by Paul Kelly
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 known 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. Broomfield’s surgery Martin’s father was Irish, 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.”
Maya stood up and Martin’s eyes popped out of his head when she removed her white surgical coat.
“You ... you ... are you pregnant?” he asked as his eyes fluttered. He knew of course that she was not married and she didn’t have a partner to his knowledge and apparently he had never noticed the ‘bulge’ before as he suddenly grabbed a chair for Maya to sit down again. “No Missy ... You ain’t pregnant, no …not dat. You can’t be. I would have seen this ... this bump before, surely. Is there something wrong where I can help?”
Maya smiled as she looked down at her ‘bulge’ and had to admit that it seemed to have developed suddenly ... almost overnight. She was sure it wasn’t as big as that when she had her shower that morning before she left the flat to come to work.
“Yes, I’m pregnant Martin,” she said quietly before she smiled again, “I’m nearly three months gone.”
Martin’s eyes widened as only Martin’s eyes could….The whites of his eyes stood out bright and clear as the pupils moved about excitedly, not knowing what else to do until he suddenly realized that his mouth was open ... and he closed it.
“Are you happy to be ... this way, Ma’am,” he asked forgetting his Missy name in his curiosity as if he had suddenly found a new respect for his employer, but Maya found it difficult to answer him as she had never been asked this question before. Nobody seemed to care whether she was happy or not ... just that she should get on with her life and make the best of a bad job, but suddenly Maya’s thoughts turned to Billy-Boy and to one of his letters in particular and wished she could have been in her bedroom to read it again.
“My Princess ... My Queen,” she remembered reading, “Words fail me to explain how grateful I am for the violin,” Maya rubbed her forehead with her fingers and closed her eyes to regain some more of her sad memories from that letter. She had bought the violin for William because she was stunned and surprised at how well he could play when he had told her that he knew a ‘little’ about playing with the violin. A Little! ... God, he taught her all she ever knew with his knowledge of the instrument and she had realized then that Billy-Boy was far more talented than even she realized, or he for that matter ... “I want to marry you and have children with you. I want to fill you up with children and when I’ve done that, I’ll start again and again and again.”
“Bloody tire yourself out, you bloody idiot,” she exclaimed aloud, as she remembered the lines that Billy-Boy had written … without thinking and Martin looked at her for an explanation of her remark, thinking perhaps that Maya was referring to his offer to tidy up the surgery, but she sighed and waved her hand. “Just something I was thinking about ... nothing important ... Now I think you had better finish for the day, Martin. The lady cleaner will be in this evening. She will do what’s necessary.”
Maya sat in her dental chair looking around her as though she was a stranger to the place and she had never seen it before. Perhaps the fact that she had never actually sat in her own dental chair before had something to do with that, but she raised her eyebrows and smiled contentedly to herself. She had never, not ever in her wildest dreams, ever imagined that she would become pregnant again after the birth of Marianna, three years after Fiona came along and that was to husband number two ... all those years ago it seemed to her now and Marianna’s birth wasn’t an easy affair. Not by a long chalk and at that time, she was ‘between’ husbands and there was no one near her to help her out. Her daughter had been a breach birth and where nowadays they gave the mother a Caesarean, they didn’t give Maya a choice. She remembered she had been in labour for nine hours and all they gave her was a couple of aspirin tablets.
“Just hang on in there, girl . . . You’ll be alright,” was all the assistance she got at that time and she didn’t look forward to her next ‘dream moment of childbirth’ ... She had been in pain, right down near her appendix since she was about a month pregnant on this occasion and she was getting more than worried ... but there was no bleeding, so that was one good thing. It certainly would have been a lot different in her past pregnancy if she hadn’t had to go through all that on her own, but her partner of those days had gone fishing or something like that. It was women’s work, Maya could remember him saying and another rotten memory flashed through her head. Munroe-Smith, her first husband had been a kind man to her, but like everything else, she realised that in those trying times when it was too late and he had gone ... He had been the essence of noble blood to all his mates and companions, but he had been a veritable bastard to Maya at times, not that she ever complained and she sighed again with her bitter, sweet memories. You can’t get yourself UNPREGNANT ... once the bloody deed was done, she remembered thinking angrily and she sat for a long time on her own just thinking of what it was like and of what it might be like the third time around, but as nothing approaching reality crossed her mind, she decided to call it a day and close shop. She looked out into the corridor to ensure that no one else needed her attention before she put on her leathers and crash helmet, ready for the journey home. She smiled as the leather jacket was just a little tight and she left the buttons undone and loosened the belt. It even felt tighter than it had when she first put it on that morning and her belly felt as if it was going to burst at any minute.
It was still wet and dismal when she mounted the bike, but she had no trouble starting it this time and she imagined the heat from the garage below her surgery had helped to get the engine
of her Harley started. Within the hour, she was home again and headed straight for her bedroom to the chest of drawers in the corner. She hesitated. She knew what she was looking for alright, but was it a good or a bad thing to look back over the past, especially when she had such mixed feelings, she reflected, but then she thought again.
“I’m a bloody fool to get myself into this state,” she said softly to herself, regardless that she was alone and no-one would have heard her anyway, no matter how soft or how loud she spoke, “But I suppose if I have to look on the brighter side ... if there is one, I would rather it was Billy-Boy who was to be the father of my child than any of the other geezers who frequented my pad.” She hesitated again and frowned, “Crowd of bastards,” she told herself before she opened the sideboard drawer and drew out the bundle of envelopes, looking at them carefully before she undid the elastic band and chose one letter at random.
With trembling fingers, she opened the envelope she had chosen, not knowing what to expect when she would read its contents, but she avoided reading the opening page, which was sure to be very endearing. Billy-Boy was very loving in every way and it showed in particular in the way he addressed her.
Page three began with the part of a sentence from page two … It read “being so close to you. Then it went on into page three. I cannot imagine life without you now, my darling. You ARE my life. You are my love. You are everything to me and I want …”
Maya could read no more. Her eyes filled up with tears and she was filled with love and anger simultaneously at that very moment. She remembered clearly how when William was with her in their intimacy, he had lost all his stuttering or stammer whatever he called it and whatever that policeman Gardner was rattling on about ... He could speak like any other normal person in those times. It was only when he felt unloved, she believed, that his stutter returned, IF HE EVER HAD A STAMMER ... She had never noticed that in him in all the time he was with her.
The room looked empty as she strolled around aimlessly, holding the letter in her hand and thinking that perhaps the best thing to do was to burn the lot…
“You want ... you were always wanting, you silly boy,” she screamed into the emptiness of the bedroom. “Look what your wanting has done to us now ...Yes, to us, I say ... It is not just me who has to undergo this ... It’s you as well ... You stupid little sod that you are ... I wish I had never met you and yet ... when I think of the times we spent together, I realize that you only gave me love and beauty. Love from your heart and beauty from your body ... I miss you now, my Darling. I miss your touch and the gentle way you were able to love me ... and to move me to love you in return. Yes, Billy-Boy, sweetest of lovers, That was indeed love with us together and sex went out of the window after the first five minutes of our being together to be replaced by something that I had never known in my life before. You were magic, dear boy ... Pure Magic to me and no man has ever done that to me, Billy-Boy ...My own Bollocky-Boy,” she screamed into the air as she laughed aloud ... in a hysterical fashion …
Maya cried bitter tears when she said that as she threw herself across the bed and caressed the pillow tenderly. “I LOVE YOU, Billy-Boy,” she called out. “I love you… I love you, YOU BASTARD” she kept repeating and only the echo of her voice gave her any consolation until she fell asleep.
When she awoke, she realized that she still had Billy-Boy’s letter in her hand and she continued to read from where she left off.
“I want to fill you full of love-babies, my dearest. You and I have the means to do this by the way we are made and it is so natural for me to be with you as we so often are. I remember you asking me if I was married when we first met on that wonderful night when I first slept with you. I couldn’t understand this until the following morning when I looked at my hand resting on your tender breast ... the hand that had loved you do tenderly that night before and I saw my dad’s wedding ring on my own finger. I used to wear that ring around my neck when I was a little boy after my father died and then when I was old enough to wear it on my hand, I put it on the fourth finger of my left hand, to tell my dad that I loved him so much and that I would never marry anyone unless I loved that person as I did him. Strange isn’t it. A man to love another man like that, but he WAS my dad, wasn’t he? I cannot understand what stops us having hundreds of children. We should have had at least fifty by now, don’t you think, my Love? ... Maybe I try too hard. Should I be somewhat gentler with you, my Darling? Or is there anything I am doing that displeases you; something that I am not doing right? If there is, you must tell me. I want to be your lollipop as I can see how that makes you happy ... and of course whatever makes you happy makes me feel the same.
The way we lay together is our particular way and I am sure no one has ever been in this position before. It is ours and ours alone and ... Our Love Union, is what I like to call it and I hope you won‘t laugh at that as I‘m sure you understand what I mean.”
Maya could read no more. She screwed the letter up in her hand and wanted to throw it in the wastebasket, but her mind rejected her actions and she returned it carefully to the envelope from which she had taken it.
“You didn’t try too hard, my love,” she said, “You were always gentle and if it had been left to you, we would have had children ... many, many children. It was I who stopped all that. I ruined our love in those years we were together and now ... perhaps I might be able to repay you by giving you something that we both should have wanted from the start of our meeting. I am sorry my Darling ... I am so sorry.”
Maya went to bed early that evening as she wasn’t feeling too well and the following morning she decided to get Stan.Rochford in to replace her at her work in the Surgery before she went for her check up with her doctor. Stan was always a good and very reliable standby . . . if he was also a bit of an old woman, she was known to say, where everything had to be in the right place and anything out of place was either put right or thrown out … but his heart was in the right place and he was very honest and reliable. Yes, Stan had all the qualities of a good, upright and honest man and no woman would or could ever capture his heart. It was left for some young man to do that …
Chapter Eighteen
FIONA stood the little mongrel puppy on the table of the veterinary surgery and tried to concentrate of what she was about to do, but her mind was on anything but animals that morning. She kissed the little dog and gave it her customary cuddle, but the puppy only whimpered in return.
“I do wish you would keep your mind on your job, Fiona,” . . . The voice came from the other room where Fiona’s boss, Mrs. Aida Forester was always attentive to anything that wasn’t one hundred per cent attention in her supportive staff.
“Sorry,” Fiona called out and the puppy peed all over her apron. “I really must change,” she went on hurriedly “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” but Fiona had no intention of just changing her apron as she threw her coat over her shoulders and made for the surgery door. She had other things on her mind.
“Fiona, Fiona,” a shrill voice screamed from a small room at the back of the surgery. “Where on earth do you think you’re going? I need you here. Come back girl. I need you here urgently,” but Fiona ignored the voice and its urgency as she made her way to the surgery door. There were other things on Fiona Munroe-Smith’s mind that morning that needed more than her undivided attention to pissy dogs, she thought as she ran towards her car and jumped in.
As she drove through the streets towards Muswell Hill, she thought of the plight her mother had got herself into and she cursed Maya inwardly for doing it. It was more than she thought her mother should shoulder alone and she was more than willing to help her, but the relationship between the two of them had been strained for such a long time and it was difficult just to say, “Love you, Mum,” and hope that everything would be put right in that instant, but she had resolved to do her very best as she drove up to the flat and hurried to the th
ird floor only to find that the place was empty. She rang the bell but there was no reply.
Fiona came down to the ground floor again and found her mother about to climb the stairs. She looked tired and worn out and Fiona immediately went to help her with the shopping that she was carrying.
“Why can’t you get all this stuff delivered by the internet?” she enquired, but Maya shook her head.
“I needed the fresh air and I needed this shopping too, so it does just as well to kill the two birds with the one stone, is what I say, so now as you are here, will you stay for a coffee?”
Fiona carried the shopping bags up to the third floor and Maya fumbled around for her key.
“Have you been to the doctor, yet?” asked Fiona as she went into the flat and Maya took a deep breath before she answered in the affirmative, but added that she hadn’t been too pleased about the results.
“I’ll tell you more when we sit down, but he didn’t seem to know whether he was coming or going, but never mind that … let me get the coffee going first,” she said and Fiona immediately became alarmed as it was so unlike her mother to be so lethargic and uncertain about anything in her life. Maya Broomfield was THE one who could put everything to rights, both in her own life and in the lives of all who knew her.
“Tell me now,” demanded Fiona “and I’ll get the coffee. I know where everything is. Now sit down and get your feet up.”
Maya did as she was told immediately which was another reason why Fiona became worried about what she was about to hear, as this submissive conduct was so UNLIKE her mother ... Maya Broomfield was anything but submissive.