A Step Too Far (37 page)

     ‘I spoke to a woman a couple of houses down the street who said that nobody had been allowed to see Becky or the child. I knew what giving birth be like, dad, I know it leaves you feeling worn out but that feeling is gone after a few hours of sleep.’

     ‘You be frettin’ over nothin’!’

     ‘No.’ Miriam’s reply was sharp and quick with anxiety. ‘You see the woman said something else, she said there had been no doctor call at the Turners, isn’t that strange, seeing a newborn child is poorly?’

     Cutting one thin slice of ‘Shag’ tobacco – all he allowed himself of the half ounce block – Isaac answered, ‘You know what gossips be, some of ’em talk so much their tongue gets sunburn.’

     ‘What about this one?’ Miriam laughed sticking out her tongue.

     ‘You ’as sense to keep it in the shade.’ Isaac packed the sliver of tobacco into the bowl of a smoke-browned briar pipe.

     ‘But what if it be true?’

     Slipping matches and pipe together into another pocket, Isaac met the worried frown.

     ‘And what if it be no more’n hearsay? Be sensible, Miriam wench, it stands to reason we, the child’s father’s family, would ’ave been told were aught amiss with that little ’un. Now,’ he smiled, ‘you just worry over that “poor man’s goose” you be cooking, I be lookin’ forward to a plate o’ that when I come home.’

     ‘Do you have to go back? You’ve been at that works from first light, surely someone else can manage for one night at least.’

     ‘Ar wench, likely they could.’ Isaac nodded buttoning his jacket. ‘But it were Isaac Eldon give promise it would be him would oversee the settin’ up of hydraulic feed to them machines bein’ installed at New Crown Forgings, and I reckons a promise be a promise. For that reason if for no other I ’ave to see the project through to the finish.’

     Miriam returned to her cooking. Slicing bullock’s liver she had queued an hour to get into the dish, she covered it with another layer of potatoes, and then one of sliced onion before adding sage mixed with lard and finally two slices of bacon which was her own weekly ration. She could have eaten it when serving the rest with mash and Oxo gravy to Reuben and her father but using it to make ‘poor man’s goose’ would see that ration go further.

     Carrying the prepared dish to the fireside oven where it would bake slowly, she pondered her father’s dedication and his pride in his work.

     Pride and dedication! Firelight splintered by tears spread a thousand slender darts. Isaac Eldon had a wealth of both.

34

No visitors permitted into the Turner house.

     Katrin mulled over the girl’s latest communiqù. It had been a simple matter to check on the time Alice’s shift ended and coincide her own leaving to match.

     ‘
Isaac Eldon had said nothin’
.’

     Watching water rush into the bath, Katrin heard again the bewildered tone in Alice’s voice.

     ‘
He ain’t never spoke of Becky nor of that new grandchild of his. Nosy Nora says Mary Turner be like a bulldog, won’t let nobody through the door, her told Nora to bugger off and mind her own business. That bit give we all a laugh; but the other, Mary’s keepin’ everybody away, I thinks that be strange, what d’ you think Kate?
’

     Turning off the taps, Katrin reached for a pretty glass flagon half filled with tiny pearlised grains. She held them in her hand a moment, their delicate perfume drifting like a scented cloud.

     ‘
Madame understands they are offered only to our most privileged clients
  . . .’

     The assistant at the London dress shop Arthur had taken her to had fawned, producing the Helena Rubinstein Beauty Casket when it seemed she might lose her frightfully expensive sale.

     Katrin had consented to a church ceremony, agreed to wear white, albeit the silk shanting suit she had finally purchased was a very pale shade of cream. But she had opted for a church wedding for the reason Jacob Hawley believed. Her mother had always dreamed of seeing her girl walk down the aisle in a bridal gown. Jacob had smiled, taking her hand in his the evening Arthur had come to ask permission to marry her. But she had not done what was asked because Violet would have wished it, she had done it for him, the man who had been a father to her, the one man she felt any love for. She had asked him to stay here in Wednesbury, to tell Arthur Whitman he must find someone else to go with him to Australia, to let that someone be Isaac Eldon. But for once in her life Jacob Hawley had turned a deaf ear to her request. But it was not a lifetime separation, he would return – and so would Arthur Whitman!

     Dropping the grains into the bath, she watched them circle then melt into the water, blending with it like so many crystal tears. Tears she had so often shed after finding she was— But those days were over, she was no longer that hurt little girl, she was a woman, a woman who would avenge those tears a thousandfold.

     Katrin’s thoughts dwelt on the return of her husband and the problem she had not yet resolved: how and why Isaac Eldon had to go.

     ‘
He ain’t never spoke of Becky nor of that new grandchild. I thinks that be strange Kate
  . . .’

     Strange was an understatement. Was Isaac Eldon privy to whatever it was had Mary Turner bar everyone who attempted to visit Becky and the child?

     ‘
Mary Turner be like a bulldog, won’t let nobody through the door
.’

     Would ‘nobody’ include the wife of Wednesbury’s most important industrialist?

     The answer could well be yes!

     So the wife of that industrialist must call when the ‘bulldog’ was away from the kennel!

Jacob had been so thoughtful in the choice of special gifts he had hung on the ‘Katrin tree’. He had always tried to give her something useful and the one he had placed there some years ago would certainly be that.

     ‘
I be in half a mind to take the risk
  . . .’

     Alice’s words had given her the idea. ‘
I be of a mind to go round there while the dragon be out. I could tell Isaac Eldon I ’ave to go to the chemist to get a bottle of summat for mother’s women’s troubles. He won’t argue with that ’specially when I promises I’ll be back at work afore dinnertime be over. Becky’s mother don’t be forty yet so her has to help with the war effort same as everybody else. Her works at the Civic Restaurant and though Becky be lying in it don’t mean Mary can take time off; her must be at that restaurant from around ten in the mornin’ to about three in the afternoon. In the meantime Becky be on her own, that don’t be no hardship, after all givin’ birth don’t mean you be crippled, Becky can manage ’til her mother be back
.’

     Becky would be alone, just her and the baby in the house! Katrin glanced at her watch. A few minutes to twelve. It would raise no eyebrows if she left the office now. Slipping into her coat, lifting her bag onto her shoulder she reached for the plain cardboard box. It had been a brilliant idea replacing the gas mask with the item she was taking to the Turner house; an everyday thing, a gas mask had to be carried wherever you went so would raise no eyebrows, unlike the gift it housed.

     A gift? It could be called that.

     Would Becky see it as Jacob Hawley had meant it to be seen? Would she see the contents of this box as ‘something useful’?

     She had not come to this street in so many years. Katrin glanced at the smoke-grimed houses hunched together as if each was trying to hide behind the other. Queen Street! Distaste became a sneer in her throat. Despite its grander name it was no different to Cross Street; both were dismal. Was it any wonder Violet had moved to Hollies Drive at the first opportunity?

     Doors hereabout scarcely ever being locked had been another tit-bit revealed by Alice Butler; really, if this venture proved a success she should thank the girl.

   
If
it proved a success. Katrin smiled as the door swung open. Everything so far seemed to say it would.

     Calling quietly, she moved from the scullery into the living room. Table, chairs and a worn sofa jostled for space with a dresser boasting an assortment of crockery. Opposite a sleepy fire dozed beneath a large kettle, its bottom and sides blackened from years of being hung over burning coals.

     A fire, a steaming kettle, but no Becky! Katrin hesitated. Hadn’t Alice said something about ‘lying in’? Did that mean Becky would be in bed? Guessing the only door in the room would be shielding the stairs, she crossed quickly to it trying to keep her footsteps as quiet as possible on steps which, though uncarpeted, were bleached almost white with constant scrubbing.

     She called again softly on seeing Becky in the third bedroom. Why did she not answer? Katrin moved further into the room.

     Becky had not answered because she was asleep, as was the infant in her arms.

     Looking at the tiny bundle, a smile curved Katrin’s lips. Each movement deft and silent, she opened the gas mask container and lifted out the Brownie box camera which had been that gift left for her on the ‘Katrin tree’. Becky would be thrilled with a photo of her baby. She could probably get a shot of Becky before she woke. A photo of her asleep with the child across her breast would make a beautifully tender picture.

     Focusing quickly, she played in on the sleeping pair. She had thought the click would waken Becky, but when it did not she poised the camera again. Several shots would be better than a single one, they would provide more chance of success. Not much could be seen of the baby, just the dark fuzz of hair peeping above the white knitted blanket. Reaching to the sleeping bundle she gently drew the cover from the tiny occupant, drawing a quick involuntary breath as, disturbed by the touch, the head turned and the eyes opened, so brown they could almost have been black. Katrin almost forgot her reason for drawing the blanket aside then, as the baby snuffled, she brought the camera close gaining several takes before the eyes closed. Perhaps one more of Becky with the face of her son showing clearly as her own. A memory to treasure.

     Becky had still not woken. Delighted with the surprise the photographs would give her, Katrin hurriedly replaced the camera in the gas mask box, then noticed the envelope that had been dropped onto the bed.

     A letter from Robert Eldon?

     She stared at the envelope.

     To send him a photograph, to congratulate him on the birth of the child, she would need his military address and to ask Becky would entail explanations which would ruin the planned surprise.

     She had promised herself she would tell Robert Eldon the true parentage of Becky’s child, a promise she would not suffer be broken now!

     Katrin reached to the envelope.

     Not a letter from Robert Eldon! A letter to Robert Eldon!

     ‘Kate, did mother let you in?’ Her voice thick and drowsy, blue eyes blinking rapidly as though sleep still had them prisoner, Becky glanced at the half open doorway, ‘Did her say for you to come up?’

     Katrin’s smile lied easily as the one ready on her tongue. ‘I looked for her in the Civic Restaurant but she was probably busy in the kitchens, but I knew she would have told me to come see you.’

     ‘But her wouldn’t!’ Disturbed by the sharp cry, the infant whimpered and Becky drew the cover across the small head, a flash of alarm in the look she directed to Katrin. ‘Her wouldn’t have said to come, her don’t let nobody come, and if her finds you’ve been to the house then all hell will break loose!’

     Tears, anguish, fear! How brightly they shone in those blue, blue eyes . . . and how she delighted in seeing them. But it was not the moment to allow Katrin Whitman’s emotions to show through, for now the charade must continue.

     ‘Becky.’ She adopted a pose of sympathy. ‘What is so awful? Tell me what is wrong.’

     Arms jerking the child held against her chest, Becky laughed despairingly. ‘This be what’s wrong. I don’t want it, I never wanted it, I tried everythin’ I could think of to get rid of it but nothin’ worked. Oh Lord Kate, why did nothin’ work?’

     Masking a flush of pleasure Katrin said quietly, ‘You are overtired from the birth, you will feel differently in a few days, especially when telling Rob the good news.’

     ‘I can’t tell Rob, he mustn’t know! Oh help me Kate, help me please, tell me what to do.’

     Firm where she had been sympathetic she said, ‘First thing you must do is lay the baby back in his bed, you must not risk falling asleep with him in your arms. It has been known for infants to be smothered by a mother so worn out and weary she has dropped asleep with the baby still feeding at the breast then has rolled onto it; and you are very tired Becky, best let me lay him down for you then you can sleep yourself.’

     ‘I ’ave to feed him first.’

‘I ’ave to feed him first.
’

     Had that reply come a little too quickly?

     Queen Street behind her, relieved she had met with no one going to or coming from that house, Katrin walked quickly, following Holyhead Road toward Prodor.