All the Days of Our Lives (19 page)

What had he said to her last night? She thought back to what it was that had kept her awake, paralysed by worry, by a sense of abandonment. There had been no warm words, no loving reassurance. Yet he hadn’t exactly rejected her, either. He had been overwhelmed, she could see, and had nothing to give her when she needed to feel his arms close round her, reassuring her. Instead of which he had spoken in a strange, flat voice, not at all like his usual jaunty self.

‘Look, Katie.’ No fond nicknames now. That was all gone. ‘I don’t know what to say. I can’t sort this out tonight. Let’s sleep on it.’

He lay down, turned away from her and seemed to sleep easily, though she was not sure if he was pretending, just to avoid her.

Sort this out
, he had said, as if she was a carburettor that needed technical adjustment. Had she known, in her heart, that it would be like this? That Simon had never truly loved her, and that in her turn she was not sure of him? She had felt herself shut down. She could not bear to let herself feel the bald truth of this. Still she longed to believe in love, that what they had made together was not all false and a terrible mistake.

Footsteps came up the stairs, slowly, reluctantly. He came in with a cup and saucer.

‘Are you awake?’

‘Yes.’ She sat up slowly.

‘I brought you some tea.’

‘Thank you.’

He handed it to her in the gloom, then sat on the bed, at the end, far from her. His mood seemed even more distant. There was silence for a few moments and she sipped the sweet tea, feeling detached and helpless.

‘Look, it’s no good,’ Simon said, all in a rushed, clipped voice. ‘I’ve been thinking. You’ll have to go – you can’t go into the works in that state. It’s just not on. You’d better give in your notice today – I’ll see to it that you get references for another job somewhere, when you’re ready.’

‘What d’you mean? Just go?’ Her voice rose in panic. Even if she did not expect much of him, she had at least hoped for gentleness. She had not thought he would be this brutal. ‘What about . . . I mean, this is our baby – yours and mine!’

‘Not mine.’

‘What d’you mean, “not mine”?’ She scrambled up onto her knees in outrage. ‘Of course it’s yours – who else d’you think . . . ?’

‘I mean, I’m not a part of this. Look, keep your voice down, for God’s sake. You can see my position, can’t you? I’ve got the firm to run – there’s a war on, in case you’d forgotten. I’ll be taking over the firm one day, and I suppose one day I’ll have to get married, bring up a family with the right sort of girl. I mean if the Old Man found out – God almighty!’ He gave something that sounded like a chuckle. ‘Doesn’t bear thinking about. But I’m not ready for all that yet, anyway. I’m only just setting out on the road . . .’

The coldness gripped tighter round her heart.

‘The right sort of girl?’ She could barely get the words out. ‘What sort of girl am I then?’

‘Well,’ he tried to make light of it, ‘you know what I mean! There are certain expectations of the kind of person you marry. Look, I’m sorry about it, Katiekins.’ He reached for something and, unable to see in the dark, cursed and went to twitch back the curtain a little. He was dressed for the works, fumbling in his jacket pocket for his wallet.

Her rage and hurt were so deep that the words came out small and tight. ‘Do you realize I have nowhere to go? I have no one? This is your baby.’ Then she choked. ‘I thought you loved me. You’ve just been
playing
with me – all this time!’

‘Oh, now don’t start all that!’ He turned, the wallet in his hand. ‘Playing? Maybe a bit, yes. But what have you been doing? I’ve given you a good time – very nice being able to hop in someone’s motor and be whisked away for an evening out. I’ll bet you don’t know anyone else in a position to give you that. So don’t pretend I’ve been all take.’ He shrugged. ‘Fair dos, Katie – we’ve had some fun, but I can’t be seen to be hanging about with . . . Well, we’re just not each other’s type deep down, are we? Look – I’ll see you’re all right.’ He held out a wad of notes. ‘Here’s enough to look after yourself for a bit. You can either, well – see to it that there’s no child . . . or if you go ahead with the brat, that amount’ll keep you for a while until you’re on your feet again.’

Brat?
This man who had talked so fondly of children. She stared at him.

‘You’re paying me off? Like a cheap tart?’

‘Well, not exactly . . .’

The cup left her hand before she’d even thought. ‘I always knew you were a shallow, spoilt, boring . . .’ She heard it crack against his forehead. The dregs splashed down his face. She hurled the saucer after it, but it missed and thudded on the floor.

‘Ow! Christ, woman! What the hell’re you doing? Look, if that’s the way you’re going to behave, I’m not even going to try and discuss it with you. But it just makes my point – my family expects me to marry a respectable woman, not some easy tart like you.’

Katie gasped, but before she could reply he had moved close and was looking threateningly into her face.

‘And don’t you go trying any cheap tricks, like going to the Old Man – he won’t have any cotter with you, I can tell you right now. Your word against mine is hardly going to wash, is it?’

She was shaking her head now. She would never have done that. She didn’t want revenge and trouble – only love, from somewhere at least; and his love, she could see now, she had never had. Her sobs broke into the room.

‘Oh, don’t start that. Look, I’m going to work. You make sure you come in and hand in your notice. And be out of here by the time I get back, as well. This is for you – luckily I had a fair wedge in the house.’

He put the money down on the end of the bed, picked up something from the chair and went to the door.

‘We’ve had some nice times, Katie. Good luck, old girl. You’ll be all right – you’ll see.’

She sat in the quiet after the front door slammed, hugging her knees.

‘You bastard,’ she whispered. ‘You cowardly bastard . . .’

Suddenly she was seized by the need to be sick and ran to the bathroom, bringing up a grainy stream of tea and curdled milk. Afterwards she walked back unsteadily and sat on the bed.

I am alone, she thought, exhaustedly. There’s no one – just you and me. And for the first time she had fellow feeling for the little life growing in her. Picking up the sheaf of notes, she counted it. He had left her a hundred pounds.

She walked through the old familiar streets in darkness that evening, carrying her little holdall, until she reached Enid Thomas’s house.

Thank heavens it’s so dark, she thought, groping her way to the front door.

‘Who is it?’ Enid’s voice came through to her.

‘It’s me,’ she hissed. ‘Katie – Vera’s daughter.’

‘Who? I can’t hear yer!’

Katie rolled her eyes. So much for trying to come in quietly. Eventually Enid opened the door, looking out cautiously. She was dressed in her old slippers and her hair was looking a bit dishevelled.

‘Oh, it’s you, bab.’ Her gentle voice reached Katie soothingly. ‘I wasn’t expecting any visitors. Come on then, quick – mustn’t let the light out.’

Seeing Enid’s familiar figure was a comfort after the lonely, agonizing day she’d had and Katie felt tears rising in her.

‘D’yer want a cup of tea, bab? I’ve got some on the go.’

‘Yes, please – I’d love one.’

‘Might be on the weak side – you know how it is.’

‘Enid . . .’ The tone of Katie’s voice stopped Enid in her tracks. She looked up, the teapot in her hand. ‘I’m sorry to have to ask this, but can you put me up tonight, please? I’ll sleep anywhere – I don’t need anything much, I just haven’t got anywhere to go . . .’ She was babbling, her anxiety spilling out.

‘Stay here?’ Enid put the teapot down and looked closely at her. ‘What d’yer mean? Oh, you are in a state – what’s happened, bab?’

It was no good pretending and making up some excuse. Enid would find out sooner or later, and Katie was desperate for her help.

‘Mom’s told me not to come home. She’s, well, she’s thrown me out. Truth is, Enid’ – she lowered her head, her face burning with shame – ‘I’m . . . I’m expecting a baby.’

Enid sank onto the chair by the table.

‘You? You’re
expecting
. . . ?’ Seconds passed as she tried to absorb the shock of it, her mouth open. No – not
you
, Katie, surely not? A babby? You’re not that sort of girl!’

‘Well, it seems I am, doesn’t it?’ Katie retorted bitterly.

It took some time to convince Enid that she was sure, and Enid eventually said, ‘Oh, my word, Katie – I’d never,
ever
’ve thought it of you, the way you look so smart and nice and all your books and reading . . . Oh my goodness.’ She brought her hands up to her face. ‘You poor, poor thing.’ At last she remembered to attend to the teapot, her instinct immediately motherly and kind, despite her shock. ‘Have you had your tea? Are you hungry?’

‘Yes – no, I’m not hungry, thanks.’ Katie had been to a cafe and had sat eating a meagre mutton stew in a corner, glad to be somewhere where no one knew her. She hadn’t wanted to put Enid out any more than she had to. She knew Enid got into a tizzy easily.

Enid looked carefully at her, and Katie was full of gratitude. Now that she was getting over her shock – one of the many shocks life had thrown at her – Enid was squaring up to what needed to be done. And it was such a relief to tell someone who was kind and might help.

‘Whatever are you going to do, love? Who is he? Is he going to marry yer?’

Katie shook her head. ‘No. It doesn’t matter who he is. But he gave me money. And I’ll be able to work for quite a time yet. After that – I don’t know.’

She’d gone to Collinge’s that day, handed in her notice and walked into a job in a typing pool at another machine-tools firm, a job where she could be part of a crowd and not stand out. She already had good references from the Commercial School and didn’t stoop to ask for the glowing recommendations that Simon had promised. So far as she was concerned, she never wanted to set eyes on him again, the slimy bastard. She had to close the door on him. He was no help. He was nothing. As the day passed, she felt herself develop a hard shell of protection around herself. To her surprise, she wanted to wrap protection around the child. After all, it was all she had in the world now.

‘I’ll find another place to live,’ she promised Enid. ‘Only I just need somewhere for tonight. I don’t want to make trouble for you. You’ve been very kind.’

‘Well, Katie – I can’t say I’m not surprised at what you’ve told me. Shocked is the word – I’m shocked. But I’ve known you for such a time, I’m fond of you, bab, and your mother and I’ve been friends for years . . .’

‘Yes, that’s what I mean – I don’t want to cause trouble.’

‘And she threw you out?’ Enid’s good-natured face creased with distress. ‘I mean, it must’ve been a terrible blow for her. You’ve always been such a good girl, Katie. And your mother’s a lady. But surely she’ll change her mind, she’ll get over it. I mean, you’re her flesh and blood when it comes down to it. I should leave it a few days and then go and see her. Make it up with her. It’s hard for a mother to see this happen – but to wash her hands of you! I should have thought better of her. Give her another chance, and maybe she’ll give you one.’

Katie was silent. She remembered the look of vicious loathing on her mother’s face and her words:
D’you think I’ve hauled myself out of the gutter for you to drag us straight back down there again?

‘I don’t know about that,’ she said.

‘Look.’ Enid got up. ‘You can stay here tonight – of course you can. I mean, I can’t put you up for the long term, but . . .’

‘Oh no, I know! Thank you so much.’ She felt tearful again.

‘But do as I say, love – go and see your mother. See if you both can’t come to some agreement.’

As she settled Katie into her spare room that night – the room that had once been her dead son’s – Enid said goodnight, then added, ‘I wish I could say it’s going to be easy, love. But the fact is, you’re going to have a struggle ahead of yer.’

There was a thick fog the next evening when she came out of work. People were calling out to one another in exasperation at being bumped into or struggling to find the right turning.

‘Oi – watch it!’ a male voice snapped as Katie’s shoulder collided painfully with someone. She paused in the street to get her bearings.

The firm where she now worked, under the eagle eye of a Miss Poulter, who was in charge of the typing pool, was in Ombersley Road in Balsall Heath. It was not too long a walk to Sparkhill, but at this rate it would take ages.

Gradually Katie felt her way along to where she needed to turn off, coughing in the damp, acrid air, though at least the dark and fog made her feel safely hidden. All the time now she felt as if everyone could see that she was growing out at the front. She had not mentioned that she was expecting when she went for the job, though she did call herself Mrs O’Neill.

She passed a pub on one corner. The door opened to let someone out and for a second she made out a handwritten sign on the door: ‘NO BEER’ in large letters. But it made her think of cosy evenings she had spent with Simon in the corner of various pubs while he talked to her – yes, she could see, he had done most of the talking; had not, truth to tell, shown much real interest in her. At the time she had overlooked this and not expected anything else. Those evenings out they had had – to the pictures, or the occasional dance – and those stolen afternoons in Kings Heath, how precious they had seemed and how bitterly she remembered them now. It was remembering the good times, as they had seemed then, that hurt the most and made her long for things to be different. She had thought she was in love, that this was how it was. You met someone, fell in love and they loved you back, the way her mother had. But it had all been a lie. The hurt of his rejection bit deeply into her. She kept seeing Simon’s cold, contemptuous face as he handed her the money, as he would to a tart. That soon put a stop to any tender feelings she still had, of missing him. She was the one left raw and aching, and frightened and carrying his child. She boiled with the injustice of it. Any time she was alone for a few minutes she found herself ranting at him, pouring out all her hurt in bitter insults and accusations.