Beholden

by Lesley Crewe

  I forgot that my mother would tell George’s mother, and George hadn’t said anything to his mother. That caused quite a stir.

  “Thanks a lot, Eileen,” he said. “She wanted to know why I didn’t say anything to her, and I really didn’t have an answer. Now she’s cross.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her?”

  “I don’t want people at home knowing my business.”

  A pretty dopey excuse. No wonder Aunt Jean was annoyed.

  Over the last five years, I’d saved a bit of money, and I used some of it to buy a few things for Bridie. I didn’t want Mavis getting her drawers in a knot, so I bought the crib and high chair. That way she couldn’t accuse George of spending his hard-earned money on the “waif,” as she called her.

  Finally, the day arrived when Bridie came home. It was early October when George brought her in through the back door, cuddled in a blanket against the chill. He handed her over to me and I sat right down in my rocking chair by the stove. A nurse at the hospital had knitted her a pink cap, mitts, and booties. Her perfect little face looked about, so trusting and innocent. She had the longest eyelashes, and her mouth was as pink as a little rosebud. She was exquisite. All mothers think their child is the most beautiful, but Bridie really was. Obviously, she took after me.

  “Can you believe it?” I said to George. “We did it. She’s here. You must be so happy.”

  George did look relieved, but he always had this haunted look about him when he gazed at her. I knew he was thinking of the young girl who’d lost her life. That was something he would never get over.

  Not two minutes later, Mavis and Patty came into the kitchen.

  “She’s here, then,” Mavis said to no one in particular.

  “Let me see the baby!” Patty shouted. “Can I play with her?”

  I opened the blanket a little, so Patty could see. “Be very careful. She’s tiny.”

  Patty tried to touch her, and I put out my hand to hold hers. “Not yet, dearest. We don’t want any germs on a newborn baby. Pretty soon, she’ll be big and strong enough for you to hold.”

  “That’s not fair. I want to hold her now.”

  “Patty, do as you’re told,” her father said. “You can’t touch her just yet.”

  “That’s no fair.” Patty crossed her arms and gave everyone a big pout.

  “No, nothing’s going to change,” Mavis said. “Patty will always be number one in this household. Isn’t that right, Eileen?”

  George sighed. “Just give everyone a chance to settle in, please. You haven’t even looked at the baby.”

  Mavis leaned over and looked down at her. “She’s a baby. Nothing special.” She reached for Patty’s hand. “Come with Mommy. We’re not wanted here.”

  “Mavis!” George pleaded.

  “Never mind. We’ll toddle along.” She pushed the kitchen door open and she and Patty disappeared. The swinging door went back and forth after they left. Both George and I watched it.

  “Oh boy,” he said.

  “It’ll get better.”

  Boy, was I wrong. Mavis made it her mission to make my life a living hell those first weeks. I was so tired, I could barely see straight. Bridie was a good baby, but she was up a lot through the night because she was so small. Often, George would sneak down the back stairs into the kitchen and hold her for me while I mixed formula and boiled bottles.

  The minute I put Bridie down for a nap, Mavis would come up with some obscure housekeeping task, or tell Patty that I would play tea party with her. If I wasn’t changing diapers, I was sewing hems, peeling carrots, waxing the floor, reading stories, cooking a ham, or making finger sandwiches for Mavis’s bridge club. All these foolish things, when all I wanted to do was sit and hold my baby.

  But I was aware that if I folded, if I broke down in front of Mavis, she would declare the situation a mess and demand George reconsider his plans. One day she actually said at the dinner table, “Has it occurred to either of you that this child could be put up for adoption with a young childless couple? Wouldn’t that be a better solution for all concerned?”

  George got up from the table and left the room.

  So, while I made damn sure that I always had a smile on my face and a spring in my step, George did his best to make my life easier when he got home. He’d play with Patty instead of reading in his study, which made a big difference in her behaviour. He should’ve been doing that all along. The child was crazy about him.

  One morning, I was in the kitchen making a cheesecake for Mavis’s hospital auxiliary meeting when Bridie gave a terrible cry. I hurried into my room and there was Patty with her hand inside the crib, pinching the baby.

  “Stop that at once!” I shouted. When I reached Patty, I grabbed her arm and hit her hand. “Bad girl! Don’t you ever hurt Bridie like that. She’s only little.”

  Patty started to cry. “I only wanted her to wake up.”

  “You’re a big girl now. You know that pinching someone hurts, so don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying!” she cried. “I want Mommy!”

  I realized I had to nip this in the bud, so I sat on my bed and pulled Patty into my lap. “That’s all right, Patty. Eileen isn’t cross any more. I know you didn’t mean to hurt the baby, and you’ll never do it again.”

  She sniffed and wiped at her nose with her fist. “I just wanted her to wake up and play with me.”

  “How about I play with you? You go up and get the tea set ready and I’ll bring up some sugar cookies. That’s your favourite game.”

  “Okay!” She bounced off my lap and ran out of the room. I picked up Bridie, who had a big red mark on her upper thigh. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” How was I going to protect her if I had to be everywhere at once? She settled against my chest and closed her eyes. She sucked on her tiny fist.

  Determined not to leave her alone, I took a shawl and wrapped her up against me and tied the ends together. That’s how I ended up surviving those first six weeks, with Bridie against my heart and Patty by the hand. I was determined to outwit Mavis at her own game.

  And then in late November, George came home one day and said he wasn’t feeling well. He told Mavis he’d sleep in his study because he didn’t want to give her the bug that was going around. Naturally, I was up through the night, and when I went to get Bridie’s bottle, I heard something coming from his study. I tiptoed over to the closed door. George was crying like I’ve never heard anyone cry before. He sounded totally despondent. I wanted to go in and tell him everything would be all right, but I knew better. This was a man in despair and he needed to be alone.

  That night confirmed to me that there was much more to this story than just a helpless girl by the side of the road. I’d probably never know the whole truth, but I knew it had broken George’s heart.

  And that broke mine.

  7

  1955

  My little missy was the most adorable child on the planet. She made me laugh every single day. She called me Mama and George was Pops. Mavis didn’t like that, but it wasn’t short for Papa. He’d given her a balloon once when she was two and it popped in her face. She laughed and laughed and that’s how George got his name.

  Bridie called Mavis by her first name. I was surprised Mavis didn’t insist on being called Mrs. Mackenzie. Patty was Patty-Cake. Patty liked it but had to pretend otherwise. Patty really did love Bridie, but only when her mother wasn’t around, which was very confusing for a ten-year-old. I was certain that Mavis would have Patty turning on Bridie before too long.

  Mavis was beyond jealous of Bridie. Not just because Bridie was a gorgeous child, but because she was always happy and energetic and ready for anything. Patty was moodier, and unfortunately, she looked more like her mother than her father.

  And it bothered Mavis terribly that George adored Bridie. He loved his own child too, of co
urse, but there was no denying the sparkle in his eye when he looked at our girl.

  “What shall we do today?” he’d say to the girls at the dining room table on Saturday mornings.

  Five-year-old Bridie always put her hand in the air, just like the teacher taught her in primary school. “Let’s go fishing, Pops!”

  “I hate fishing.” Patty would frown. “Let’s go for ice cream!”

  “Why don’t we do both?” he’d say.

  “Yay!” Bridie would clap her hands and shake her head back and forth with glee, her golden curls bouncing around her chubby cheeks. I wanted to squeeze her all day, every day.

  Mavis always said no to fishing, so George and the girls would end up just going for ice cream, but that was okay with Bridie. As long as she had her Pops by the hand, she was happy.

  George was still the only one who could get Bridie to sleep if she wasn’t feeling well. He’d hold her close to his chest and she’d be out like a light. He’d sit with her on his chest all night rather than disturb her. Mavis thought it was a lot of nonsense, but George would just ignore her.

  He became very good at ignoring Mavis. At times, I almost felt sorry for her. Theirs was not a happy marriage, as much as Mavis pretended it was at her soirees. She’d twitter about and sit on George’s lap from time to time. She’d cozy up to him when he was talking to other women, just to let them know that they could look but not touch.

  I knew the real story. They didn’t often sleep in the same bed. George had a settee in his study that was his favourite place to nap, and I’d frequently hear him come downstairs after midnight to spend the rest of the night alone.

  There were a lot of things I saw about marriage that didn’t quite fit the fantasy. I became relieved I’d never bothered. Not that I had ever had an opportunity, but I liked the story that I’d been wooed by many but was just too darn choosy.

  And it turned out I was intimate with a man. George and I shared a lot over the years. Things he really should’ve been sharing with his wife. But we were such close friends, George knew he could tell me anything.

  Well, not everything. I figured if he wanted me to know Bridie’s story he would’ve told me by now, so I never pushed.

  The only thing I missed out on was sex, which never interested me. Too messy and awkward, from what I understood. And you can’t tell me that a double chocolate cake doesn’t give you as much pleasure as rolling around in sweaty sheets. No, there was nothing missing from my crazy life.

  I had more than enough love.

  It was about Christmastime that year when Patty showed up after school without Bridie. She was responsible for walking Bridie home. When she came through the back door without her, I was instantly fearful.

  “Where’s your sister?”

  “She’s not my sister. Stop calling her that. All my friends think I’m weird because I have to look after a servant’s kid.”

  I stopped breathing for several reasons. For now, I was concerned only with Bridie. I walked over to Patty as she took off her boots and shook my wooden spoon at her. “You tell me where she is, or so help me, I’ll give you a smack.”

  “You do and I’ll tell Mother!” Patty stuck her tongue out at me. I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or her.

  I wasn’t getting anywhere with the obstinate child, so I put my own boots on and got my coat, hurrying up the street, trying to find Bridie. I kept calling her name until my throat closed over with fear. For the first time in a long time, I realized I was in really bad shape; I was completely winded by the time I got to the school. It occurred to me that I should get George involved, but that would mean running back to the house. Luckily, I didn’t have to decide what to do, because there was Bridie, swinging on a swing in the school playground.

  I waved at her and she waved back. My relief was overwhelming. This mothering business was a giant can of worms. Fabulous on one hand, but thoroughly terrifying on the other.

  “Hi, princess,” I panted. “You were supposed to come home with Patty. You had me worried.”

  “Sorry.”

  She kept swinging.

  “Are you all right? You look a little upset.” I forced my own large bum into the swing next to her. It was very uncomfortable. I’d be lucky if I got out of it.

  “I don’t like Patty-Cake anymore.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “She said I didn’t belong to anyone. She said everyone has a family, but I don’t. That you’re not my mother and Pops is not my father. That I came out of a cabbage patch.”

  Why hadn’t I addressed this sooner? I’d known I would have to at some point, and suddenly here it was, with no warning.

  “Well, I can tell you one thing, Bridie. You didn’t come out of a cabbage patch.”

  “Oh, I figured that out myself. I’m not round or green.”

  I looked away so I wouldn’t laugh.

  “Patty is wrong. You do have a family. I am your mother, in that I take care of you and love you just like any mother, and Pops is your father, because he looks after you and loves you just like any father. Your real mother died a long time ago, so Pops took you home. And I’m so glad he did, or I’d have no one to look after. We chose to have you with us, and that makes you a very special girl. Not everyone gets chosen.”

  “Does Patty-Cake like me?”

  “Of course she does. She was being silly today. Sometimes people say things they don’t mean.”

  “Does my real mother live in heaven?”

  “Yes. And she watches over you every day. You have your very own angel looking after you.”

  Bridie put her feet in the sand to stop the swing. “I wish she were here. Why did she go?”

  “She didn’t want to. She had an accident and Pops tried to save her, but he couldn’t. It was a terrible time for him, and the only thing that made him feel better was you.”

  “Poor Pops. We should make him fish for supper.”

  “As a matter of fact, we’re having salmon. Want to come home and help me poach it? I have to make a white onion sauce too. You can stir it.”

  She gave me a small smile.

  Walking home holding hands with my sweetie, I debated whether to tell George about what happened. I didn’t like to get Patty in trouble, but I knew that her words must have come from Mavis, and they had to be stopped. Unfortunately, when I did tell him, he didn’t wait to talk to Patty quietly.

  It was just after supper, and Bridie was excused from the table. George signalled for Patty to stay. She looked at me as if she knew what was coming.

  “Why didn’t you make sure that Bridie came home with you after school today?”

  Mavis spoke up. “The child wouldn’t leave with her. What’s Patty supposed to do? Drag her home?”

  “I’m asking Patty.”

  Patty looked fearful. “She wouldn’t come.”

  “And why wouldn’t she come?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you tell her that she doesn’t belong to this family? That Eileen isn’t her mother and I’m not her father? That you don’t like having to take care of a servant’s kid?”

  Patty’s head hung down.

  Mavis was all set to say something, but George put up his hand and stopped her. “There are no excuses, Mavis. She had no business saying those things to a five-year-old. And I have to wonder where she heard that sort of talk. Eileen is not our servant, for one thing. We were going to tell Bridie the circumstances of her birth when she was a little older, but it seems it’s been handled now. I would just like you to remember, Patty, that being a member of a family doesn’t always mean you have to be a blood relative. People come into our lives who have no connection to us at all and end up being closer to us than anyone. We are all God’s children. We are all members of the same family, and in this family, we love and take care of each other
. You are Bridie’s big sister, and it’s your job to always make sure she feels safe and loved. You protect her the way that we protect you. I know you’re a good girl with a big heart, and you’ll never make Bridie feel badly about herself again. Isn’t that right?”

  Patty’s tears fell down her cheeks. “Okay, Papa. I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are. Now come here.” George held out his arms and Patty ran into them. He kissed the top of her head. “That’s my girl. Now you’re excused.”

  She quickly left the room without a backward glance. Mavis sat stony-faced at the end of the table. “That was quite a performance. Everything the child said was true. You’re not her father and Eileen is not her mother. And what is Eileen if not our maid? She cooks and cleans and we pay her. Is that not the definition of a maid? Stop finding fault with your own kin. If Patty grows up thinking you love Bridie more than her, what kind of a father are you? Put that in your pipe and smoke it!”

  Mavis got up and left the table too. George and I sat there looking at each other. He did light his pipe and smoke it, just to settle his nerves.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” I said.

  “You were right to tell me.” George blew a smoke ring. “Although it’s times like this that I wonder if I did the right thing. It’s as if there are battle lines drawn in this family. No one is able to relax and just enjoy each other. It was probably too much to ask of Mavis, and she’s right about Patty. I don’t want her feeling like I have a favourite. I’ll have to be more careful.”

  I nodded my head. “Me too. I threatened to hit Patty with a spoon if she didn’t tell me where Bridie was. Not exactly an adult thing to do.”

  George took a long draw on his pipe. “You know something else? I’m thinking that Mavis always feels like the two of us gang up on her.”

  “We do.”

  “I should take her away for a few days. Just her and me. Would you be okay with looking after the girls?”

  “Of course. What are servants for?”