The Throwaway Children

by Diney Costeloe

  ‘Poor Rosie, poor darling Rosie,’ Rita wept, holding her sister’s cold hand between her own. ‘What a dreadful life she had. What a cruel, cruel life.’

  Daisy, ever practical, said, ‘Do we have to tell them, them Waters, what’s happened to her?’

  ‘No,’ Delia replied firmly, ‘we do not. They have no claim on her. She’s Rita’s sister, she’s formally identified her and we will take care of her now.’

  ‘Won’t the police tell them?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Delia replied. ‘We told them her name is Rose Stevens, not Jean Waters, and they seem to have accepted our identification.’

  It was strange, Daisy thought as she looked down at the pale, peaceful face, framed by the soft golden hair, but now I can see it’s Rosie, just Rosie grown up. Why couldn’t I see it before?

  They sat in silence for a while and then Rita reached into a bag at her feet and pulled out Rosie’s beloved Knitty. Carefully she tucked him under Rosie’s arm, then replacing her hand under the sheet that covered her, she reached down and kissed Rosie’s smooth, cold cheek. ‘Bye, Rosie,’ she said softly. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t look after you better, but you’re safe now. Nobody can’t hurt you any more.’ Then she turned round and said, ‘I’d like to go home now.’

  Delia nodded and taking her hand, said, ‘Come on then, darling,’ before reaching out her other hand to Daisy and saying, ‘you too, Daisy.’

  39

  Delia came in from the day-care centre and dropped into her chair. She was getting older and the days spent with a roomful of toddlers seemed longer and more tiring. Still, this afternoon, Rita was popping in after school for a cup of tea on her way home to David, and Delia was looking forward to seeing her. She’d missed Rita dreadfully since she’d got married and moved into her own home, but Delia knew she was happy, and that was all-important, all she needed to know.

  In a minute, she thought, I’ll get things ready, but for a moment I must sit down.

  Rita was now the centre of Delia’s life. She had watched her change from an abandoned child alone in the world, into a hard-working teenager, a student, and now a committed teacher. Rita had been courageous as a child, coping with all the unhappiness that the world threw at her, rejection by her mother, Rosie’s adoption, the death of her grandmother. Later she had had to come to terms with the nightmare that was Rosie’s life and her suicide; the dreadful night they’d found her, an empty bottle of sleeping tablets by her bed. Each time Rita had retreated into herself, but in the end, with Delia’s love and support and Daisy’s friendship, Rita had overcome her anguish and moved on with her life. Delia knew Rita would never forget Rosie, but she hoped that Rita had now let her sister linger in the caverns of her mind, remembering her with love, but allowing her to slip into the past.

  Life certainly hasn’t been easy since we moved here, Delia thought now as she waited for Rita to arrive. But thank God we did.

  Cash had always been very tight, but the two of them had grown ever closer over the years, truly mother and daughter. Rita had left school with excellent exam results, trained as a teacher and now worked in a local primary school. Encouraged by her high school teachers and Delia herself, Rita had continued to write, and in her last year at school she had won a New South Wales short story competition for under eighteens. Since then, in addition to her teaching, she regularly had stories accepted by various magazines, which had helped boost their meagre income. Delia knew it wouldn’t be long before she had to retire from the day-care centre, and she wondered what she’d do with her life then. The boss had promised she could stay in the house, but how would she fill her days?

  ‘Deeley,’ Rita’s voice broke into her thoughts as she burst in through the front door, and sunshine filled the house. She gave Delia a huge hug and flopped down onto the sofa.

  ‘Lovely to see you, darling,’ Delia said. ‘Tea?’

  ‘In a minute,’ replied Rita. ‘I’ve got something to ask you first.’

  ‘Ask away.’

  ‘How do you feel about being a grandmother?’

  ‘What!’ shrieked Delia. ‘Oh, darling, are you sure?’

  ‘Yup,’ beamed Rita. ‘Just been to the doc. Says I’m about three months.’

  Delia found there were tears in her eyes. ‘Oh Rita, that’s wonderful! What does David say?’

  ‘He doesn’t know yet,’ admitted Rita. ‘I’ll tell him when he gets home tonight.’

  ‘You should have told him first,’ scolded Delia, though secretly delighted she hadn’t.

  ‘I know,’ Rita agreed airily, ‘but I’m so excited – I had to tell you.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you did,’ Delia admitted, ‘I’m thrilled to bits for you.’

  She made a pot of tea and produced a cake she’d made the previous day, and as they sat together in the familiar kitchen, they shared the wonderful news of the baby.

  David Harris was over the moon when Rita told him the news. It still seemed a miracle to him that Rita was really his, and now there was going to be a baby as well. Life was so wonderful he wanted to sing, or dance, or both.

  He had met Rita in the offices of The Sophisticate, a magazine that had been publishing Rita’s stories for some time. He worked in the advertising department, and in what Rita described as ‘true corny style’ one day they had met at the coffee machine.

  David had heard of coup de foudre and never believed in it, but then it happened to him, a stroke of lightning, blazing through him. He saw a girl with straight dark hair and wide brown eyes standing by the machine, trying to fathom how it worked. He’d asked if he could help, and when she’d turned and smiled at him and said, ‘Oh please, could you? I’ve never used one of these stupid things before,’ he was lost. He didn’t know her name, he didn’t know why she was there, but he did know that she was the woman he wanted and would wait for, however long it took. Rita had seen a good-looking young man, with smiling green eyes and a head of fair curls that sprung in an unruly halo about his face.

  It had taken David nearly two years to persuade Rita to marry him. Determined not to scare her away, he was patience itself, wooing her gently, gaining her confidence slowly. As she gradually allowed him closer, occasionally permitting him glimpses of the life she had lived, he realized that she was afraid. Afraid, that if she let herself love him, he would disappear or die, as others had disappeared or died, and she’d be bereft once more. He didn’t rush her, he was simply there, David, strong, firm and comforting, until Rita realized, in quiet surprise, that he was part of the very fabric of her life.

  Delia had watched as the friendship that was established blossomed into love. She had seen the depth of David’s love, had seen how gently he’d pursued Rita, for, despite his softly-softly approach, it was pursuit, and she’d waited to see if Rita could respond.

  On the day that Rita slipped into his arms, holding up her face to kiss and be kissed, David thought his happiness could know no bounds, and Delia knew she had to let go. She had been Rita’s rock for the past thirteen years, but from now on, it would be David to whom she clung.

  When they came to tell her that they were getting married, Delia hugged them both, tears bright in her eyes. ‘I know you’ll make her very happy, David,’ she said, a statement of fact, though both of them knew that it was also a warning. Don’t you dare let my Rita down!

  ‘I’ll do everything in my power,’ David promised, and as they smiled at each other, they both knew that the pact had been made. Nothing should be allowed to hurt Rita again.

  They’d been married, now, for two years. Rita continued to teach at the primary school and to write in her spare time. David had been promoted and now ran the advertising department at The Sophisticate. Their house was a comfortable home, and their lives were busy and fulfilling, but they both wanted a family.

  Rita was in the kitchen cooking when David got home. She’d meant to wait until they were having tea before breaking the news, but when he walked in the door, looking hot and tous
led, she was overcome with such a surge of love for him that she simply dropped the spoon back in the mixing bowl and ran to him.

  ‘Are you sure?’ David asked, not daring to believe the amazing news she’d just whispered into his ear. ‘Sit down, put your feet up. I’ll cook tea.’ He took her arm, leading her to a chair in the living room. She laughed and hugged him.

  ‘Darling, I’m not ill. I’m perfectly capable of cooking your tea.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ he said. ‘But you mustn’t get tired.’

  She submitted to his demand that he should finish the cooking, but sat in the kitchen to watch him.

  As they ate their meal, they talked about the baby, and the wonderful fact that they would soon be a family.

  ‘Do you want a boy or a girl?’ Rita asked him.

  ‘Both,’ replied David promptly.

  Rita laughed. ‘Well, I hope it’s not twins. I think one baby’ll be quite enough to start with, don’t you? So, son or daughter?’

  ‘I can’t quite believe those words will apply to us,’ David said. ‘I’m going to have a son… or a daughter, and I promise you, darling, I don’t mind which… do you?’

  Rita gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘Not in the least, but the idea takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?’

  ‘You must give your notice in tomorrow,’ David said. ‘You don’t have to work any more.’

  ‘But I like my job,’ protested Rita. ‘And it’s ages yet.’

  ‘I know you do, but you have to think of the baby now. You mustn’t get overtired.’

  ‘I won’t, I promise you. I’ll give notice for the end of the term. Gracious, David, what would I do with myself if I didn’t go to school every day?’

  ‘You could stay at home and write,’ David replied, not so easily put off. ‘You’ve always said you want to try your hand at a novel, rather than short stories.’

  Rita laughed. ‘You just want me to write a bestseller, so that you can live on the proceeds.’

  ‘Quite right,’ David agreed with a grin. ‘And when you sell the film rights to Hollywood, we’ll neither of us ever have to work again!’

  ‘What does Deeley think?’ David asked as they sat over their coffee. ‘Is she pleased?’

  ‘How do you know that I’ve told her?’ asked Rita, defensively, aware that she was blushing.

  David laughed. ‘Of course you’ve told her,’ he said. ‘How could you not?’

  David had got used to the fact that Delia and Rita never had secrets from each other. At first he’d been jealous of their continued closeness. After all, he was going to be Rita’s husband, he’d take care of her now. Of course Rita still loved Delia, but she shouldn’t be using her as a crutch. But, as he got to know them better, David realized that neither used the other in that way. Neither of them had anyone else in the world, so it was only natural that they were so close. He came to recognize that they were simply part of each other; not to the exclusion of him, or of Rita’s peculiar friend, Daisy, who turned up from time to time, but that the bond between them was strong, woven with the fibres of shared sadness and hardship, and would never loosen.

  ‘She was delighted for us,’ said Rita. ‘She can’t wait to be a granny.’

  ‘We must tell my parents, too,’ David reminded her.

  ‘Of course,’ Rita agreed. ‘I thought we could go and see them this weekend, or if they’re busy, next. More fun to tell them face to face, don’t you think, rather than over the phone?’

  David’s parents had been more than a little dubious about his choice of wife. Andrew Harris was a barrister, and much in demand as a defence lawyer in the city, and his wife, Norah, was very conscious of their social position. When she heard about Rita, she’d been horrified. A girl like Rita did not fit in with the plans she had for her only son.

  ‘Where does she come from?’ she asked David. ‘What do we know about her? Her family? Her background?’

  ‘I don’t care where she comes from, mother,’ David replied. ‘All I know is that I’m going to marry her, and she’ll have my children.’

  When his mother had simply stared at him, pouting her lips in the way that so irritated him, David said sharply, ‘I don’t care about her family, mother, any more than I care about yours.’

  Norah, descended from two convicts who had stayed in Australia when their sentences were over, had been silenced, but she still eyed her prospective daughter-in-law with misgiving.

  As he’d got to know Rita, Andrew Harris had gradually thawed, and began to see who it was his son was marrying. He recognized her qualities of steadfastness, courage and determination, and began to think his son had made an excellent choice.

  Norah remained distant and chilly, though always, as her breeding dictated, scrupulously polite.

  ‘She really doesn’t like me,’ Rita confided to Delia.

  ‘I expect she’d find it difficult to give her son to anyone,’ Delia soothed. ‘It isn’t just you.’ But Rita hadn’t been so sure.

  ‘They’ll be thrilled to bits about the baby,’ David assured her. ‘The problem with being an only child is that you have to carry all the hopes and dreams of your parents. There’s no one to share the load. Mum’s always wanted grandchildren.’

  They went for lunch that Sunday, and as they took the ferry to Parramatta and passed under the harbour bridge, Rita had a sudden vision of herself, Daisy and Rosie, staring up in amazement as they arrived on the Pride of Empire; Daisy wondering if they’d fit underneath it, and Rosie asking in a tiny voice if it would fall down. Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of poor Rosie, brutalized by her adoptive father, running away and trying to survive on the streets of Sydney. It was seven years since Rosie had died, but the sight of her sister, lying pale and still in a side ward of the hospital, was as vivid in Rita’s memory as the night she’d seen her, the night she had held her hand and said goodbye.

  ‘You all right?’ David asked as he saw Rita’s eyes were bright with tears.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ answered Rita quickly and looked away, staring at the houses climbing the hill above Lavender Bay. ‘Wind in my eyes.’

  David made no further comment. He knew that Rita had the occasional emotional moment, for no apparent reason, and he’d learned she recovered more quickly if he appeared not to notice.

  When they reached his parents’ house, they were greeted at the door by his father. ‘Lovely to see you both,’ cried Andrew. ‘Come in, come in. Your mother’s in the kitchen.’

  They trooped inside and Norah joined them a moment later, stripping off her apron and giving each of them a powdery cheek to kiss.

  ‘Now, how about a drink before lunch?’ Andrew suggested. ‘What would you like, Rita?’

  ‘Got any champagne, Dad?’ asked David casually.

  ‘Champagne?’ Andrew was startled. ‘I expect so. What are we celebrating?’

  David glanced at Rita, but she just smiled and nodded. He should be the one to tell his parents.

  ‘How do you fancy being grandparents?’ David beamed.

  ‘What?’ exclaimed Norah, her eyes swivelling to Rita’s stomach, as if searching for signs it was true. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ replied David with a grin.

  ‘Well, congratulations, both of you,’ cried Andrew, and having pumped David’s hand, he hugged Rita, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘What lovely, lovely news, isn’t it, Norah?’

  ‘Lovely. When’s it due?’

  ‘June,’ replied Rita.

  ‘And how are you keeping?’ Norah asked. ‘Not being sick, I hope.’

  ‘No, thank goodness,’ answered Rita, ‘just a little queasy in the mornings, but that’s wearing off now.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Norah said. ‘Now if you want any advice from me, don’t hesitate to ask. Not having a mother of your own to go to, there may be—’

  ‘I’ve got Deeley,’ said Rita sharply.

  ‘Yes, of course you have,’ agreed Norah, ‘but she’s not the same as your real mo
ther—’

  ‘She is to me,’ asserted Rita. ‘She’s far better than my real mother. She loves me.’

  ‘I’m sure she does, dear,’ said Norah, and rather startled at Rita’s vehement response, she glanced at David.

  ‘A kind thought, Mother,’ he said briskly, ‘I’m sure Rita’s grateful for the offer.’

  Rita had seldom seen her mother-in-law disconcerted. She was often dictatorial, but that never seemed to worry Andrew. Just occasionally Rita had seen him put his foot down and then there had been no further argument. David, on the other hand, often appeared to agree, but then did exactly what he’d always intended.

  The awkward moment passed as Andrew reappeared with champagne. ‘Here we are,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I thought I had a bottle somewhere waiting for a special occasion, and what could be more special than this, eh?’ He turned to Norah. ‘How about some glasses, chicken?’

  Andrew poured them each a glass and then raised his. ‘Here’s to your son or daughter, our first grandchild!’

  The rest of the day passed easily enough, and when they finally boarded the ferry for Circular Quay, David took Rita’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’

  Rita shook her head wearily. ‘No,’ she said, ‘it was fine.’

  ‘Better than you thought?’

  Rita sat back against him, her face turned to the evening sun. ‘You know me too well,’ she said with a contented sigh.

  David slipped his arm round her, holding her close. ‘I’m learning you better every day.’

  That night as she lay in bed, with David snoring gently beside her, Rita thought of what Norah had said about not having her own mother. Deeley was her mother now, she told herself, but for the first time for several years, she thought properly about her real mother and what Mavis had allowed to happen to her.

  Rita laid a hand on her own stomach where she could almost feel the baby growing in her womb. There was nothing much visible yet, but Rita felt different in herself. With the baby growing inside her, she was already a mother, and as the responsibility of motherhood had enveloped her, she found herself looking at the world from a different perspective. David felt protective of her, constantly telling her to sit down, to put her feet up, to have an early night, but Rita knew it wasn’t she who needed protecting, it was the tiny creature living inside her.