For the next two days she slept late, didn’t bother dressing but just sat wrapped up in her new warm furry dressing gown in front of the gas fire, flicking TV channels when programmes got too sentimental. Not once did she allow her thoughts to dwell on past Christmases or thoughts of home and although the days dragged somewhat it wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Her body caught up on some much needed rest and it was a treat not to have to get up for work. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, hair unbrushed, face naked of make-up, enveloped in her big pink robe, Devlin decided she looked like a big pink bear in hibernation. Boxing Day found her depressed and listless. Dragging herself out of bed around noon she found herself unable to face another day of nonstop TV viewing. Outside it was bitterly cold and she gazed out at the deserted street, her thumb nail idly making patterns in the frosty tracery on the window pane.
Sixteen
She had to get out of the flat! It was driving her mad. She was feeling decidedly claustrophobic. Passing through her tiny kitchen she eyed the sink, full to the brim with dirty dishes. A look of distaste crossed her face. Normally a tidy person, for the last few days she had just taken clean crockery from the press, dumping it into the sink as she finished with it. Pieces of soggy burnt toast and a sticky marmalade-smeared knife lay on a crumb covered table. She gave a grimace of horror and muttered aloud, ‘God I’m turning into a slut.’ Squaring her shoulders she rolled up her sleeves and wished heartily that Nanette Newman and her mild green Fairy liquid would materialize in her dirty little kitchen.
She had just finished drying the last glass and was surveying with some dismay her reddened and wrinkled hands when her doorbell rang. Puzzled, because she was not expecting Doreen back for another few days, she went to the intercom and said warily, ‘Yes?’
‘Guess who?’ said a voice that was instantly recognizable in spite of the tinny distorted sound. On winged feet Devlin flew down the stairs and flung open the door, to be met by the beaming loving face of her aunt.
Kate stayed a week, having paid a man to take care of the farm while she was away. Devlin’s blues disappeared and they went shopping for baby clothes and maternity dresses with great gusto. They caught a few shows, had meals out and generally had a good time. Devlin, in spite of her now obvious bulk, was blessed with the constitution of an ox, and apart from the occasional bout of heartburn, and some lower back pain, was sailing through her pregnancy like a stately galleon. Together she and Kate chose some beautiful maternity dresses that were superbly cut, flowing gracefully over Devlin’s greatly expanded figure. It was an enormous relief to escape from the figure-flattening panty girdle she had been wearing to try to camouflage the bulge. Kate promised she would try to get over for the birth and Devlin experienced a surge of love and gratitude for the small slim elfin woman who had given her more love and support than Lydia ever had.
She missed Kate badly when she had returned home to Wexford but Doreen was there and she did her best to keep Devlin’s heart up. She sometimes felt as though the nine months were nine years and found herself becoming restless and edgy as she went into her eighth month of pregnancy. Her one big fear was that her waters would break while she was at work and that she would saturate the elegant deep-pile carpet in the foyer. She had nightmares that she was in labour and that everybody just kept ignoring her, continuing with their aerobics and body-building while she begged in vain for help.
Having attended pre-natal classes, Devlin often practised her breathing exercises with Doreen who assured her that she would stay at the hospital for the birth, although she couldn’t face actually being present at the birth because she had a mortal dread of blood. Several nights later, Devlin woke from a restless sleep and felt an unfamiliar warm dampness in her lower regions. A sharp pain in her back pierced her drowsiness.
Oh Jesus, I’ve wet myself, she thought in dismay, hauling herself into a sitting position. Another stronger little pain gripped her and she came instantly awake. ‘Oh my God! Doreen, QUICK! I think I’ve started,’ she yelled frantically at her sleeping flatmate down the hall. Scrambling out of bed, her sodden nightdress clinging to her, she rushed into Doreen’s bedroom, her heart thumping. She shook her friend hard. ‘Quick, Doreen, I think I’d better go to the hospital, I think it’s coming.’
Doreen gave a startled yelp. ‘Ooooh Dev! Oh, girl, what will I do?’ She jumped out of bed and started rooting in the hot press.
‘What in the name of God are you doing?’ Devlin asked, astounded.
‘I’m getting towels, girl. They always ask for towels and boiling water,’ Doreen retorted.
In spite of her discomfort, Devlin had to laugh. ‘You goose, it won’t happen for ages yet. Just help me to get ready and call a taxi. OK?’ she said reassuringly. It was obvious that Doreen was completely rattled so, taking a deep breath, Devlin ordered her to the kitchen to make tea while she phoned the hospital to tell them what happened. Calmly the nurse told her what to bring and as she concentrated her mind on her packing a strange fatalism overcame her. It was time for the big event. This time next day it would all be over and she would have her baby. A new phase in her life would start and one thing she had discovered about herself was a strength she hadn’t known she possessed. Having got through the eight and a half months of her pregnancy through sheer grit and willpower she assured herself that the same willpower would get her through the next few hours.
For Devlin the memory of the birth of her daughter would always be a blur of dismayed pain. Had she been hoaxed all along? Childbirth was supposed to be a woman’s ultimate experience. True fulfilment was supposed to be the reward, if all she had read and been led to believe was true. No-one had ever told her about the reality. For Devlin, it was a painful, messy, even humiliating experience as she was prodded and poked in the labour ward and later in the delivery room, coldly but professionally told when and when not to push. In her most desperate moments she even called out Colin’s name and the look of superior pity the nurse flashed her almost broke her spirit.
‘Hush now, like a good girl. Don’t make a fuss,’ the Indian doctor said crisply and authoritatively in his clipped half-English accent. Devlin sensed that he was annoyed at being called out to deliver her premature baby. She was the only one in the labour ward and her sense of isolation increased. All of the films she had seen had shown supportive husbands or sisters or friends holding and giving encouragement to excited fulfilled women, yet here she was alone with all these strangers, going through the most painful and frightening experience of her life.
Once, when the doctor rather sharply instructed her to push, she raised her head from the pillows and glared angrily at him. ‘Oh push yourself, you big bully!’
‘Now now, Devlin!’ the nurse had murmured but she’d had to hide a grin.
It was a long and difficult birth and when it was finally over Devlin felt a limp relief. All she wanted to do was sleep and to her despair she wasn’t able to muster up an awful lot of enthusiasm when they placed the tiny red wrinkled bundle in her arms. Guilt overcame her as she was wheeled back to the ward, as she had heard all about bonding and rejection. She begged them to let her see the baby again but they just murmured soothing words and told her to relax.
Doreen had peeped in at her, pretending to smoke a huge fat cigar, and Devlin grinned weakly and gave her a hug before sinking into oblivion as healing sleep renewed her battered body. She slept until six the following morning and her first waking thought was, this time yesterday I was going through it. Thank God it’s all over. I’ll never get pregnant again. They brought the baby to her and as she held the fragile tiny being, her eyes screwed tightly shut, little wisps of fine red tufts of hair sticking up, her perfectly formed miniature fingers curled tightly, Devlin felt all her resentment and bitterness evaporate as a tide of protective love surged through her. She held the baby close, crooning softly to her. ‘I’m sorry you had such an awful introduction into this world. I’ll make it up to you, darling,’ she whispered contritely.
Even though she was three weeks premature the baby was five pounds in weight and after both of them had mastered the art of breastfeeding she suckled contentedly at Devlin’s breast. As she gave herself up to the physical pleasure of nursing her baby, Devlin knew that there was no earthly way she could hand her up for adoption. All through her pregnancy, Lydia’s words had haunted her, causing her immense worry. What would she tell her child about her father? Where would she get enough money to give her even a few little luxuries? Her salary would just about cover rent, food and clothing and the babyminder. Would it be fairer to her daughter to offer her for adoption? Devlin had spent many sleepless nights tossing the pros and cons around.
The first time she fed the baby she knew her answer. Her father had flown over when she rang him to tell him the news, and Devlin felt a surge of love for the grey-haired tired-looking man, who sat by her bed holding her hand in one of his and the baby in his other arm. With Gerry she had always felt loved and even though she now knew that she was not his natural daughter, somehow it didn’t seem to matter.
‘Won’t you come home, Devlin?’ he urged.
But she was determined. ‘Honest, Dad,’ she told him, ‘I have a great job with a very good salary.’ She embroidered the figures a little for his benefit. ‘And I’ve a lovely flat and a real good friend.’ She told him all “about Doreen.
‘Well if ever you need anything, let me know immediately, now won’t you?’ he made her promise. She had promised and he left for home after a couple of days, a little more at ease about her circumstances.
Before he left, Devlin arranged to have her baby baptized and christened. In a small intimate ceremony, with Doreen and her boyfriend Stevie as godparents, Devlin and her father smiled at each other as Lynn Kate Delaney gave a lusty roar when the waters of baptism trickled over her forehead. Gerry treated them all to a champagne lunch which Devlin thoroughly enjoyed, delighted that her pregnancy was finally over.
She was lonely when her father left. When he had been there, she felt she could face anything but, alone in her bedroom, with Lynn ensconced in the cot beside her she felt anything but brave. Straining to hear her child breathing, she decided to make extra sure that the baby was alright and for the third time that night she got out of bed and held a mirror up to the baby’s little lips. Reassured once more that Lynn was not the victim of cot death, Devlin’s biggest worry, she settled down to get some sleep, only to be awakened by a hungry howl, it seemed like minutes later. As she fed her, Devlin marvelled at the tiny perfection of her daughter. Her minute fingers were curved around one of Devlin’s forefingers, her little toes wriggling as she hungrily suckled at her mother’s breast. Downy red gold wisps of hair touched Devlin’s skin where the baby’s head was cradled in her arms and Devlin bent her head and kissed the top of her daughter’s head inhaling with pleasure that unique scent possessed only by babies.
She spent hours watching her daughter as the bond between them grew and that first magical moment when Lynn really focused her big cornflower blue eyes on her mother and smiled at her was something Devlin would never forget. The weeks of her maternity leave when Devlin was able to give total attention to her baby, forgetting all outside worries and considerations, were not exactly relaxing. The baby demanded constant attention as most newborn babies tend to do, but compared to what was to come, life was easy.
Before going back to work Devlin had secured the services of a well-recommended child minder. One of the women she worked with assured Devlin that she was excellent and very capable. Devlin liked Miriam on sight and shortly before she was due to go back to work, began taking the baby to the woman’s house so that she should get used to her.
Although she charged a high rate, Devlin knew a good childminder was her biggest priority. She would never forget her first day back at work, as she tried desperately to concentrate on what she was doing, trying to ignore her swollen breasts that were crying out for Lynn’s little rosebud mouth to empty them of their milk.
Was she awake or asleep? She’d had a touch of diarrhoea that morning. Was it any worse? Her hand stretched out to ring Miriam’s number. Stop it! she told herself miserably. This would be her third call and Miriam might get annoyed. She wondered if her daughter was fretting as much as she was. Somehow she got through the day, and almost broke her neck to get to the childminder’s to reclaim her precious child, whom she found sleeping contentedly, quite unaware of the trauma her mother was going through.
Unfortunately this happy state of affairs did not last. The baby got a wheezy cough that developed into chronic bronchitis. Torn between the demands of her job and the needs of her baby, Devlin worried herself sick. She was constantly taking time off to be with the child, or to bring her to the hospital and though Mrs Arnott was sympathetic to her plight, Devlin knew it was a situation that could not last.
Many times, Devlin was sorely tempted to ring her father but that would have been giving in, taking the easy way out, and she had vowed to support herself and the baby. Gerry had given her more than enough and all she had given him was worry. A leech she would not be! But there were many times that she was sorely tempted when she held her baby daughter in her arms and watched the little face getting redder and redder after a coughing bout.
As the weeks turned into months and Devlin was forced to take more and more time off work, she knew it was only a matter of time before Mrs Arnott would call her into the office and ask her to leave. When it did happen, she could not blame them in the Centre. They had treated her exceptionally well during her time there and she knew herself that things could not go on as they were.
The loss of her job meant she had to dip into her precious nest-egg to supplement her DHSS welfare payments. She, who had never known what it was to scrimp and save, became an expert at making mince last three days. She knew down to the last penny how much she could spend and she knew all about the cheaper cuts and the own brand labels. Her rent took a huge chunk out of her weekly income and without her salary, Devlin began to find it an increasing struggle to make ends meet.
Doreen helped as much as she could. She was so utterly good-natured and reliable that it touched Devlin but she felt awfully guilty in the pre-dawn hours as Lynn howled in her arms and Doreen, her sleep interrupted almost as much as Devlin’s, insisted on making Devlin tea.
Eventually, as her savings dwindled and life seemed to get more difficult, Devlin made the decision to return to Dublin. Unwilling to impose on Doreen any longer, she felt it would be easier to raise a child alone in Dublin than in London. Living there had become impossibly expensive. At least Caroline, and Maggie, who was back home with twins, would be there. It was the memory of Maggie’s words that made her finally decide to go home.
Her friend had written faithfully each week, and when the letter came telling Devlin that Maggie was leaving Saudi for good and would be stopping over in London, en route to Dublin, Devlin had been in a tizzy of excitement. They had made arrangements for Maggie and her twins to stay at the flat for the night and Devlin couldn’t wait to see them all. When she saw the familiar redhead, beaming broadly as she emerged from customs, two sleepy babies in her arms, Devlin couldn’t stop the tears. ‘Oh Maggs! Maggs it’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you and Caro so much,’ she whispered, as she enveloped mother and twins in as much of a hug as her own bump would allow.
‘I know! I know! I was really lonely in Saudi when I had to give up work,’ Maggie was half-laughing, half-crying herself. She stepped back and said admiringly, ‘Dev, you look fantastic. Obviously impending motherhood suits you. You should have seen me. The mother of sorrows had nothing on me.’
Devlin laughed as she took one of the babies from her friend. In fact she had never seen Maggie look so haggard. Deep circles surrounded her friend’s eyes and she looked unusually pale. It was more than jet lag. Devlin knew Maggie had had a difficult pregnancy. Obviously she hadn’t gotten over it yet. Terry shouldn’t have let her make the journey with the babies al
one. But as Maggie explained, he still had a month of his contract to run and she had to arrange accommodation for them.
Despite the fact that she had put in such a long flight, Maggie got her second wind once she had settled her children for the night, and it was well after midnight after hours of laughter and chat and a truly satisfying gossip that only the best of friends can indulge in, that Devlin persuaded her to get to bed.
‘Why won’t you come back too?’ Maggie had queried. ‘Just think, Dev, our children would be friends for each other. They could grow up together. If you had a little girl, she and Michelle would be bosom buddies just like us.’
At the time Devlin, enjoying the security of her weekly salary, contented with her flat and Doreen’s friendship and liking the anonymity of London, wouldn’t entertain the thought. But as her life took on a different hue and things didn’t work out as she had planned, Maggie’s words came back to her night after night as she lay awake worrying, tossing the pros and cons around in her mind until she felt she was going to crack up. Listening to Lynn wheezing, she cried tears of anger and frustration. If only the baby wasn’t so afflicted she would have managed in London, but the reality was that she was now finding it harder and harder to cope and going home was the only answer. Things couldn’t be any worse over there and at least she would have the girls to fall back on for moral support. And Gerry too.
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