by Paul Kelly
Maya burst open a box of tissues and dabbed her eyes,
“Ricky-Boy was the only one... That first night he came after I picked him up on my way home from Southend. I never thought... Well, he was such a... such a boy, that’s all.”
“But mother... that was over two years ago. It couldn’t have been Ricky-Boy. Even you know that it takes only nine months to conceive.”
Maya lowered her eyes,
“It could only have been him,” she sobbed, “I let him... let him do it a few times without any protection. Well, I thought I was in the change as I hadn’t seen a period for ages... but that was probably the reason why I didn’t see anything... I was bloody pregnant.”
Fiona put her arms around her mother when she said that.
“Oh dear... and what are you going to do now? Are you going to tell him?” she said and her mother jumped up from where she was sitting.
“No... no... I definitely am not going to tell him. I’m going to tell no-one,” she screamed and Fiona shook her head.
“But you’re hardly likely to hide it for a little while from now are you, when your lump starts to show? How long have you known?”
“About two or three months... I thought that perhaps I should...”
Fiona cut her mother short before she could finish her sentence, as she was sure she knew what her mother was about to say.
“Mother, you’re too far gone for an abortion if that’s what you’re thinking and besides, I don’t think Richard will be pleased with that. I thought he wanted to have children? Well from what you‘ve been telling me in the past.”
“I’M NOT TELLING HIM... Are you deaf or something. I don’t want this baby and I don’t care what he wants. It’s me who has to go through the bloody nine months, isn’t it... NOT HIM.”
“But mother, if you are so sure that it is Richard’s baby, you MUST tell him.”
“There’s no bloody MUST in it,” Maya screamed... “and don’t you go telling him either. I just asked you to call as I thought I would go out of my head if I didn’t tell someone... and you being a girl,... my daughter... That’s why I phoned you and asked you to come.”
Fiona paced the room and wrung her hands.
“You can’t do this to him mother. You can’t... I won’t allow you.”
“What’s that you said... YOU won’t allow me? What the fuckin’ hell has this pregnancy to do with you. It’s me he shagged, not you?”
Fiona looked worried when her mother spoke like that. She hated it when Maya used such language, but there was little if anything she could do to stop it and she went into the bathroom to get a towel.
“I promise not to say anything to Richard if you promise me you won’t have an abortion,” Fiona said, very calmly and in a low voice, but Maya screamed again that she would do as she bloody liked and that every other bugger should mind their own business.
“But this IS Richard’s business, whether you like to think it is or not... IF HE IS THE FATHER...”
“He’s too young to be bothered with anything like this and anyway... I’ve been thinking of dropping him for some time now. He’s too young by far for me. He should be with a much younger woman so that he could marry her properly and have children... and as many as he bloody wants.”
Fiona studied her mother’s face as she gave her ultimatum. There were tears in Maya Thompson’s eyes, but even Fiona, with the distaste she had for her mother’s way of life could see that whatever she said about this young Richard Bright, she still had feelings for him and wondered how truthful she was in suggesting that her young lover should find himself a younger woman who could bear his children and give him the love that she knew he yearned for.
“I think you should have a hot bath and try to forget all this nonsense that you are talking,” said Fiona, but Maya wouldn’t stop crying as she waved her hands in the air as if to dispense with any suggestion that was made for her.
“I know you are only trying to be kind,” shouted Maya to her daughter, “but you are going the wrong way about it. I’m not gonna have this cub and that’s all there is to it.”
Fiona realized that any further discussion would serve no purpose at that moment and walked towards the door to leave, but Maya grabbed her arm.
“Don’t leave me,” she screamed, “don’t leave me Darling... I need someone near me at this moment. I can’t bear to be on my own. God knows what I’ll do if I’m left on my own and I’m getting very worried about my visit to Chicago in July.”
Fiona turned back into the room, stunned that her mother should address her as ‘Darling’ but she felt very sorry for her and put her arms around Maya’s shoulders again.
“Stan Rutherford will stand in for you when you have to go to the States, won’t he” she asked, “but I doubt if you’ll be able to travel there if you’re like this, will you?” Maya raised her hands in the air as if she didn’t want to hear the suggestion that was put to her by Fiona.
“I HAVE to go to that conference in the States,” she snapped and then she seemed to have second thoughts as she continued, “Not if I get as big as an elephant, he won’t and I can’t see how I can hide THIS... can you?”
Fiona ignored her mother’s plea knowing that her pregnancy was showing just a little and knowing also that her mother was always being prone to exaggeration, regardless of the subject as she made her way back towards the kitchen.
“I’ll make a cup of tea and we’ll talk this thing through, while you go and wash your face. You look terrible,” she said, but Fiona had no idea of changing her mind and agreeing with her mother that an abortion was the only option. She liked Richard Bright... just a little, she told herself, but her heart told another story and there WAS indeed a jealousy towards her stressed out mother. Fiona Morray-Smith would have been pleased if the pregnancy was hers... but as with everything else in her young life, nothing she yearned for ever came true and she was left with a nest full of dreams... one of which was her mother’s lover Ricky-Boy, but that was something in a faraway land as far as Fiona Munro-Smith was concerned and she knew it as she nonchalantly walked around the lounge slowly sipping her Earl Grey and wishing the scene had been so totally different to what it was. It was then she noticed that the bedroom door was open and that one of the drawers on the sideboard in the room was slightly open. Normally, she wouldn’t have bothered to go into the bedroom, as there was nothing there that would have interested her... but that was NORMALLY and if by some remote chance she had gone in there, she would have closed the drawer and given the matter no further thought, but because of the distress her mother was in, Fiona thought there might be something in that drawer that would tell her more of the story that she was listening to... Something more of the tale behind the pregnancy and she opened the drawer more fully, trying not to make a noise to discover a wad of what seemed to be letters, lying near the top, bound with an elastic band.
There was no need for her to think that they were other than private letters addressed to her mother, since Maya lived alone at the flat. They could not have been addressed to anyone else and also Maya kept all her other correspondence pertaining to her dental work at the Surgery. The temptation was too much for Fiona and she slipped her hand into the half open drawer and retrieved the bundle of letters, but before she could release the elastic band, Maya appeared back in the room from the bathroom and held her daughter’s wrist fast, squeezing her hand until she dropped the letters to the floor.
“There’s nothing in there that would interest you, Darling...”stated Maya, emphasising her last word with a definite hiss. “I’ll take those, if you don’t mind and I would thank you not to go prying around my flat and nosing into things that don’t concern you.” Fiona winced as she rubbed her hand and Maya returned the letters to the drawer closing it with a bang. “They’re not what I’m sure you’re thinking they are anyway,” she concluded as she stro
lled back again into the lounge to drink her tea, but Fiona would not leave the matter there.
“I’m not interested in anything that you might keep in there,” she stated, “and as I obviously have outstayed my welcome, I think I had better go.”
Maya shrugged her shoulders and her eyes took on a hard and determined look.
“You can do what you like. I don’t want anyone here with me that I don’t trust and yes... I think it would be best if you left. Just close the door quietly behind you,” she said with a bitter tone in her voice, but no sooner had Fiona left the flat than Maya started to cry.
“I wish... I wish he hadn’t written those bloody letters,” she sobbed. “I wish he would grow up and stop writing such ridiculous tripe... and yet...”with that she returned to the bedroom and opened the drawer in the sideboard to retrieve the bundle that she had so rashly thrown back into the drawer. Her fingers shook as she removed the elastic band and dropped the loose bundle on the bed. Slowly she took one envelope at random from the middle of the pile and opened it carefully.
“My dearest, dearest darling,” she read as she sobbed uncontrollably before she threw the letter to the floor.
“Of all the men I have known,” she muttered as she dried her eyes on a tissue, “of all the wankers and control freaks that have ever come into my life, there was only ONE that I could call a MAN and I am ashamed that I don’t want to admit that now. I could have extracted the teeth of all the other self-seeking bastards without an anesthetic... I should be grateful for the love of this caring giant of a person who gave me nothing but love... He was a real man, although not long since left his youthful boyhood, but I know I am selfish. It’s the bloody way I am made, damn it,” she cursed, “Ricky-Boy, my sweet; my love, I wish I had never met you... I wish to God I had never gone to Southend that bloody weekend when I saw you in the rain.”
Chapter Sixteen
LIZZIE BRIGHT bit her lip as she sat waiting in the police station for Tommy Gardner to come into the room. It seemed like an eternity as she waited from 9.30 until 10.00 that morning and when Gardner did eventually appear he gave the impression that there was nothing new that young Richard’s mother could tell him to further his enquiries in the case and he looked above Lizzie’s head to see the same NO SMOKING sign there before he put his cigarette lighter away.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bright. I hope I find you well,” he asked and Lizzie Bright nodded. “You have some more information for me then?” he asked and she nodded again without saying a word. “Can I get you a cup of tea or something?” he went on and then it seemed that Lizzie Bright woke up from a trance.
“I don’t know what you lot are trying to do to me and my Richard,” she demanded and her eyes were ablaze with anger. Tommy noted that she mentioned herself before her son... It wasn’t Richard and me, but ME AND MY RICHARD...
“I told you that he spent a fair bit of time with this... this woman; this wretched female,” she went on and her breathing became shallower as she spoke... “but I also told you that he stayed with me at the weekends, as she wouldn’t have him in that time.”
Gardner stared at her in surprise. There was nothing new in what Lizzie Bright had said to him and yet she seemed to think it was some information of the utmost importance.
“Yes, yes, I agree,” said Gardner, “I know that. You did tell me when we last met.”
“But what I didn’t tell you and I’m telling you now, is this... my Richard spent most of his time with this... this female and on the few days he stayed with me at the weekends, he didn’t pay a penny for his keep. Now she must have been taking his money. That’s all I can say and I don’t think that’s at all fair. Do you?”
Again Gardner looked at his lady visitor with surprise. He had no idea if Ricky-Boy paid Maya Thompson for his keep... whilst he was with her and he hardly dare mention to Mrs. Bright that the female that her son was living with for the most part of a week, bought him a violin that cost over £4,000. That was something that Lizzie Bright would certainly not want to hear.
“I am sorry to hear that, Mrs. Bright, but isn’t this something about which you should speak to your son?”
Mrs. Bright fluttered her eyelashes and sighed.
“He keeps telling me that he will give me something... in time, but time is passing by quickly and he hasn’t given me anything to date... well apart from a little bit after the first two weeks.”
“And how much was that, Mrs. Bright? This little bit that he gave you?”
“Well it was a hundred if you must know but that’s nothing to what he must be giving this woman, I’m sure and I want more than that. I am his mother... don’t forget. I carried that boy in my womb for nine months and even then he wasn‘t an easy birth, you know. Nearly died having him... nearly bled to death, I did and this is all the thanks I get now.”
Tommy Gardner raised his eyebrows and groaned. How many times had he heard this story? How many times had some mother’s womb been stretched out of recognition in order to produce the darling fruit of her life and how many nearly died in the effort? He knew the number was interminable and he knew that most woman gave birth with joy in their hearts and never counted the cost, regardless of the obvious pain of which he was well aware... but Mrs. Bright was the lady who made her son; the fruits of her womb, leave school at the early age of fourteen rather than go on for further studies, because she needed the money he could earn in a super market, whilst she carried on night after night with one or other of her fancy men.
“Mrs. Bright,” he said solemnly, “I am afraid I have another interview to do now and I am unable to give you any more time. The constable will see you out. Good day.”
Lizzie Bright was about to hold him back, insisting that he should do something to ensure that her son paid her more money as it was her rights by law, but Tommy Gardner swept past her as he considered again the words of her son when he asked him what his mother called him at home, expecting some pet name or other as he was her one and only son and he had answered that he didn’t have any mother... “Not like a mother would be as you would know a mother,” was Ricky-Boy’s reply and Tommy Gardner left the police station to enjoy a well deserved fag.
Chapter Seventeen
MAYA cursed her Harley Rudolphson as she crashed the accelerator pedal for it to start without success and her ‘lump’ didn’t help matters as she struggled in her leathers.
“I must get myself a car,” she moaned as her boot slipped off the pedal for the umpteenth time. “It would have to be a rotten morning, too,” she went on, “and I bet I have half a dozed extractions or other types of filthy mouths when I get into the Surgery today,” she complained and then rebuked herself for her criticism. After all, it was her job... her vocation... in other words, her bread and butter, but this was one morning when she could willingly have slept on for another hour or so, if only her morning sickness would allow her. Everything was against her that day and she knew it as a smile crossed her face when the bike eventually roared into life.
She was fortunate when she arrived at her surgery as there were no extractions and the only thing she had to concern herself with was a couple of broken dentures, which shouldn’t take her too long to fix and two children requiring braces on their teeth. Whether it was a good thing or not, that she didn’t have such a lot to occupy her mind was debatable, as it gave her more free time to herself from the teeth... which indeed wasn’t the best thing to be looking down someone’s throat when you were obviously pregnant and with a three month bump to prove it.
She went through the routine of her surgical morning, filling in odd papers and piling her instruments into a tray for the ‘daily’ to come in and sterilize them; the ‘daily’ being Martin Roache, a young West Indian born boy who was a part time assistant at the local residential home and worked for Maya twice or three times a week, according to the amount of work she had. She had kno
wn Martin for quite some time now, ever since he had come to her for a filling and after a lengthy discussion where he told her how useful he would be to her as he had such a lot of spare time. Martin was indeed a great help. He was conscientious and he smiled at everyone where his magnificent white, dazzling teeth made everyone feel confident that they would have the same results after a couple of visits to Mrs. Thompson’s surgery Martin’s father was Avish, but his mother was from the West Indies somewhere and he was reliable and very regular when she needed him. He was also very good at using the autoclave sterilizer whenever that was required, for instruments and even rubber gloves that required detailed sterilization. At other times she used disposable syringes and instruments which caused less trouble, but this particular afternoon she could have wished Martin to the other ends of the earth as he came in at his usual time of one-thirty in the afternoon with his customary breezy smile and devil-may-care attitude to life.
“Afternoon, Missy,” he called out with the name in which he always addressed Maya as he went into the instrument room. “Not much to do today, I see,” he continued as his eyes fell on the instrument tray with its meager contents to be treated.
Maya wiped her forehead with the palm of her hand as Martin came into the consulting room where she had sat down.
“You alright, Missy?” he asked in his usual breezy manner and Maya closed her eyes for a moment before she spoke. She was far from being alright... but then she couldn’t tell Martin of her situation, could she... and if she had done, there was nothing he could have done about it. She was pregnant and she had to face up to that fact and also it was too late to even think of an abortion.
“Just a little under the weather,” she replied and Martin grunted as he went on with his work, singing as he went and Maya rubbed her forehead with a surgical spirit swab... and wished Martin would shut up.
“I’ll do a little clean round too, this morning, Missy if that’s O.K. with you. I’m off duty from the Home today and well, you really don’t look too healthy this morning, if you don’t mind my saying that, and I don‘t think you should be doing any bending or the likes.”