Ribbons in Her Hair

by Colette McCormick

  Mandy always spoke a lot when she was excited and there was no stopping her that day. She told me all about the people that lived on the same landing as us. Apart from me, her and Miriam, there was a man called Bob who hadn’t come out of his flat much since he’d broken his leg a few weeks before. Apparently he was on the mend but it would be another few weeks before he got out and about. His daughter came every day to make sure that he was all right and do a bit of shopping for him. Bob lived in the flat next to Miriam and then between Bob and the flat that I’d moved into were Dan and Louise. ‘They never had any children of their own,’ Mandy said, ‘so they like to make a fuss of me and Jade when they see us. I dare say they’ll be the same with you. They’re away at the minute in Scotland visiting their niece but they’ll be back at the weekend.’

  I didn’t really know about the reputation of Palmer’s Court. I’d never heard of it before Sharon had told me that there was a chance that I would be moving there after my baby was born. All I knew was that it was a block of council-owned flats and, from what Mandy had said, I – we – would be all right there.

  Paula stayed about an hour or so and before she left she gave me a card that had her telephone number on. ‘Any problems, you call me, day or night,’ she said. She looked in on Mary who was still asleep in her cot and then peeped into Jade’s pram to find that she was showing signs of waking up.

  ‘I’ll leave you two to it,’ she said and gave us both a hug. ‘See you both soon.’

  The door had only just closed when Jade did wake up. She gave out a howl that even I with less than a week of experience as a mother could recognise as an I’m hungry yell.

  Mandy picked her up and gave her to me. ‘Hold her will you, while I just heat up her bottle.’

  Mandy took a prepared bottle of baby milk from the bag that sat in the basket under the pram and went about warming it up. I rocked Jade but there was no placating her and I wondered what I was doing wrong. It was just one of many moments of self doubt that I would have and I was relieved when Mandy took her off me and started to feed her. Jade sucked hard on the bottle and made contented little snorting noises as her stomach started to fill.

  ‘There’s a bottle made up in the fridge for Mary,’ Mandy said, ‘and if you want my advice, you’ll make another one up as soon as one’s gone. You don’t want to have to do it when the little un’s bawling the place down.’ Motherhood suited Mandy.

  I decided to leave them alone and went to look around my new home. In the kitchen there was a gas cooker, with a selection of saucepans sitting on top of the rings, a fridge and an automatic washing machine. I opened the fridge and inside it there was a bottle of milk, a small block of cheese, a packet of ham, a chicken leg and a bag of carrots. The bottle of baby formula that Mandy had mentioned sat in the door section. I closed the fridge and checked the cupboards. There were tea bags, a jar of coffee and about a dozen tins of various things including baked beans and tuna. I’d manage that day but I’d need to do some shopping. On the bench, in the corner just by the window that looked out onto the landing that we had walked along, was a steriliser with several bottles inside it and a tin of formula.

  Everything I needed was in that flat, including my baby and my best friend.

  When I went back into the living room Jade had finished her bottle and was sitting forward on her mum’s knee having her back rubbed. Mandy was encouraging her and when she finally did let out an enormous burp Mandy said, ‘Good girl! Better out than in,’ and we both laughed.

  Mary woke up to be fed not long after that so Mandy said that she would get off but that she’d be back in the morning to take me shopping. ‘If it’s anything like when I arrived,’ she said, ‘you’ll be okay for the first night but then you’ll need to get something in. We’ll need to go to the post office first though,’ she said as she was leaving, ‘so that you can get your money.’

  That was the one thing that I didn’t like about the situation that I was in: the money; the handouts that I would have to live on. Mum had had a word for people that lived on ‘the social’ and it wasn’t nice. But hey, I’d have to get used to it; there was no choice and I had no place for pride where Mary was concerned. I was willing to do whatever it took to bring her up. My mum had something bad to say about everyone that didn’t live by her own moral standards, so God knows what she’d be saying about me now.

  I was still thinking about that as I sat on the sofa with a cushion supporting my back and my baby in my arms. Mary was flicking the teat of the bottle I was offering her around with her tongue until finally she managed to get it where she wanted it and started to suck. I loved her so much but I was fully aware of what I had given up to be there with her. No matter what Mum said, I had known what I was doing when I decided to have her. I’d known that life wouldn’t be a bed of roses, but I was willing to risk it. And I have never – not for one second – regretted running away so that I could keep her.

  Maybe, if I had stayed, Mum would have fallen in love with her when she was born and allowed me to keep her but somehow I doubted it. In Mum’s eyes, Mary was the embodiment of shame and she wouldn’t have that in the house. Running away had been my only choice and I would have done it again in a heart beat.

  I couldn’t help wondering how Mum was covering up the fact that I wasn’t around. At least one of the neighbours would have mentioned it by now. Mrs Watson who lived in the house opposite us was what Mum called ‘a curtain twitcher’ and there wasn’t a lot went on in that street that she didn’t know about. She was bound to have noticed that I hadn’t been around and she would have asked about me. She probably hadn’t asked directly because she never did that, but she would have made it her business to find out what was going on.

  Later that night, when Mary was bathed, fed and fast asleep in her cot I sat on my threadbare sofa and looked through the large window. It was pitch black outside and the lights from the town beyond Palmer’s Court twinkled. Even though I’d told myself to stop thinking about it, or rather her, I couldn’t help myself. Paula had asked if I had contacted her and I was glad that she hadn’t pressed the point but as I sat alone I wondered if maybe I should give her a ring or at least write her a letter. Maybe I should have, but the truth was that I didn’t want to. It’s like I’ve said: to my mum, Mary would just be something to be ashamed of, a dirty little secret that should be hidden away and there was no way I was going to let her become that.

  At the end of the day though, she was still my mum and despite everything I still yearned for her love. I’ve loved her all my life and you don’t just stop loving someone because they do something that you don’t agree with. But I loved Mary more and if I had to choose one of them I would choose Mary every day. And though I loved Mum, I didn’t think I could forgive her and I doubted she would ever be able to accept my decision. What the neighbours thought would always come first, it was just the way she was. Julie had told me that and she was right. So I definitely wasn’t going to contact my mum, but what about Julie?

  I assumed that Julie had got the letter that I’d sent before I left and from the bottom of my heart I wanted to get in touch with her. I wanted to tell her all about her beautiful niece. I would have to ring her; a letter would give them a clue as to where I was and I knew that I didn’t want that. Maybe I would ring her the next day.

  ‘You sure you want to do that?’ Mandy asked me the next morning when I told her about my plan. She’d come round after breakfast so that we could go shopping together and she sat on the end of my bed while I finished getting Mary dressed.

  ‘Yes, I think so.’ Mary had a white babygro on and kicked her feet as I tried to fasten the buttons.

  ‘Will she tell your sister where you are?’

  ‘I’m not going to tell her where I am, just that she has a niece and that we are all right.’

  And that’s what I did. As Mandy sat on the bench with a pram either side of her I stood in the phone box and dialled Julie’s number. It rang five or six times a
nd I started to think that she must be out. Maybe I’d wait until after six; she’d definitely be home then and it would be cheaper so I’d get more minutes for my money. I almost put the phone down but decided to count five more rings before I gave up. She answered on ring number four.

  ‘Hello?’ she said. I didn’t speak straight away. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. ‘Hello,’ she said again and still nothing came out. And then she said something that took me totally by surprise. ‘Susan,’ she said, ‘is that you?’

  ‘Yes,’ finally a word popped out.

  ‘Oh my God, Susan! Where are you?’ she asked. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said. I could hear my voice shaking and I took a deep breath. ‘I’m fine,’ I said again. ‘We’re fine.’

  ‘We? Did you have the baby?’

  ‘Yes. You have a niece, Julie. A beautiful, little niece.’

  I thought I heard Julie crying. ‘Are you both okay? What did you call her? Are you coming back?’ It was just one question after another without a wait for an answer.

  ‘Yes, we are both fine,’ I said. ‘Her name is Mary and no we are not coming back.’

  ‘Why not? There’s nothing she can do now.’

  I gave a little laugh. I couldn’t help it. ‘Oh come on, Julie,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what she’s told the neighbours but whatever it is I’m sure me turning up with Mary in my arms would put a spanner in the works. What has she told the neighbours anyway?’

  ‘That you’re in Scarborough looking after Dad’s auntie Rose.’

  So now I knew. ‘I just wanted you to know that I was safe,’ I said emphasising the word ‘you’.

  ‘Thanks for that. I appreciate it. I’ve been worried about you.’ She paused for a couple of seconds before asking, ‘Do you want me to tell her that you rang?’

  ‘Do you think she’ll care?’

  The pips got in the way of her answer.

  ‘Call again,’ she said before we got cut off.

  I didn’t know if I would.

  ***

  Miriam knocked on my door one day at the beginning of December. It was one of those really bright days that are freezing despite the sun’s best efforts. I opened the door wide and told her to come in.

  ‘I thought I’d seen Mandy come in,’ she said, ‘so I’d thought I’d catch you both together.’

  ‘She’s through there.’ I nodded towards the living room and closed the door.

  ‘You all right, Miriam?’ Mandy said. ‘Sorry if Jade’s been keeping you up. The doctor says its colic and he’s given me some medicine for her.’

  ‘Is that why you think I’m here?’ Miriam laughed. ‘To complain about babies crying? Babies crying don’t bother me. One of the benefits of being deaf in one ear, I suppose. Can’t hear a thing once I’m laid on it.’ She sat down in the armchair and asked, ‘Are we having a brew?’

  They were talking about colic when I came back with the tea and Miriam took a sip of hers before she told us why she had wanted to catch us together.

  ‘It’s about Christmas,’ Miriam said. ‘I wondered what you were both doing.’

  I can’t say I’d given it a lot of thought, mainly because it was something that I didn’t want to think about. I loved Christmas, and say what you like about my mother she knew how to roast a turkey; I was going to miss that – not the food as such but the family time.

  Mandy and I both said that we hadn’t thought about it.

  ‘Just as well I have then, isn’t it,’ Miriam said. ‘You’ll come to me.’

  ‘We couldn’t…’ Mandy and I both started to say.

  ‘Oh, but you could and you will,’ Miriam said. ‘All four of you.’

  So that’s what we did.

  ***

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ Miriam said a few weeks later as she opened the door to us. She was wearing a red apron that matched the colour of her face and I couldn’t help wondering if she’d been hitting the sherry already. She made us feel so welcome that day, and I well up every time I think about it now.

  There was a small, artificial tree full of baubles and lights sitting in the corner of Miriam’s living room and tinsel was wrapped around the pictures on the wall. Under the tree there were presents for both of us as well as our children. Just small things, bubble bath for Mandy and me and a small teddy each for the girls, but it’s the thought that counts and the memory of that thought has never left me. I had never known such kindness. Mandy and I had clubbed together and bought Miriam a matching hat and scarf set which she said she loved and I used to see her wearing it so I think she really did.

  Miriam had said that she would buy the turkey and Mandy and I bought the vegetables, well the sprouts and the carrots because that was all we could afford. ‘Meat and two veg,’ Miriam said, ‘that’s more than enough for anyone.’ She’d bought a small Christmas pudding and made her own custard which was the closest thing to heaven on a plate that I have ever tasted.

  After lunch, as the babies slept in their prams, we sat with Miriam, drank tea and watched some film on the television. It was a musical I think. I didn’t really pay much attention to it if I’m honest I was just enjoying being happy.

  Later when we were home and Mary was tucked up in bed I stood by the big window and looked out into the darkness. I thought about how things had been last Christmas Day. I’d gone out with Tim in the evening and we’d exchanged gifts in The Flying Horse. I’d bought him some aftershave that I couldn’t really afford and he gave me a box of talc. Note I said gave and not bought because there was a good chance that he’d nicked it. Things were very different now.

  ***

  I bought myself a card that first Mother’s Day. I know that sounds silly, a bit pathetic even, but I just wanted to mark the occasion. It was just a small one, white with pink edges and a picture of a sleeping baby on it. ‘On Your First Mother’s Day’ was written along the top. I would never have another first Mother’s Day and it didn’t matter to me that I’d bought the card myself. I didn’t write on it, I just stood it on the table and looked at it. I kept it of course; I’ve still got it now, tucked inside the shoe box under my bed. The card’s a bit yellow now where it used to be white and the writing is faded.

  Mandy laughed at me and called me ‘soppy cow’ when she saw it. I shrugged my shoulders and couldn’t disagree with her.

  I didn’t celebrate my birthday that year. I spent my nineteenth birthday dusting shelves and vacuuming carpets just like I did every other day. My only concession to it being any different to every other day of the year was that I made a cake. It wasn’t much of a cake, just a Victoria sponge but it was the first birthday cake I’d ever had in my life. That made me feel sad and I vowed that day that Mary would always have a cake on her birthday.

  Mandy came round that afternoon, as she did most days, and I gave her a piece to have with her tea. ‘What’s the occasion?’ she asked.

  ‘Just felt like baking,’ I said and I don’t know why I didn’t tell her it was my birthday.

  Occasions, family times like birthdays, were always a bit tough. They were the times that I missed my … people the most.

  But never mind, being with Mary was worth it.

  ***

  Life settled down and Mary and I found a way of getting along together. We did all right most of the time. I mean, there was the odd occasion in those early days when I would have given anything for a good night’s sleep, or even half a night’s sleep, but apart from that we got along fine.

  ‘Maybe you would do better if you had help from your family,’ the snooty health visitor had said to me one day when I took Mary to the clinic to get checked out.

  I didn’t know where she’d come from, she wasn’t local though because she had a really posh accent, and I mean really posh. Knowing what I know now, I think it was probably Surrey or somewhere like that. Not London but definitely that way on. And you just knew that she’d come from a good family where the sort of thing that she had to deal with i
n her job day to day never happened. She hadn’t got a clue what life was like for people like me. Mandy had had more than one run in with her.

  That wasn’t my way though, so when she suggested again that I needed the support of my family I politely said that wasn’t possible and thank goodness she didn’t press it because I think I might have told her that they were all dead just to shut her up. I felt terrible about that later because that was the sort of thing that you didn’t joke about.

  Then it occurred to me that they could die and I wouldn’t know about it. My family had no way of contacting me to let me know. But by that same token I could die too, so I guessed it was a two-way street. Anyway, Mary was my family now, my real family. But do you know what, no matter how many times I said that to myself, I couldn’t help thinking about the one that I had left behind.

  It was sunny that day so instead of going straight back up to the flat after my appointment with the health visitor, I sat on the bench on the grassy area. Mary was fast asleep in her pram so I positioned her so that the sun wasn’t in her face, sat back and relaxed.

  I could see my flat from where I sat and something about it made me think of egg boxes stacked on top of each other. Whenever I think of that flat now I always think of egg boxes.

  Egg box or not, I loved that flat. It wasn’t much but it was mine and a palace couldn’t have been more precious. Mandy and I had come across a charity shop in town where we could buy bits and bobs for our flats, our babies and even sometimes ourselves, though that was a rarity in my case. This was in the days before charity shops became fashionable and most people wouldn’t have been seen dead walking into one. We used to watch them sometimes looking up and down the street to make sure that no one they knew was going to see them before making a dash for the door. We used to laugh because we couldn’t understand it. You could get good stuff in there at a reasonable price. So what if it had been used before?