by June Francis
His expression brightened. ‘That’s not a bad idea!’
Hilda decided to join in the conversation. ‘It’s a good idea. Your father was a dab hand with a paint brush.’
‘I know.’ George grinned and got to his feet. ‘I’ll do that then.’
After he had gone Viv cleared the table. ‘He is like his father,’ murmured Hilda.
‘Yes.’ She glanced at her mother. ‘Don’t forget he doesn’t know.’
‘Well, I’m not going to tell him.’ She wriggled uncomfortably. ‘I’ve got enough worries without him knowing. Are you going to the shops?’
Viv nodded. ‘Did you want something?’
‘Something for this pain. Probably constipation.’ She groaned. ‘I just can’t seem to get rid of it today.’
‘You eat too many sweets still, Mam. And you don’t get enough exercise. Did you go out yesterday?’
‘Have a heart, Viv! My back’s killing me,’ said Hilda indignantly. ‘When my mother was ill lying on that sofa …’
‘We got rid of the old sofa, remember.’ Viv shrugged on a coat. ‘You’ll have to change your story. Make it more heartrending.’ She struck a dramatic pose with one hand on her heart and spoke in a hollow voice. ‘When I was a girl we didn’t have a sofa. My mother was dying and lay on the floor on a heap of old rags. There was no coal in the grate and the snow was ten feet deep past the windowsill.’
Hilda smiled. ‘Go and do your shopping. You don’t know you’re born. You’ve no idea what it was like for me with Father away. And Mam was dying, only I didn’t realise it.’
She eased her position and groaned again. ‘Don’t be away long. Perhaps some syrup of figs, honey?’
Viv made no answer. She was not rushing back. She would go to the library and enjoy a stroll round the shops.
For a long time after her daughter had left Hilda did not move but lay staring at the blank television screen. Then she made coffee, dipping a couple of chocolate fingers in the steamy liquid and sucking them. The pain did not abate and she began to feel restless. She switched on the radio and the DJ played an Ivor Novello number. Ivor. Welsh. Tom had Welsh blood. She thought about Stephen losing his sisters and mother in that air raid in November when she had conceived Viv. Did he miss her and the fun they had had? He had become a good lover as well as being kind and thoughtful. How she missed him!
The pain struck again, causing her to cry out and clutch her belly. After it passed she stumbled to her feet. The pain had been so sharp, so fierce, that it frightened her. She did not want to be in the house alone. She wanted people. Why had Viv chosen to go out now? she thought unreasonably. She went to the front door, automatically trying to tighten the belt of her dressing gown but she had put on too much weight and it gaped open.
She looked down the row of yellow-brick houses. For once it was not raining and there were a couple of kids playing on bikes further up the road and Joe Kelly cleaning his car outside their door. The pain came again. ‘Ouch!’ She bent over awkwardly, clinging to the doorjamb with one hand.
Joe looked her way and dropped his chamois leather on the pavement. ‘Hey, are yer all right, Mrs Murray?’
‘Pain,’ she gasped. ‘Terrible pain.’ Her face was drained of colour.
‘I’ll get me mam. You go inside and sit down.’
Hilda said nothing, made no move, only breathed deeply of the chill February air.
Joe gave her an indecisive, worried look and yelled, ‘Mam! Mam!’ Nobody came and after several more groans from Hilda he dived into the house.
The pain passed and Hilda eased herself up. She leant against the doorjamb, gripping it with a trembling hand. She wanted Viv. Why didn’t she come? She groaned and suddenly felt herself damp underneath. What was happening to her? It couldn’t be? No, not at her age! It couldn’t be! Oh God!
‘What’s up?’ George had appeared and was gazing down at her even as Mrs Kelly came out of her house next door.
‘Is she all right?’ said Mrs Kelly, her eyes alight with ghoulish interest. ‘She looks awful!’
‘Go away,’ snapped Hilda. ‘I don’t need your help. I want Viv!’ The pain came again and she bit on her lip to stop herself crying out, not wanting that woman next door to guess what was up with her. But she could not disguise the effort it took as her teeth drew blood.
‘Aunt Hilda, should I phone the doctor?’ said George worriedly. Several of the neighbours had come out and were watching.
‘Perhaps,’ she gasped. ‘But I don’t know if it’ll be any good. I need … where’s Viv?’
George stood up and glanced up the street. ‘No sign of her,’ he said, watching a Land Rover approach.
Hilda’s gaze followed his. ‘That’s Nick. He’s early. Maybe he’ll go and find her?’
The Land Rover came to a halt and the door opened. Viv stepped out. ‘I met Nick down the road,’ she began. ‘What’s going on?’ She frowned down at Hilda. ‘Mam, what are you doing out here not dressed?’
Hilda clutched at the hem of Viv’s coat. ‘I’m in pain, Viv. I need help!’
She placed the shopping bags on the pavement, her expression uncompromising. ‘Not that again, Mam. Come on, get up. I’ll help you into the house.’
‘I’ll get her up,’ said Nick, shooting George a swift glance.
‘No!’ Hilda clung on to Viv’s coat. ‘I’m ill. I’m ill, Viv. Help me.’ She groaned as another contraction made itself felt.
Viv thought, Why does she have to do this to me? She gripped her mother’s arm. ‘Come on, get up!’
‘I can’t! I can’t,’ gasped Hilda.
‘You can!’ cried Viv. Then her eyes met her mother’s and she felt a sudden chill. She was in pain and she was scared. Crouching down beside her, Viv said, ‘Where’s the pain, Mam?’
‘In my bloody belly,’ she whispered. ‘I have to go to hospital!’ The pain slackened and she gave a quivering breath.
Mrs Kelly said conversationally, ‘Perhaps it’s appendicitis? They’ll cut her open.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ snarled Viv, her head drawing close to her mother’s. ‘Don’t worry, Mam. You’ll be OK.’
‘It’s not appendicitis, Viv,’ whispered Hilda. ‘Oh God help me! You’ll hate me all over again now. It’s worse than that.’
Viv could only think of one thing worse and that was cancer. ‘You mean …’ The word stuck in her throat.
Hilda yelped, gasped, panted. ‘Get an ambulance! Get me to the hospital!’
Viv gripped her hand tightly. ‘We’ll get you dressed first, Mam. Nick! George! Help me get her up.’
They both moved forward. Nick, his eyes on Hilda, said, ‘I think it would be best if we took your mam to the hospital as she says, right now!’
‘What do you mean?’ Viv stared at him.
‘Don’t ask questions. Just do it,’ he said grimly. ‘Come on, love,’ he addressed Hilda. ‘Take it easy. Lift, George!’
George did as he was told and somehow they managed to get Hilda up into the Land Rover.
‘Which hospital?’ said Viv, climbing in and shutting the door, her worried eyes on her mother’s huddled figure.
‘Mill Road,’ whispered Hilda.
George’s eyes met Viv’s. ‘Does she mean …?’
Viv groaned and dropped her head in her hands as she said in a muffled voice, ‘I don’t believe this. Nick, get us out of here!’
‘Oh God,’ moaned her mother.
The Land Rover shot off in a jerky fashion. Viv sat in stunned silence. Her mother’s hand grasped hers, the nails biting into her cold fingers as she deep breathed her way through another contraction. Viv offered no words of comfort. She could not have said anything to save her life. All she could think was that her mother might die at her age, having a baby. She had nearly died having Viv.
‘This is crazy,’ said George, looking stunned. ‘How? Who’s?’
Nobody answered and he subsided into silence until the Land Rover came to a screeching halt in front of the
hospital. By that time the pains were coming so close that Hilda was a trembling, writhing wreck.
‘Well?’ said George nervously. ‘What next?’
‘Get her out,’ screamed Viv, all her pent up anxiety bursting forth. ‘Do you want her to have the bloody baby here, you idiot!’
He jumped out immediately and so did Nick. They both lifted Hilda down but as soon as they released her she collapsed like a concertina on to the ground, writhing and whimpering.
‘Nick, pick her up,’ cried Viv.
Between them Nick and George picked up Hilda while Viv fled before them into the hospital.
‘You’ve got a sister,’ said the nurse, smiling gravely.
It was two hours later. ‘My mother?’ Viv’s voice was thick with emotion.
‘She’s had a difficult time and is very tired but she’ll be all right’
Viv sagged against Nick’s shoulder. ‘And the baby? Is she all right?’
‘Small but she’s all there. Your mother’s a very lucky woman.’
‘Good.’ Viv cleared her throat. ‘Can I see them?’
The nurse nodded. ‘Your mother’s anxious to speak to you. We can allow you a few minutes so that you can reassure each other.’
Viv looked at Nick and then George. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘You take all the time you want,’ murmured Nick, and kissed her briefly.
George raised his eyebrows and lit a cigarette.
As Viv walked up the corridor the nurse said, ‘It’s been a big shock for you, dear.’
‘I had no idea.’
‘I think that perhaps your mother did but didn’t want to believe it. Too good to be true, I suppose.’ She chuckled. ‘The baby’ll be a nice reminder of her dead husband.’
So that’s what she’d told them, thought Viv, following the nurse through swing doors into the ward, trying to convince herself that it was all a dream.
Her mother lay unmoving in a high bed but her head turned as Viv approached. Her first thought was that her mother looked old, much too old to have just given birth. Her eyes were twin circles of a startling blue in her drained features.
The nurse murmured, ‘Just a couple of minutes. She must rest.’ The she left them alone.
‘Well, that was a turn up for the book,’ whispered Hilda.
‘You’re crazy, Mam,’ said Viv, her body quivering with a surfeit of emotion. ‘How could you be so stupid?’
Hilda’s hesitant smile evaporated. ‘Don’t criticise me, honey,’ she said wearily. ‘All those years married to Charlie and never a slip up. I just didn’t expect it to happen at my age. I thought it was the change.’
‘The change?’ A sharp laugh escaped her. ‘Some change! Whose baby is it, Mam?’
Hilda frowned. ‘Whose do you think? Steve’s, of course! Dom always took precautions, and honestly I’ve had nothing to do with him since I went with Steve.’
Viv believed her because Mr Kelly hadn’t been near since she’d been back ‘OK, it’s Uncle Steve’s.’
‘What am I going to do, Viv? You won’t give up on me now will you? I mean, you and Nick will help me?’
Viv suddenly had a vision of Nick and herself slaving away, caring for her mother and the baby. ‘We’ll have to tell Stephen,’ she said.
Hilda’s throat moved. ‘He won’t believe it’s his. He doesn’t trust me.’
‘The pair of you made love so there’s a fair chance he will,’ said Viv positively. ‘He’s a very moral person deep down. He’d want to do what’s right by you and his baby. He’s got a right to decide anyway.’
Hilda’s eyes brightened slightly. ‘I suppose he has. Will you tell him?’
Viv had known as soon as she mentioned Stephen’s name it would come to this. ‘I suppose I’ll have to,’ she muttered. ‘There’s nobody else, is there?’
‘No,’ said her mother. ‘But if there was, I don’t think they could handle him better than you.’
‘Best soft soap, Mam,’ said Viv, smiling slightly. ‘I wish I could be so sure …’ She gazed down at her half-sister in the cot, noting her mass of dark curls and blue eyes. Her smile widened. She was Stephen’s all right!
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
‘I don’t believe it!’ Stephen’s face wore a stunned expression.
‘Why not?’ said Viv, perching sideways on the arm of a chair. ‘You slept with her for months on and off, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but …’ He flushed. ‘Are you sure she’s mine, Viv?’
‘She looks like you except for the nose,’ murmured Viv. ‘Hers isn’t broken. She’s lovely, Uncle Steve. A picture. Wait till you see her.’
He cleared his throat and dug his hands into his pockets. ‘Whose idea was it, Viv, that you tell me? Yours or Hilda’s?’
‘Mine. Mam believes you won’t want anything to do with her. She’s been miserable for months believing that. Like you’ve been miserable, staying away from her.’
‘You know why I stayed away. And I still can’t bear the thought of her with him. I don’t know if our getting married would work, Viv.’
‘Why not? And who is he?’ demanded Viv, leaning forward. ‘You tell me, Uncle Steve, who you believe my father was and I’ll tell you what I believe.’
He stared at her, hesitated, then muttered, ‘Your Uncle Tom. They were in love. They were engaged once.’
She allowed a small silence before saying, ‘I see how your mind’s worked. I thought that once because of the photographs but I’ve thought again since,’ she lied. ‘Mam told me that she broke off her engagement to him because she realised she was wrong about him. That he liked himself too much.’
‘She told you that?’ He raked his fingers through his curling hair. ‘Even so, Viv, she might not have been telling the truth.’
She threw down her other card. ‘She mightn’t have been telling the truth when she said your brother wasn’t my father. She might have said it just to hurt us because she was so jealous. When you see her and the baby ask her if my Uncle Tom was my father or whether Jimmy was after all?’
‘You mean, go and see her in hospital?’ He reddened. ‘But they’ll all know then.’
‘No, they won’t,’ said Viv. ‘She’s told them the baby’s father is her dead husband.’ She giggled suddenly at the thought.
‘It’s not funny, Viv,’ said Stephen, his expression harassed. ‘What are people who know he’s been dead for two years going to say? There’ll be gossip.’
‘My mother’s always set the tongues wagging.’ She giggled again. ‘Not that I’m going to let our neighbours know the truth. I’ve told George – who’s home, by the way, and a problem – that he’s not to breathe a whisper about a baby. I haven’t even told him who the father is yet.’
Stephen shook his head at her. ‘I think you’re a touch hysterical, Viv. But I will go and see Hilda. If the baby’s mine, I’ll have to support her at least.’
Viv sobered. ‘You do that, Uncle Steve. But not today. Go tomorrow. Mam’s got to rest. She didn’t have an easy time of it, you know.’ She got up and kissed him.
He nodded and saw her out.
Viv freed a long breath and then ran to the bottom of the avenue where Nick was parked. ‘Well?’ he said, putting down his magazine,
‘He’s going to see her tomorrow. I’ll have to see her tonight and take in her make-up and one of her glam nighties. If he sees her like she is now he won’t want her.’
‘That’s unkind,’ said Nick.
‘But the truth.’ She grimaced. ‘I told him a whopping lie, though.’
Nick stared at her. ‘Tell, Viv.’
She told him. ‘Tonight I’ll have to tell Mam what I’ve done and it’s up to her what she does then. He’s really got a thing about my father, just like you have about George.’
‘What about George?’
She looked at him. ‘What about him?’
‘Are you going to tell him the truth?’
Viv’s mouth set stubbornly. ‘Start the e
ngine, Nick. I’ve got a lot to do.’
‘Viv!’
‘Not now, Nick. Don’t you think I’ve had a hell of a day already without you going on about George? I wonder what made him come back so soon?’ She slumped in the seat and closed her eyes. ‘Anyway, he knows we’re getting married so isn’t that enough?’
‘He’s staying at your house and tonight your mother’s not going to be there. I don’t like it, Viv,’ he said quietly, starting the engine.
‘Later, Nick,’ she murmured. ‘I’m tired.’
‘Later then,’ he said.
That evening she went into the hospital carrying a laden shopping bag. Her mother looked a little better but the rough cotton hospital nightdress did nothing for her. ‘I’ve brought you a few things. Your make-up and that.’
‘Did you see Steve?’ asked Hilda anxiously.
‘Yes.’ Viv took a peek at her sleeping sister and marvelled at her beautiful skin. ‘I hope she opens her eyes for him.’
‘He’s going to come?’ Hilda attempted to sit up straight and looked towards the swing doors.
‘Not tonight,’ murmured Viv. ‘Tomorrow. I told him you had to rest. I thought you needed some time to put on your glam act.’ She started to unpack her bag. ‘Grapes, a nightie – the satin and lace one – a hairbrush and mirror, some whatsies, make-up, a couple of magazines from Mrs Kelly, orange juice.’
‘Magazines from her next door!’ Hilda looked startled. ‘What have you told them all?’
Viv sat on the chair beside the bed. ‘At first I thought of telling them you were dead but decided that was a bit drastic. Besides, they’d expect a funeral.’
‘Very funny.’ said her mother. ‘What did you tell them?’
‘That you’d had gallstones taken out. I don’t want a whiff of a baby to get back to Mr or Mrs Kelly. If Stephen ever got to know about your affair with him, Mam, that would be the end.’
Hilda’s mouth drooped and she rested her head against the pillows and said miserably, ‘He won’t marry me.’
‘He will if you play your cards right.’ Viv told her mother what had taken place between her and Stephen and eventually a smile began to play about Hilda’s lips.