An Unsuitable Mother

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘She’s having us on – wants to keep him to herself!’ Ma gave her husband a knowing wink to indicate she was joking, though Nell reddened all the same. ‘Oh, never mind, lass!’ she placated. ‘We know what it’s like to be in love, don’t we, sweetheart?’

  ‘We certainly do, dearie!’ The meek old Georgie leaned towards her in adoration – though Ma had not been addressing him but Milo the stinking old terrier, which she promptly swept to her bosom and proceeded to cuddle like a baby, and to feed with titbits from the plate.

  Ashamed at treating the old couple so shabbily when they obviously viewed Bill as one of their own, and were always so amenable to her, Nell gave a capitulating smile and ripped open the envelope.

  And then such unexpected joy. ‘He’s coming up at the weekend!’

  Whilst Ma and Georgie exclaimed in pleasure, exciting the dog who wriggled to be free, Nell almost collapsed from relief, her eyes filling with tears as she skimmed the rest.

  ‘Where’s he stopping?’ demanded Ma, large shovels of hands casting the terrier to the floor. ‘Write and tell him he must kip with us!’

  ‘He’ll surely come here of his own accord, dearie,’ Georgie stated to his wife, whilst Nell continued trying to read, completely unaware of her antiquated surroundings now, more intent on the word of today as she devoured the familiar script.

  ‘What else?’ pestered Ma.

  ‘Er, nothing much …’ This negated the big smile on Nell’s face, but she was not about to tell them of Bill’s desire to spend the whole weekend as they had last time. ‘He does mention coming to visit you, though.’ Loud satisfaction emerged from Ma. ‘They’re still being trained hard, but he sounds in good spirits.’ As was Nell. Bounding to her feet, she tucked the letter away and slung the gas-mask container over her shoulder. ‘Sorry, but I really will have to meet my friend – so long!’ And in this state of near euphoria, she left.

  She was still beaming from ear to ear when, less than three minutes later, she met up with her friend outside the nearby Regal cinema, waving her most recent letter. ‘Billy’s coming to visit this weekend!’

  ‘I wondered why you looked as bright as a button,’ remarked Beata with a smile. ‘Didn’t think it could be ’cause of me.’

  ‘Oh, I’m pleased to see you as well, Killie!’ Having come to regard the latter as a favourite aunt, Nell pressed Beata’s arm.

  Then, in a fit of exhilaration, her hand reached up to feel the hard little nugget beneath her clothes – the wedding ring on its neck chain which had never been removed since that last weekend with Bill. But she might need to transfer it to her finger if another trip away was on the cards! Perhaps, too, she could change his mind about marriage, get a special licence, so as to wear the ring for real.

  But there might be an obstacle to meeting him at all, and in this she enlisted her friend’s help. ‘The trouble is, my parents still don’t know about him, and I’m afraid they’ll prevent me going for some reason …’ She bit her lip. ‘I know it’s an enormous liberty, but would you mind if I use your company as an excuse to go out on Friday night, perhaps Saturday too?’

  Beata’s change of expression showed that she did mind. ‘Not if it involves having to lie.’

  ‘It needn’t.’ Nell tried gently to persuade her. ‘If you were to call at my house, as if we were going out together –’

  ‘Then you could ditch me before I cramp your style,’ finished Beata, tongue in cheek.

  ‘No! I’d never do that.’ Although it was obvious she was only using her friend, Nell suffered barely any guilt, for she would have employed whatever desperate means to be with Billy. ‘You could come out with Billy and me, perhaps for a few drinks, then … maybe go home a little earlier.’ Her face formed an entreating smile.

  ‘Why don’t you just hang a sign saying gooseberry round my neck and have done with it?’ joked her friend.

  Nell showed compunction, but, ‘Please, Killie! This is so important, and I just don’t know what else to do! I must see him.’

  Beata studied the urgency on that young face. ‘Well … I suppose if I am going to tag along with you, it wouldn’t really be a lie, would it?’ And she had harboured such romantic yearnings herself once. Who was she to stand in love’s way? ‘All right,’ she sighed, as Nell began to dance with excitement, ‘Give me your address and I’ll be your alibi – but come on now or we’ll miss the picture! Not that it’ll have as much bloomin’ intrigue as you’ve got to offer.’

  On Friday evening, as arranged, Beata duly turned up at Nell’s house. Pleased that their daughter had such a mature, sensible-looking friend, Thelma and Wilfred made no complaint at her going out on the town yet again, not even when Nell announced that she and Beata would probably be enjoying Saturday together too.

  Luckily, none of this involved Beata having to lie. ‘But I’m not too keen on you misleading them like this,’ she told Nell, as she hobbled alongside her to the bus stop.

  ‘I’ll make it up to you, Killie!’ swore Nell. ‘I promise. I hate having to do it too, but I daren’t risk telling them. I’ve missed him so much – oh, you’ll love him when you meet him!’

  Beata turned impish. ‘I might take a fancy to him and pinch him off you.’

  But, still in high spirits, Nell merely laughed. For as lovely-natured as she was, how could plain and plump old Killie be serious competition?

  It was very cold when they reached the station, which was the appointed meeting place with Bill. Buying a platform ticket for each of them, Nell and her friend hurried through the barrier.

  The temperature was a good deal lower here, the icy air seeming to ricochet from the stone beneath their feet. Waiting to pounce on him the moment he stepped off the train, Nell pranced from one foot to the other, half in cold, half in excitement. ‘Sorry to make you wait,’ she told her friend when, after fifteen minutes, he still had not shown up. ‘He’s usually so punctual.’

  Beata huddled into her coat, and said in her patient manner, ‘Not to worry …’ But the way she rubbed her gloved hands told otherwise.

  Anxiously watching and waiting for Bill to arrive, as trains came and went, Nell made no other comment for some while. But after noticing Beata adopt different positions in the next quarter of an hour, even with her mind on other things she was forced to respond to her friend’s discomfort. ‘Killie, you must be freezing, I’m so sorry, I don’t know where he’s got to – let me buy you a cup of tea in the café. If we sit by the window we’ll still be able to see him when he arrives.’

  But, when the cups of tea were drained, Bill had still not come.

  Nell had grown uneasy. She was trying not to be, but it showed on her face and in the drumming of her fingers on the table. ‘Right, well, I can’t expect you to hang around all night waiting for him, Killie. Why don’t you go home?’

  ‘I don’t know if I should leave you …’

  I’ll be perfectly safe,’ Nell reassured her in a level tone.

  ‘All right then – but stay in here and keep warm,’ instructed Beata, rising to leave.

  ‘I will,’ came Nell’s reply. ‘And I’m so sorry for dragging you on this wild goose chase. I swear I’ll make it up to you – and I’ll get the culprit to treat you to drinks tomorrow night, how’s that?’

  Accepting this, Beata wished her friend goodnight. ‘And give him gyp when he does turn up.’

  ‘Oh, I shall!’ vowed Nell.

  But her suspense was to continue as another half-hour ticked away. Wandering out of the refreshment room, she cast a fretful gaze around the platform, and then the one opposite. There were squads of men in khaki greatcoats about, but none of them were Bill.

  By nine thirty, accepting that he wasn’t going to come, and with the weather too cold to hang around any longer, a frantic Nell turned about and strode quickly towards town, intending to see if he had gone instead to the Preciouses.

  But then why would he? Her stride faltered in the realisation that Bill would never have abandone
d her like this unless something was wrong. And she might needlessly be disturbing Ma and Georgie, who always went to bed early. Standing still now in the middle of the pavement, a gloved hand over her mouth, Nell began to flick through a catalogue of awful things that might have befallen him, uncaring of those who occasionally stumbled against her in the darkness, her mind and heart in turmoil over Billy. Somewhere, behind a dark bank of cloud, droned a squadron of Halifax bombers. Steeped in worry, and too familiar with this harmonious sound, Nell paid it little heed either. Only a human emission caused alarm.

  ‘Coming for a ducky with us, love?’

  She jumped violently at the voice that was close to her ear, and immediately shook off the soldiers’ advances.

  ‘Oy, keep your hair on!’ laughed one of them, as she fled home in distress.

  How she had prevented her distress being relayed to her parents, Nell did not care, only that it was still there in the morning. A thousand thoughts had traversed her mind since then, one of them being how would she ever get through the weekend not knowing what had happened to him? Perhaps an explanation of his absence would arrive in the morning post – she must visit the Preciouses first thing.

  Rising far earlier than normal, disturbing her mother who poked her head from her room and made bleary-eyed enquiry as to where Nell was going without any breakfast, she replied truthfully that she had volunteered to put in some extra hours at the Infirmary and would eat there. Then, whispering so as not to wake her father, she hissed, ‘Sorry, Mother, I forgot to tell you I’d be getting up so early. Go back to bed, and I’ll see you later!’ And off she sped to the Preciouses, rousing them too from bed.

  But Ma and Georgie had heard nothing at all.

  With a quick apology for disturbing them at this ungodly hour, Nell refused the invitation to enter, and said she would return in the afternoon, following work.

  But nine excruciating hours later, there was still no letter.

  Distracted by her concern for Billy, baffling her parents with her strange, absent-minded behaviour, Nell was to pay these twice-daily visits to the Preciouses for the best part of a week, hope dwindling at every turn. Bill was dead. Much as she hated to contemplate it, she was certain it must be true, for he would never have been so heartless as to leave her like this. But would her fears ever be confirmed, or was she to remain in limbo for the rest of her life?

  Coming over the ancient threshold again this evening, wavering bleakly in the hall to be informed that there was again no letter for her, Nell snatched at anything that might prevent her from weeping in front of witnesses. A tabby cat was winding itself around her calves. She bent quickly to stroke it. ‘You’re very fussy tonight, puss …’

  ‘I think the dirty trollop’s having kittens,’ announced Ma.

  Nell burst into tears.

  There were exclamations of pity from the elderly couple, Georgie being the first to comfort, dealing gentle pats to the stooped figure that was racked with sobs. ‘Aw, don’t worry, dearie! There’s probably some good excuse for Bill not coming.’

  ‘But he would have written!’ Nell’s face shot up to accuse him with red and tear-filled eyes. ‘Something’s happened to him, I know it!’

  ‘It doesn’t mean he’s dead!’ brayed Mrs Precious with slight scorn. ‘He could have been sent abroad without warning – you know what the army’s like.’

  ‘He’d still have managed to get a letter through,’ sobbed Nell, fumbling for her handkerchief. ‘Oh God, what am I going to do?’ For she knew now, just as surely as her darling Billy was dead, that she was carrying his child.

  5

  Another week went by, and then another, taking Nell into December. Even now, the fear having churned her stomach into a pit of acid, she persisted in hanging on, visiting the Preciouses almost every night, and posting her letters to Billy. For, until confirmation of his death was put in writing, there remained the shred of hope that it had all been a mistake. All of it.

  Being informed almost immediately that Bill was missing, Beata had been the source of comfort that Nell’s parents could never be, for they remained unaware – though of course they could see that their daughter was troubled by some matter. Hence, thinking it perhaps to be something at work, they were happy for her to accept her fellow nurse’s frequent invitations to the pictures, without guessing what these trips were meant to ease. Seated there in the darkened cinema, though, Nell felt anything but eased, barely concentrating on the opening film, let alone the tips on cookery and the shorts from the Ministry of Information – until the one that forewarned the audience about careless talk: ‘Keep mum!’

  Oh, yes, she really came awake then, and took to picking over her dilemma in such great detail that when a cheer went up over the downing of another Hun, she almost jumped out of her skin.

  Then, finding herself under amused inspection from Beata, she returned a half-hearted little smile, and momentarily attended the newsreel. But soon her mind was to wander again.

  The interval brought community singing. Irritated beyond belief, Nell lit a cigarette and, whilst others sang, took puff after nervous puff of it, until the theatre eventually reverted to darkness. As if the uncomfortable seat was not bad enough, its rough moquette prickling the underneath of her legs, her bladder chose that moment to signal it required emptying again. Having purposefully gone before she came in, Nell damned her system for its current inefficiency, and tried to hold off for as long as she could.

  But, constantly wriggling in discomfort, she was eventually to receive a tap on the shoulder.

  ‘Excuse me, love, but have you got worms?’ came an impatient demand from the man behind, whose view she had perpetually blocked.

  Tutting with embarrassment, Nell apologised and turned back to the drama that had managed to capture her interest at last. But straight away an air-raid warning came onto the screen to interrupt a crucial moment, the slide instructing everyone who required to leave to do so in an orderly fashion.

  ‘Get on with it!’ hollered the man behind, the whole audience groaning in unison, and most people remaining in their seats.

  Desperate for the lavatory by now, Nell rose quickly and made her way to the end of the row, whispering to Beata, ‘Don’t miss the picture, I’ll be back when I’ve spent a penny.’

  Once in the cubicle, she took the opportunity to undo the top hooks and eyes of her corset, gasping as she lowered herself onto the seat, then sitting back to savour these few moments of relief. Soon, though, the sound of someone else waiting outside the door had her hurrying to do up her corset and emerge.

  But as she did so, who should she almost collide with but Sister Barber.

  Both looked stunned, before Nell turned shamefully aside to wash her hands, and Sister hovered to observe: ‘I heard nothing to the effect that you’d be here tonight. Nurse Spottiswood – you’re meant to keep the authorities informed!’

  Nell could think of no excuse, other than to stammer, ‘I’m sorry, Sister, it was a last last-minute arrangement …’

  ‘One that could get you dismissed!’

  Nell was immediately gripped by terror: how could she support a child with no job? Her parents were going to be angry enough as it was – perhaps even kick her out – she would need every penny to maintain herself. She turned with dripping hands from the sink, about to beg for mercy, when just at that point Beata came to look for her.

  ‘Oh, and this is your partner in crime!’ came Sister’s withering proclamation, giving Nell leave to dry her hands. ‘I thought better of you, Kilmaster. Do neither of you grasp how important it is that we know your every whereabouts? It’s imperative that we’re able to muster the entire crew at a moment’s notice, we can’t hang around whilst the messenger visits every pub and picture house in York in the hope of finding you there! Are you masquerading as nurses?’

  ‘No! I’m truly serious about this, Sister,’ objected Nell, both she and Beata apologetic. But Sister remained waspish and obviously not satisfied. ‘I�
�ll see you both in my office tomorrow morning.’ And she jerked her head for them to go.

  ‘Oh God, I can’t get the sack – not on top of everything else!’ uttered a frantic Nell to Beata as they hurried for the exit. She was close to tears again, and could not understand how the other remained so calm.

  ‘She won’t get us fired,’ assured her friend in that gently confident way of hers. ‘She was just letting off steam.’

  Nell felt like shaking her older friend for such complacency. ‘Maybe not you, but she’s always had it in for me!’

  Beata tried to coax her, as both made the decision to abandon their night out and turn for home. ‘I can promise you, you won’t get the sack. Listen to your Aunty Beat.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, I can see you’re going to spend the night fretting if I don’t tell you …’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  ‘I know Sister’s little secret,’ disclosed Beata with a sly grin. ‘She lives near me. Her husband runs a pub.’

  Nell was utterly flummoxed.

  ‘Nurses’re not supposed to have a pub address,’ explained Beata. ‘Sister gave Matron a false one, I overheard her.’

  Nell heaved a vast sigh of relief, but in that same turn she clicked her tongue. ‘You could have given me this ammunition before, instead of letting her boss me around all these weeks!’

  ‘You needed bossing around,’ retorted Beata, only half-joking. ‘Anyway, it wasn’t my place to let on about Sister, we’re all entitled to our secrets.’ Then, astonished that Nell’s eyes bulged with unexpected tears, she was swift to say, ‘I wasn’t thinking, love … keep your chin up, you’re bound to hear from him soon. That’s who you’re really worried about, isn’t it?’

  Dabbing at her eyes and blowing into her handkerchief, Nell moved her head up and down, thinking but not saying, Oh, Killie, if only you knew the half of it. But then, did she know? Had she guessed? Darting teary eyes over her friend’s face, Nell tried to read what was there, wondering whether to throw herself on the other’s mercy …