The Quietness

by Alison Rattle

  Queenie sat on the chair and watched as Miss Swift awkwardly cradled her babe.

  ‘Oh!’ said Miss Swift. ‘You are right! She is suckling!’

  Queenie saw that special look on Miss Swift’s face; like she was in the best place in the world. It seemed she had fallen in love with her child in an instant. Queenie remembered Mam looking like that with each new babe; like they were the only reason to keep going. A hole opened up inside her. She missed Mam and the little ones. She missed Da. And she didn’t like how much it hurt.

  She thought of the babies downstairs. How still and unwanted they were. Would the same thing happen to this baby? Would Miss Swift let her little one be taken to a new home? A picture of blankets and baby clothes stuffed in a tin box flashed through her mind. She saw Mrs Waters coming out of the scullery with a brown paper parcel tucked under her arm, and she heard again the shouts of the newspaper boy. She shook her head hard; pushing the pictures and words back where they had come from. Back behind the imaginary sheet in her head. She could never let anyone know what she had seen.

  Footsteps sounded outside the door. Queenie jumped to her feet. The sisters were back and she hadn’t done any of her chores or checked on the babies once since she’d come back from her visit home. Mrs Waters walked into the room and took in the scene with one sweeping glance.

  ‘Mrs Ellis needs you downstairs,’ she said to Queenie. Her voice was cold. Queenie didn’t want to leave Miss Swift alone but Mrs Waters was already shooing her away and walking towards the bed. Queenie went out into the hallway and as the bedroom door closed behind her, she heard Mrs Waters say, ‘Now then. What have we here?’

  44

  Ellen

  ‘You shouldn’t be doing that, Miss Swift,’ Mrs Waters said to me. ‘I am surprised at you. Only the lower classes nurse their own. Besides, you should be resting.’

  ‘I was only feeding her,’ I said. ‘She was hungry.’

  ‘Be that as it may, it is not fitting for a lady of your social standing to engage in such an activity. Believe me. Now give the child and the bottle here and I will see it is fed downstairs.’

  ‘But she is asleep now and I do not want to wake her.’ The thought of Mrs Waters holding my baby made my stomach churn. She had only been out of me for such a short while. She was so new and untouched. I wanted to study her face, her silky lashes and her lips like tiny plump cushions. I could not let her go. She belonged to me and for the first time in my life I felt the force of real, solid love. ‘She is happy as she is, thank you, Mrs Waters,’ I said. ‘I would like to be alone now so I can rest.’

  In truth I was frightened out of my wits to be left alone. My whole body was sore and there was a deal of blood on my sheets. I dared not move for I thought my insides might spill out of me. My little daughter felt so fragile in my arms. I had no idea what to do. Would I know how to be a mother? All I could do for now was to hold her tight.

  Mrs Waters set her mouth in a straight line. ‘As you wish,’ she said.

  She swept out of the room and I prayed that Queenie would soon come up to me. I listened to my baby breathing and felt the rise and fall of her chest. She was curled up in the crook of my arm, warm and soft like a ball of newly risen dough from Ninny’s kitchen at home. I drifted into a half dream where Ninny was pulling loaves of bread and tins of cakes and pies from the oven. One after the other, until the kitchen table groaned under the weight of them. Then I saw Mother sitting at the end of the table. She was tearing off great chunks of bread and cramming them in her mouth. She was biting into pies and the juices were dribbling down her chin. She was grabbing at handfuls of cake and cream was oozing through her fingers. Her frail frame grew bigger and bigger and her cheeks grew so huge and round they looked fit to burst. Then the heaps of baking turned into a table full of squirming babies and Ninny was pulling more and more from out of the oven. Warm babies freshly baked. I turned to Mother and saw she had a baby in her hands. She was lifting it towards her mouth and I saw her sharp teeth glinting. NO! I shouted. NO!

  I opened my eyes. I was trembling and a scream was dying in my throat. I looked down and saw the crook of my arm was empty.

  My baby had gone.

  I searched around under the sheets and leaned over the side of the bed to check the floor. She was nowhere to be seen. I thought I must still be dreaming. Wake up! I told myself. Wake up! My head was whirling. I must find her, I must find her. I needed to get help now!

  I got up from the bed. My legs were barely able to hold me; I was as unsteady as a newborn foal. The room swam in front of my eyes as I took tiny steps towards the door. My stomach felt as if it was falling out of me and blood poured warm and slow down my legs. I grabbed on to the handle to steady myself and for the first time since I had arrived at this house, I left my bedroom.

  The landing was dim and dusty. A candle burned on a table in the corner. I picked it up and shuffled my bare feet across the floorboards as I made my way to the top of the stairs. I held on to the banisters to stop myself from swaying and slowly made my way down two flights. At the bottom of the stairs I found myself in a tiled hallway. There were two closed doors, but the muffled voices I could hear seemed to be coming from the other end of the room. I followed the noises and found myself standing at the top of a small dark stairwell. There was a chink of light shining from under the door at the bottom. I walked slowly down; careful not to stumble and drop the candle. I needed to sit down; my head had grown lighter and lighter, as though it was full of soft feathers. But I had to go on. I had to find my baby. I pushed open the door and as I walked into the room a darkness began to gather in front of my eyes. Queenie was there. She was running towards me and I was screaming. I couldn’t stop. There were babies everywhere and I did not know which one was mine. Then the darkness closed in and Queenie’s arms were around me.

  45

  Queenie

  Queenie sat by Miss Swift’s bed and held her hand. She didn’t know what else to do. All night Miss Swift had been restless; slipping in and out of a fitful sleep. She was feverish and Mrs Waters had instructed Queenie to keep a close eye.

  Queenie had expected the sisters to be displeased with her. She was afraid they would think she had acted out of turn by helping Miss Swift give birth. But Mrs Waters had seemed happy. She patted Queenie on the shoulder and said to Mrs Ellis quite proudly, ‘She is learning well, our girl, is she not?’

  Later on Mrs Waters had brought the baby downstairs and laid it on the sofa with all the others. She poured herself a glass of brandy and looked Queenie square in the eye.

  ‘It is not so hard to help them get their babies out, is it? And the mother is fine. That is the most important thing with the ladies that come for their confinement. We need to send them home in good health.’

  ‘Is Miss Swift to go home soon, then?’ Queenie asked.

  ‘I have sent word she has given birth and a carriage will be coming for her tomorrow evening. It is best she doesn’t see the child again. I think the birth disturbed her more than is usual.’

  Queenie remembered how Mam had been after the baby had died. Miss Swift had the same faraway look about her and she wouldn’t stop crying.

  ‘Your little one is fine,’ Queenie kept telling her. ‘She is doing grand and you’ll be going home soon.’

  ‘No!’ sobbed Miss Swift. ‘I cannot go. I cannot go without my child. Why did that woman take her from me? Please bring her back to me, Queenie. Please!’

  Queenie felt helpless. She knew Mrs Waters would not allow it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘But it is best you don’t see her. It’ll only make matters worse for you.’

  ‘Then I will get her myself. She is mine! Nobody can take her from me!’ Miss Swift struggled to get up. She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to stand.

  ‘Please,’ said Queenie. ‘Stay in bed. You ain’t well enough.’ Queenie saw the splashes of high colour on Miss Swift’s cheeks fade and her face turn a deathly pale. She looked like a wraith
in a bloodied nightgown. Miss Swift stood for a moment, swaying on her feet. Then she went limp.

  ‘Oh!’ she gasped before collapsing back on the bed.

  ‘I told you,’ said Queenie. ‘You ain’t well.’ She tucked Miss Swift back into bed and stroked the hair from off her forehead.

  ‘My baby. My baby,’ sobbed Miss Swift. ‘Oh! What will happen to her?’ Her eyes grew wide. ‘All those other babies! Why are they all here? Have there been so many others like me?’

  ‘Hush. Don’t upset yourself,’ said Queenie. ‘They are all being looked after. And your little one will be looked after too.’

  Queenie felt ashamed of herself. She wished she could bring Miss Swift’s baby to her. It didn’t seem right that Miss Swift wanted her child but was not allowed to have it. Her family had money. They would be able to feed another mouth. It was different for the other babies downstairs. They were either unloved and unwanted or were loved but their poor mams were destitute.

  All day Queenie was up and down the stairs tending to Miss Swift and her other normal duties. She was fair worn out, but at least by late afternoon Miss Swift, apart from her distress, seemed much improved. She had taken some broth and the colour was back in her cheeks.

  ‘The carriage will be here as soon as it is dark,’ Mrs Waters said. ‘So see that Miss Swift’s bag is packed and she is dressed.’

  Queenie took Miss Swift up a last bit of supper: a slice of ham pie and a baked rice pudding. She was out of bed and already dressed.

  ‘Your carriage will be here shortly,’ said Queenie. ‘I’ll help you pack up your things, shall I?’ Miss Swift’s face was like a cold stone carving. Queenie couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

  ‘Thank you, but I have already gathered together my belongings,’ she said. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. ‘And I have no need for any supper either.’

  Queenie looked about the room. All of the few things Miss Swift had brought with her had indeed gone. Even, Queenie noticed, the tiny chemises she herself had brought. Why was she taking them home? thought Queenie. It would do her no good being reminded of her baby like that. Then Queenie realised she was being unfair. Maybe they would be the only things she would have to remember her baby by.

  ‘Just have a small bite of supper, won’t you?’ Queenie asked.’ You’ll be needing to keep your strength up.’ Miss Swift didn’t answer. She sat staring at the door and then a shudder ran through her body.

  ‘Miss?’ Queenie put her hand on Miss Swift’s shoulder. ‘What is it?’ Miss Swift grasped Queenie’s hand hard and pulled her down so they were face to face.

  ‘You are my friend, are you not?’ she asked.

  ‘Course I am!’ said Queenie. ‘We’re good friends, ain’t we? You and me?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Miss Swift. ‘I hope with all my heart that it is true.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Queenie. ‘Cross my heart it’s the truth.’

  ‘You need to help me, then,’ said Miss Swift. ‘I am taking my baby with me and you must help me to fetch her when the carriage comes.’

  ‘What . . . what do you mean?’ asked Queenie. ‘What about your father?’

  ‘I am taking her home with me,’ repeated Miss Swift. ‘She is the only thing worth having in my life. I will make Father see.’ Her mouth grew tight with determination. ‘I will make him understand.’

  Queenie could see that Miss Swift would not be talked around. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and tell Mrs Waters, then. We’ll get the baby wrapped up warm for you.’ Queenie felt a slow fear creeping through her insides. She was afraid of what Mrs Waters would say and she was afraid of how things would be once Miss Swift had gone home. It was true, Miss Swift was her friend, the only one she’d ever had. She made Queenie feel like somebody and Queenie didn’t want that feeling to end.

  ‘No!’ Miss Swift said, as Queenie went to leave the room. ‘Wait! Do not speak to Mrs Waters. She will not allow it. I know she will not. We must surprise her with our intentions. You must bring my baby to me at the last minute.’

  ‘But . . . but,’ Queenie hesitated. ‘I think it’s best we let Mrs Waters know. I don’t think she’ll take on too kindly if we steal your baby from under her nose.’

  ‘How can it be stealing?’ asked Miss Swift. ‘It is not her child to keep.’

  ‘No,’ said Queenie. ‘But we’ll still need her agreement. And . . . and there’s something else.’ She felt bad having to say what was on her mind. It seemed like nothing when she thought how Miss Swift must be feeling. But all the same, it needed saying. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I ain’t going to be able to do what you’re asking of me. Mrs Waters won’t like me sneaking around behind her back one bit, and . . . and I need this job, and this is my home now.’

  ‘I see,’ said Miss Swift. ‘So you will not help me, then?’ She pulled her hand from Queenie’s and lowered her head. ‘I thought you were my friend.’

  ‘I am!’ protested Queenie. ‘I am your friend.’ Miss Swift could not know just how much she wanted to help.

  ‘But you are still going to tell Mrs Waters of my intentions?’ asked Miss Swift.

  ‘No,’ said Queenie. ‘Not if you don’t want me to. I won’t. But I swear I’ll help you as much as I can. I just ain’t going to be able to fetch the baby as you asked.’

  Miss Swift said nothing. She slumped back in her chair and crossed her arms over her empty belly. Queenie felt wretched. She knew she could do what Miss Swift asked. It would be as easy as pie. But she also knew she would be kicked out on to the streets for her trouble. She tried to think of another way to help. A way of getting Miss Swift in the carriage with the baby in her arms.

  ‘Listen,’ she said to Miss Swift. ‘Listen to me. It’ll be dark soon, and the carriage will be coming. Think hard. If we put our heads together I’m sure we can find a way!’

  46

  Ellen

  I was sick with fear. I was weak and exhausted and still bleeding heavily. I fashioned a wrapping out of torn bed sheets. It felt thick and uncomfortable between my legs but I hoped at least it would keep the blood from flowing. My head felt loose and my whole body was trembling. All I wanted was my baby in my arms and to leave this place.

  I was hiding in the bedroom along the landing from my own. I was standing with the door ajar listening for footsteps on the stairs. Queenie and I had decided what to do. It was the only thing we could think of in the short time we had. When the carriage arrived, Queenie was to take Mrs Ellis out into the backyard and distract her over some pretence. When Mrs Waters came to my room to fetch me, I was to run from this room, down the stairs and to the back kitchen to take my baby. Once she was in my arms there would be nothing anybody could do to take her from me.

  I listened intently. All I could hear was the wind blowing down into the bedroom fireplace and my own heartbeat. I hoped I would be strong enough to hurry down the stairs as I would surely have to. The room behind me was in darkness. I had not dared to bring a candle with me for fear the light would be seen. Time seemed to have stood still and I was not sure how long I had been waiting, when I heard a distant knocking. There was a silent pause, then the muffled sound of voices. Had the carriage arrived at last? I took some deep breaths and readied myself. As I stared through the crack in the door on to the darkened landing, I saw candlelight flickering low down on the staircase walls and heard the soft tread of footsteps. She was coming! Mrs Waters was on her way to my bedroom. Her shadow appeared on the wall and grew larger and larger as she climbed to the top of the stairs. I shrank back into the room and held my breath as she walked past the door.

  ‘Miss Swift?’ I heard her say and the sound of one knock. Then I heard the click of a door handle and knew she had gone into my bedroom. Now I must move, I told myself. And quickly.

  I stepped out onto the landing and walked swiftly to the stairs. A hot flush spread through my body and I felt my face grow damp with perspiration. Keep on! I told myself, and although my head felt o
dd – as though it was floating through the air on its own – I carried on down the stairs to the hallway and quickly made my way to the back kitchen. Mrs Waters was calling me.

  ‘Miss Swift! Miss Swift? Where are you?’

  Her voice grew louder and I knew she was heading back downstairs. My heart pounded with fright and the kitchen door in front of me swam before my eyes. But I was nearly there. My baby would be in my arms in a moment. I hoped Queenie had got Mrs Ellis out of the way. All I needed was a few seconds.

  I opened the door and stumbled into the kitchen. Mrs Ellis was sitting in a chair by the fire. She looked up at me in surprise.

  ‘Miss Swift! Your carriage is here. Mrs Waters is on her way to fetch you. Have you lost your way?’

  Queenie was standing by the kitchen table folding linen. Her eyes were wide and she mouthed, I’m sorry, before bending her head back to her task. Panicked sobs began to rise in my throat. What had happened? Why had Queenie not done as she had said?

  ‘Miss Swift?’ Mrs Ellis said again. I looked wildly around the room. I could still grab my baby; Mrs Ellis would not be expecting it. I walked a few paces towards the sofa where the babies I had seen the night before lay quietly sleeping. Where was she? Where was my child? I stared at each bundle in turn. Which one was her? I could not make out her face among all the tiny features. The babies were too big or too small, and none had the tuft of black hair that I had caressed, only hours ago. Mrs Ellis was striding towards me.

  ‘What are you doing, Miss Swift? Where is your bag? It is time for you to go now.’

  ‘Where is my baby?’ I screamed. ‘Where is she?’ Queenie ran and put her arms out to steady me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘There weren’t nothing I could do.’

  The kitchen door banged opened and I turned to see Mrs Waters enter the room.

  ‘Ah . . .’ she said. ‘There you are. I have been looking all over for you. Now what’s all this fuss about?’