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Mothers and Daughters

Page 23

by Fleming, Leah


  ‘Your mum was a pretty typist with big ideas but she has a mean streak. She did something nasty once that had terrible consequences for others, but that’s another story. I’ve never forgiven her that and she knows it, and I wanted to leave years ago but I thought I was doing the right thing by staying. Now you’re grown up, old enough to stand on your own. You’ll get by without all this family interference. I’ll see to that.’

  Neville didn’t know what to say, he was so touched at his father’s honesty. ‘I thought you hated me.’

  ‘You’re my only son, even though you’ve chosen a lonely path to live. How can I hate you? I got my life back after the war and a kiddie for my troubles. Our Freddie never got that, but we have to do right by his kiddie too.’

  ‘I don’t want to let Connie down. She’s in a pickle.’

  ‘She’ll get by. If you hitch up together you’ll hate each other, and the poor baby will suffer too. Imagine Ivy as its only granny …’

  ‘But the family—’

  ‘Bugger the family, for once. It’s every man for himself. Sup up and think on.’

  ‘Rosa’s home! Maria phoned Su. She’s back from her tour for two days over Christmas. The Monster has given them time off,’ yelled Connie, who was busy washing up for Joy, who sat like a beached whale in her maternity smock. This high blood pressure business was a pain. What if it happened to her?

  She’d come to admire their nursery bedroom in lemon and green candy stripes with matching curtains from Sanderson’s which were the latest must-have accessory. There was a white cot and a Moses basket lined with yellow gingham and lace. The room was piled up with new equipment, a baby bath, nappy bucket and potty set, lovely cot bedding, a wardrobe full of rompers and nighties, hand-knitted shawls and a mound of Terry towelling nappies, muslins, baby towels and a beautiful basket full of powders and creams and nappy pins.

  ‘Have you still got Precious Teddy?’ she asked, looking for the battered old toy that came from Burma, all those years ago.

  Joy nodded. ‘Mummy has it, but Mrs Gregson says everything must be new and hygienic. They have ordered a pram for us: a Silver Cross, but of course it’s bad luck to have such a thing in the house. So it’s staying in the shop.’

  Setting up a junior must cost hundreds of pounds, Connie sighed, looking over the equipment. How could a small baby need so much stuff? There was a sterilising unit, bottles, and she’d seen Joy’s list, which was daunting.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked, staring round the nursery bedroom with awe. How on earth was she going to afford all this?

  ‘It feels as if it’s happening to someone else,’ Joy said, patting her tummy. ‘How will I ever deliver this football? Denny says I look like an elephant and the sooner I’m back to normal the better. He wants a boy, of course.’

  He’ll get what he’s given, thought Connie. Fatherhood hadn’t softened him much then, but she just smiled. How I wish I could tell you my news. How I wish I could confide in you, but I promised your mother not to burden you with any of this until the baby was safely in its pram.

  ‘Perhaps then you can come out and see Rosa tonight, just the three of us together like old times. We’ll treat you to a Chinese meal or something.’

  ‘I’m not sure. Denny doesn’t like me going out in public.’

  ‘But, Joy, we’re your family, for goodness’ sake. Once you have the baby, we’ll hardly see you.’

  ‘I’ll ask him later,’ she promised.

  Oh, no you won’t, sensed Connie, so she hung around until he came through the door. ‘I’m collecting Joy at seven,’ she announced to him. ‘Rosa is home on a flying visit. This is our last chance before Joy’s confined to barracks so … seven o’clock tonight, right?’

  Denny stared at her, ‘She’ll need a taxi.’

  ‘No, I’ve passed my driving test, didn’t I tell you? Thanks to Neville I passed it first time, so I’ve got Gran’s wheels, for a change. Seven o’clock sharp.’ There was no reply, but Connie knew she’d caught him on the hop.

  Later she dressed with care in the new black and silver sack dress that hid her bump, and put on masses of eye make-up, a Dusty Springfield attempt, piling her hair into an enormous beehive. She must keep her tail up and it was Christmas even if she didn’t feel at all in the mood.

  The town streets were strung with fairy lights, and Christmas trees were lit in the bay windows along Division Street. The shops were full of toys and gifts but all she felt was panic inside. Lee’s words kept echoing in her head. Could she really make a life without Winstanley support? Should she marry Neville and be damned? Could she bear to live with Ivy? How she wished she could believe it would work out, but to let Neville down …

  Joy was waiting on the doorstep with an enormous cloak wrapped round her bump. ‘I have to be back by ten,’ she said, ‘so don’t let’s be late.’

  ‘Will you turn into a pumpkin then?’ Connie laughed. ‘He certainly keeps you on a tight leash, young Gregson.’

  ‘It’s his way of showing he cares,’ Joy answered. ‘He doesn’t want anything to happen to the baby, that’s all.’

  ‘It’s not due for another three weeks, is it?’

  ‘I know, but he doesn’t like me out on my own.’

  ‘You’re not on your own, Joy. One night out in months … honestly. How do you put up with it?’

  Joy looked ahead as she spoke. ‘Marriage is another world, Connie. You do things for each other. You make sacrifices, you look to each other. Denny says I don’t need any other friends than him. Denny says I should be content to stay at home.’

  ‘Denny says … Denny says. What do you say, or have you lost your tongue?’

  ‘Connie, he is my husband. I must obey him.’

  ‘What twaddle! This is the 1960s not the 1860s. We’re free to think what we like. He doesn’t own you.’

  ‘You don’t understand how it is,’ Joy protested. ‘You single girls are all free to please yourselves. When the baby comes we will be complete.’

  ‘So it’s goodbye Connie and goodbye Rosa, is it?’

  ‘No, of course not, but it can’t ever be the same, can it?’

  ‘Why not? You’re not joined at the hip to him.’ Connie stalled the gears in frustration at such nonsense.

  ‘When the baby comes,’ Joy added, ‘it changes your life. You become the most important thing in its life. It will need me night and day and it’s a helpless being that needs its mother’s devotion. It will take up all my time, I just won’t be the Joy you knew. I shall be a different Joy … a real mother. So my baby and husband will come first in all things.’

  ‘So this is your farewell outing then, with the Silkies?’ Connie drove grim-faced. She didn’t want to hear all this stuff about a baby taking over your life. How could it do that and there still be room for her life? Ivy was waiting in the wings to do all the mother care. Neville would ignore it and go to work. Where would she fit into all these plans?

  Am I too young and selfish to be tied down by such a burden? she sighed, but said nothing.

  ‘I hope I’ve not offended you,’ Joy added, taking the silence for hurt.

  ‘Of course not. It’s just a lot to take in, isn’t it, this childbirth stuff?’ Connie replied.

  ‘When your turn comes, you will understand better.’

  Will I? Connie thought. From where she was sitting nothing was making any sense at all.

  * * *

  Rosa was waiting at the restaurant dressed in a mohair lilac coat, purple shift dress underneath, her hair swept up in an enormous black beehive. She had dangling earrings and pair of panda eyes lined with kohl, with mascara on her false eyelashes. She took one look at Joy and burst out laughing.

  ‘Nellie the elephant!’ she sang.

  Joy was not amused. ‘Don’t sing that. Denny sings it all the time.’

  Rosa stared at Connie too. ‘So what are you doing in Neville’s old school blazer?’ she said, examining her dress. ‘You look like a mint humbu
g!’ They were hugging and laughing at the same time. ‘And you’ve filled out a bit. It suits you. And the hair, wow! How many sparrows are nesting in that hairdo?’

  They found a corner bench, sat down and never stopped talking. Catching up was so much fun. Rosa was full of life with the New Silkies, Sadie Lane’s backing group. ‘She’s a monster … always trying to forget to pay us. When she’s living it up in the Queens Hotel, we get shoved in the serf ’s boarding house in a backstreet by the railway line. She drives around in a Rolls-Royce and we have to catch the bus. Sadie doesn’t miss a trick. “Darlinks, you were divine but which bitch missed that first entry? I vant no wiggling of the hips,” Rosa mimicked. ‘So I said, “But that’s what all the other backing artistes do in a live concert … the Vernons Girls do it. They have their moves choreographed to fit in with the lyrics,” says I, and she is down my throat like one of the Furies. “Don’t you be clever with me, duckie. I know your little game … and when did you lose all that weight?” That was the night, I forgot to pad up my dress. Mamma says women of her age either widen or wither. Poor old Sadie is expanding so fast and we have to look like three Billy Bunters, and it gets so hot on stage. Mel said, “It’s the change. It does that to women.” “What change?” Sadie jumps in. “There’s no change in this routine.” She’s got ears like a microphone and eyes like a hawk looking for its dinner … By the way, she liked your song, “Colours of My Love”.’

  ‘What song is this?’ Joy was all ears. ‘I didn’t know you were writing songs, Connie.’

  ‘She’s good. I like “The Last Bus Home”. I think Sadie might buy some. It’s awfully sad, though,’ said Rosa.

  Connie smiled. She’d sent Rosa some of her summer songs in a letter, not explaining why she’d written them, of course.

  ‘We’ll make sure she does buy them.’

  ‘Thanks, I could do with the cash,’ Connie said. She’d not written anything for ages.

  ‘Sadie is desperate for a chart hit but she is past it, honestly. It’s so sad. If she wasn’t such a bitch, I’d feel sorry for her. Gabby, Mel and me are thinking of striking out on our own. We’ve had enough of the old trout.’

  Joy burst out laughing. It was good to see her so relaxed. ‘Ooh!’ she yelled. ‘You’ve given me a stitch in my side.’

  The waiters brought the chow mein with crispy noodles. The restaurant was packed for Christmas parties, with a noisy bustle of students, home for the vacation, half tight on beer, making the usual racket in the background.

  ‘They ought to get an Indian restaurant here. The food is delicious: curries, papadums, chapattis. Gabby cooks us stuff with spices. Her family were in India after the war. But enough about me, me, me … I was sorry about the romance with Marty ending.’ Rosa hesitated. ‘I hear he’s gone solo. He got to number forty with “Pocket Full of Stars”.’

  ‘Did he? I helped him with that one too,’ Connie said, trying to sound casual, her heart leaping at the sound of his name. She’d been secretly watching his progress up the charts in New Musical Express. Part of her was glad he was doing well, but she was angry that he’d not included her in the credits.

  ‘Then you ought to copyright your songs with an agent, and soon. Why not go and see Dilly Sherman in Manchester? I’ve got her number. I’m sure she’ll help you. What went wrong with the two of you?’

  ‘I suppose the usual stuff. He didn’t want to be tied down.’

  ‘He’s right in a way. Here today, gone tomorrow, and all those girls flinging themselves in his face … perhaps he felt it was only fair.’

  Connie didn’t want to hear any more. ‘How about you?’ she asked.

  ‘No one special – most of the handsome guys I meet would prefer Neville. How is our fourth girl, OK?’

  Connie was cagey with her reply.

  ‘Mamma said he’s in trouble but she didn’t say what for. Confess all, Connie.’

  ‘Sorry, I really can’t say much. It’s all a storm in a teacup.’

  Joy was smiling and then twitched. ‘Do you mind if I stand up? This stitch is getting worse, I think I’d better go to the loo. I’ve got such wind.’

  ‘I think it’s more than wind inside that dress, darlinks!’ Rosa giggled. ‘Sadie would love you singing behind her.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Connie. ‘Just in case.’

  ‘In case of what,’ Rosa asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I just promised to look after her.’

  The toilet was a cramped little cubbyhole and Connie stood outside. It was so good with them altogether as if it were old times, but it wasn’t. She’d had to lie about Neville, hide her own secrets, and pretend everything was all right. If only she could tell them, but it was better left as it was …

  Then she heard Joy shouting through the door.

  ‘Connie. I can’t breathe!’

  Connie pushed open the door gingerly. Joy was bent double in agony. ‘It must be something I’ve eaten. I can’t move … the pain is all round my belly.’

  ‘It’s not the noodles,’ said Connie, ‘I think you’ve started. I’d better get some help.’

  ‘Don’t leave me, I’m scared.’

  ‘Just give me a sec.’

  There was a queue forming behind her. Connie passed the word down the line. ‘Is there a nurse or doctor anywhere in the restaurant?’ Then Joy let out a yell that everybody could hear. There was silence and real concern now. Suddenly a face appeared at the ladies door. ‘Can I help? I’m a medic in training.’

  Connie looked up to see the familiar face of Paul Jerviss standing in the door.

  ‘I can’t move her. She’s not due for three weeks. We were laughing and then she got a stitch,’ Connie offered, feeling her cheeks flushing at the sight of him.

  Everybody cleared a space as the drama unfolded. Paul edged his way through the door, sat Joy down on the toilet seat and began to feel her tummy as the contractions ripped through.

  ‘That’s hard. How many have you had like this?’

  ‘They’re all like this,’ Joy whimpered. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Baby is what’s happening, Joy. I don’t like the size of those swollen ankles. We’ve got to get you to the hospital now. They’ll phone us an ambulance. When I saw you come in I thought you wouldn’t have long to go. You’re very low-slung. Try to breathe through like they taught you in class.’

  ‘But I didn’t go to the relaxation class. Denny said they were not for the likes of us. They’d be no use …’

  ‘Pity about that. I’m told ladies find them very useful, but no matter, try to let go when the pain comes, try not to fight the contraction,’ he ordered. ‘Connie, can you collect her things? Long time no see,’ he smiled.

  Connie was too shocked to say anything. She sped back to their bench seat and told Rosa.

  ‘Hell’s bells, a Christmas baby! Someone had better warn Denny and Susan. I’m sure the restaurant will let us use their phone. How exciting.’

  ‘I must go with Joy to the hospital. You go home and warn everyone who needs to know, Rosa.’

  ‘Was that who I thought it was? Dr Kildare Jerviss ministering to the sick?’

  ‘She’s not sick, just pregnant,’ Connie snapped.

  ‘I know that, stupid. Don’t be so touchy. Anyone would think you were in labour, by the looks of you!’ Rosa laughed at her own joke.

  If only you knew, Connie’s heart cried, but now was not the time to tell her troubles.

  She sat opposite Paul in the ambulance, unable to utter a sensible word. Of all the people to be sitting in the back of the Golden Dragon, with his crowd of students, he had to be the first volunteer. He was still handsome, rugged, floppy-haired. She recalled their conversation all those years ago, and the death of his little brother. Now he could be Joy’s midwife.

  ‘It’s a good job I’ve just started on the obs and gynae ward,’ Paul smiled. ‘I’ve been reading up on swollen ankles but I’d be useless when it comes to delivery. How’s things with you? Ar
e you back for the vacation?’

  ‘No,’ Connie sighed. ‘Just finished my resits … bit of a hiccup. Maybe next year,’ she said. Maybe not – who was she kidding? Connie had lost her chance of a university education for good now. She was as tied as Joy was – tied by family loyalty, tied by pregnancy, tied by her own stupid mistakes. Suddenly she felt so fed up and stupid. She wanted to cry and to her horror tears started to run down her cheeks.

  ‘Hey, don’t worry, she’ll be fine, and she’ll be in the right place,’ Paul assured. ‘The contractions might stop and then she’ll go home, but it’s a pity she hasn’t been to relaxation classes. They are supposed to make a difference in labour.’

  ‘How would you know?’ Joy muttered between gasps.

  ‘I suppose I wouldn’t,’ he said, giving Connie one of those Jerviss eye-ups that made her go all shaky. ‘Family all well?’ he asked politely.

  ‘Tickety-boo,’ she replied, not looking at him.

  Then they arrived at the entrance hall of the maternity hospital and found a wheelchair. Joy was swallowed up into the bowels of the building, a midwife pushing her along the corridor.

  ‘I’d better wait here until Denny comes. I promised I’d look after her,’ Connie said.

  ‘I’ll wait too, if you like,’ Paul offered.

  ‘No, I’m fine … go back to your friends. I think it’ll be ages yet.’

  ‘Yes, Doctor,’ he teased. ‘You might well be right, but let us know how she goes on. A few hours later and it might have been my first delivery. I’d better go home and read up a bit more,’ he said, smiling and waving as he left.

  And I’d better sit here and contemplate just where I will be in five months’ time, thought Connie. And why was it I turned him down for Marty Gorman? For a pair of tight leathers, as I recall. Why do I make a mess of everything, and how can I ever think of marrying Neville? What on earth am I going to do now?

 

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