by Shari Low
Her groan was involuntary. Who was she going to go on holiday with now? She was going to be one of those sad old people, sitting alone on a sun lounger on a SAGA holiday, trying to make conversation with everyone who passed. She’d seen so many travellers like that over the years. Not that she ever spoke to them. Ray wasn’t keen on meeting new people when they were away. He said he just wanted to focus 100 per cent of his attention on her and vice versa. He always said he didn’t want to go home having spent half his holiday making small talk with Bert and Edna from Skegness.
Another sigh. Was this how it was going to be now? Just a constant chain of realisations of all the things that would be missing from her life now that her soulmate was gone? Love, companionship, conversations that mattered, laughter, luxury and great sex. Oh yes, that side of their relationship had never diminished in all these years. The thought caused a pang of longing to twist around her heart until she couldn’t bear another second of it.
Sleep. Perhaps if she went to sleep then it would be a reprieve from the pain, the fear, the devastation. Yes. Sleep.
She was tempted to pull a coat down from the row of outerwear on the pegs above where she was sitting. Another thing to do. She could see Ray’s favourite Barbour there and she knew she had to pack that – and every other coat and jacket – away.
Tomorrow’s problem.
Right now, she needed to get off the floor and go up to bed for a nap.
Pushing herself up the wall, she felt the ache in her back from the sobbing.
Deep breath. All she had to do was walk upstairs, climb under the duvet and she’d feel at least a little better than she did right now.
She tossed the pile of unopened envelopes on the hall table, then placed the opened bank statement on the top. It was only when it caught her eye again that something stopped her.
She turned, picked it up again, reread it.
The bank name. The company name. Transactions in. Transactions out. Then the figure at the bottom: £106,000.
She stared. That couldn’t be right. It was exhaustion that was making her brain foggy.
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. Looked again.
No, there was no mistaking what she was seeing.
There must be some kind of error. Some mistake.
The £106,000 was definitely there. But it was typed in red, with the word ‘Overdrawn’ written next to it.
Fifteen
Denise – 1978
Denise pushed herself up in the bed and stared straight ahead. She would never get used to the house being completely silent. She’d grown up with the twins causing riots in her house, with Agnes shouting, the telly blaring, but here at the Harrows’, Ray and his dad were out at work all day and his mum was in and out from her job at the supermarket. Sometimes she didn’t speak to anyone for hours at a time.
Today was Saturday, so the men were out at the football and Jenny was doing an eight hour shift. Her own family never visited because they said it was awkward, sitting in someone else’s house. The relationship between the families was civil, but they weren’t exactly bosom buddies. And as for Alice? She hadn’t seen her since she’d said those terrible things about Ray at the wedding. How could she? Ray had brought Billy to the hospital that night and his mate had backed up everything Ray had said. He’d looked absolutely mortified. Red faced and squirming, like he didn’t want to be there. Hadn’t seen so much of a glimpse of him since either. Ray hadn’t been hanging around with him so much – he said it was natural that they’d see each other less because Billy was still a single man on the pull. Alice had called, but Denise wouldn’t speak to her. She wasn’t going to listen to any more of her lies. Friends like that she could do without. All that mattered was that Ray loved her and they had their whole lives in front of them.
The book she was reading slid off the bed and fell to the floor with a thump. She didn’t care. Jenny had been bringing six books a week home from the library, but Denise had never been much of a reader and, much as she tried, she couldn’t make the words hold her attention for a whole day. Another whole endless bloody day. For four weeks now, this was all she’d done – lie, sit, read, stare. Complete bed rest, the doctor had said. They’d rushed her from the wedding to the hospital, but she wasn’t in labour. False contractions, they’d told her. But her blood pressure was so high that they’d ordered her to stay on her back until the baby came. She was so grateful to Ray’s family for taking her in, but the boredom was driving her crazy.
Jenny would bring her a cup of tea and maybe sit for a little while after her shift. Then Ray would come home, chat for a little while, eat his dinner on the bed next to her, then he’d go back off out again, to football training or to meet his mates or go down the pub. He looked over eighteen, so he had no trouble getting into the local now. They never checked. She wished he’d stay in more with her, but she understood that wasn’t a life for a seventeen year old guy and she didn’t want him stuck here with her and miserable.
She groaned as a twinge of pain shot from the side of her swollen belly. That happened sometimes.
Another came shooting in. Then another. Suddenly, her whole stomach tightened in a ferocious cramp.
Oh dear God. She needed Ray. Where was he?
It passed after what was probably less than a minute but felt like an hour. Sweat buds were popping out all over her skin and her jaws were clenched together. She had to get up, had to get help.
Groaning, she pushed herself off the bed, but right at that moment, another dagger of pain made her scream, taking the legs out from under her. She fell to the floor, then managed to get on her hands and knees and crawl out to the hall, where the white telephone sat on a wooden table with a side seat. She was suddenly grateful that the ground floor tenement flat was all on one level because stairs would have been impossible to tackle.
Reaching up, she yanked at the cable, and brought the handset tumbling towards her. Voices. She heard voices.
‘Hello?’ she gasped.
‘Whit have ah bloody telt you aboot listening in on ma conversations?’ came an indignant screech.
The party line. It was a common thing in this area. You shared a phone line with someone else in the town, so when you picked up the phone and heard them, you could either listen in or hang up and keep trying again until they were done. It did nothing for privacy, but it was much cheaper than having your own line, and the only way many people could afford a phone in the house.
‘I’m sorry,’ Denise panted, ‘But I’m having a baby.’
‘I don’t care if yer having a hippopotamus, love, get aff the phone. I’m talking to ma sister.’
Denise’s response was a blood-curdling scream.
Another voice, more uncertain this time. ‘Are you actually havin’ the wean right noo, hen?’
‘Yes. Need. An. Ambulance,’ Denise panted.
‘Aw jeez, Betty, she’s no’ joking. Whit’s yer address, hen?’
The first voice again, all business now. ‘It’s that Jenny from the supermarket’s hoose. Her boy knocked up some young lassie. I ken where they live. Right, hang up Isa, and I’ll get the ambulance noo.’
The receiver suddenly felt unbearably heavy, but Denise somehow managed to get it back on the phone. She then crawled over to the door, reached up and took it off the latch so the ambulance medics could get in.
This baby was coming. It was actually coming, ripping itself out of her and she had never felt so terrified in her life.
Don’t let me die. Please don’t let me die. Please don’t let me die.
Her mantra was interrupted only by her screams as another contraction came tearing through her body.
Why wasn’t her mum here? Or Jenny? Most of all, why wasn’t Ray here? She was going to die here alone, and her baby would die too. Terror shot even further up the scale than the pain.
The second hand on the clock on the hall wall ticked round and round and she tried to focus on that. Every minute was closer to someon
e getting here. Every minute she could hold on would help her, help the baby.
Another contraction. Another scream. Another contraction. Another scream. The minute hand had moved twenty times when she felt the need to open her legs, to push…
A bang on the front door. She answered with a guttural roar and the ambulance staff took that as a cue to come right on in.
Two men. ‘Right, love, I’m Barry and this is Gavin. Let’s see what we’ve got here then, shall we?’
She was mortified when they immediately got down on the floor and peered between her legs, but she didn’t have much choice. They were talking to each other, urgent tones, all a blur, then one was right in there, his shoulders between her knees, shouting at her to push.
She did as he said, a sound that she barely recognised as human coming from her gut, then another feeling, a release, a slipping sensation… and then a cry.
A baby’s cry.
Her head fell forward, a giddy mix of relief and adrenaline charging through her, until one of the medics lifted a purple faced baby onto her lap. The relief was replaced with pure fear. This was her responsibility now, this baby. She was sixteen years old and another life depended on her.
Barry and Gavin were still clearing up around her when the door burst open again and Jenny ran in.
‘Oh, holy mother of God!’ she cried, her hand over her mouth, before sinking to the floor beside her.
‘It’s a girl,’ Denise told her. Jenny wasn’t one for tears, but Denise could see she was emotional.
‘Och, she’s beautiful,’ Jenny whispered. Then, talking to the baby, she changed her tone to a more playful, ‘What are you like, little one? Coming early and scaring us like that? I think you’re going to keep us all on our toes.’
‘We’re going to take them in just to get them checked over,’ Barry said. ‘Do you want to come too?’
Jenny nodded. ‘Aye, but I’ll follow on. I’ll go track down my boy and let him know what’s happened first.’ She switched her gaze to Denise. ’And I’ll phone your mum and let her know. Only reason I got here was because that old bint we share a party line with came charging into the supermarket, desperate to tell me. Only time I’ve ever been grateful that she can’t keep her mouth shut.’
Denise nodded gratefully. She wanted more than anything to have Ray with her, so she just hoped Jenny found him quickly.
Denise held the sleeping baby, now wrapped in a white blanket knitted by Ray’s granny, while Barry and Gavin helped her onto a wheeled seat and took her out to the ambulance.
Within an hour, she was on a ward with four other women and their babies, with a lovely nurse who helped clean them both up and then showed Denise how to latch the baby on. It hurt so much it made her toes actually curl up, but everyone insisted it was the best thing for the baby, so she couldn’t refuse to do it.
‘Cabbage leaves,’ the woman in the next bed told her. ‘Get them in yer bra and they’ll help with the pain. No’ that I need them. This is ma sixth. I’ve got nipples like rubber noo.’
The clock on the wall said five o’clock. Six o’clock. Seven o’clock. Then a bell rang to signal visiting hours and in came her mum, pregnant belly leading the way, her dad and the twins. Her mum immediately lifted the baby from the cot next to them.
‘She looks just like you when you were a baby,’ she said, with a softness that Denise barely recognised. Agnes definitely wasn’t one for gushy declarations of affection. ‘Have you got a name for her yet?’
‘We were going to call her Claire if it was a girl. It’s Ray’s favourite too.’ They’d found the name in a baby book from the library and Denise had loved it immediately. In a world full of Traceys and Sharons, she didn’t know a single person called Claire. Her baby would be unique.
‘Claire,’ Agnes repeated, before giving tacit approval with, ‘That suits her just fine.’
The twins, completely disinterested, sat in the corner with the magazines they got every Saturday as their one weekly treat. To Denise’s surprise it was her dad, Fred, normally so reserved and detached, who gave her the first words of kindness as he took the baby and rocked her in his arms. Denise thought it was such a strange sight, this big hulk of a man, reduced to mush by such a tiny bundle.
‘You did good, Den,’ he said. ‘I’m only sorry you were on your own, pet.’
‘That’s OK, Dad,’ Denise replied, suddenly fighting the urge to weep. She was sore. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. And all she wanted was for Ray to walk in that door and tell her it was all going to be fine.
Right on cue the door opened and Denise’s spirits soared… and then immediately crashed as she saw it was Jenny, a bunch of lupins from the garden in her hand.
There was a moment of awkwardness as she greeted everyone – a group of people who had only spoken half a dozen times yet were inextricably tied together in such a fundamental way. Politeness was getting them through so far.
Jenny laid the flowers on the bedside table, then asked for the baby. Fred gingerly handed her over.
‘She’s your spitting image, Denise,’ she cooed.
‘Aye, I was just saying that too,’ Agnes said, before getting straight to the point as always and asking the question that was screaming in Denise’s brain. ‘And where’s Ray then? Is he on his way?’
An expression of embarrassment crossed Jenny’s face. ‘Well, the thing is…’
Denise’s heart clenched in her chest and tears immediately shot to the inside of her bottom lids. She blinked them back. There was no way she was going to cry in front of everyone.
‘It took me a while to find them because they’d headed to the pub after the game. By the time I got to Ray and his dad, they’d had a few pints and when I explained what had happened…’ She paused, hesitant to deliver whatever was coming next. ‘They decided to stay and wet the baby’s head.’
There was a lull as everyone took a moment to assimilate the conflicting thoughts in their minds. It wasn’t Jenny’s fault. Wetting the baby’s head was a long held tradition in these parts, and it was customary for the men to celebrate the birth on the night the baby arrived. Although usually they had actually seen the baby before the first pint was downed.
Agnes cut right to the point. ‘So what you mean is that he was on the piss and wasn’t for having his night out interrupted, so he decided to just carry on drinking, as if my daughter wasn’t lying here after giving birth to his baby?’
Jenny gave a defeated shrug, and Denise could see that she was as upset as her own mum about this, but loyalty to her son and husband meant she’d never admit it. Women stood by their husbands in this world, right or wrong – it was just the way it was.
‘Aye, well, you can give him a message from me…’
‘Don’t, Mum,’ Denise interrupted, barely able to speak because of the lump that was lodged in her throat. She appreciated her mum sticking up for her, but when they let her out of this hospital she had to go back and live with Ray’s family, so she didn’t want there to be any bad feelings or problems. Besides, Ray had every right to be happy and celebrate his new baby. Of course he did. And if he didn’t love them so much he wouldn’t be out raising a toast to them, would he?
Her mum saw it differently and just carried on speaking as if Denise hadn’t said a word. ‘You tell him that he’s not some seventeen year old lad with not a care in the world any more. He’s my daughter’s husband and this bairn’s father, and it’s high time he started bloody acting like it.’
Jenny’s face flushed and her voice dropped, while on the bed, Denise’s stomach churned. These were both strong, working class women who wouldn’t let anyone or anything interfere with their lives, their families or their opinions. It was like watching two gladiators, with home perms and their best coats on, square up for a fight to the death.
In the end, it was Jenny who took the high road and replied in a low, firm voice, ‘You don’t need to tell me what I’ve to do to keep my family in order, Agnes McAlee. You rest assured they�
�ll do what’s expected of them. And rest assured too, that I’ll take mighty good care of your daughter and our grandchild.’
The emphasis was subtle but it made the point – don’t lecture me when you’re not taking care of your own.
Denise clenched her teeth together, terrified that her mum would kick off and make a huge scene, but Agnes merely stared at the opposing mother, eyes narrow, before deciding to retreat. Although, of course, she had to get the last word in.
‘Aye, well I hope yer right,’ she said, claiming back some of her righteous indignation.
It was only when the bell rang to signal the end of visiting that Denise realised that no one had asked what she thought about Ray not visiting, or how she was feeling, or whether she was OK about spending her first ever night in hospital with a baby she didn’t know how to look after.
The truth was, she’d never felt more alone in her life. That would change soon though, she told herself. She had a baby now. Ray would instantly fall in love with the wee thing when he saw her. And she knew, just absolutely knew, that they were going to be a proper family now.
Sixteen
Claire – 2019
The ear splitting door buzzer cut right through their conversation, making Josie jump. ‘For the love of God!’ she exclaimed. ‘You can’t have sudden bloody noises like that when you’re a woman with my bladder control.’
Val hooted with laughter, but Claire eyed Jeanna nervously.
‘If you’ve arranged male strippers, I’ll kill you,’ she warned, as she got up off the floor and headed across the room in the direction of the door.
Jeanna tutted, rolling her eyes. ‘Damn it. I knew there was something I forgot to do.’ She picked up her phone, pressed voice notes, then spoke into the handset. ‘Reminder. Call naked men with baby oil.’