An Unsuitable Mother

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘Hang on!’ Nina raised her free hand, the other holding her daughter’s. ‘Is this the same woman who did all she could to talk me out of playing with lads, and now she’s trying to talk me back into it?’

  ‘I can understand why you’re cautious,’ conceded Nell. ‘But if you keep being nasty –’

  ‘I don’t want to get married, Mam – ever. So I don’t need to impress, do I? Say ta-ta, Romy!’

  And with a last kiss, Nell was forced to wave goodbye to her little granddaughter.

  * * *

  Two more glorious years Nell was to spend with Romy, feeling even closer than she had to Nina, if that were at all possible, during their trips to the park, or a coffee bar, or the seaside. But all that had to end when the time came to start school. Romy objected, upon the news being broken, saying that she would rather stay with Nana and eat grapes and cakes and read comics. But, against her own feelings, Nell was to give an encouraging pat of a small knee, saying they would still see each other every day, and at school there would be all sorts of lovely things, like drawing and reading, and playing with other little boys and girls. And, so ably did she lyricise, that by the time the dreaded day arrived, the child was raring to begin her education, and it was she herself who shed the tears.

  Actually, she was not alone in this, for Nina admitted to shedding them too, when she and her mother shared a private moment after tea in the kitchen. ‘Yes, I realised why you rushed away so quickly.’ Nell conveyed a smile of understanding as she herself snipped a dividend stamp from a packet of tea and stuck it on a card. ‘I’ll bet you cried buckets, didn’t you?’

  Nina laughed at herself. ‘I know I leave her every day, but that’s with you. You just think of them in the big wide world, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, put your mind at rest,’ smiled Nell. ‘She almost wrenched my hand off in her haste to be there. Still, the house is really empty here without her – oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! You’ll set me off now!’ Changing the subject, she remarked over the inappropriate comments that percolated from the lounge, and asked what on earth Joe was watching.

  ‘Ooh, that’s right, give him some stick!’ With a questioning grin at her mother, Nina went to poke her head in. ‘I hope you’re not teaching my child violence!’

  Romy on his knee, and derision on his face, Joe indicated the TV, on which university students could be seen battling with police. ‘Look at this long-haired rabble – ooh, that’s right, get stuck into him. Mr Policeman!’ cackled Joe, bouncing Romy up and down.

  ‘Surely this can’t be the echelon of society you were so desperate for me to be part of?’ Nina gave an impish wink at her mother. ‘See, that’s where university gets you, Dad.’

  But, with Joe resisting the bait, she was to offer her own scornful opinion of the rioters. ‘These are your so-called intelligent people, are they? Behaving like pampered bloody toddlers …’ Then, saying it was time to go home, she summoned Romy, who as usual took her time in dragging herself from Grandad.

  Tutting, the young mother withdrew to the kitchen. ‘Didn’t miss me very much, did she?’

  Nell felt sorry for her, and, wanting to cheer her up, said, ‘You were the first person she asked after when she came home from school.’ Then, ‘Listen, Neen, your dad’s planning to give you twenty-one pounds to celebrate your twenty-first – I know it’s not for a couple of months, but let’s you and I go to town at the weekend and spend it early.’

  For once Nina was unresponsive, though not impolite, and her ears did prick up at the amount of cash. ‘Oh, thanks, Mam, but there’s not much point in wasting it on clothes, seeing as I hardly ever go anywhere – yes, I know you’d look after Romy –’ she inserted a laugh that had a slight edge of annoyance, ‘you’ve told me a thousand times.’

  ‘I’m not trying to fix you up! Honestly. But there must be girls at work you can pal up with, maybe go to one of those discotheques, or wherever …’

  ‘After a hard day’s slog I’ve not the slightest interest in trailing round pubs chucking seventeen vodka and limes down me neck in the hope of picking up some bloke, which is all the lasses at work talk about. You don’t have to worry about me, if I need a friend I’ve got one who lives in the flat below, she’s in the same boat as me with a little kid. I’m perfectly happy watching telly – although having said that, I wouldn’t mind a decent one, so if you want to give me that twenty-one quid early it’d do as a deposit.’

  Nell studied her daughter’s eager grin, looking for signs of pretence, for surely one who had always enjoyed being out every night of the week could not really settle for such a middle-aged existence? Maybe Nina cared more than she let on about the lack of a partner, but she was never going to tell her mother.

  Nell could sigh all she liked about this, but it was obvious that with such close commitment to Romy, Nina would remain true to her word about never wanting a man to encroach. Only once did Nell suspect she might have weakened, when there was a different perkiness about her, and she requested a babysitter in the middle of the week. Obviously, the person that had invoked this radiance was trustworthy enough, and Nina fond enough, for her to have broken her own rule – which was all the more of a pity that, for reasons only to be guessed at, it ended as abruptly as it began.

  Nell had learned to keep out of it now. And, single or no, Nina did seem content enough with the life that she led with her little offspring, and otherwise involved in earning a living and working her way up. Admired by her superiors for making such smooth transition from the old-fashioned punch machines to magnetic tape, she had lately been chosen to supervise a number of other operators. Typically, she divulged none of this to Joe, who was only made aware via Nell, the one who constantly tried to bolster their daughter’s image.

  Since the old factory in town had been closed and a new one built on the outskirts, Joe too had worked his way into a managerial position, though in contrast was approaching the end of his career. The succession of secondhand vehicles that had taken them on many a family holiday had been replaced by a brand-new saloon. Nell’s husband, who had always been one for trappings, had become much more so since Romy’s birth, filling his house with modern devices, as if to cock a snook at those who looked down on him for his illegitimate grandchild. His current acquisition was a telephone, though Joe stated his reason for this as being practical, rather than ostentatious, so that he could be contacted at any time by the factory.

  And it would be handy for Nell, too, he was to tell her, after several months of listening to her complain about the lonely hours between taking Romy to and from school. ‘Once she’s gone, you’ll be able to chat to your friends all morning if you like.’

  ‘Who else do we know with a telephone?’ Nell had to giggle with Nina, who had just turned up with Romy as this was being discussed.

  Joe spread his palms. ‘Well, sit and listen to the talking clock – I don’t know! You’ve only got a couple of weeks and it’ll be the flipping school holidays.’

  Nell shook her head in amusement, and thereafter involved herself in taking Romy to school. Upon return, though, she thought about what Joe had said, deeming it not such a silly idea. Making a cup of tea, she sat down with the telephone directory, rippling backwards through its pages. Well, she certainly didn’t know anyone with their first initial Z, Y, X or even W – then, oh yes! Jean Wintringham, whom she had worked alongside at the fever hospital. She ran her forefinger down the list of Wintringhams, but sadly there were none with the address she had in her own book for Jean.

  Back to flicking idly through the pages, she came to the G section, and became deeply thoughtful. There were only a couple of Greenhows. Her old family doctor was one of them, still living at the same address. She had deliberately shoved the memory of him to the back of her mind for years, so what possessed her to act on such rash impulse, Nell could not say, as she lifted the beige receiver from its cradle and dialled the number. Her blood curdled, and her heartbeat increased with each circui
t of the disc, especially upon hearing that responding burr from the other end. Gripped by a spurt of panic, she was about to put down the receiver when her call was answered at once, and she was forced to stutter, ‘Oh, hello … is it possible to speak to Doctor Greenhow?’

  ‘Speaking,’ said the voice at the other end.

  Nell was struck momentarily dumb.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Sorry,’ blurted Nell, ‘I think I must have the wrong number.’ Apart from the speaker, she could hear more cheery voices in the background. ‘You sound much too young …’

  ‘It’s I who should apologise,’ replied the other with a laugh. ‘I was passing the phone when it rang, and automatically answered thinking I was at home! It must be my grandfather you want – but are you aware he’s no longer in practice?’

  ‘Oh yes, yes!’ replied Nell, feeling stupid. ‘It’s purely a personal matter, not urgent at all really …’

  ‘Then would you mind if I get him to ring you back? We’re celebrating his eighty-fifth birthday, and he’s rather involved with cutting the cake –’

  ‘Certainly!’ said Nell quickly. ‘I’ll give you – oh no, wait a minute …’ How could she explain this to Joe, if the doctor rang back whilst he was there? ‘Would it be possible for me to call and see Doctor personally one morning this week?’

  ‘Come tomorrow, if you like!’ invited the voice. ‘He’ll be rather flat I’d imagine, after his guests have gone, and he does enjoy company. What name did you say?’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t.’ Nell quickly provided it. ‘It’s Eleanor Kilmaster. Mrs. I’ll call at ten, if that’s not too early?’

  ‘I’m sure it won’t be. He’s usually up at five – and he rarely goes out. Right, do excuse me, I’ll get back to the shindig!’

  Nell gave a polite goodbye and laid down the receiver, her hand trembling.

  When the voice had said that Doctor Greenhow rarely went out, Nell had been expecting perhaps to find him in a wheelchair. But the man who opened the door to her was neither physically nor mentally frail. In fact, he looked not a year older than the last time she had encountered him. She had thought him extremely old then, but to her nineteen-year-old eyes he would have been.

  ‘Why, Eleanor! I’ve been racking my brain as to who Mrs Kilmaster could be …’ Shaking both her hands, he drew her into a hallway that was panelled in dark wood, and cluttered with coats, footwear, and an old-fashioned hallstand.

  ‘I didn’t expect you’d recognise me after so many years – and so much extra weight.’

  ‘I can still tell it’s you! Eleanor Spottiswood, well, well. Do come into the kitchen and have some tea, my dear!’

  With a composed smile, Nell followed him into an equally cluttered but welcoming kitchen, a large pine table at its centre, which had obviously been laid in expectation of a guest, with scones and three varieties of cake, and a white china teapot and crockery. But she balked at the presence of another individual.

  ‘This is Marjorie,’ said Doctor Greenhow, in that gravelly voice that took Nell back decades, and even now made her want to clear her throat. ‘She comes in to help me since my wife died.’

  Nell smiled, said she was sorry to hear about his wife, and thanked them both for going to so much trouble.

  ‘No trouble,’ chuckled the old doctor. ‘It’s all left over from yesterday’s party – did my grandson tell you?’

  ‘Yes, he did. Many happy returns.’

  ‘I hope not, my dear, I sincerely hope not.’ Doctor Greenhow was smiling, but his eyes told that despite his good health he was slightly tired of life. ‘Anyway, you don’t want to hear my troubles, nor do we want to keep Marjorie dangling.’ He turned to his helper. ‘Thank you very much, my dear, I’m sure I can manage to wash up these few things …’

  Much relieved that she was to be allowed private access to him, Nell was cheery as she too wished Marjorie a safe journey home.

  ‘Now, let’s have a cup of tea.’ Doctor Greenhow poured this himself, and got straight to the point as his liver-spotted hand gave Nell her cup. ‘It was nineteen forty-one, when last we met.’

  She looked impressed.

  ‘It’s not such a blessing as it might seem, to still have one’s mental faculties. It just allows one to see how badly the rest of one has decomposed. Still, I should be grateful to have come through two world wars unscathed. I was very sad to hear that your parents were victims of the Baedeker raid.’

  Painful though it was, Nell could not have asked for a better opening for her enquiries. ‘There were many good people who died.’

  ‘Yes … it makes one wonder why some are chosen to survive and others not.’ Doctor Greenhow looked moved, then pushed a plate towards her. ‘Come along now, try a piece of this cake.’

  To hurry things along, Nell obliged by taking a bite and saying it was delicious, but was soon to lay it back on her plate. ‘This is very difficult for me, Doctor.’ More difficult than she had envisaged. She might have thought that telling Joe had been the hardest part, but Joe hadn’t really been involved in it, had he? Not like this man here, who had been present on the night William was born. ‘You must guess why I’m here.’ One so sharp as this old man must surely deduce her reason for coming.

  He paused in the eating of his scone, and queried gently, ‘It’s about the child?’ At her nod, he too moved his head. ‘Yes … it’s something that’s always been on my conscience.’

  ‘I don’t wish to cause any trouble for anyone involved,’ Nell assured him swiftly. ‘I promise you, I won’t turn up unannounced on his adoptive parents’ doorstep, demanding to see him –’

  ‘You wouldn’t be able to do that even were you so inclined, dear,’ sighed Doctor Greenhow, looking troubled. ‘That’s what I was referring to, when I said it had been on my conscience. There is no doorstep, no house. Not the same one, at any rate. The poor devils were flattened on the same night as your parents.’

  Nell could not prevent an involuntary whimper as her whole world collapsed.

  ‘Oh, no, no, no!’ he assured her post-haste. ‘The boy wasn’t with them! No, he was fit and well by all accounts. No, poor Mr and Mrs Jackson were enjoying a rare night out at a dance hall –’

  Jackson. My son is called Jackson, thought Nell, her heart soaring in relief at him being alive.

  ‘– and they had left the child at its grandmother’s house as they intended to be late home. If only they had all stayed there. Tragic, just tragic.’

  ‘How dreadful …’ Nell hoped her words of agreement would sound sincere, but all she was desperate to know was, ‘What happened to William after that?’

  ‘William?’ The doctor’s age finally caught up with him, his eye holding hers in bewilderment. But only for a few seconds. ‘Ah, was that the name you gave him? I think they changed it, but I’m afraid it escapes me for a moment.’ He finished off his scone.

  ‘Maybe it’ll come back to you,’ said Nell, wanting to hear the more important information, which she was now forced to repeat. ‘What happened to him when his adoptive parents were killed? Did he stay with the grandmother?’

  The doctor was more positive on that score. ‘Oh no, she was far too advanced in years to cope with a one-year-old. As he was so young it was decided that he be put into an orphanage, so that someone else might soon come along to adopt him.’

  Initially stunned, Nell soon found her voice – and it was a furious one. ‘He wasn’t an orphan! He had a mother who loved and wanted him, and he should have been given back to me!’

  The doctor was genuinely sympathetic. ‘But how could you possibly –’

  ‘My parents were dead!’ Nell interrupted. ‘There was no longer anyone for me to bring shame on!’

  ‘I understand you must be ang—’

  ‘Yes, I am!’ Anger did not begin to describe her emotions. She could have killed the old man who sat there as if butter wouldn’t melt, acting as her judge. ‘Why did no one deem it fit to inform me? You were aware I’d lost eve
ryone close to me!’

  ‘Those were less liberal days, Eleanor. Perhaps in these Swinging Sixties you might have been able to make a life for him, but then …’ He ended with a shrug and a sigh.

  Nell thought of her own daughter’s humiliating treatment, and for once could see his argument. ‘People are not really so different, still ready to point the finger.’

  ‘Did you have more children?’

  ‘I’ve a stepdaughter, none of my own.’

  ‘And does your husband know of the other one?’

  ‘Yes, though not that I’m here.’ Tired of being distracted, she sought to speed matters up, asking tersely, ‘To which orphanage was he sent?’

  ‘I believe it was a privately run organisation – Eleanor, do you really want to disrupt his life?’

  Nell was back in that room, being bullied by this very reasonable man and her parents; tugged this way and that. ‘I just want to know he’s all right,’ she said, trying desperately not to cry. ‘If you could just remember which orphanage it was, and the name they gave him.’

  ‘I doubt they’d tell you one way or the other,’ said Doctor Greenhow gently. ‘These matters remain confidential.’

  ‘A doctor could find out.’ Nell levelled her gaze at him, conveying that he had a responsibility for this.

  ‘Supposing I could acquire this information, what good would it possibly do – if, as you say, you have no intention of seeing the young man – for that is what he’ll be now. Why, he’d be … twenty-seven, twenty-eight.’

  ‘I know that,’ said Nell through gritted teeth. Twenty-eight years, two months, and fifteen days …

  ‘Perhaps with a family, a wife and child of his own,’ rambled the old man. ‘You’d be strangers to each other.’

  ‘Please,’ insisted Nell. ‘If there’s anything you can remember, any way you can help me, I’m begging you, Doctor …’

  At length, he nodded. ‘Well, I can see if that particular orphanage still exists, and give them a ring. I’m not sure they’ll tell me any more than they’ll tell you. Still,’ he dabbed up crumbs from his plate, ‘I could say it was due to a matter of medical emergency concerning a relative that we must contact him.’