Rough Clay

by Chrissie Loveday

  ‘At least it’s approaching the spring time. Can still be treacherous in February. Won’t be easy.’

  Once the ice was broken they began to plan in earnest. Dora reluctantly agreed to give up work and to make an appointment with her doctor as soon as she could.

  ‘As long as I don’t die of boredom,’ she moaned. ‘Maybe I can see a few friends. I seem to have neglected them for a long time. There’s Myrtle and Joan Jarvis, my old school friends. And Barry. We haven’t seen him for ages. He’s still planning to marry that Nadine. She’s nice and very good for him. Maybe we could ask them over some time?’

  ‘OK, but I don’t want you replacing work with spending hours in the kitchen, cooking or walking miles to see people.’

  ‘I’m not an invalid,’ Dora protested. ‘I’m only pregnant.’ The very words gave her a flood of pleasure. She sat down suddenly and blushed with even greater pleasure.

  ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’

  ‘It moved. The baby moved. She’s letting us know she’s a part of our lives.’

  ‘Did she indeed? You’re so sure it’s a girl?’

  ‘Course she is. Blond hair and blue eyes. I put in the order myself.’

  Everything was going well for them and Archie began to relax a little. Work had settled into a routine and he loved his role as manager of the decorating shop. Once the ‘girls’ were trained to his satisfaction, he began to work on some new designs and often lost himself in the sheer pleasure of creating something new. Leslie left him to decide on the new designs and always encouraged any changes he wanted to make. Dora truly seemed to be thriving and Mary and Harry supported them in every way possible. The main uncertainty in their lives was in the growing threat of the war in Europe. It seemed inevitable. To Dora, it seemed that events in Poland had very little to do with them. Her world, her thoughts were all centred around the baby growing inside her. But as Harry pointed out, the affairs of the world continued to press in on them all. There was an obligation for Britain to help the Poles following a pact made some years earlier.

  ‘Who does this Hitler think he is? How can he demand to take the city of Danzig, wherever that is?’

  ‘How can anyone demand that we all go to war again. You’d think we’d have learned our lesson the first time,’ Mary said bitterly. ‘I can’t bear to think of all our young men being sent away again. After that last lot . . .’ She closed her eyes, remembering the horrors she had lived through when Harry was fighting in France. He wouldn’t ever talk about the dreadful weeks in the trenches and then his poor leg . . . That had never been the same again after the shrapnel. She swallowed, regaining control. ‘And this poor baby. What sort of world is it to bring a new life into?’

  Gloom settled over all of them as they listened to daily news and scoured the newspapers for every hint of how it was going to affect each member of their family and community. By autumn, a sense of inevitability had settled over all of them. Speculation about call-up was the main topic of conversation in every pub and round most tables in most homes.

  ‘Have you heard that City lost half its players?’ was the devastating news brought home by Archie. ‘The call-up spares nobody, it seems.’

  To Dora, the loss of a few football matches for Stoke City seemed very trivial compared with losing her own Archie or even her Dad, should they begin to recruit men of his age. She took to shielding her growing stomach with both arms whenever she walked outside the home. It was as if she could somehow protect her precious child by the simple action. Each day, the news seemed to get worse. September 3rd dawned and expecting the worst, everyone found a radio set to listen to. At eleven o’clock, the words spoken by Neville Chamberlain sealed the fate of the country.

  ‘I bet nobody ever forgets those words,’ Dora said, tears starting in her eyes. ‘The country is now at war with Germany. Oh God. How could it happen again?’ She sat miserably, protecting her bulge and feeling guilty that she was thinking only of herself, her baby and her family. All around Europe, people were going to lose their homes, their jobs and even their lives. There would be shortages of even the most basic things. All the same, one had to make everyday life a part of the reality. It would be very easy to do nothing. However trivial, it was the washing, the cooking and doing all the usual things that helped one to get through the shocking daily events that came to them.

  For Archie, it seemed as if a blow had been struck to his very core. How could he justify spending all his time drawing patterns to use on china teacups. It was wrong. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to sign up for the army and leave his wife and the child they were so anxiously awaiting. He spoke at length to Leslie about their future. As many of their workers were women, it was unlikely they would lose them to the war effort but if the men had to go to war, the women would have to take over their roles in every sort of industry in the country. There was nothing for it but to acknowledge that everything they held precious in their world was about to change. The factory in its present form would probably have to close. Some china manufacturing would have to take place but the highly decorative ware would have to cease. It was all at the wrong time for the relatively new factory that was only just beginning to make a name for itself. The stuff they produced was for the luxury end of the market. All that would be wanted for the foreseeable future would be utilitarian ware. Plain white or cream.

  ‘It could all be over by Christmas,’ Leslie said. ‘I’ve heard several people on the radio saying just that. It’s all temporary, I’m sure.’ It was with a heavy heart that Archie broke the news to his workers. Production would halve, as from the start of next month. After that, nobody could tell. Everyone was so shocked that they scarcely argued. It was as if the very life blood had been sucked out of them all.

  ‘We’ll be back to normal before long,’ Archie tried to cheer them all. ‘You’ll all have your jobs back when it ends,’ he promised.

  ‘Them as survive, maybe,’ said Nellie, one of the younger ‘girls’. ‘I reckon nothin’ll ever be normal again. It’s the end of life as we know it.’

  ‘We’re not done for yet. We shall keep going a while longer. But I have to say, if any of you want to go off to other jobs, I won’t blame you in the least. Take whatever you can get, I’d say.’

  ‘Is that what you’ll be doing?’ another of them asked.

  ‘I dunno yet. We shall have to wait and see. Now, come on. There’s still a couple of hours to go. Let’s get back to it, make the most of the work while it’s still here.’

  At the end of the day, Archie went home with a heavy heart. After all his struggles, his battles to escape from his old life, it seemed so unfair that success should be snatched away from him at this time. He mustn’t let Dora see how worried he was. It would be particularly bad for the child if she knew how much he was worrying. All the same, he was carrying a deep feeling of futility and failure inside.

  The next weeks were clouded with the feelings of uncertainty in most homes in the country. Men were leaving every day and setting off to join the army, navy and airforces. Gradually, the occupations that were considered essential were being designated and Archie heard that mining was among them. Even if his age wasn’t against him, his own father wouldn’t have to go to war. Instead he would continue to fight the constant war of life down the pit. Archie shuddered, knowing that particular life would have seemed just as bad to him as any war.

  During October, Dora began to feel ill. She admitted that she was feeling rotten and this time made no fuss about staying in bed. Archie felt his heart sinking once more. It was almost the same time in the pregnancy that things had started to go wrong before. Would anything ever go right for them? He began to think they were jinxed.

  ‘Must be all the worry of the war and everything,’ he tried to comfort his wife. But she continued to lie listless and in obvious pain. ‘Does it feel like you’re having contractions?’ Archie asked, feeling stupid. Why did he know so little about the process of childbirth? He’d never
forgotten the terrifying screams he’d heard from his own mother when his brother was born. It sounded so dreadful he’d wondered how the process of child birth could possibly continue. Somehow, it always did. He’d tried to ask Mary to tell him but she had been embarrassed saying it was woman’s stuff and men had no business knowing what was going on. She had mentioned contractions, when he asked how he’d know if it was starting. But he had little idea of what it really involved.

  ‘Should I get the midwife to come? Or should I get the doctor?’

  ‘I don’t know, Archie. I really don’t know. It’s much too soon for it to be labour pains. I’ve still got nearly three months to go.’

  ‘I’m going for the doctor then. Don’t worry love. We’ll do everything we can to make sure it’s all right.’ He left her and stifled the rising panic that was choking his throat. He didn’t know how she’d cope if she lost the baby. Worse still, he didn’t know how he would cope if he lost Dora. He rushed round to the doctor’s and made him promise to come as soon as he could. Mary fussed round her daughter and did her best to keep her cheerful.

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ she whispered after Mary had sponged her face for the umpteenth time. Her voice sounded weak and suddenly she gave a small scream. ‘Oh . . . oh it hurts, Mum. What’s happening to me?’

  ‘Archie’ll be back in a minute, with the doctor. Just try to lie still.’ With a worried frown, Mary went to look through the window to see if there was any sign of the doctor and her son-in-law. ‘Do you want a nice cup of tea, love?’ she offered.

  ‘I feel too sick. I daren’t let go, in case it gives trouble with the babe. Oh, Mum, I can’t bear it. I can’t lose this one. You won’t let them take it away, will you? Promise me you won’t.’

  ‘They’ll have to do what’s best for you. Now, stop your mitherin’ and lie back and rest.’

  Two hours later, Archie was pacing the corridors at the local hospital. It was very close by and once the doctor had taken a glance at his wife, he’d rushed her straight into the surgical ward. He’d suspected appendicitis but with the advanced state of the pregnancy, especially given Dora’s history, he’d been unable to give any sort of accurate prognosis. Archie knew he’d never forget the stricken look in Dora’s eyes as she was laid out on the trolley.

  ‘Don’t let them harm the baby,’ she’d begged. ‘Promise me you won’t.’

  The doctor had already told him that the chances of keeping the child were virtually nil. If they tried to save the child, it was more than likely that Dora could die.

  ‘What the heck’s the use of such a premature baby without a mother?’ he’d demanded. ‘Save my Dora. She’s the important one.’ How could any man choose differently? He didn’t know his child and in any case, it was far too small to survive if it was born now. He glanced at his watch for the fourth time that minute. It seemed to be going on forever. He half wished he’d let Mary or Harry come with him. He’d insisted on them staying at home as there seemed little point in all of them cluttering up the hospital corridor. At each click of a door or sound of footsteps, he started forward. How long did it take to perform an operation? It seemed like every minute was three hours long. He continued his pacing. He’d never forget that smell. The oddly disinfectant smell that pervaded everything. A soft footfall behind him made him swing round nervously.

  ‘Harry! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Same as you, lad. Waiting to hear the news. Mary insisted I come. I left her turning out the kitchen cupboards. Said she couldn’t stand the waiting. Needed something to do.’ He laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder and nodded, comfortingly.

  ‘By, but I’m glad you’re here. I was driving myself barmy, imagining all sorts. I er . . . I had to say that Dora should be saved instead of the baby, should there be any choice in the matter. She didn’t want me to but it was all I could say.’

  ‘Course it was, lad. Absolutely right.’

  ‘God, how much longer?’ he said desperately.

  ‘It isn’t the right time to say anything but our Margaret has given birth to another daughter. We got a telegram this afternoon. I’m sorry, lad. It’s tough on you both to see her having them so easily.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake don’t tell Dora. I think it would just about finish her off.’

  At last the door of the theatre opened and the surgeon came out. He wiped his brow.

  ‘Mr Barnett?’

  ‘Yes. That’s me. This is my father-in-law. Harry Marsh. Dora’s Dad. How is she? Dora?’

  ‘As well as can be expected.’

  ‘What’s that s’posed to mean?’

  ‘She’s come through the operation quite well, considering. She’s had an appendectomy, greatly complicated by her advanced state of pregnancy. A most interesting case.’

  ‘Oh, interesting is it? I’m glad to hear it. And is she still pregnant?’ The sarcasm was lost on the surgeon.

  ‘Well, as far as we can tell, she should keep the baby. It’s not by any means certain of course and she may still lose it. Nor can we guarantee that there might not be any damage to the foetus. We’ve done all we can.’

  ‘And Dora’s going to be all right? Can I see her?’

  ‘She’s still rather sleepy after the anaesthetic. We had to monitor everything very carefully. You must realise that we actually had to lift the entire baby out to perform the operation. Complications, you understand. We’ve taken every possible precaution and hopefully, she should manage to complete her term and give birth normally. She will of course have to take a great deal of rest, most of it in bed until the birth. There are a great many more stitches than usual and with the distension caused by her pregnancy, we have to take great care that they don’t give way. Nothing strenuous at all. For several weeks, she’ll probably have some degree of pain. The incision had to be unusually long because of the child. And the healing may be slow with the extra pressure. You can see her briefly but she needs plenty of rest.’

  ‘Thank you so much, doctor. This will mean a lot to her, knowing she hasn’t lost the baby.’

  ‘Yes, well it’s early days to give an accurate prognosis.’

  The two men went into the ward and looked at the woman they both loved so dearly. She was pale and exhausted and lay back on her pillow looking so white they neither of them knew what to say. Her eyes flickered open.

  ‘Am I all right? Is the baby still there?’

  ‘Yes and yes. Don’t try to move and don’t say anything, love. It’s going to be all right. Now, get some sleep and we’ll be in first thing tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Don’t make yourself late for work,’ she murmured feebly.

  ‘Sod work,’ Archie hissed. ‘You come first, in every way.’ He stood beside her, holding tightly to her frail hand. She always had such soft hands. Took great care of them. There was even now, pale pink nail varnish on her nails. He smiled fondly. It was part of his wife. His Dora. ‘Try to sleep. You’ll soon be feeling better.’ He kissed her head and he and her father slipped away quietly.

  Dora’s determination to keep her baby gave her strength. The doctors and nurses had told her to expect the worst. Even if she went to full term, there was still the possibility that the baby may not be quite normal. But that would never matter to her. Whatever the child needed in the way of extra care, she would give it. Willingly. Once back at home, she gritted her teeth and did everything she could to rest, eat healthily and avoid stress. The latter was not so easy, in view of the growing pace of the war. Archie did his best to keep work running smoothly so that she was not worried about him but it grew more difficult each week as orders were cancelled and workers were being laid off.

  One bright spot was the announcement from her cousin Barry that he and Nadine had become engaged. Marriage was some distance off, however, as he was working away from home. Dora was delighted to receive a letter from Nadine and wrote back with enthusiasm.

  ‘My stomach looks like a patchwork quilt. I had twenty-six stitches instead of the proverbial
seven or eight. Maybe if I wear a high enough collar, it won’t show! But at least they saved the infant.’

  Her light words held a depth of emotion that no-one could ever realise.

  They spent a quiet Christmas. Barry and Nadine came over for Boxing Day and they enjoyed a quiet day together. Barry had lost none of his enthusiasm for his band and was convinced it was only a matter of time before he hit the big time.

  ‘I’m certain that even if the war does go on, people will need a bit of lively music to enjoy and take their minds off their troubles,’ he said. All the same, it seemed that everyone’s plans were on hold until they knew what was going to happen. Though in some ways, events had never quite got going the way everyone was expecting, the war was certainly nowhere near being over by Christmas, as the politicians had so optimistically predicted. They’d heard that William was signing up and Mary shook her head sadly.

  ‘He’s so very young isn’t he?’

  ‘They’re not fussy who they send in to get shot. He’s old enough.’

  January seemed even more depressing than usual and the weather turned bitterly cold.

  ‘What a time of year for a baby to come into the world,’ Dora wailed. The snow began to fall in February and people were outside shovelling snow from their paths. The roads were largely impassable and both men of the family spent many hours struggling to work. Both parents went down with heavy colds and Archie completely gave up trying to get to work. Dora knew it was almost time for the baby and began worrying herself that it would stand no chance if it came into a household filled with germs, especially with the weather so cold. One morning, she struggled along to the corner shop and bought bottles of disinfectant, cotton wool and various other bits she would need for the birth. Despite all her previous problems, there was no question of her confinement taking place in hospital. Hospitals were for people with serious illnesses. She would have to rely on the midwife, a few prayers and plenty of disinfectant. Mary was beginning to get over her own cold and, feeling better, had got up for the afternoon when Dora started her labour. During the first contractions, she said nothing. She went upstairs and made her preparations. When she was certain, she asked Archie to fetch the midwife.