A Daughter's Disgrace (22 page)

He was so proud of Alison, and was mortified he hadn’t been here when she’d needed him. He’d have some severe words for the garage that had just sold him that car. But she had coped, even though she hadn’t really known what was happening, and had obviously been in a lot of pain. She’d been strong and had delivered the baby safely. Now she was entitled to rest. He poured her tea and added some sugar for energy. She didn’t usually take it but tonight was an exception.

Moving to the drinks cabinet in the living room he found the whisky bottle and poured two generous glugs into cut-glass tumblers. He deserved to celebrate. It wasn’t every day you delivered a baby into this world. Now he thought about it, he could see what a huge achievement it was. He was heartily glad he hadn’t had time to think about it while it was all happening, but now he could sit back and take stock. He added the whiskies to the tray with the tea and took it through to the bedroom.

Alison was still turned to face the wall and he wasn’t sure if she was asleep. He quietly placed the tea on the nightstand so as not to wake her, then he passed the tumbler to the doctor.

‘Cheers,’ he said.

‘Congratulations again on a job well done,’ said the doctor, handing Fred the precious bundle. ‘Your very good health, in fact to the health of all three of you.’ He raised the glass and sipped. ‘A fine whisky if I may say so. You are evidently a man of taste.’

Fred beamed as Alison stirred a little. Slowly he moved across the room, the baby in his arms. ‘Are you awake now? Here he is. Don’t you want to see him? Here, let me bring him down to the pillow and you can meet him.’

Alison wearily turned over. She supposed she had better do as he asked, although she could happily sleep for a week. Inwardly she tried to prepare herself. This was her baby. It was her duty to take care of it. Maybe it would all be all right.

She steeled herself as Fred pulled back the corner of the blanket around the baby’s face. Her body ached but she tried to ignore it as she focused on the little face and then drew back. Gasping, she thought she was going to be sick.

He looked just like Paul.

‘Whoa, Nev, what happened to you?’ Bill couldn’t believe the state of his friend’s face. ‘Who’ve you been picking on? You got a proper shiner there.’

Neville shrugged, embarrassed. He knew it would be spotted as soon as he unwound his scarf once he got to work. He’d checked himself in the mirror this morning just in case he’d got away with it and it didn’t show, but it was there for all to see, deep red and purple. He’d just have to come up with a story and stick to it.

‘You know we’ve not long moved into our flat,’ he said. ‘I ain’t quite got the lay of the land yet and I was in a bit of a hurry, caught my foot, and tripped over a chair. That was that.’

‘Aha, in a hurry to get to the lovely Hazel, were we?’ Bill raised his eyebrows. ‘Running to sweep her off her feet? Can’t say I blame you.’

‘Something like that.’ There was no way Neville was going to tell them what had really happened. He was too ashamed. But he blamed himself for not keeping Hazel satisfied and this was just part of the punishment. He truly felt he deserved it, not being able to please her in bed. He wasn’t a real man. It wasn’t in his nature to argue back and he thought she had every right to be furious with him. He’d always known she had a fiery temper so he couldn’t pretend it was news to him, even though she’d never gone this far before.

‘Course, if it was Dennis, we’d all know why he might have a black eye,’ Bill went on, as Dennis and Nobby came in and began getting their outdoor coats off and factory overalls on.

‘Not more trouble with the ladies, Dennis?’ Frank had arrived. ‘Don’t you ever learn? I can’t believe you’re still out on the town, collecting angry fathers as you go. You’ll grow up one day.’

‘Some of us have it, some of us don’t.’ Dennis shrugged. ‘It’s not my fault if the birds can’t leave me alone.’

‘I take it you’re not interested in night shifts, then,’ said Frank. ‘We’re short on tomorrow’s, but I wouldn’t want to cramp your style. Sounds as if you got enough enemies after you as it is.’

Neville brightened up. He hadn’t gone back to extra late shifts since the wedding but this would be an ideal way to bring in more money and stay out of Hazel’s way until she calmed down. ‘I don’t mind, Frank,’ he said. ‘Put me down for it if you like.’

‘You sure, Nev?’ Frank looked dubious. ‘Thought you were just doing lates to pay for your wedding, and a slap-up do it was and all. Won’t Hazel mind?’

‘Yeah, we don’t want to get in the way of love’s young dream,’ said Bill. ‘I’d think twice about working nights if I had her waiting for me at home.’

Neville forced himself to smile and play along. ‘No, Hazel will be round at her mum’s until late tomorrow anyway,’ he said. ‘Been arranged for ages. She’ll hardly notice I’m not there.’

Nobby stuck his miserable oar in. ‘Well, that’s all right then. We don’t want you annoying Hazel, do we? As long as it’s all right with Hazel, you’re allowed to come out.’

Bill turned on him. ‘Don’t be like that, Nobby. Stands to reason that the newlyweds will want to be together of an evening. Nev’s giving up his gorgeous bird’s company to put up with ours.’

‘Maybe she don’t want him indoors with a face like that,’ muttered Nobby, who’d always been jealous of Neville’s good looks. ‘Maybe she’s glad to see the back of him. Maybe it puts her right off.’

Frank glanced at the big clock over the door, wondering what had happened to make his balding colleague so surly and why he always seemed to have it in for Neville, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. If the lad really did want to work extra shifts he thought he should get credit for it. ‘Right, time to make a start,’ he said. ‘Any more for the late shift? Neville, I’ll put your name down and thank Hazel from me. It’s good of you to make the effort. Meanwhile, get in there and get stuck in. And enough of the gossip. You’re like a load of old women.’

Cora had just got rid of the paperboys for the morning when the message came.

‘Baby boy born last night. Both he and mother safe and well at home. Regards, Fred.’

The lad who had brought the piece of paper stood around hoping for a tip but he was out of luck. Cora wasn’t going to waste a precious coin on him and sent him packing. She wondered what would be the best thing to do. She wasn’t particularly anxious about Alison, now that it appeared she had every comfort lavished upon her, and newborn babies all looked alike to her. But she wanted to do the right thing, and to be seen to be doing the right thing, keeping in with Fred and anyone else who might have heard the news.

It didn’t take long for the word to get round. Within the hour, Marian Dalby, Jill Parrot and Winnie Jewell had all stopped by to congratulate her and ask her to pass on their good wishes to Alison. Winnie had to draw attention to the speedy arrival of the baby.

‘Well, yes, he’s come earlier than we expected,’ said Cora, refusing to back down.

‘I should say so.’ Winnie straightened her shoulders. ‘Five months earlier if my maths is correct. Still, as long as he’s healthy and his mum’s all right then who am I to pick holes?’

‘Exactly,’ said Cora. ‘I’ll be going out to get him a little something at lunchtime. My first grandson, you know. Don’t suppose you got any grandchildren on the way yet, Winnie?’

‘Good lord, no.’ Winnie pretended to be horrified. ‘My Vera’s got far too good a job to consider such things. I expect she could get you a bit of a discount at Arding and Hobbs if you was to go there for his little present.’

Cora was tempted, but the thought of being beholden to that slapper Vera Jewell didn’t appeal. She’d go to the market as usual. If the traders there were going to hear about the baby they’d better do so from her, before they started spreading any more insinuations. ‘That’s very kind of you, Winnie, but I don’t expect I’ll have the time to go all the way up there today,’ she said. ‘Do tell your daughter the good news, though.’

‘Oh, I will,’ smiled Winnie. ‘Tell Alison I was askin’ after her, won’t you? Congratulate her on not hangin’ around.’

Alison woke up to find she hadn’t dreamed it all. The baby was still there. He still looked like Paul. She felt a shiver of revulsion at the tiny face. How was she ever going to love this creature who reminded her of the worst night of her life?

Fred was fussing around, making a pile of nappies and little jackets. ‘Oh good, you’re awake. How are you feeling? Fancy a cup of tea?’

Alison smiled wanly. ‘I’d love one. And I’m still exhausted.’ That was no lie. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to, her limbs were like lead. Still, it was quite pleasant to feel she had an excuse and to be waited on. That wasn’t something she’d ever had at home even when she’d been ill.

Fred came back in with a mug. ‘Here you are. Do you want to hold him?’

The baby snuffled from where Fred had laid him in his cot on the other side of the room. His horribly familiar face was turned towards her. She could see it through the bars.

‘No, it’s all right.’ She took a sip of the tea. ‘Don’t disturb him.’

Fred settled himself on a chair at the foot of her bed. ‘He slept well, bless him. I got up and gave him a bit of a carry when he cried. You were out cold and I don’t blame you.’ He beamed at her. ‘He settled down again fast enough. I expect he’ll want feeding soon though.’

Alison grimaced. Before the doctor left he’d checked that she knew how to feed him. She didn’t but Fred had read about it in a book and told her what to do. To her great embarrassment the doctor had stayed to make sure she did it right. Exposing herself in front of the two men was mortifying. Now she was going to have to do it again, day after day after day. That creature was going to hang off her and look up at her with Paul’s eyes. She scowled in disgust. ‘Can’t he wait a bit?’

‘He’ll cry when he’s ready I dare say.’ Fred turned to look at the baby, still snuffling but content enough where he was. ‘We ought to think of a name. I didn’t want to talk about it before in case it was bad luck but have you had any ideas? Do you want to call him after your dad? He was John really but we all said Jack.’

Alison had never met her father of course, but everyone spoke of him with such fondness that it was almost like having a good memory of him. Fred would tell her about things they’d done together as boys and she was building up a precious picture of him in her mind. She didn’t want to taint that by associating him with this new creature. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘It would feel odd as I didn’t know him. What about your dad? What was he called?’

‘Clarence. I’d rather we didn’t choose that.’

‘God, no. He’d be laughed at.’ Alison didn’t want that for her child, even if she didn’t love it. She knew all too well what it was like to be mocked. Best not to tempt fate. ‘Have you got any names you like in particular?’

Fred sat back and thought for a while. ‘It’s popular to pick a name from the royal family. What about George? Or Charles?’

‘But they’re such stuffy names,’ said Alison. ‘Can’t we have something more modern?’

‘Do you know what I’ve always liked,’ Fred said suddenly. ‘I really like the name David. I don’t know why. I haven’t got anyone in mind, no friend or relation or anything. I just like it.’

Alison nodded. ‘I like the idea of calling him something for himself, not after anybody. David Chapman. That sounds good to me.’ Better than he deserves, a little voice in her head said.

As if reacting to his new name, the baby began to cry. Fred hurried over to pick him up. ‘There, there. Don’t worry, David. That’s you, that is. Are you hungry? We’ll see if Mummy can do something about that, shall we?’ He held the baby as if he knew what he was doing.

Alison pulled a face as the little mouth latched on to her and began to suck lustily. ‘Ow, that hurts. I’m not sure I’m going to get used to this. Where did you learn to pick up babies like that, Fred? You haven’t got any younger brothers or sisters, have you?’

‘Oh, it’ll get better,’ said Fred breezily. ‘And I had a fair bit to do with babies in the war, you know. Carrying them out of bombed-out buildings, usually.’ He grew quiet. Some of them had lived, some of them hadn’t. One had died in his arms. That was something he had tried to forget, but now the sight of David, so healthy and strong, brought it all back. He coughed. He wasn’t going to tell Alison about it. Why upset her when there was no need?

‘I sent a message to your mum at the paper shop,’ he went on. ‘Did I do right? I didn’t want to wait until we had a name as I wasn’t to know we’d agree so quick.’

Alison shifted to try to get more comfortable but it was impossible. ‘No, that was the right thing to do. She’d be livid if she wasn’t first to know.’

Fred knew that was true and it was partly why he’d done it. ‘I expect she’ll be round to see you,’ he said. ‘To see you both, that is.’

Just what I need, thought Alison. ‘Maybe. She won’t care if I’m all right but she’ll want to make sure she’s seen the baby so she can tell everyone about her grandson. Bet she doesn’t offer to help out though.’ David stopped for a moment and she sighed with relief. ‘Here, have him back, see if he’ll sleep again.’ But she spoke too soon. Before Fred could even get up, the baby started to cry again and only one thing would silence him. Alison turned her head away from those staring, familiar eyes.

That evening Cora made her way along Falcon Road, a parcel under her elbow. Just before she’d been going to leave, Jill had knocked on her door and pressed a bag into her arms. ‘Just a little something I had ready for the baby,’ she’d said. ‘I expect your Alison will be too tired to make anything for a while so I’d like them to have this.’

Cora had been surprised. It was news to her that anyone in the street felt anything like affection for Alison. Jill was a good soul, though. She’d be kind to anybody. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you, Jill,’ she’d said. ‘I’ll make sure she gets it and is grateful.’

‘No need for any fuss,’ Jill replied. ‘We both know what it’s like when you’ve just had a baby. The last thing you want is having to mind your manners. If there’s anything I can do, I’d be glad to help.’

‘We wouldn’t want to impose,’ Cora said hurriedly. She had no intention herself of helping her daughter and wasn’t going to be outdone by her friendly neighbour. ‘I’d best be off, I don’t want to keep them up late.’ She’d picked up the little romper suit she’d got for a discount at the market and slipped it in the bag.

Now she paused in the streetlight just by the butcher’s shop and looked up at the windows above. It was a long time since she’d been to the flat upstairs. The last time she could hardly wait to get out. She had gone there with Jack and been introduced to old Mrs Chapman, who’d given them a piece of her mind about the state of youth and how scandalous young people were compared to in her day, with no reason other than she liked the sound of her own strident voice. She couldn’t get out fast enough. The result was, Cora had no idea how big the flat was or what it was really like. She didn’t have high hopes of it. Everyone knew men on their own were useless at making a home of a place, and Alison had never shown any signs of interest in that sort of thing.

It was growing colder by the minute so she quickly rang the bell. Thankfully it wasn’t long before Fred was opening the door, beaming as he said, ‘Come inside, come inside. It’s blowing a right gale out there.’

Cora followed him up the stairs and was led along to Alison’s room. Her daughter was sitting up in bed, propped up by pillows, and a cot was in the corner. Cora looked around in astonishment, taking in the fresh paint, new curtains and counterpane. ‘Blimey. You done all right for yourself here,’ she breathed. ‘Got you set up in a palace, ain’t he? No wonder you couldn’t wait to marry him.’

Alison raised her eyebrows. Typical. Her mother hadn’t even asked how she was, while conveniently forgetting what the truth had been. ‘He’s over there,’ she said, nodding towards the cot. ‘Pick him up if you want.’

Cora set down her parcel at the foot of the bed and made her way over to inspect her grandson. She couldn’t see much of him – he was bundled up in a knitted jacket and white wool cap, and she could just make out his pink nose. Carefully she reached down for him. He barely stirred.

‘Well behaved, I’ll say that for him.’ She pulled the little cap back and took in his face. ‘Doesn’t look much like you, does he? That’s probably a good thing. But what a shame he’s got that bad blood in him.’

‘Thanks,’ said Alison. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say? Because I don’t really need reminding.’

Fred bustled in at that point, bearing a tray with cups of tea and a plate of cake. ‘Here you are, Cora, something to warm you up after your cold walk. And one for you too, Alison. What do you reckon, Cora? Isn’t he a good baby?’

Cora gazed at her grandson and felt a little tug. This was her blood too, no matter how he’d been conceived. It wasn’t really his fault. Despite herself, she couldn’t help a rush of excitement. This was a new life after all, and it looked as if he’d be brought up in comfort. She stroked his cheek, as much as she could see of it.

Alison was amazed. Her mother had shown more tenderness to her new grandson in two minutes than she had done for her own daughter’s entire life. But she wasn’t going to protest. If Cora approved of the baby, in spite of his bloodline, then life would be much easier. ‘He’s called David,’ she said.

‘David?’ Cora looked up sharply. ‘We don’t know any Davids, do we?’

‘It’s my favourite boy’s name,’ Fred explained. ‘We didn’t want to name him after anyone. This is a new start for all of us.’ He waited to see if Cora would react.

‘Well, it’s your choice,’ she said as she gently lifted the baby. ‘At least it isn’t too new-fangled. I don’t approve of them made-up names. David. Yes, he looks like a David.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Shall I pass him to you?’

‘No, no,’ Alison said quickly, ‘I’m still too tired. I hold him all the time when he feeds. Put him back in his cot.’

‘I’ll have him.’ Fred reached for the little bundle. ‘I’m getting the hang of this, holding the baby and eating cake at the same time.’ He grinned broadly, settling himself in the chair at the end of the bed. David slept on oblivious as Fred helped himself to a slice.

‘Oh, I nearly forgot.’ Cora picked up the parcel and handed it to Alison. ‘This is from me and the other thing inside the paper bag is from Jill. She made it herself.’

Alison felt a lump in the back of her throat. So not everyone on Ennis Street hated her. Jill had every reason to shun her after she’d torn the bridesmaid’s dress, but she’d put herself out to make this little padded coat. It was beautifully sewn, with tiny cuffs and a double row of buttons, all in a soft pastel lemon. ‘It’s lovely,’ she breathed. ‘Do thank her from me. When I’m up and about I’ll come to see her myself. It’s perfect.’ She had to stop herself from crying.

‘What, don’t you like the romper suit, then?’ Cora was onto her like a shot, taking offence at the least excuse. To think she’d gone all the way to the market specially, when she could have gone straight home to put her feet up – it was sheer ingratitude.

Fred stepped in. ‘They’re both lovely,’ he assured her. ‘You’re very kind to have brought it. It’ll be very useful. We didn’t get much beforehand, as it would have been bad luck, so this is just what we need.’ He could tell the little suit had come from the market as some of the stitching was already coming undone and there was a button missing but he knew Cora didn’t have two spare pennies to rub together, and had no intention of finding fault. ‘We’re very lucky, aren’t we, Alison?’

Alison nodded, but she was already drifting off to sleep. Try as she might she could not keep her eyes open. Fred noticed and got to his feet. ‘Tell you what, Cora, why don’t we put this little fellow back down again and then I’ll give you a tour of the flat. Would you like that?’

Cora’s eyes lit up. This would give her something to talk about in the shop tomorrow. ‘If it’s not too much, Fred,’ she said. ‘I can see you’ve got a lot on your hands.’

‘My pleasure.’ Fred carefully set David in his cot once more and straightened up. ‘Follow me.’

Cora couldn’t believe it. As she headed back along Falcon Road, she shook her head. Fancy Fred having a flat like that, done up so modern. It was hard to credit. Even more so to think her gormless daughter was sharing it. The girl really had fallen on her feet. The place was huge – she’d never have guessed it from the street, but it went back a long way and there were rooms on the top floor she hadn’t known about. Four bedrooms! For one couple and a small baby. And two indoor bathrooms. As for that kitchen with all its up-to-the-minute gadgets – she’d hardly known where to look. She had never seen anything like it.

Part of her couldn’t help thinking how different life would have been if she’d had somewhere like that to raise her own family. There would have been none of the fighting between the girls forced to share cramped bedrooms, competing for space for their shabby clothes and the few toys they’d had. Then she shook herself. No point in thinking like that. What was done was done. The important thing now was to make sure everyone knew that her daughter had made a good marriage and was living in the lap of luxury. Fred Chapman might be short and balding but he knew how to do out a home all right.

As for the baby … She’d been determined not to feel anything for it, as it carried the blood of the Lanning family, but somehow he had touched her heart. She’d almost forgotten what that felt like but when she’d held him, so tiny and helpless, she couldn’t turn off her emotions. Well, he’d want for nothing. She’d never seen a man so prepared to look after a baby as Fred, who seemed to know everything about it. There would be no lack of new clothes and toys for this little boy. He’d be spoilt rotten. Cora sighed. She hadn’t wanted to feel the slightest bit of love for him – and yet she couldn’t help it. When all was said and done he was after all her grandson.

‘So my useless sister’s had her baby.’ Hazel stormed around the kitchen, slamming cupboard doors. ‘A boy. Mum’s gone round there now. Who’d have thought it, she goes and gets herself pregnant, pops out a boy and Mum suddenly can’t stay away.’

‘Well, she’s bound to want to see him,’ Neville pointed out. He couldn’t understand why Hazel thought it was odd. ‘My mum was pleased as punch with the news. She had a little coat all made up for when he arrived.’

This made Hazel angrier than ever. ‘Did she now? All ready and waiting?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Well, it’s just as well Alison’s produced a baby because it doesn’t look as if your mum’ll have a grandchild of her own any time soon, does it? Not with the way we’ve been going. No, even my ugly sister can have a baby but there’s not much chance of me having one. Not if you can’t do the business.’

Neville shifted uncomfortably. ‘Now look here, Hazel …’ He felt ashamed. He knew he deserved all the blame she heaped on him but now he’d begun to realise just how angry she could get and how long that anger lasted.

‘Look at what? There’s nothing to look at. That’s the bleeding trouble.’

Neville quickly changed the subject and, hoping to pacify her, he said, ‘I’m going to do overtime tomorrow. I’ll be working all night on the late shift.’

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Hazel’s eyes blazed. ‘All night!’ she yelled. ‘You can’t satisfy me in bed, so rather than try you’re going to work night shifts!’

‘No, that’s not why I’m doing it,’ Neville told her. ‘You keep on about wanting new furniture so I thought it would boost our savings. I’m not doing it to keep away from you …’

‘I should bleeding well hope not!’ Hazel slammed her hands against the table. ‘We’ve only been married three months; it’d be a sad thing if you was trying to avoid me already. What made you say that though? Is that what you really think? Is that what your mates at the factory think?’

‘Of course not …’

‘Cos if they do you can tell them to mind their own bleeding business. Small-minded interfering busybodies that they are.’

‘Hang on, Hazel, they’re my friends …’

‘Friends who think you should spend more time down the pub with them and less at home with me. Some friends.’

‘I’m only doing it for the money …’

‘And what am I meant to do while you’re away all night? Tell me that, will you? I can’t even go round to Mum as she’s off seeing that new bloody baby …’

‘Well, I wasn’t to know your sister was going to have it now, was I?’

‘Of course not, Neville. As far as we’re all meant to believe, the baby’s come early, months early, in fact.’ Hazel spoke to him as if he were a child. ‘But at least it’s come. So she’s managed to do something I’ll never be able to. Hasn’t she?’ She advanced towards him. ‘Hasn’t she?’

‘Now, Hazel, don’t be like that …’

Neville didn’t finish his sentence because Hazel suddenly raised her right hand and hit him hard across the face. She stood there as if willing him to react, then ran towards the bedroom, screaming in frustration.

Neville stayed where he was, lifting his hand to gently touch his cheek. At least it wasn’t on top of the first bruise, which had faded considerably anyway. How was he going to explain this? He had to be back at work in under an hour. Slowly he made his way to the kitchen sink and ran the cold water, splashing it onto his aching face. It was all his fault; he was no good in bed. The harder he tried the worse it got. He couldn’t blame Hazel. This was no more than he deserved. He had to stand back and put up with it because she was justified – he wasn’t a real man. But how was he going to explain this to his mates?