Abandoned Love

by Rosie Houghton

  “I don’t know what I am doing wrong. She won’t settle at all.”

  “Don’t worry Marjorie, she has somewhat been passed from pillar to post recently. I am sure in the fullness of time she will settle with you.”

  On the Thursday evening Arthur took Marjorie to the house, so that he could see her. She was fractious at being got up at an unaccustomed time and he took to her, Marjorie thought more than he would have done had she been placid.

  “You obviously have a way with babies, Mr Ronson.” Said Mrs Bangerter.

  Part of Marjorie was a little upset that it seemed to be easier for him to bond with the baby than herself. She knew it made sense because Arthur had had babies before, she just hoped that by being a woman, her maternal instinct would have clicked in. Perhaps she hadn’t appreciated how challenging looking after a baby was going to be.

  On Saturday 21st October, Arthur and Marjorie decided to go shopping to Mothercare for a carry-cot, transporter, blankets, nappies, and also to other places for bottles, teats, vests, nighties, booties, pants, sheets, cotton shawls, towels, SMA, farex and robinson foods. They also each got her a little toy.

  “I can’t believe how much we had to buy!” Marjorie said as they were carrying the shopping back to the car. “It must have cost a small fortune.”

  “It’s better, in my experience to be over prepared. There won’t be much time for shopping when we have her at home.”

  At six o’clock, they went over to Mrs Bangerter to collect her. She had two grandchildren there, with her, Melanie aged nine and a boy a bit older. Melanie was very interested in Rosie, but not the boy and Mrs Bangerter was so busy snapping at him to say “Good Evening” to them, she forgot to introduce Arthur and her husband. They grinned at each other and Arthur said.

  “We don’t get a look in when there are babies around.”

  Marjorie hoped that Arthur didn’t think that having Rosie would alter the way they felt about each other. To the contrary she saw having this little baby in their lives, making their love for each other stronger. She knew his first wife had not been a good wife or a good mother. She was determined to show Arthur, she could be both.

  That evening, they took Rosie home and gave her an SMA feed straight away. She gazed around the living room while taking it in, obviously aware she was in a fresh place. Eventually Marjorie put her down in her cot, but she cried and cried. Arthur said they should wait awhile and see if she settled down, but she didn’t.

  “Oh Arthur, what are we doing wrong?”

  “Nothing, she just needs nursing for awhile.”

  With that, he got up and picked her up and nursed her in his arms until she finally fell asleep. She looked so vulnerable in his big, strong arms. It was hard to think that this tiny human being would one day grow into an adult. All she needed now was love and nurturing.

  The following morning, while Marjorie was cooking lunch, Arthur carried her round the house showing her things. She heard him say.

  “This is a mirror, you can see yourself in it, look.”

  He then drew a face on the window for her. Then he went out in to the garden and picked some late autumn flowers for her to smell. He showed her gradually every sight and sound he could give her.

  Over the next few weeks, Marjorie lived in fear of the Children’s Welfare Officer, Mrs Barnet coming over, or hearing about her, or meeting her with her. She remembered the first time she went out shopping with her. She was absolutely tense, but people in shops so often admired her. She felt relieved. She decided the best thing was to say to herself.

  “OK, they may come and take her away tomorrow, so let this be a happy day”

  The only person she told was her next door neighbour who was over the moon for them.

  “If anyone asks about Rosie, can you just say we are looking after her for somebody?”

  “Of course Marjorie. I know how much you wanted this child.”

  “I’m just so afraid the authorities will come after us.”

  “Listen, it is not as if you’ve kidnapped her or something. The mother agreed didn’t she?”

  “Yes I know, but I read somewhere that you are duty bound to tell the local authority at some stage. I just think the longer we have Rosie and the longer we have to bond, the harder it will be for the authorities to intervene.”

  “Your secret is safe with me Marjorie.”

  Their kind neighbours lent them a cot which they used at night. Arthur loved her and often fed her and sat with her watching television on his knee. He wheeled her in to the dining room, while Marjorie was putting supper on the table, and sat her up in the corner of the carry cot, supported against a blanket. She would often solemnly watch them eating, like a little mandarin.

  They had Rosie in the room with them during the evening, as she slept a lot during the day and she lay in her carry cot, bicycling or sat on a knee watching television, or mountaineering, or climbing up one of them, particularly when Arthur was wearing his navy pullover. Towards Christmas, Marjorie was afraid Miriam might get in touch, but she did not. Her mother came to them for Christmas, and was delighted with Rosie. Arthur and Marjorie gave Rosie a penguin suit for Christmas, among other things and they had a happy Christmas.

  Then on Monday 15th January 1968, eight weeks after they had taken possession of Rosie, Marjorie received a phone call.

  “Marjorie Ronson?”

  “Yes speaking.”

  “This is Doctor Rosenberg, from St Bart’s Hospital.”

  Her heart was pounding in her chest. What could possibly have happened? Was it her mother, was it Arthur, had they called to take away her daughter?

  “It’s your husband. He suffered a massive heart attack at work this morning. We have managed to stabilize him, but I suggest you come to the hospital right away.”

  “But he’s only fifty four.”

  “I know, these things hit us when we least expect it. Is there a history of heart disease within the family Mrs Ronson?”

  “No! I mean I don’t know.”

  Marjorie was rattling her brains. Come to think about it Arthur had mentioned that his brother, who was a surgeon, was very careful with his diet. She hadn’t thought to ask Arthur what that was all about. He smoked occasionally, but who didn’t after the War.

  “Is it serious?”

  “As I say we have stabilized him at the moment but he may drift in and out of consciousness and possibly go into a coma.”

  “I’ll be there just as soon as I can doctor.”

  She slammed the phone down and ran into her next door neighbour’s. Rosie was fast asleep in her cot thank goodness.

  “Jacqueline!”

  “Marjorie, whatever is the matter?”

  “It’s Arthur! He has been rushed in to St Bart’s with a massive heart attack. Can you take care of Rosie for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “All her bottles and SMA are in the kitchen, her nappies are in the bathroom,” she blurted out in a panic.

  “Just go, Marjorie, I’ll be fine. I’ve been there before remember!”

  And with that she dashed out of the house and caught the first train to London. At Kings Cross, she changed to get on to the Circle line. As the train stopped at each station, she was willing the train to go faster and faster. Not now please Oh Lord, I’ve only just gained Rosie, don’t whatever you do lose me Arthur.

  As Marjorie got to Farringdon, she ran out of the station until she got to the entrance of St Bart’s. The hospital was huge and she scanned corridor after corridor until finally arriving at Accident and Emergency.

  “I’m looking for my husband Mr Ronson.”

  “He has been transferred to Intensive care, I’m afraid.”

  Oh Lord, please let her get there on time. She eventually found him in a private room off Ward B. He was strapped up to all sorts of machines and monitors. There were two male nurses standing by the bed taking notes.

  “Are you his wife?” one of them asked.

  “Yes
.”

  “I’m afraid he is heavily sedated you know.”

  She stared at the bed. Arthur’s face was sheet white with his eyes closed. His hand had an intravenous drip inserted. Attached to his chest were various electrodes which in turn were attached to another monitor which constantly went beep. She sat down in the chair beside him and idly stroked his forehead.

  “Don’t leave me now Arthur, I can’t do this on my own.”

  His eyes flickered slightly as if registering her presence. She could see that his heart was still beating. His flesh was still warm and she clung on to his hand willing for a response. She carried on sitting there for the next hour or so watching him sleeping. Eventually a monitor sounded an alarm and a doctor appeared.

  “It is alright Mrs Ronson. That alarm is just to warn us that he is coming round and may need some more sedative.”

  “Can I just talk to him? For a few moments?”

  “Yes, but try to keep it brief. He is very weak.”

  She turned towards Arthur, trying to hold back the tears, so he couldn’t see how upset she was.

  “Arthur, can you hear me?”

  His eyes started to open and his head slowly rolled to the left to look at her.

  “I’ve written a will and Rosie’s in it,” he whispered.

  “Don’t talk about wills at a time like this. You’ re going to get better.”

  “I’m tired, very very tired.”

  “Love you.”

  The doctor came back and gave him a sedative. Marjorie watched Arthur as he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.

  “Best come back in the morning after you have had a good night’s sleep Mrs Ronson. There’s nothing more you can do here until the morning.”

  She knew she had to get back for Rosie. She couldn’t expect Jacqueline to look after her through the night as well. With a heavy heart, she left his bedside, and took the train back to Barnet.

  “What’s the prognosis?” said her neighbour over a strong shot of brandy.

  “I don’t know.”

  That night she slept fretfully. Thankfully Rosie was sleeping through the night now, otherwise, she didn’t know how she would have coped.

  The following morning she rose early in a panic. She simply had to get back to the hospital. She couldn’t leave Arthur on his own, but she couldn’t leave Rosie alone either. Jacqueline had promised to look after her the previous night for as long as she needed her. Marjorie didn’t have any other option at the moment. She would have to get Jacqueline to call her mum and get her to come up to London.

  “Marjorie, don’t fret, just get yourself to the hospital. I’ve managed twins you know.”

  She was grateful to the one friend and neighbour she had got in Jacqueline. Nothing had prepared her for this. She hurriedly took the train that morning and dashed back to the hospital. When she arrived at the Arthur’s bedside she noticed that he was still sleeping. After updating herself as to his progress during the night which was pretty much the same as the day before she went down to the canteen to get a strong cup of black coffee and some flowers to place by Arthur’s bedside. When she returned his eyes were open, but he was still very sleepy.

  “Arthur,” she said squeezing his hand.“ You gave us quite a fright yesterday.”

  Arthur blinked acknowledging his response and then gazed at the flowers.

  “I brought you some daffodils and tulips, a message that spring has sprung. I’ll just put them in some water for you.”

  She grabbed an empty vase from the window sill and went to the bathroom to fill it with water.

  “There we are.” She said on her return “I never liked hospitals.”

  At that moment the doctor walked in with two of his assistants. He checked the handwritten chart at the bed and then checked Arthur’s pulse.

  “Morning Mrs Ronson.”

  “Morning Doctor?”

  “Doctor Mamford. Listen Mrs Ronson, I know you must be in shock right now after yesterday’s attack. We have managed to stabilize your husband and as you can see he is awake, but I would suggest that you give him as much rest as possible at the moment. I know the temptation must be to talk to him but I would advise against this until he has regained some strength. We will keep him on the drip for the time being and keep you updated as to his progress.”

  “You will let me know if there is any change doctor? You see I have a young baby to look after and I don’t like to leave her for long periods at a time.”

  “Of course, Mrs Ronson.”

  She kissed him softly on the head and then picked up her things and left. The sun was beating down outside but this did nothing to lighten her mood. How was she going to cope? Surely Arthur would get through this? Why now when they had just got Rosie? On the way to the tube station she popped into a church which was full of homeless people. She tried to feel sorry for their predicament, but couldn’t. She knelt down and said a little prayer and then lit a candle for Arthur.

  When she got home that evening she didn’t feel like eating anything. She went to collect Rosie and placed her in the playpen whilst she made the phone call to her mother.

  “I am so sorry darling, Jacqueline told me.”

  “I feel so helpless mum. They have told me that he must get as much rest as possible, but all I want to do is talk to him, to reassure myself he is still with us. He’s so young.”

  Marjorie knew that his job was stressful but had no idea what had brought this on.

  “Perhaps when he shows signs of getting better, which he will love, we should take Rosie in to see him. She will make him smile.”

  “I know, but hospitals are such awful places.”

  They did take Rosie to see Arthur the following week, when he showed signs of getting better. Arthur was sat up in his hospital bed supported by his pillows. He was no longer on a drip but was still attached to a heart monitor which constantly went beep. Rosie slept most of the time in her travel cot but at least Arthur got to see her.

  Marjorie continued to see him on a daily basis whilst her mother looked after Rosie.

  “Arthur you do know I love you,” she said tears streaming down her face.

  “You have to be strong for Rosie.”

  “I can’t do this without you, you are my soulmate. Everything else means nothing.”

  She carried on talking but Arthur wasn’t listening as he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

  One night, she sat on the Northern line on her way back to Barnet watching the tube signs go by in a blur. She knew something was wrong and couldn’t put her finger on it. The monotonous beat of the train numbed her senses.

  When she arrived home she received the inevitable phone call.

  “Mrs Ronson, I’m sorry to tell you that your husband passed away at 4.40pm this afternoon of two massive heart attacks. I’m afraid there was nothing we could do.”

  MIRIAM 1968

  MEDITERRANEAN

  THAT WINTER MIRIAM applied and got accepted to work as a stewardess on the Queen Frederica which was operating cruises in the Mediterranean under charter to Sovereign Cruises. She flew down to Malta to board the vessel. Queen Frederica’s had just undergone extensive refurbishment and its’ sleek design and air-conditioning, offered supreme comfort. As a result she was often referred to as the “Millionaire’s ship”. Her profile was distinguished by her clipper-like bow, single mast and impressive funnel as well as her cruiser stern and absence of rigging.

  On reaching the gang way, she was greeted with a sign saying “Welcome Home” at the end of the gang plank. She had only travelled light as she suspected she would be spending most of her time in uniform. She was greeted by an officer in whites with his name badge on, “Officer Briggs”. He was handsome in a refined sort of way. She liked to see men in uniform.

  “Morning miss.” He said saluting her. “Passenger or crew.”

  “Crew.” Miriam said reluctantly

  “Access to the crew deck is at the forward end. Access to the crew
accommodation is down the aft end, on your starboard side.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “You’ll soon get the hang of it. Basically turn right and you’ll find your accommodation on the other side of the ship.”

  “Thanks.”

  She walked the length of the liner, until she reached the starboard side. On either side of the ship there were garden lounges spread along the promenade deck with large framed windows overlooking the sea. Between these lounges, she had read, there was a comfortable theatre, fully equipped for the pleasant presentation of the best in motion pictures, that Hollywood could find. She entered into the main lounge and smoking lounge, which was comfortably appointed for relaxation and conversation. Here the rugs and upholstery were softly hued, the easy chairs large and deep and the walls panelled in warmly toned veneer. From here she ventured into the cocktail lounge. The design was dramatic with its’ raised balconies enclosed within balustrades of light silver metal. Then there was the broad bar itself, sweeping the length of the room with an air of sophistication.

  Outside in addition to the deck space allotted to the shuffle board and tennis, there was also a huge outdoor swimming pool and a gymnasium.

  “It’s pretty impressive isn’t it?” said a young woman beside her. Miriam guessed from looking at her that she was about the same age as her. Her hair was blonde and neatly cupped her face. Her accent was clipped, the sort of accent you had if you had been to boarding school in England.

  “Are you looking for the crew quarters?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then follow me. I’m used to doing the chalet season in the Alps, but my parents thought it a good idea to do some work experience on the cruise ships this year. I think they are secretly hoping to marry me off to some millionaire, if truth be known. I just plan to have a hoot! What’s your name?”