‘Oh…yes, Mother. Where are you?’
‘I’m home, of course.’
‘You…you said you were going to let me know.’
‘Well, I didn’t, and I’m home.’
‘What’s the matter? You sound…’
‘Yes, I know how I sound. I want to talk to you. Can you come round?’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t, Mother.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m alone in the house but for the’—she paused—‘the baby.’
‘Oh yes, the baby. You say you are alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll come straight round then.’ The phone clicked down.
Fiona turned; stood still for a moment, then went into the sitting room. She had always said she loved this room, but not any more because there was no happiness in it now. There was no happiness in the house. It was a divided house: Bill and the children on one side, Nell and Bert somewhere in the middle, and Sammy Love…where was Sammy Love? When he was with her he was for her, when he was with the child he was very much for the child …
It almost seemed that her mother had been standing outside the door, and when the bell rang twice she wanted to cry out, ‘All right! All right! I’m coming,’ but when she opened the door and saw the person standing on the step who spoke like her mother but wasn’t her mother, yet was, she stood aside and allowed her to enter.
‘Don’t stare at me like that.’
‘What do you expect me to do?’ The woman before her was dressed, not as she usually was in good class but plain clothes, but in a flamboyant imitation fur coat with an enormous collar and cuffs and a woollen hat on top of her russet-coloured hair, which when Fiona had last seen it had been a light brown streaked with grey. But then there was her face: there was a tightness at the corner of the eyes, very like—Fiona could not make herself even think, the child’s—and the droop and lines from each side of the mouth had gone. Her face had the appearance of one that had just been taken out of a mudpack, smooth and unlined but ready to slip back into its natural slackness once the astringent wore off. But in her mother’s case the astringent wouldn’t wear off. She’d had her face lifted.
‘Yes. Yes, you can look, and you can say it: why did you have to go all the way to America to have it done?’ They were going towards the sitting room now. ‘Because I understood they did a better job there, and they have.’
‘Then why are you in a temper? You should be pleased with yourself.’
‘It’s…it’s him, Davey. I couldn’t believe it.’
‘What’s he done? Sit down. Sit down.’
In the presence of her mother’s agitation Fiona felt calm for the first time in weeks. Mrs Vidler, seated now on the couch, her open coat showing that she was wearing a tight fitting red woollen dress which, in its turn, showed that she had certainly lost pounds in weight, was clasping and unclasping her hands as she said, ‘I…I did it just for him because…well, he gave me the impression that he was interested. But I went straight round there and what do I find? He’s got a woman installed.’
‘Well, he’s a young man. He looked upon you as a mother.’
‘He did not, Fiona. He encouraged me.’
‘I don’t know about encouraging you, Mother, I do know that you threw yourself at him. But even then he saw you as a motherly figure.’
‘I am no motherly figure.’ And she wagged her head as she said this. ‘All that way, the dreadful journey and all the expense…yes, the expense. I’ll tell him. I will.’
‘I wouldn’t if I were you, Mother; I would save what little dignity you have left; and I’d also get out of those awful clothes and be yourself.’
‘I’ll…I’ll never be myself again. And…and I hate America.’
‘I thought it was lovely and the people were marvellous.’
‘Yes, as long as you’re spending money. Oh’—she got to her feet and began to walk up and down—‘why had this to happen to me, at my age?’
‘There, you said it, Mother, at your age.’
Now her mother rounded on her; ‘And may I ask what’s the matter with you? Not a kind word out of you, not a word of welcome. Are you ill? You look it. Is it this post-natal depression that all mothers seem to indulge in these days?’
‘No, I’m not suffering from post-natal depression, Mother. And I’m being as thoughtful of you as you are of me.’
‘Here we go again. Anyway, may I ask what the latest effort is? Am I a grandmother to a boy or a girl?’
‘It’s a girl.’
‘Well, where is she?’
‘In the nursery.’
‘You’ve got a nursery now?’
‘We’ve made a makeshift one. Would you like to come up and see her?’
‘Well, it’s the least I can do, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Mother; it’s the least you can do…’
The room held a cot, a small table, a cupboard and two straight-backed chairs. The child was awake and gurgling; they both heard it as they opened the door. There was a permanent night light glowing, as the only other light in the room was from a fanlight in the roof. Fiona switched on the main light; then one at each side of the cot, they stood looking down on the gurgling child.
‘Dear God!’ It was a thin whisper from Mrs Vidler. ‘It’s a…’
‘Yes, Mother, a mongol.’
‘Oh, my goodness! Oh, really! How on earth could this happen to you? Are . . . are you going to keep it?’
‘Yes, Mother, we are going to keep it. And it isn’t an “it”, it’s a “she”.’
‘They…they grow up mental.’
‘They do nothing of the sort, Mother!’ It was a bawl that would have done credit to Bill, and Mrs Vidler reared up and said, ‘Don’t you dare shout at me like that! Anyway, what do you expect from that man? There’s nothing like this on our side of the family; it’s through him.’
‘It isn’t through him, Mother. These things happen to all types of people.’
‘It’s genes; it’s passed down.’
‘It isn’t genes, and it is not passed down.’
‘All right, all right, it is not passed down; but this has come about through him, and what will people say?’
‘I don’t give a damn about what people say, Mother.’
‘Well, you should. And don’t expect me to be grandmother to it. There are homes for such children.’
‘Yes, there are, Mother; and this is the home for this child, my child, Bill’s child.’ Of a sudden her arms went out and grabbed the baby from the cot, and she pulled it to her breast and, holding it tightly there, she said, ‘And what is more, I’ll put her in the pram and take her outside, and everybody I meet, I’ll tell them that Mrs Vidler is my mother.’
‘Stop it, Fiona. Stop it!’
‘No; you stop it, Mother. And get out! Do you hear? Get out!’
She was yelling at the top of her voice now; and her mother had already backed towards the door and onto the landing. And the noise must have been heard in the kitchen, for from there emerged Nell, Katie and Mamie; and Nell could only briefly notice the change in Mrs Vidler because she was staring up at Fiona coming down the stairs, screaming at the top of her voice as she held the child to her, ‘And don’t come back into this house until you’re asked. Do you hear? And I hope you find a man who will appreciate your facelift and all the money you’ve spent on it. As for Davey Love, he looked on you as a granny, not even a mother.’
‘Fiona! Fiona!’
‘Mam! Mam!’
Nell was holding Fiona by the shoulders now and Katie was gripping her mother’s arm while Mamie, her face twisting into tears, was tugging at her dress.
‘She’s gone. She’s gone. Come on. Come on into the sitting room. Sit down.’
‘Nell…Nell…she said…’
‘It doesn’t matter what she said, dear. Give me the child here.’
‘No, no; I want it. It’s Bill’s. It’s mine. It’s Bill’s.’
‘Don’t cry. Don
’t cry, dear.’
‘I must cry, Nell, I must cry. I’ve been wicked, wicked. Poor Bill. It’s Bill’s. It’s mine.’
As her crying mounted she pressed the child tighter to her and began to rock it, and Nell, turning to Katie, whispered, ‘Go and ring the yard. Ask your dad to come home. Quick!’
When Katie got through and heard Bill’s voice, she said, ‘Dad.’
‘Yes. Who’s that?’
‘It’s Katie.’
‘Oh, yes. What’s the matter?’
‘Dad, can you come home? It’s Mam.’
‘What’s happened? What’s she done?’
‘She’s…she’s done nothing, Dad. Gran’s been here. She’s upset; but I think it’s a good upset.’
‘A good upset? What d’you mean?’
‘I can’t explain. Just come, Dad.’
Katie could hear her mother’s cries and they were mingled with Mamie’s; and then Nell’s voice, saying, ‘It’s all right, dear, it’s all right. Don’t hold the baby so tight. Just rock it. Just nurse it. That’s right, that’s right.’
‘Nell. I hate her. I hate her.’
‘Yes, I know, dear. Very few people like her.’
‘It’s wrong to hate, Nell. It’s wrong to hate.’
‘Here, let me dry your eyes. Try to stop crying, dear.’
‘I want to go on crying, Nell; I want to cry forever. I’ve been wicked. Poor Bill. I’ll not put her in a home, ever! I’ll not put her in a home.’
‘No, of course you won’t; we wouldn’t let you even if you wanted to; we all love her.’
‘Yes, you all love her. I didn’t love her, but you all loved her, Bill most of all. But it wasn’t love really, not really. It was compassion. Yes, that’s it, compassion, compassion.’
‘It’s all right, dear. It’s all over.’
‘No, no, Nell; it’s not all over, it’s only starting. Don’t take her from me. No, don’t take her from me. I won’t hurt her. I’ll hold her like this and rock her. My mind’s been going round in circles, Nell; I don’t know where I’ve been. My mother has been in me. I’m part of her you know. Yes, I am, I am. And I’ve been seeing Angela through her eyes. I’m glad she came. And she doesn’t look younger, she looks awful. Her face matches her character, tight, stretched, selfish. Can a face be selfish? It’s all right, Nell, it’s all right; I’m not hurting her, I’m just rocking her.’
‘Lie back, dear. Lie back. Try to relax.’
‘Sammy said I would get a surprise. Sammy comes out with odd things and they always mean something. He’s an odd boy; that, is Sammy. Oh! Nell, Nell; I think I’m going to die.’
‘No, you’re not going to die, dear. You’re going to live and make us all happy again.’
‘Bill will never be happy again.’
‘Oh yes, he will. Once he sees you holding her, he’ll be happy.’
‘Will he, Nell? I’m so tired, Nell, so very tired. I’ve been fighting inside me all the time, wanting to touch her, because she isn’t bad to look at, is she?’
‘No, no; she’s not. We all think she’s sweet.’
‘Well I wouldn’t say she’s sweet, but she’s not bad.’ She had a bout of coughing and choking, but still she would not relinquish the child.
And five minutes later she was still holding it, still rocking it, and still crying when Bill entered the room. He paused for a moment, then hurried to the couch and sat down beside her, saying, ‘Aw, love! That’s it, cry. That’s it, cry.’
‘I’m sorry, Bill, I’m sorry.’
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for, hinny. Nothing. Nothing. From now on everything will be all right. There now. There now.’
When the front doorbell rang, Katie ran to open it, and she greeted the man on the step: ‘Oh, hello, Mr Meredith. Come in. Come in.’
‘What’s the matter, Katie? Why are you crying?’
‘It’s Mam. She’s…she’s come round.’
‘Come round from what?’
‘The baby.’
‘Oh, has it come? I’ve been in Scotland you know; Sir Charles’ brother died. I…I went to the funeral.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I mean about Sir Charles’ brother. Give me your coat.’
‘Mr Meredith.’
‘Yes, Katie?’
‘Don’t…don’t look surprised when you see the baby, will you not?’
‘Should I?’
‘You might.’
‘All right, Katie; I won’t look surprised.’
When he entered the sitting room and saw the situation he continued walking slowly forward, and Bill turned to him, saying, ‘Oh, hello there. You’ve got back then.’
‘Yes, I got back this morning. I thought I’d look in. So it’s arrived.’
‘Yes, Rupert, it’s arrived.’ Bill nodded towards him. ‘Show Rupert our daughter, Fiona.’
‘Hello, Rupert.’ Fiona could hardly see him through the still running tears. And he said, ‘Hello, Fiona.’ Then he looked down on the child and he smiled. ‘What’s her name?’ he asked.
‘Angela.’
He glanced at Bill and repeated, ‘Angela? Well, she’ll likely turn out to be an angel in disguise.’
Nell rose from the other side of the couch, saying, ‘Well, I think we could all do with a cup of tea. And then you, Katie, and you, Mamie, and the rest of the gang can get down to those Christmas decorations and rake out the things from the garret for the tree. Are you going to Scotland for the Christmas, Mr Meredith?’
‘No, Nell. I’ve just come back from there. Sir Charles and Lady Kingdom are staying over the holidays. But coming down in the train, I was thinking that as I am a very lone man there might be a nice family who would invite me to stay over the Christmas holidays.’
Katie made a sound between a giggle and a sniff and Bill said, ‘You’re welcome. More than welcome. But this’ll be your bed.’ He thumbed towards the couch.
‘It will suit me.’
‘This house will soon be bursting at the seams.’ Nell went out, smiling now. And Bill, looking at Fiona who was lying back taking in deep gasping breaths, the child still held, but gently now, in her arms, said, ‘That reminds me. I’ve got a Christmas box for you.’ She looked up at him but said nothing.
‘Tomorrow I’m goin’ to take you to see it in fact, I’ll take the whole squad of you because I want more than one opinion.’ He turned to Rupert, saying, ‘D’you know Burnstead Mere House?’
‘Oh, yes, yes. It’s a lovely place. Beautiful gardens too. And the mere is quite a large one. I’ve been there. You after that?’
‘Yes. It’s got twelve main rooms and a small indoor pool. What d’you think about that?’ He was now putting his face close to Fiona’s.
‘If you think it’s for us, then it’s for us. Wipe my face, will you?’
As Bill gently wiped Fiona’s face, Rupert caught hold of Mamie’s hand and took her from the room. But in the kitchen, before he had time to say anything, Mamie cried, not only to Nell and Katie, but to Mark, Willie and Sammy, who had just come in and were now all bright faced. ‘We’re going to move into a big house, like a palace, with twelve rooms and a swimming pool, and a river at the bottom.’
The announcement seemed to still them all and to cause them to look at Rupert as if for confirmation or further enlightenment. And it was Nell who said, ‘Is that a fact?’
‘It would seem so, Nell. It’s Bill’s Christmas box to Fiona, and to you all, I should say.’
‘Oh, well. Anyway’—Nell shook her head—‘she’s already given him his Christmas box.’ Then turning to the children, she added, ‘Now gang, let’s get going. Away to your posts, all of you, and prepare for a happy Christmas. And believe me I never thought we should see it. But thanks to your dear sweet grandmama, she has worked a small miracle. And as my husband says, they do happen.’
Six
They couldn’t be taken to see the house the next day for the people were moving out. So it was the day before Christmas Eve when the whole
family piled into the two cars, the second driven by Rupert, who took Mark and Willie and, of course, it went without saying, Sammy Love. Nell, Katie and Mamie were seated in the back of Bill’s car, with the baby, wrapped in two large shawls, a bonnet and woolly boots, being nursed by Katie.
‘You all right, dear?’
‘Yes, Bill.’ Fiona nodded at him.
‘Warm enough?’
‘Yes. Yes, I couldn’t help but be in this.’ She hugged around her the sheepskin coat with which he had surprised her only yesterday. Then she said, ‘How far is it?’
‘Oh, about half an hour’s run, a bit more perhaps. You all right back there?’
‘Fine.’ The concerted answer came from the three of them. ‘But,’ Nell added, ‘we will feel better when you get a move on, if this machine works. My old banger would have been away by now.’
‘Yes, making for the scrapyard.’
‘Don’t you dare insult Maria!’ And the laughter this brought about seemed to create the atmosphere for further backchat during the journey in the back seat. In the main, however, Fiona sat quiet, because she felt quiet. The only description she could give to herself with regard to the change in her since that dreadful crying bout was that she was experiencing a kind of silence. Everything she had thought over the last few days seemed to have dropped into this silence and melted away. She didn’t know if she liked this feeling or not. But what she did know was that she was thankful unto God that things were right between her and Bill again, and that her mind had accepted the child even while, as yet, her heart was not touched. And yet there were times when she looked at it and it looked back at her she experienced the very feeling that it was trying to tell her something, and also that there was something bigger in life itself encased in that small body, and struggling to get out. She had told herself that this was mere fancy, a tangent of that feeling she had had before her outburst that she would likely go out of her mind, and end up in the same place as Rupert’s fiancée. Nevertheless, it was strange how, since that outburst, the atmosphere in the house had done a complete somersault: everyone now seemed happy, and the child was the focus of it. It seemed as if the child was going to alter all their lives. No, not seemed, it had already done so.
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