Put Out the Fires

by Maureen Lee

  Her hands shook as she filled the kettle for Michael’s bottle. Eileen Costello was a single woman and she and Matt were the right age for each other . . .

  Ruth placed the kettle on the hob and looked at herself in the mirror over the mantelpiece. She looked terrible*. She rubbed the rouge off her cheeks with the back of her hand, then the lipstick. Her reflection improved, but only slightly. She still looked like a ghost, just less garish. She’d been trying to make herself attractive for Matt, when all she’d done was look ridiculous.

  There was no sound from Matt upstairs. Ruth remained, staring at herself in the mirror, feeling sick at heart, until the kettle boiled. Michael began to cry, but if she picked him up now, how could she make the bottle?

  “Shush, love. Mummy won’t be a minute.”

  Panic-stricken, she rushed into the kitchen with the kettle, talking to the baby as she measured out the water, the evap.

  “I won’t be long, Michael,” she called desperately.

  “Shush, now!”

  She couldn’t stand to hear her baby cry. Only bad mothers left their children to cry alone, and bad mothers didn’t deserve to have children. Bad mothers should have their children taken away.

  The boiling water spurted over the neck of the feeding bottle onto her hand and Ruth almost screamed in pain.

  Somehow, she managed to squeeze the teat on, and wrapped a nappy around her scalded hand.

  Seconds later, clutching Michael, she sank into the easy chair, and he began to suck eagerly on the bottle.

  “You’ll have your mummy a nervous wreck,” she whispered, as she stroked his soft fair hair with her left hand.

  The bottle was soon finished and Michael began to doze. Ruth felt too tired to move, and after a while felt her own eyes begin to close. Fortunately, it was too late for Dai to pay a visit. No doubt, he’d called when they were still out and would be in the King’s Arms by now. She was almost asleep when there was a knock on the door and she dragged herself to her feet, laid Michael in the basket, and went to answer it. It couldn’t be Dai, who always let himself in by the back way.

  A plump young woman was standing outside. She wore a blue moygashel suit with a little veiled matching hat over one eye, and grinned when Ruth looked at her uncomprehendingly.

  “You don’t recognise me, do you?”

  Ruth gasped. “Dilys! I would never have known you.

  You look very grown-up - and what a lovely suit! It’s terribly smart.” The girl’s spots had completely gone and her skin looked fresh and clear. Her brown hair had recently been permed. “Oh, am I glad to see you!” Ruth cried. “Where on earth have you been? Come in, dear.

  Come in.” She was about to hug the girl, when a man, who’d been standing out of sight, appeared behind her.

  Dilys said coyly, “This is me husband, Reg. We only got married last week.”

  “Married! Congratulations, both of you.” Ruth shook Reg’s hand. He looked much older than Dilys, twice her age, at least. He was a dark, unsmiling man with thinning hair.

  “This is the third time we’ve called today,” he said in a complaining voice. “Have you been out somewhere?”

  “We spent the day in the country,” Ruth explained, slightly taken aback by the inference she should remain at home just in case Dilys might decide to turn up out of the blue.

  She stood aside to let them in. “I’ve been trying to find out where you were for months, Dilys,” she said as she followed them down the hall. “I must have written at least twenty letters.”

  “I’ve been working in a cafe in Portsmouth,” Dilys began. Her tone changed. “Oh!” she said softly.

  By the time Ruth reached the living room, Dilys was on her knees beside the basket on the floor. “Is this him? Is this my baby? Look at him, Reg! Isn’t he adorable?”

  “He’s called Michael,” Ruth said thinly, as a dreadful suspicion entered her mind. My baby! “The reason I wanted to contact you, Dilys,” she said hurriedly, conscious that the words seemed thick on her lips, “is that I’d like you to put in writing . . . ”

  But Dilys wasn’t listening. “Michael!” she breathed.

  “Michael! It’s a lovely name. In fact, it’s a name I might have picked meself. Isn’t he huge for six months, Reg?”

  She looked up at her husband, smiling childishly like the Dilys of old. “Six months, one week, and two days.

  There’s scarcely an hour passed since that I’ve not thought about him.”

  She picked the baby up, and although he didn’t wake, he seemed to snuggle comfortably against her breast as if he knew it was where he always should have been. Reg reached down and squeezed her shoulder. “He’s a fine little chap, love.”

  Ruth watched, feeling as if the world were collapsing around her ears. They’d come to take Michael away! If they did, if they did—she tried to visualise a world without Michael, but couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried. Once her child had gone, there wouldn’t be a single reason left to stay alive.

  “You’ve done a wonderful job, Ruth,” Dilys said gratefully. “I knew my baby would be safe with you.”

  “But, Dilys, you said . . . ” Ruth stopped, unable to continue. She began to sway, and grasped the door to prevent herself from fainting. Neither Dilys or Reg noticed. They were only interested in the baby.

  Reg suddenly seemed to remember Ruth was there. He reached in his inside pocket and drew out a wallet. “I’d like to compensate you for the expense you’ve had looking after Michael. Would ten pounds be enough?” He put the notes on the mantelpiece. “We don’t want any of his things, by the way. We’ve got all new stuff at home, and we brought enough clothes with us in the car.”

  “Compensate me?” Ruth began to laugh hysterically. “Compensate me? You must be mad, both of you, if you think you can just walk in and take my child away.”

  “He’s not your child,” Dilys said pettishly. “He’s mine!”

  She looked uneasily at Reg as Ruth continued to laugh.

  “No!” Ruth snatched the baby out of Dily’s arms. “He’s mine! You gave him to me, remember?” She looked down tenderly at the sleeping baby. “He’s mine!”

  “Now, look here!” Reg tried to drag the baby back.

  “Mind you don’t hurt him,” Dilys cried, and Ruth began to scream.

  “What’s going on!” Matt appeared in the doorway, looking angry and bewildered.

  “Matt!” Ruth had forgotten all about him. “Oh, Matt,” she sobbed, “they’ve come for Michael. They’re going to take him away from me.”

  Matt was never quite sure what made him do it, but he went over and took Ruth in his arms. For better or worse, she was his -wife and there was no way he would stand by and see her manhandled by a stranger. He held her trembling body, murmuring, “Shush, now,” whilst the enormity of the situation sank in. What the hell would this do to her?

  “And who’s this?” The man who’d been struggling with Ruth was looking at Matt aggressively.

  “This,” Matt said coldly, “is Ruth’s husband.”

  Dilys gasped, “I didn’t know you were married, Ruth?”

  “Well, she is. I suppose you’re Dilys Evans.” Matt was conscious of Ruth sobbing quietly against his shoulder.

  Even in the midst of the drama, Dilys managed to look coy. “It’s Dilys Harvey, actually. This is Reg, me husband.”

  “They offered me ten pounds, Matt,” Ruth moaned.

  “Ten pounds for my baby.”

  “It’s not your baby,” Reg began.

  “Ten pounds?” Matt said sarcastically. “Is that what you think Michael’s worth? Where is it, the ten pounds?”

  “On the mantelpiece.” Reg rubbed his forehead, as if everything was getting beyond him.

  “Well, take it back if you don’t mind. We neither want or need your ten pounds.”

  Now it was Dilys’s turn to burst into tears. “But I want my baby,” she wailed. “I want Michael.”

  “There, love.” Reg put his a
rm around her shoulders.

  “Don’t take on so. You’ll have him, don’t worry.” He turned to Matt. “If you don’t give us that baby here and now, I’ll fetch the police.”

  “Matt!” Ruth screamed.

  “Why don’t we all sit down,” Matt suggested reasonably, though he felt anything but reasonable inside—he could have snapped the man’s neck in two with pleasure, “and talk this through like civilised people?” He gently manoeuvred Ruth into a chair. The other two sat down at the table, albeit reluctantly.

  “Don’t see that there’s much to talk about,” Reg said churlishly.

  There was silence for a few seconds. Dilys eyed Michael tearfully, as he still slept peacefully in Ruth’s arms. Reg looked edgy and kept glancing worriedly at his young wife.

  “Have you the remotest idea how cruel this is?” Matt said softly. “You asked Ruth to have your baby, Dilys, and she did. She’s taken care of him since the day he was born. In Ruth’s eyes, Michael is her baby. Did you seriously think you could just turn up and snatch him out of her arms? Put yourself in her shoes. How would you feel if someone took away a child you thought was yours without a single moment’s notice? Are you utterly devoid of feelings, the pair of you?” He found it hard to keep the contempt out of his voice.

  “I only meant for her to look after him till I’d sorted meself out,” Dilys sniffed.

  “No you didn’t,” Ruth whispered. “The whole time you were pregnant you swore you didn’t want him. You called him ‘sinful’.”

  Dilys tossed her head. “Well, I wasn’t meself, was I?”

  “Shush, love.” Reg had clearly been deeply affected by Matt’s words and looked quite mortified. He put his hand on Dilys’s arm. “He’s right. We should have written beforehand.”

  “Dilys should have written a long time ago, if it was her intention to take Michael back,” Matt said.

  “Why didn’t you, love - write, that is?” “Because I couldn’t take care of him proper while I was single, and it never crossed me mind I’d get married, not till I met you, Reg.” Dilys looked shyly at Matt. “We only met a month ago when he came into the cafe. It was what you call love at first sight.”

  “She told me about the baby - about Michael,” Reg explained. “It didn’t bother me a bit about taking on another man’s kid, but I’m afraid I didn’t realise the situation was quite as it is.” He nodded uncomfortably in the direction of Ruth. “I tell you what.” He stood up suddenly and pushed back his chair. “We’ll come back in a few weeks. Give the lady time to get used to the situation.”

  “But, Reg, I want him now!” Dilys wailed.

  “Well, you can’t, love,” Reg said firmly. He looked squarely at Matt. “She’s got to have him, you realise that, don’t you? I know it’s cruel, like you said, and Dilys hasn’t gone about it fair and proper - she told me she’d only left the baby with someone to be looked after, temporary as it were, not that she’d given him away. Even so, it’s only justice that she gets the baby back.”

  Matt glanced at Ruth. Her eyes were tight shut as she squeezed Michael’s tiny body against her own. For an awful moment, he thought she might be squeezing the life out of him rather than hand him over to another woman.

  “We’ll be good parents, I promise,” Reg was saying. “I’ve got my own shop, a draper’s, so we’re not short of a few bob. There’s no need for the lady to worry about the way he’s looked after.”

  “Ruth,” Matt whispered, bending over her. “Let Dilys have Michael.”

  She opened her eyes, and he thought he’d never seen an expression so tragic and utterly devoid of hope. “Must I?”

  “Yes, you must.”

  “Aah!” She uttered an anguished cry as she let Dilys take the baby out of her arms, then left her arms there, empty and imploring. Michael woke up and smiled at the strange face staring down at him.

  “It’s best for you to take him now,” Matt said. He felt a sense of loss, not just for Ruth, but for himself. He hadn’t realised how fond he’d grown of Michael. “It would be nothing less than torture for Ruth to keep him, knowing it was only for a few weeks.”

  Reg nodded in agreement. “Whatever you say.”

  Dilys laughed as she rocked the baby back and forth.

  “Haven’t you got a lovely smile?” she cooed.

  “I think you should both go now,” Matt said quickly.

  Reg glanced at Ruth. “Perhaps we should. Come on, love.”

  Dilys paused in the doorway. “Thanks, Ruth, for everything.” But she might as well have spoken to the wall, because Ruth’s face seemed to have turned to stone.

  When they were outside, Reg said, “I’m sorry about all that business before. I don’t know what got into me. I suppose the thing uppermost in my mind was that I wanted my Dilys to be happy. I hope she soon gets over it, your wife.”

  “I hope so, too,” Matt said as he closed the door.

  He wouldn’t have minded if she’d cried and wept, screamed out the anguish she must be feeling, but he couldn’t bear the way she sat trance-like in the chair, her body like ice, her face frozen in an expression of utter despair.

  “Ruth,” he pleaded for what must have been the hundredth time. “Please speak to me. Say something, please, Ruth.”

  “What is there to say?”

  At last! “It’s not the end, dear. What is it they say ‘where there’s life, there’s hope’.” He realised how trite and stupid the words sounded.

  “There’s no life for me, and there’s no hope.”

  “Ruth, you came through one terrible tragedy with flying colours, and you’ll come through this, you’ll see.

  Dilys will be a good mother to Michael, and although she behaved badly, he is her child.”

  “I seem to be fated not to have children. At some stage, they are always taken from me.”

  She began to cry and Matt felt relieved. Crying he could cope with. “But Michael never was your child, Ruth,” he said gently. “It was always on the cards that this might happen. You must have known that, somewhere deep down in your heart.”

  “If I did, it never stopped me loving him as if he was my own.”

  “I know. I’d become fond of him myself He’d already begun to miss the baby’s presence. He was aware of the empty basket, the smell of milk, and noticed the empty bottle on the table. If it affected him so deeply, how must it affect Ruth?

  She was still crying, deep racking sobs that seemed to tear through her body. Matt moved away and stood in front of the fire, clutching the mantelpiece. He stared into the flames and recalled the words he’d spoken in Reece’s on the day he’d offered to marry her. “I want to be of some use on this earth. I feel no use at all at the moment.”

  He took a deep breath as he turned to the weeping woman, and for a moment, Eileen Costello’s lovely fresh face flashed before his eyes.

  “Ruth,” he said, “you’re still young enough to have children. Why don’t we start a family of our own?”

  “What!” She stopped crying and looked at him, startled.

  “After all, we’re already married.”

  He wasn’t quite sure what reaction to expect. He thought she might be indignant at the suggestion, though in view of how she’d been acting over the last few weeks, she might be pleased. He was quite unprepared for the way she threw herself into his arms and began to kiss him passionately.

  “Oh, Matt!” she breathed. “There’s nothing I’d like better. You’re the only person in the world who can take the place of Michael. I love you, Matt. I’ve loved you for a longtime.”

  “And I love you,” Matt lied.

  “Are you sure?” She clasped his face in her thin hands and stared at him intently.

  Matt swallowed. “I’m sure.”

  “Then take me to bed, Matt.”

  She began to drag him towards the door. Matt loosened her arms from around his neck. “No, Ruth, not now. You don’t know what you’re doing, what you’re saying.”

  She�
�d swung from bitterness and despair to delirium within a matter of seconds, and he knew it wasn’t natural. Her eyes were fever bright in her haggard face, and even if he’d actually wanted to make love, he couldn’t have done it. He said, “I’d like you to think it over for a few days before we . . . Let’s discuss it properly tomorrow.”

  She looked disappointed. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It’s what I think is best, Ruth.”

  “Shall we drink a toast?” She clapped her hands together like a child. “There’s still some rum left from Christmas.”

  “I’d love a drink.” The idea was more than.welcome, and it might help her sleep.

  Ruth produced the rum and a couple of glasses from the sideboard. She swallowed hers in a single gulp. “I think I’ll go to bed now.”

  “There’s something I want to do first.”

  Matt went upstairs and dismantled the baby’s cot which was beside her bed, and put it in the boxroom. You never know, it might be used again, if he and Ruth . . .

  As soon as she’d gone to bed, Matt finished off the rum, drinking straight from the bottle. After a while, he went upstairs and lay on the bed, fully clothed, staring at the ceiling. The nights were getting darker and you could barely see in the room. There was the sound of men’s voices outside; the King’s Arms must have let out and they’d all be standing on the corner of the street having a last minute jangle, as they called it, before they went home to their families. There was a burst of laughter, and he felt envious of the men who seemed to lead such uncomplicated lives compared to his own. What on earth was he doing here, in this little terraced house in Bootle, married to a woman he didn’t love? He’d entered the situation quite freely, eyes wide open, yet never, in his wildest dreams, had he imagined it would turn out the way it had.

  A woman called, “Goodnight, Dad,” and he felt sure it was Eileen Costello, but when he got off the bed to look, the door of Number 16 was closed.

  Shortly afterwards, the siren went, which it still did from time to time, followed almost immediately by the All Clear. There’d been no raids during August. It must have been a false alarm.