An Unsuitable Mother

by Sheelagh Kelly

  But it was too late, for by the time they caught Nina and Romy up, the latter had already begun: ‘Mum, were you ever married? Because this girl said …’

  Having hoped to delay the story of Romy’s conception for another few years, Nina was obviously dismayed at having to convey this in front of an audience. Joe whistled discreetly as he unlocked the car for his family to get in, Nell pretending to look out of the window at the lamplit streets, as Nina tried to avoid answering – though being trapped in the car there seemed no escape. Waiting for her to begin, Nell pondered the thought that she would have had to do this herself had they not taken William. And oh, what a more uplifting tale she could have told him about his father. No, she did not envy Nina one bit. However, as she listened to them murmuring in the back seat as the car negotiated twists and turns, there was relief in that Nina had decided to temper the truth.

  ‘Well, that girl was right in a way,’ came the mother’s matter-of-fact explanation to her child. ‘You either have to be married or have a boyfriend to have a baby. It is best if you’re married, but I just had a boyfriend. When I found out you were going to be born, well, I wasn’t really old enough to marry him, and we didn’t really know each other well enough. So we didn’t see each other any more.’

  ‘Didn’t he want me?’ The plaintive query went straight to Nell’s heart, and, she suspected, Nina’s too, from the way her voice caught as she delivered a kiss to the cheek.

  ‘I’m sure he would’ve! But he had no idea you were even born.’

  ‘We could tell him now.’ The voice from the back seat sounded hopeful.

  But the manner in which her mother replied told Romy that this was impossible. ‘Sometimes, things don’t always go how you want them to, love. I wish you could have a dad who lives with us, but you just don’t. And you never will.’

  ‘Not bothered,’ Nell heard Romy declare, as if she meant it. ‘I’ve got Grandad instead.’

  And with this she leaned forward to throw her arms around the driver’s neck, instigating sudden laughter as he fought to maintain control of the car.

  * * *

  ‘My, that was a relief,’ breathed Nell to her husband later, when they had dropped Nina and Romy off and were on their way home. ‘All’s well that ends well.’

  ‘Apart from missing my telly!’ But Joe was not really cross, that is until they were settled down for the evening. Then, ‘Sod and damn it!’ he howled, at being plunged into darkness halfway through the current TV programme. ‘Bloody miners, they earn a king’s ransom compared to what we had, and still they’re not happy – how many more of these power cuts – remind me again, who was it said “what a good idea it’d be to get an electric fire”?’

  Nell objected with a laugh as she fumbled for matches. ‘I wasn’t to know!’ Thank goodness that Beata turned up at just the right moment to lighten the atmosphere. ‘I don’t know what he’s complaining about,’ Nell told her sister-in-law as they huddled in candlelight. ‘We’ve had such a giggle at school …’ and she proceeded to related the comical scene with the budgie, she and Joe chortling all over again, and Beata being similarly tickled. ‘My God, the colour of Joe’s face – I thought he was going to have a stroke!’

  And for a time they maintained their light-heartedness, but soon Joe was grumbling again about the unions and all the strikes and the shortages these inevitably brought. ‘Yes, nothing much changes,’ sighed Nell. ‘It’s like living through the war all over again.’

  ‘Worse!’ screeched Joe. ‘At least then it was only foreigners trying to kill you. You can’t go to a football match any more without hooligans spoiling it for you – they should hang the buggers just for wearing them stupid loon pants and girly haircuts.’

  His sister agreed. ‘Along with them IRA sods. That’s all you see these days, violence.’

  ‘That’s when you’re allowed to watch the blasted telly!’ rounded Joe. ‘And even when you are, it’s full of poofs in white satin – and we thought the Beatles were bad! And as for being in the Common bloody Market – ooh, don’t get me started. It makes you wonder what you fought for, it really does.’

  Beata said she was glad to be retired, the way nursing was going. Joe said he couldn’t wait either. ‘I’m as good as retired now, what with these three-day weeks – hang on,’ he held up the conversation with a note of finality, ‘I think I’ll just go cut me throat.’ Then they all laughed, and as if by magic the electricity came back on.

  Nell jumped up to silence the television. ‘Like a spring chicken,’ joked Beata. ‘By, you wouldn’t think she’s got a fiftieth birthday coming up! What’s he going to buy you, Spotty?’

  Nell said she wouldn’t mind a colour telly, but was shouted down by Joe who denounced them as too garish: people with faces the colour of tomatoes, and the turf on the racecourse looked like summat out of The Wizard of Oz.

  ‘Does he never stop?’ With a laugh at Beata, Nell went to make a pot of tea, returning with this and a plate stacked with chocolate cake. Then, taking a piece for herself, she sat and watched brother and sister with fondness as they put the world to rights.

  After two pieces of cake, Beata said she would have to get weaving. ‘Send me a photo of Romy’s egg if you can – I could do with a laugh.’

  But, when she had gone, Nell chuckled to her husband, ‘I don’t know if I should. It was bad enough thinking you were going to have a stroke, I should hate to be responsible for Killie having one too.’

  Joe seemed amused for a while, but as he prepared to watch the television again, and the laughter slowly faded, he announced in more sober fashion, ‘I pray to God I don’t, Nell.’

  Collecting the empty cups, she tried to jolly him. ‘You, who never ails a thing? You’ll outlive me.’

  But Joe had turned deadly serious, and he shook his head. ‘No, joking aside now, that’s what got me dad.’

  There was a deep-seated fear in his eyes that Nell had never seen before. In a surge of compassion, she put down the cups and reached out to him. ‘But remember, your father died fifty years ago. With modern treatment –’

  ‘I don’t want to be hooked up to a bloody machine. It’s bad enough being paralysed, but the thought of not being able to tell people how you feel …’ A coat of moisture slicked his eyes, though it did not wash away the dread. ‘I saw that look on me dad’s face – a big strong sergeant-major reduced to a baby – I don’t want the people I love seeing me like that. By God I don’t.’

  ‘It won’t happen, love,’ swore Nell, clutching his hand for all she was worth. ‘But if – if it did, I’d be here to look after you.’

  ‘I don’t want my wife forced to look after me! For who knows how long …’

  Nell understood his protest, but, ‘I wouldn’t have to be forced! I’d do it because I love you –’

  ‘What I’m saying is …’ Joe took a deep breath. ‘If I’m going to go I want it to be quick. I want you to give me something so I don’t linger.’

  Nell was shocked. ‘For heaven’s sake! You’re only sixty-four …’

  ‘Me dad wasn’t even fifty.’

  Nell saw him reach for his cigarettes. ‘Well, it might help if you gave those up!’

  Joe studied the packet for a moment; there was only one left. Then he lit it and said, ‘Right, this is my very last one.’

  ‘I’ll believe that when I see it,’ said a somewhat disquieted Nell, and escaped to the kitchen.

  Surprisingly, Joe remained true to his word: when that last cigarette was gone he was never to buy another. But that night’s exchange had left Nell concerned about being married to one so senior in years, and she began to envisage a time ten years hence when she might find herself living alone.

  Added to this, it was obvious that Nina entertained similar worries – oh, not to do with her parents, but in picturing herself alone once Romy had grown up, which was happening so very fast – and it was all so premature, for Nina herself was only in her twenties. What must it be like for her, t
hought Nell, with no one else to care for, to see her daughter blossoming, and to know that in five years she could be a mother herself, if fate dealt her the same blow.

  Romy had begun to assert her independence, as if being equipped with the information on her parentage somehow made her more adult. Nell feared there was a difficult time ahead for Nina, who had managed to keep a tight rein for now on the child with glitter on her cheeks and adventure in her eye, but as another year flew by, things could only get harder.

  Having witnessed the battles for liberty – which Romy ostensibly won, little knowing that when she celebrated freedom with her friend, she was actually being stalked by her mother, who ducked behind cars and privet hedges so as to keep an eye on her precious child – Nell was impelled to speak on her granddaughter’s behalf.

  ‘Love, you’ll have to let her go sometime, or she won’t be able to relate to people her own age. It won’t be that long before she takes her eleven plus. She’ll want to go places once she’s at big school.’

  But, ‘That’s a good while off yet,’ said Nina. ‘We’ll face that when it comes.’

  And then, in the blink of an eye, it did come, Romy sailing through her eleven plus with aplomb.

  Amidst all the celebration that preceded her entry to grammar school, Nell wondered what Nina must think and feel, as she watched her father shower his grandchild with the praise he had never accorded her. Obviously, she was immensely glad for her child, though surely, thought Nell, this must be tinged by the singular lack of acknowledgement from Joe. Thus, anxious to alleviate any resentment, or sense of failure, Nell was to lay the congratulations firmly at her door.

  ‘What a great job you’ve done in bringing her up on your own,’ she was to remark.

  And then, as usual, Joe went and spoiled it with derisory laughter. ‘On her own? That’s a good un, all the cash we’ve shelled out over the years …’

  Although with Romy present, he did appear to have second thoughts, and, concerned that she might think he was grumbling about the money she had cost him, he patted his granddaughter and said, ‘But she’s worth every penny we spent on her, indeed she is, what a brainbox!’ And as usual displayed his love in pecuniary mode.

  And, as ever, Romy treated the donation with glee, and asked could she go into town with her friend on Saturday. And, as ever, came Nina’s flat reply, that she was too young to go on her own.

  ‘Aw, but that’s ridiculous! Tasha’s been allowed to go on her own since she was ten! You treat me like a baby!’ Romy’s eyes turned in protest to her grandmother, who secretly felt that Nina was overprotective, but knew better than to interfere.

  However, within a few months of being at grammar school, Romy began to object more and more about these unfair restrictions, especially when prevented from accompanying a group of friends to the cinema one Saturday afternoon, in order to take an excursion with her mother and grandparents. Told not to grumble, Romy had ‘accidentally’ let it slip, and at this point Nell decided she must risk Nina’s wrath by offering a timely reminder:

  ‘You didn’t want to sit with old fogies when you were her age. Let her go, Neen – what harm will she come to in the pictures? We can drop her off at her friend’s house on our way, pick her up on the way back …’

  And, with Romy looking up so beseechingly, and after much angst, Nina had caved in – though she was none too pleased with either of them. The youngster danced up and down then, and, eyes bright, ran off to phone her friends so they did not leave without her. But whilst she was delighted, her mother remained concerned.

  ‘Stop worrying,’ Nell instructed quietly. ‘She’s a mature girl –’

  ‘That’s what I’m worried about!’ cut in Nina. ‘There are all kinds of creeps waiting to take advantage.’

  ‘But there’s a whole group of them, and she’s quite sensible – you have to trust her, Neen, or she’ll resent you for it.’ Finally receiving a nod of surrender, she felt glad to have assisted her granddaughter. Romy’s school friends, too, were equally thrilled that she was to accompany them, gathering round the car to enfold her as she was dropped off by her grandparents and mother.

  ‘We’ll be home around seven,’ instructed Nina through the window, her face anxious as the car pulled away. ‘Make sure you’re there.’

  Though obviously embarrassed at being babied, Romy promised that she would be. And, with some misgiving, Nina turned her eyes ahead, though Nell could sense her worry, and gave a little squeeze of her hand to show she knew how it felt to reach such a milestone.

  Nell did not feel so confident several hours later, though, upon arriving to pick Romy up.

  ‘She’s not here!’ A frantic Nina came hurrying back to the car, her face heaping accusation on Nell, who was tweaked by panic herself, until Mandy’s mother approached, clutching her sweater in apologetic mode, to say they had chaperoned Romy onto the bus.

  ‘Well, then, she’ll be safe enough,’ said Nell, trying to calm the situation, but Nina slammed the car door and urged her father to: ‘Drive!’

  Fumbling over the gears, an equally worried Joe earned his daughter’s wrath. ‘Put your bloody foot down!’

  ‘I’m not getting done for speeding!’ His tone was annoyed, but the reflection of his eyes in the rear-view mirror was as anxious as his daughter’s – though neither of them suffered the additional guilt of Nell, who had been the one to validate Romy’s need for freedom. Sick with foreboding, her fingers were tight around the strap of her handbag as the car went much too slowly across town, and though her voice might offer words of reassurance, they were for herself as much as her daughter. ‘She’ll be there, I know she will …’

  But she was wrong, for when they came to a halt outside the block of flats, and Nina leaped out and tore up the stairs, the landing was bare. By the time her parents were even halfway up, Nina was thundering back down, her face deathly pale.

  ‘Perhaps she’s at our house!’ Nell quickly provided the answer.

  In her haste to return to the car, Nina almost shoved her father back down the stairs to the car, angry at his dallying. Finally they were in motion again, though not quickly enough for Nina’s liking, Nell having to offer words of solace to try to calm her down.

  And then they turned the corner and suddenly everything was all right! There was Romy, sitting on the gate and waving as their car approached – though her smile did not prevent a near hysterical outpouring from her mother.

  ‘You told me to come home!’ objected Romy, taken aback.

  ‘No, I said, make sure you’re there – I meant at Mandy’s, where we left you!’

  ‘I thought you meant here, sorry!’ Though actually it was a streak of stubbornness and independence that had caused Romy deliberately to misunderstand.

  Stung even further, that her daughter naturally regarded her grandparents’ house as home, Nina gave short shrift to any apology. ‘You will be sorry! Because that’s the last time I let you out alone – come on, let’s be having you!’

  ‘Well, everything’s all right now we know she’s safe.’ Nell tried to mediate, adding to an outraged Romy, ‘Your mum was just worried because she thought you’d got lost …’

  But, ‘Honestly, I can never do anything right!’ said her granddaughter, and stomped off down the avenue.

  ‘Now you know what we had to put up with,’ came Joe’s sour contribution, before turning indoors. ‘Fun being a parent, isn’t it?’

  Nina looked as if she was about to bellow, though with her daughter so far ahead she simply shared a glower with Nell, before departing.

  ‘Just comfort yourself with the thought that you’re preparing her for the wider world.’ Nell called after her, in the hope that this might soothe, but Nina gave no hint that she had heard as she charged for home.

  Despite that clash, and the shock of thinking her child had come to harm, having finally calmed down and seen that Romy was capable of navigating herself from A to B, Nina did eventually permit her to branch out. Nel
l was glad of this landmark, though could not help feeling a little sad that it marked the end of childhood for her granddaughter. But if she had feared that this would be an end to their close relationship, this was not to happen. For, now that liberty had been conferred, Romy seemed to have no need to assert her independence, and was quite happy to be seen with her grandparents, and to accompany them on trips to the coast every now and then.

  There was certainly plenty of opportunity for this in the heat wave that had been suddenly visited upon them. It was turning out to be a very strange summer, thought Nell. The beginning of June had been icy cold – colder, possibly, than December, and with a flurry of what had looked very much like snow, as she and Joe braved the promenade at Scarborough. Then, on their way back, as if by magic the sun had come out, and continued to shine for weeks on end. With no change predicted to the drought that had turned his lawn brown, Joe had put away the spade that had been donated by his colleagues on his retirement, and spent almost every day taking his wife to the beach. And here they were yet again at the weekend, with Nina and Romy and several thousand others.

  Unlike the younger generation of men, in whom the heat wave seemed to have awoken a very unBritish penchant for shorts, Joe’s only concession was to remove his tie and roll up his trouser legs, as he basked alongside his wife in his deckchair. Loving the sun, though not its effect on her shoulders, Nell was most careful to apply lotion, though with so much regular exposure even she had begun to turn golden. Desperate to catch every ray, Nina sat up only to baste herself with a homemade concoction, before turning over.

  Sweat glistening from his brow, Joe squinted through his sunglasses, and asked, ‘What’s that she’s putting on? It stinks like vinegar.’