see his doctor, not knowing what was wrong with him, and was told he had a venereal disease that there was no cure for. The bloke was out of his mind and came looking for her. She’d better not show herself around here ’cos the women will lynch her. It’s not goin’ to do our business any good if it gets about, so keep yer trap shut.’

  ‘Are any of the other women free for twenty minutes?’

  ‘Listen, lover boy, none of us would touch yer with a bargepole now. Yer must be riddled with the clap – it stands to sense, yer were one of her best punters.’ She pushed him in the chest and spoke through gritted teeth. ‘D’yer think we’re all bloody nut-cases, eh?’ Again she pushed him. ‘Yer’d better go home and tell yer wife yer’ve been a naughty boy, hadn’t yer? That’s if yer’ve got the bleedin’ guts.’

  Tom hung his head, and when he spoke he kept his voice quiet to hide the anger building up inside him. He needed the help of this woman. ‘Can yer buy
anything to get rid of it?’

  ‘Go and see yer doctor, that’s my advice. And I’ll give yer another bit of advice – don’t show yer face in these parts again.’ Alice wrapped her coat more closely around her voluptuous body. She’d never liked this man, his eyes were too close together for her liking, but she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of sympathy. ‘I don’t know nothing about it, thank Christ, and I don’t want to. Yer’d be best seeing yer doctor. And I wouldn’t leave it too long, either.’ With that she spun on her heels and left him.

  Tom let out a cry of rage and punched the brick wall with his curled fist. He didn’t feel the pain or the skin bursting on his knuckles, he was too full of anger against everyone but himself. If his wife hadn’t been such a prude, he wouldn’t be in this fix. And that cow, Elsie, she was the one who’d picked him up that night in the pub, and she’d told him about this place. As for Esmée, that bleeding scheming bitch must have known she’d passed it on to him. She kept on taking his money even though she knew it wasn’t just a rash he had. The crafty cow had seen the hard, round flat sores, she must have known what they were because she probably had them herself.

  He let out another cry of rage as he pictured her in his mind’s eye. She was looking at him with such an innocent expression on her face, saying, ‘It’s only a rash, lover boy. Go to the chemist and get some cream to rub on it.’ And he’d fallen for it. Like a fool he’d believed her, as he’d believed all the flattery she dished out about him being the best lover out of all her customers. She’d certainly taken him for a ride, as she had many others from the sound of things. He’d been a fool, and now he was in a right mess. Elsie said there was no cure for it, but the bitch would say that just to put the fear of God into him. She’d get a kick out of it because she made no bones about the fact that she didn’t like him.

  Tom put his hands in his pockets and began the long walk home. He wasn’t a happy, satisfied man tonight, though, he was a man with fear in his heart. What if there was no cure for it? Of course there’s a cure for it, a little voice in his head said. Don’t take any notice of that tart, she was just trying to frighten you. And because that was what he wanted to hear, Tom believed that small voice. ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he muttered to himself. ‘I’ll put a clean pair of underpants on in the morning and call to the doctor’s on me way home from work. He won’t tell no one, ’cos doctors have to swear on oath that they won’t tell.’

  A look of distaste came over Dr Gray’s face when he called for the next patient and Tom Campbell walked in. The last time he’d seen this rotter was when he’d been called out to see his wife when she was in labour. He remembered the bruising on her and the pain she was in. He also remembered being ordered out of the bedroom and Mrs Campbell being told to get downstairs and see to this man’s dinner. So his voice was cold when he asked, ‘What do you want?’

  Tom Campbell was shaking with fear, but he wasn’t going to let this feller see it. After all, this visit was going to cost him one and sixpence and he wanted his money’s worth. ‘Ye’re not allowed to tell anyone what we say in this room, are yer?’

  ‘Are you trying to teach me my job, Mr Campbell?’

  There was steel in the voice and Tom told himself he’d better tread carefully or he’d be thrown out. ‘No, I didn’t mean nothing like that, Doctor. But yer see, it’s very personal and I wouldn’t want no one to find out.’

  ‘Out with it, man, and don’t be wasting my time. I’ve got a surgery full of people waiting to see me.’

  ‘Well, it’s like this, Doctor. I got drunk one night and I went with this prostitute. It was when me wife was due to have the baby and she wouldn’t let me have me marital rights. I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been drunk, mind, but I was badly in need of a woman’s company. D’yer follow me meaning?’

  ‘You’ve been with prostitutes, Mr Campbell, and you now fear you have venereal disease. Is that what you’re telling me?’ When Tom nodded, the doctor pointed to a screen. ‘Go behind there, take off your trousers and lie on the couch. I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  Five minutes later the doctor came from behind the screen pulling off a pair of rubber gloves. ‘Get dressed, Mr Campbell.’ He went to a sink in the corner of the room and while he was washing his hands, he was thinking that this was a day of judgement for the arrogant Mr Campbell. He felt no pity for the man, but he was concerned for his wife.

  The doctor was sitting back at his desk when Tom came from behind the screen, buttoning up his trousers. ‘It’s only a rash, isn’t it, Doctor?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid it isn’t. The disease is called syphilis and it is in an advanced state, which means you were infected several months ago. You are paying for your sins now, Mr Campbell, because your version of a one-night stand is a pack of lies. You would have to be the unluckiest man alive to have picked up a prostitute carrying the disease in what you say was just the one night of debauchery.’

  Him and his big words, Tom Campbell thought, they’re not going to help me. ‘Can yer give me anything for it?’

  The doctor shook his head. ‘There is no cure for it and I know of nothing that would halt the process. You will experience other symptoms in the near future, like headaches, feverishness and sickness. I can give you something to help with those, so I suggest you come to see me again when you feel it necessary.’

  ‘It won’t kill me, will it?’

  ‘I can’t tell you when you’re going to die, Mr Campbell, no more than I can tell you when I’m going to die, or any of the people sitting in the surgery. I could tell you you were going to die, then you could live to be a hundred. On the other hand, I could say you weren’t, and you could go outside and be run over by a bus.’ The doctor pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I have a lot of patients waiting to see me. But before you go I must warn you, under no circumstances are you to have intercourse with your wife. Do I make myself perfectly clear?’

  Tom nodded and shuffled towards the door. He didn’t see why he should tell the quack he hadn’t been near his wife for six months and didn’t intend to. Why should he when he was better pleasured elsewhere?

  On Christmas Eve, John came in laden with parcels wrapped in colourful Christmassy paper. He laid them out under the tree and stood back to admire the effect. ‘That just adds the finishing touch, don’t you think, D.D.?’

  Dot looked at the number of neatly wrapped, labelled parcels. ‘I hope yer haven’t been splashing out, John Kershaw, ’cos we’ve only got little presents for you.’

  ‘It’s not the gift, it’s the thought that counts.’ He gazed around the room which was festooned with balloons and coloured streamers. And the big silver star hanging from the gas light was turning around with the draught coming through from the kitchen. ‘The room looks lovely and cosy, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Colin said, coming through with a shovelful of coal. ‘Yer did a good job on it, Mr Kershaw, it looks brilliant.’

  Dot tutted. ‘I wish yer’d close the kitchen door when yer go out for coal, sunshine. Yer let all the warmth out.’

  ‘Sorry, Mam, I keep forgetting.’ Colin threw the coal on the fire and as he turned he spotted the presents. ‘Wow! Just look at them, Mam!’

  ‘You keep yer fingers off them, sunshine, they’re not to be touched until the morning. And I don’t want yer getting me up at six o’clock, either. Ye’re almost thirteen years of age now, not a blinking baby.’

  ‘What time will the presents be getting opened, Dorothy? I’d like to be here for that. It’s the highlight of Christmas Day, isn’t it?’ John smiled down into her face. ‘I don’t want to miss the excitement.’

  Dot rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Ye’re worse than our Colin, you are. But ye’re not coming here at seven in the morning, not to see me looking like something the cat dragged in.’

  ‘We’ve no need to open them at seven, Mam,’ Colin said. ‘We could leave it until about nine o’clock. That’s not too early, is it?’

  ‘Wha
t! You, leave yer presents until nine o’clock?’

  ‘For Mr Kershaw I would, yeah.’

  ‘Wonders will never cease.’ Dot didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t tell him they didn’t get dressed until after they’d opened their presents, and that she’d be in her old nightdress with her hair all skew-whiff. But she was being selfish. It wouldn’t hurt her to get up a bit earlier and get dressed properly. Better for her to do that than have John sitting alone at home while they were laughing and whooping it up as they opened their presents. ‘Nine o’clock, then, and not a minute before.’

  ‘Nine o’clock it shall be, Dorothy, your word is my command.’ John looked through to the kitchen. ‘Where’s Katy, is she out with Billy?’

  ‘No, she’s working late. She should be in any minute now, though.’ Dot stretched her arms over her head and yawned. ‘Christmas Day is the nicest day of the year, but the week leading up to it is a nightmare for mothers. Thank goodness I’ve prepared the dinner, that’s a load off me mind. Oh, and by the way, we only have toast for breakfast, so don’t say yer haven’t been warned.’

  ‘That will suit me fine.’ John stifled a yawn and grinned. ‘You’ve got me at it now.’

  ‘It’s funny that, isn’t it, Mr Kershaw?’ Colin ran a hand across his face leaving a streak of coal dust. ‘When one yawns, everybody yawns. I wonder why that is?’

  ‘One of the mysteries of the world, son. Like young Billy wanting to go away to sea. I never thought he was serious when he used to talk about it, but here he is, ready for the off.’

  ‘He’s had it in his mind for years,’ Dot said, ‘so it’s best he gets it out of his system before he settles down. He’ll only be away about three weeks, but what a time to go, four days after Christmas. Lousy timing.’

  ‘He won’t like it, yer know, Mam.’ Colin nodded his head knowingly. ‘I bet he’s as sick as a pig all the time. Remember that ship in Mutiny on the Bounty? It bobbed up and down like a cork. Billy won’t like that.’