An Unsuitable Mother

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘They do! Shirley’s boyfriend’s mate, the lads Bridget knocks around with, all of ’em.’

  Totally shocked, Nell’s heart bled for her. ‘Is that why you came home early those times?’

  ‘Yes! I’m sick of being treated like dirt, Mam. I only did it the once – once in my entire life – and now I’m apparently Christine Keeler!’

  ‘Oh, Neen, I’m so sorry …’ breathed Nell, prior to displaying anger. ‘If I’d known I would have come out and knocked the little swine’s block off – and the others as well!’

  Nina was cooling down now. ‘I can handle them.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have to!’ objected Nell. ‘Disgusting creatures.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. That’s me finished with blokes.’

  ‘Give it a few years,’ tendered her mother. ‘There might be a nice man who wants to marry you.’

  ‘I’m not getting married. Lads, men, they only want you for one thing.’

  Her words made Nell reflect on her own past; and the memory of what Joe had said about putting her dead lover on a pedestal. Had Bill only wanted one thing? Would he really have married her had he not been killed? Yes, of course he would …

  ‘There’s Romy to consider,’ she hypothesised now. ‘She might like a father.’

  The snort that emerged was like that of a rebellious horse, and that angry glint warned Nell to say no more.

  Then Nina thought to add, in a little voice, ‘You won’t tell me dad, will you – about the morons, I mean. I don’t want him thinking I’m a slag as well.’

  ‘He’d never think that!’ How much more heartbreak could there be, thought Nell. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had your afternoon spoiled. It was intended to cheer you up …’

  ‘It has.’ Nina donned a smile, and indicated the carrier-bags. ‘Away, I can’t wait to go and try them clothes on again.’

  But, pleasing as the new outfits might be, there was nowhere for the owner to parade them, Saturday night being spent watching the wrestling on TV with her parents and visiting aunt. After the sordid afternoon, Nell was quite relieved that the poor girl was amused by the boos, cheers and loud objections that emerged from those glued to the screen – though she was unaware that Nina gleaned as much entertainment from listening to the comments from the viewers.

  ‘What do you think that is down his trunks?’ pondered Nell.

  Joe looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Down the back, I mean!’ sighed his wife, and shared nursely interest with Beata. ‘It looks like some kind of support, Killie, doesn’t it? He must have spinal trouble.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Joe, wincing out loud as the competitor in question was thrown onto the floor of the ring and stamped on with gusto. ‘By, he’s a mucky bugger that Jackie Pallo, you know, he really is. Never fights fair …’

  The women agreed. ‘And he thinks he’s it,’ said Nell.

  ‘Don’t they all,’ muttered her daughter, and went to tend her baby who had been woken by the howls.

  If life on the social front was to remain non-existent, then Nina could at least take pride in acquiring the job at the top of her list. Even so, Nell could see what a wrench it was for the young mother on that first day away from her child.

  ‘Don’t leave her outside any shops!’ warned Nina, tearing herself reluctantly from the cherub in the pram.

  And that heartfelt plea served to illuminate the differences between them. Nell might have been robbed of her newborn, but, in a strange kind of irony, had been spared that visceral, ever-present dread she saw in Nina’s eyes, the trepidation of parting with her baby in case she might never see her again. Nell would never share that particular fear, for the worst had already happened.

  Yet there could be recompense now for William’s lost babyhood, and, once permitted, she wasted no time before indulging herself in a blissful session of bathing and cuddling and murmuring sweet nothings into Romy’s fragrant shell of an ear – all the things she had so longed to do with her son – playing with tiny fingers and toes, brushing and coaxing the fine blonde wisps into little curls. ‘To make you nice for when Mummy comes home …’

  And how soon that time came round. But whilst the day was to flash by for Nell, she suspected it had been much too long for Nina, who, the instant she returned, went directly to her child and fiercely reclaimed her. Whereupon Nell had to suffice in the knowledge that this had been only the first of many wonderful days, and not feel resentful at coming second in line for attention.

  Anxious for her to do well, both mother and father were pleased when Nina displayed a willingness to retire early, in order, she said, to be up the next day and do it all over again – though Nell guessed it was more that she wanted to spend time alone with Romy, who now had a cot in her mother’s room. For, when asked if she enjoyed being a messenger, Nina confided in rueful manner to Nell:

  ‘I’d never have gone to work there if I’d known Rowntrees make you go to their school if you’re under eighteen! Don’t tell me dad, he’ll laugh his socks off.’

  Hence, to Joe’s surprise, in contrast to Nina’s former way of thinking, she was to turn up to work every day, no matter the weather or the way she might be feeling. On top of which, once she had gained experience and fulfilled the required hours in the firm’s school room, she was to grab every scrap of overtime that was on offer. Nobody, least of all her father, was going to accuse her of being a sponger.

  Nevertheless, there was little she could do to counter the guilt and deprivation she felt, being at work instead of with her baby – another aspect Nell would never know first hand – and, whilst the grandmother was in seventh heaven in at last being able to shower all her attention on a tiny individual, now it was Nina’s turn to feel resentful at the loss. She hated being away from Romy, and was jealous of her mother at having the luxury of being with her all day. Divining this, Nell tried not to make too much of it, when, against her wishes, Nina came in from work and picked her baby up straight away, whether asleep or awake. But there were times when each had to bite their tongue, and Nina would spirit her daughter up to her room, so as to have her all to herself. Never could Nell have guessed such jealousy would exist between them.

  Eight months into Romy’s first year, and Nell still wasn’t really sure how Joe felt about the situation. He smiled at the baby as any grandfather might – if he happened to look in her direction, that was – but Nell had an inkling that if someone could wave a magic wand and make that child disappear, he would not be so heartbroken.

  At that moment, Joe was enjoying a week’s holiday – at least a week away from the factory. With the weather being too miserable for an excursion, he had decided to wallpaper the living room instead. He had moved the furniture to one end, had set up his trestle in the other half, and cleared a space all round the walls, when Nell wheeled in the pram.

  ‘There, you can sit and watch Grandad whilst Nana bakes her buns!’

  Paste brush in hand, Joe beheld her with amazement. ‘You can’t leave her sitting there!’

  ‘She’s strapped in,’ Nell said of the baby, who was now able to sit unaided, and had been made comfortable with lacy pillows. ‘And she’s got her rattles to play with. Look at her little face!’ Her hands reached out to fondle the blonde cherub. ‘She looks just like Charlie Drake.’

  ‘I’m wallpapering, woman!’

  ‘Well, she can sit and watch you!’ chided Nell. ‘I can’t put her out in the porch, it’s too cold, and you always complain if the pram blocks the hallway, so there’s nowhere else. She won’t bother you, she’s a good baby, aren’t you, chicken?’ she patted Romy’s bright red cheeks and received a happy smile, and a flourish of the baby’s rattle.

  Joe continued to object, but his wife told him not to make such a song and dance, and went to do her baking. For a time there was only the sound of a paste brush, slopping from one end of the table to the other, the crisp clip of scissors through paper, and a lot of grunting and muttering as Nel
l mixed her cakes and buns.

  ‘Thank you, Edmundo Ros, that’s enough!’ she heard Joe exclaim at the baby’s persistence in bashing her rattle about, but it did not the slightest good. Then, ‘Oh, she’s only gone and thrown her rattle in me paste bucket!’

  ‘Don’t make such a fuss! She’s still got the one fixed to her pram.’ Nell shook her head for his impatience. Then, after dividing the mixture into tins, and putting these in the oven, she washed up all the mixing implements, and went to perform several more tasks, by which time the oven was emitting a mouth-watering smell. Setting some of the buns to cool, she made a pot of tea.

  When she went in, to tell Joe it was time for a break, she could hear him still chuntering to himself – but no, not to himself, she realised, he was talking quite amicably to the baby. Creeping nearer to peep around the jamb, Nell held her breath, not wanting to disturb the exchange.

  ‘What do you think to that then?’ Joe was asking of Romy, and displaying his handiwork on the wall. ‘Can’t spot the joins, can you?’

  Happy to be addressed, the baby gave her toothy, slavering smile, and twanged the row of rattles that were strung on elastic across her pram.

  ‘See, you’ve got to butt the edges up to each other without overlapping.’ Joe wiped a blob of paste from the finished section. ‘You have to dangle your plumb like this,’ he demonstrated for the baby’s benefit, ‘and mark a dead straight line, so’s once your first bit is on straight, the rest’ll follow. Easy, in’t it?’ He turned again to see that Romy was rubbing her eyes. ‘That fascinating, eh? Right then, off you go to bobies and let Grandad get on with his craftsmanship.’ And he hummed a happy little tune under his breath.

  Smiling to herself, Nell left a suitable gap before going in to lie the drowsy infant down, telling her husband, ‘I’ll just settle her, then I’ll bring you a cup of tea.’

  ‘Aye, it’s busy work papering, just ask my apprentice, Montmorency.’

  Nell chuckled and, with loving eyes, she stood and watched as the baby’s eyelids closed and her face grew pale in sleep. ‘I’ll bet you’d miss her if she wasn’t here, wouldn’t you?’ Raising a cynical eyebrow, Joe continued to paper the wall. Nevertheless, his wife saw that little smile of concession, and considered how lucky she was that everything had turned out so well.

  That Christmas was the best ever, everyone agreed, with this dear little one-year-old to buy toys for. It was even more fun in that Romy had developed an infectious belly laugh, and needed no excuse to use it, sending everyone else into hysterics. Perhaps it would work on those outside the family too. So inured had Nell become to Romy’s illegitimacy, and Joe’s side of the family being so well-disposed too, that she had finally gathered the courage to write and inform her aunty and uncle of her granddaughter’s existence, mentioning it quite casually in a note enclosed with the festive card. Fully expecting not to hear again from the elderly pair, she was touched to receive a quite understanding reply, and a pound note enclosed to buy something for the little girl. Added to which was the invitation to bring her granddaughter to visit whenever she liked. Thus was her aunty and uncle’s residence to be included in the festive itinerary, and though there was a little awkwardness at first, Aunty Phyl was soon as taken with Romy as was her grandmother, she and Uncle Cliff almost wetting themselves over that infectious laugh.

  Nell was beginning to feel she had never been happier, which made the blow all the more felt when Nina announced one night, as she cuddled Romy on her lap before bed, ‘I’ve decided to put me name down for a council flat. So she can have her own room.’

  Her parents had been watching a rerun of Sir Winston’s state funeral on the evening news, but now any sign of reverence vanished. Nell was first to sound the alarm at being robbed. ‘But she won’t need one for years!’

  Joe, meanwhile, masked his own apprehension with a joke. ‘I was still kipping with me three brothers till I was twenty-one!’

  ‘And could you afford it, love?’ asked her concerned mother.

  ‘I’d be eligible to get it rent-free – don’t fuss, I won’t need to. So I’ll be a lot better off when I start working in the punch room.’

  ‘Is that where they give you a smack in the gob?’ tendered Joe. ‘Tell them I’ll volunteer.’

  ‘Yeah, hilarious. It’s attached to the computer department.’

  Nell said, ‘That sounds complicated.’

  ‘No, you just tap the keys and the machine cuts little holes in these cards.’

  ‘And what’s that in aid of?’ asked Joe, who was well-informed and just testing.

  This his daughter guessed, and her reply was befitting. ‘To make oblong confetti – well, ask a silly question,’ she riposted. ‘Anyway, all I care about is it’s piecework. Once you get your speed up you can earn maybe eight or nine quid.’

  Nell expressed amazement. ‘Still, it would all go on bills. We don’t mind having you here …’

  But Nina remained unwavering. ‘No, I need a room to meself. She burbles to herself in the middle of the night and wakes me up.’

  ‘That’s what babies do,’ Joe pointed out, adding with sarcasm, ‘Why not shove the poor little bugger out in the garden and have done with it?’

  Even after all these months there was rawness. Nell watched their daughter’s nostrils flare as she took Joe’s comment as reproof for her unplanned pregnancy. But all she said was, ‘Anyway, it probably won’t be for a while yet. I just wanted to ask, Mam, if you’d be able to continue looking after her through the day while I’m at work?’

  Flooded with relief, Nell exclaimed, ‘Of course I will!’

  But she hoped it would be a good while yet before their daughter’s name reached the top of the housing list.

  20

  What a painful extraction when the time finally came. Watching the car being loaded with boxes of Nina’s belongings, Nell could not prevent a whimper.

  ‘You daft twillock, you’ll be seeing them in a few hours when she brings the bairn round!’ Joe had scoffed. Which was perfectly true, and it was only five minutes away to the block of council flats on the far side of the estate, but still the grandmother felt her heart enclosed in blackout.

  Once she became used to them not being around on a night, though, and adjusted to the new routine of Romy being dropped off after breakfast, and picked up again after tea, Nell came to rather enjoy the status quo – even if Joe did still voice his resentment as though their daughter were still in residence.

  ‘No wonder milady can afford to run her own place!’ he would jeer, whenever his wife came home from town with another dress or pair of shoes for Romy. ‘We’re still bloody feeding and clothing her bairn!’ Not to mention that after letting Nina take her bed, his wife had promptly gone out and bought another so that Romy could stay overnight if need be.

  Contrary to his habitual grumbling, though, Nell knew he secretly loved having the little girl there. But, ‘You’ll have to curb your swearing,’ she warned him, the child being nearly three now, and an excellent talker. ‘We don’t want her picking up your bad language to take to Aunty Phyllis’s.’ Apparently, though, her warning had come too late, for when Nina had just arrived from working overtime to pick Romy up, they heard a small voice say, ‘I can’t get this bloody paper off, Nana.’

  ‘Eh! You shouldn’t say words like that!’ Nell chuckled at an equally amused Joe, as she went to help their granddaughter remove the chocolate wafer from its wrapping.

  ‘Mammy says it,’ replied the child with the curly blonde hair, quite logically.

  ‘Well, she’s a naughty girl!’ Nell turned on Nina and pretended to administer a whack.

  At the sight of her mother under threat, Romy burst into tears, which mortified the perpetrator, who tried to take her onto her knee, but Nina was to grab possession, giving her daughter a fiercely maternal hug, and drawing forth that rattling belly laugh by tickling her ribs.

  ‘What a soft-hearted soul your daughter is,’ smiled Nell. ‘I can’t thin
k who she gets it from.’

  ‘It’s me,’ came Joe’s dry utterance. ‘I’m a very emotional type.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Nell showed cynicism, ‘well both of you make sure you’re not teaching her anything else for when she starts school.’

  Luckily, by the time Nina and her daughter left on this occasion, she had managed to coax Romy back to her arms, and extended this togetherness by accompanying them to the gate. As ever, she was loath to part with this dear little thing, who was quick to cry but equally quick to laugh, open in her feelings and quite different from her mother. Comparing them now, hand in hand, Nell felt sad over how much more different Nina had become since her child had been born. Yes, she laughed at the same things that had always sparked merriment, and in the same abandoned way when solely in Nell’s company. But amongst strangers, especially men, there was a guardedness about her, a hard, sometimes brutal, edge for those who had done nothing to deserve it, apart from being young and male. There was evidence of that now, for just as Nina prepared to take leave, two of their neighbours, Mrs Garbutt and her thirty-year-old son Brian, swooped on them.

  Appearing not to notice the mask that had come down, the woman paid polite fuss over Romy, before mentioning that she had heard Nina had a flat of her own these days. ‘Well, people talk, don’t they? We were just saying, you won’t be able to get out so much …’

  Nell was quick to dispel this. ‘We’d still have her if Nina gets an invita—!’

  ‘My Brian’s free tonight!’ jumped in an excited Mrs Garbutt, almost stealing Nell’s breath.

  But Nina curled her lip at the one who would court her, sending a disappointed mother and son on their way. ‘He’s free every night, and no bloody wonder, a face like a doily.’

  ‘Neen, shush, they might hear you! All right, he’s not the best looking, and he’s older than you, but you’re not doing yourself any favours by being rude to all these young men who ask you out.’ Nell felt compelled to speak out, envisioning the queue of suitors dwindling to nil. ‘There might just be one amongst them who really likes you, who isn’t just interested in one thing.’