A Liverpool Song (46 page)

Emily joined her husband. He turned to her. ‘Em, remember our Andrew’s first nappy? The nurses thought we were mad when we screamed like that. It was a sight I’ll never forget.
There were colours in there that don’t exist in real life.’

Mary tutted. ‘Stop picking on my poor husband. He’s just given birth, remember. We don’t want him going all postnatal, do we?’

Thora was in a heap on the floor, and even Emily smiled. No matter what, her Andrew always maintained his dignity. ‘Joseph, give Katherine back to her father before he starts to fret. Then
go down the road and bring that hotpot up here. It’s in my fridge next to the cheese. With some pickled beetroot and crusty bread, it should be sufficient for everyone’s lunch. And you
must tell Daisy she’s an aunt. Whether or not she understands isn’t important. I’ll go with you to St Helens.’

Thora hauled herself up and sat in a chair. Witnessing the development of this group of people, albeit by proxy for much of the time, had opened her eyes. She knew now how true love worked, how
men could cry without ceasing to be men, how relationships changed while remaining strong. Joe, who had never stopped loving Emily, had stepped back for a force known as Geoff. Father to a daughter
with special needs, he soldiered on. Andrew, raised through his teens by three parents, was a normal, decent man. And as for Mary, she was just wonderful. Without this family, Thora’s life
would be very dull.

‘You’ll be going home soon, then?’ Andrew asked.

‘Aye, I will. But first, I have to hand over to this Eva you’ve been telling me about. You’re a lot stronger, Emily, but housework gets a bit much. If you’d stopped any
longer in that bloody place, you’d have lost the use of your legs. I’ve written to the government about it. They want talking about, them mental doctors and nurses. You could have
finished up in a bloody wheelchair.’

Andrew stood up. ‘Thora, you swore twice. My child isn’t used to that sort of language.’

Thora delivered a raspberry. ‘They listen through their mother’s bodies, you daft bugger. How many times has Mary threatened to deck you with one of her copper bottoms? More fights
in this house than in a boxing club.’ She folded her arms.

He grinned. So far, paternity seemed not to have affected his ability to torment women. Life without the taunting of the superior sex would have been dull indeed. Although he shared no genes
with Geoff, he had learned much by watching a master at work. Mary stood her corner every time, of course.

‘Ignore him,’ was Emily’s advice.

‘I will,’ promised Thora.

‘I do,’ Mary told them. ‘In fact, I’ve no idea how Katie happened, because I’ve been sleeping in the summer-house for a year.’

‘Osmosis,’ Andrew told her. ‘Look it up.’

The banter continued until Katie called time. She was taken upstairs by her parents while Emily and Thora began to prepare the table for lunch. Joe brought the hotpot and it was placed in the
oven. The grandparents nodded off in chairs. Joe and Emily, opposite each other, dozed near the fireplace while Thora, midwife and grandma-by-proxy, stretched out on the sofa. She had never before
felt so thoroughly at home anywhere. She didn’t want to go back to Bolton, though she needed to see her real grandchildren; she wanted to stay with Emily. She could visit her family whenever
she wished, but she was so happy and settled here.

Upstairs, Katie was feeding.

‘The real milk should be in soon,’ her mother said. ‘If she gets the colostrum, she collects my immunities. After that, I may bottle-feed. Well, I don’t want to end up
shaped like a failed barrage balloon. Don’t laugh at me, Andrew Sanderson. She’s only a couple of hours old, and I already feel drained.’

‘Shall we call her Draculina?’ he asked.

‘She’s Katherine Mary. Do you think I should try pressing her face with a cool iron? She’s very crumpled. Looks like she got screwed up, thrown in a bin, then rescued by a
passing Samaritan.’

‘You’re a cruel woman, Mary.’

She nodded her agreement. ‘Caesareans are the best. They come out ironed, happy, completely dressed and potty trained, full set of teeth, table manners – the lot.’

‘She’s lovely,’ he insisted. ‘Different, but lovely.’

‘She’s ours, Drew.’

‘We made a person,’ he said.

The weight of his statement hit home for both of them. Katie was them. ‘I’ve seen this so many times, Drew, and I’ve wondered about the expressions on parents’ faces.
They’ve made a person. Even when the wife’s bigger than a bus, the baby’s still no more than an idea. Then, whoosh, and it’s so flaming real.’

He sighed. ‘Three hours old, and she already rules the roost.’

‘It’s not that, love. It’s her needs and her wants and her disposition. It’s nature and nurture and where will we go wrong? It’s understanding the crying before she
learns to talk. They say nurses, doctors and teachers make the worst parents.’

‘Rubbish.’

‘Quite. No good at it, you see.’

‘She’ll be fine.’

‘Will she? She’s Gemini. They can be all over the place. My belly hasn’t gone down much, so I’ll be all over the place as well, because there’s too much of me. And
with her being a Gemini, so naughty they are, I shall be too fat to catch up with her. And with me being fat, you won’t love me any more.’

‘True.’

‘I’ll kill you.’

‘I know. And you’ll get away with it, post-partum blues and all that. Now, there’s a song title. Louis Armstrong might be interested. I don’t wanna be in yo shoes, yo
woman got the post-partum blues, I think I’m gonna go away, try to live another day.’

‘You are sick.’

‘Yup.’

‘Tell me some more.’

‘She killed the chickens in the yard, hit you on the head so hard, shot yo momma and yo dad, got them blues so very bad.’

‘It’s crap.’

He summoned his broad, slow-to-arrive smile, one he preserved just for her. ‘
Semper fidelis
, Mary.’

‘Right. Plenty of vinegar with mine.’

They had survived.

They survived twice more, and Mary regained her figure within six weeks every time. By 1972, they had two daughters and one son. Helen joined Katie in 1970, and she was born
after nine hours of labour, uncreased, unblemished, unruffled and stunningly beautiful. Katie, who had ironed out her face by growing, was pretty, dynamic and naughty. The second little girl was so
perfect that her parents thought she might be a Katie in reverse, but she didn’t deteriorate.

Katie was very pleased with her new doll. She called Helen Len, as she wasn’t ready for anything duosyllabic, and she dragged the tiny baby from her crib more than once, cuddled her rather
roughly, sang to her in nonsense and was eventually confined to prison at certain times, which pleased her not at all. Her hatred for the playpen grew daily, and she screamed magnificently.
‘Bad,’ she yelled, ‘bad, bad, bad.’

Helen didn’t cry. She yelped like a puppy when hungry, purred like a kitten when picked up even by her older sister, wore a smile at all times, and was heart-touchingly gorgeous. It
occurred to Mary on several occasions that Helen might be thick, but she was proved wrong when, at nine months, having never crawled, the child stood up and walked. She took four steps to the
playpen, stared at her mother, and stood gripping the bars until lifted and placed inside the holding cell with Katie. This baby girl had a quiet power that must surely have come from intellect, so
she wasn’t thick, then.

The bond was clearly unbreakable. The older child, well into her third year, became a second mother to little Helen. Mary, feeling redundant, brought Eva back into the recipe. A nursery was
created, and the children spent much of their time with Eva, who needed the money. Her own children were handed over to her sister, who lived in Eva’s house, and Eva found herself becoming a
nanny to the Sanderson children when Mary took part-time work at the Women’s.

Ian’s birth wasn’t so much an event as a slight interruption. Like Katie, he arrived suddenly and without fanfare, but in the medical corner of the Picton Library’s reference
section in the cultural sector of Liverpool. Although this caused something of a hullabaloo, Mary and the baby remained unfazed. They were scooped up, manhandled, and placed in an ambulance.

Andrew arrived at the Women’s bearing gifts and a strong resemblance to an unmade bed. His stethoscope hung down his back, his hair stuck up in all directions, and he was wearing odd
shoes. Mary knew all over again why she loved this man so much. He was a generous, adorable, unpredictable fool. ‘It’s a boy,’ she said, ‘so we can give up now.’

He picked up his son. ‘In the reference library, eh? That’s a good sign. He’ll be a great reader. Give up what?’ he asked.

‘Only my tubes, you daft swine. Who got you ready? You look like something out of a hospital pantomime.’

‘I did it all by myself.’

‘Oh, God.’

Eight weeks later, Mary was back at work full-time as a ward sister. Eva Dawson acquired another charge, a solemn little lad who followed her with his eyes right from the start. Katie, now four
years old, displayed little interest in the new arrival. When questioned, she put her hands on her hips in the manner of an old woman, and shook her head at Eva. ‘I got a-nuff,’ she
said. ‘I got her. She missed potty and did it on floor.’ Training her little sister was enough of a trial without sitting and singing to a baby who was so determinedly unimpressed.

‘Her’ smiled sweetly. Whatever happened, Helen remained calm and beautiful.

‘He’s your brother,’ Eva snapped.

Katie wasn’t ‘bovvered’, and she said so. ‘I got Helen,’ she said, proud of her pronunciation. ‘Get anovver Katie for him.’

‘That’s us told, then,’ Eva whispered to Ian when she lifted him for his bottle.

Emily arrived. ‘I can see a small deposit in the bathroom,’ she called through the doorway. ‘I’ll clean it up, Eva.’

‘Thanks.’

Emily’s situation had altered. The pair of bungalows had become one with four bedrooms, a large Sanderson Intelligent Kitchen, a dining room, a reading room and a double garage. Joe no
longer went away regularly; he sent others to look after his widespread business, while he travelled no further than Staffordshire and West Yorkshire, as he would not leave his wife overnight
unless Thora was visiting. During weekdays, Emily spent time with Eva and the grandchildren, and weekends were devoted to her amusement. She was taken to Southport, the Lake District, the Dales,
Derbyshire, and even London.

She entered the room. ‘Eva?’ she whispered.

‘What? Why are we whispering?’

‘She can read. Katie can read.’

‘Course she can. I made sure she can. She’s going to a preparing school, so I had to get her ready.’

‘Preparatory school, Eva.’

‘Yeah, that as well. Mary did some words with her, but she’s tired when she gets home, so I learned her – I mean taught her.’

‘Well done. That opens a lot of portals for her. But . . .’ She closed the door. ‘They’re having their nap,’ she explained. ‘Getting her to school, separating
her from Helen, it’s not going to be easy. And it will probably be down to us.’

Eva nodded sagely. ‘It’s nice to see a married couple so wrapped up in each other, but . . . I hope you don’t mind me speaking out, Emily, only they’ve got three kiddies,
young kiddies. They’ll never grab these years back.’

‘Neither will you, Eva.’

‘I know. But I need to work for the money, don’t I? Mary doesn’t. My feller’s a gardener, but Doc’s a consultant. These little girls eat in the nursery except at
weekends, and your son and daughter-in-law don’t seem to put their kiddies first. I know they take them out Saturdays and Sundays, but look what they’re missing.’

Emily nodded. ‘I’ve tried to tell them as gently as possible that they should spend more time with the children, but they’re both career-minded.’

Eva sighed. Had it not been for the money, she would have been at home with her own family, because this job was a bugger. Mary and Doc didn’t always work set hours, and Eva often got home
after her own children had gone to bed. ‘Well, I don’t want to lose me job, babe. They look after me well, money-wise. But I miss me kids. Don’t say anything.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Look. They wouldn’t know if you went home for a couple of hours, would they? I can manage. Once young madam’s at school, I can look after the two
littlies.’

Eva didn’t know what to say.

‘And I can drive. We can take these three to your house and start a riot.’

Eva maintained her silence.

‘It was a breakdown, Eva. I’m fine now. It’s true – whatever doesn’t kill you serves to make you stronger. I’ve no intention of being plugged into electric
sockets again. They weren’t so much headaches as earthquakes.’

Nanny Eva burst out laughing. ‘He got his way with words from you, didn’t he? You know Mary’s had her tubes tied?’

Emily nodded.

‘He chased her round this house last night with a puncture kit and a bike pump. Threatened to reinflate her equipment and take her for a ride. But she has the measure of him. If looks
could kill . . .’ She shrugged.

‘To go forever children, hand in hand. The sea is rising, and the world is sand,’ Emily said.

‘You what?’

‘Geoff’s philosophy. Andrew borrowed it, too. It’s Wilfred Owen, a war poet. It’s about accepting love, yet battling it in case it takes over. Something like that,
anyway. Children running, playing, love joining them, life going so fast, too fast.’ She paused. ‘Oh, Eva, I miss Geoff. Sometimes it seems like a hundred years since I saw him; at
other times, it feels like yesterday.’ She forced a smile. ‘I don’t seem to keep pace with real clocks and calendars. There was Geoff time, and no-Geoff time. I’m a silly
old woman.’

Eva blinked rapidly. ‘Well, if we were all as silly as you, we’d be OK. And you’re not old. Sixty isn’t old, not these days.’

Emily glanced in the mirror. She had aged since his death. Joe had shown his true, mellower colours, had made a beautiful home for them to share, but there remained in her chest only a flicker
of a heart that had once burned so bright a flame that it had shown in her face and in her stance. Sixty wasn’t old for some, but it was for her. Was needing to die a sin? Could a person love
another so much that a good son and wonderful grandchildren were not enough? Still, at least the suicidal thoughts had dissipated. She could wait. And for a reason she didn’t need to
understand, she suspected that the wait would not be a lengthy one.