Secrets and Lies (28 page)

Lillian began lumbering about, cradling her stomach with her hands. She knocked over a chair. Righting it, she seated herself.

Soon they were all out of breath. They sank on to the chairs and gazed at each other, giving sporadic spurts of giggles, though none of them knew what they were laughing at.

There was a sudden trickling sound and they gazed at each other as a small pool spread across the floor. Then their glances turned towards Lillian.

In a scared, but excited voice she told them what they already knew. ‘I think my water may have broken.’

It didn’t take long to change Lillian’s bedroom into the delivery room, since it had been scrubbed and disinfected a few days before.

A rubber square was laid on the mattress, followed by an old flannel sheet that had been almost boiled out of existence. Folded up, it would serve as a birthing pad.

Minnie performed the necessary preparation on the patient, like an enema, a shave and a good dose of castor oil – all designed to encourage a sanitary birth environment. Esmé lined up bowls, pads and a warm shawl made from the same flannel sheet to receive the baby. From the cellar, Ma had dug out a pair of shop scales to weigh the child on.

‘Ma’s cellar seems to be a bit of a treasure trove,’ Minnie whispered as they washed the dust from the scales, and placed a square of towelling on the metal tray for the infant’s comfort.

Minnie smiled at they tied clean white aprons around their middles. ‘I’m really looking forward to this. I love babies. When I marry . . .
if
I marry, I want four children of my own. What about you, Es?’

‘Two . . . perhaps three, but not straight away.’ And they would look like Leo.

They checked that all was ready. There was a wicker cradle ready to receive the child, with a mosquito netting hanging from a metal bar curving over the top.

Lillian gave a little whimper and Minnie gazed down at her. ‘Has labour started?’

Lillian nodded.

Minnie’s capable hands probed carefully over Lillian’s distended stomach, and she smiled. ‘The head’s well down. Did you have any pains before these?’

‘No . . . but my back hurt a few times when I was having my rest and I couldn’t get comfortable. Then I fell asleep and forgot about it.’

Minnie exchanged a smile with Esmé. ‘Let me know the next time you have a contraction so I can measure how strong they are. Afterwards, Esmé will swab the area so you’re nice and clean for the delivery.’

Esmé went down to fetch some hot water to add to the cold she already had. She found Leo in the sitting room sipping tea with Ma, and remembered they’d been going to the cinema to see the Hitchcock film,
Thirty-Nine Steps,
with Robert Donat.

She gave him a quick kiss, then took the cup from his hand and helped herself to a gulp. ‘I can’t stay, but the way things are going, I shouldn’t be too long. We might catch the late sitting.’

‘If you need me I’ll be here.’

‘It’s going to be one of the easy births, and shouldn’t take long. Minnie’s in charge and I’m the fetch and carry nurse. But thanks anyway, Leo.’

Ma’s face took on a worried expression. ‘Lil will be all right, won’t she? She’s only a kid.’

‘All the better, since she’s nice and flexible.’

‘Shouldn’t she have a doctor?’

‘Goodness, Ma, will you stop worrying. Minnie and I are qualified midwives. We’ve done this many times before, and this is going to be one of the easy ones. We have Leo to call on if a doctor is needed . . . but I promise you, he won’t be.’

Lillian was having a contraction when she went back up. A few minutes and several more contractions later, Minnie told Lillian, ‘Your contractions are strong. This baby is in a hurry and will come into the world fairly quickly. You’ll get some strong pains one of top of the other when we near the actual birth. Try to stay relaxed, so it won’t hurt so much.’

Esmé patted her hand and smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry about anything. Dr Thornton is downstairs if we should need him.’

The baby’s head began to appear fifteen minutes after Esmé had swabbed Lillian.

Lillian grunted and groaned, and worked long and hard through the constant contractions. Perspiration covered her, but she was being carried along on the surging tide of her labour pains without too much effort.

Minnie talked Lillian through it. ‘The baby has fair hair . . . and a little wrinkled forehead. Try not to push for a minute while I feel for the cord . . . good . . . I want you to turn on your side, put your foot against my shoulder and push hard with the next contraction.

Esmé acted as a brace to her friend.

There was a prolonged grunt and the baby’s head was out. A few minutes later, the infant turned and slithered into Minnie’s waiting hands. She smiled at Lillian. ‘You have a darling little girl . . . so perfect and pretty. Wally would have been proud.’

Tears prickled behind Esmé’s eyes. Although her friend’s marriage to Wally had been a mistake from the start, she knew Minnie had been upset when she’d lost her own child. It said much for Minnie that she could be so generous of heart towards this girl.

The baby was placed on Lillian’s stomach, the afterbirth delivered cleanly, and the cord cut and tied.

Handed into the waiting sheet, Esmé made sure the airway was clear and washed her little screwed-up face with cotton wool dipped in warm water. A rosebud mouth and pert turned-up nose gave her a dainty look. The infant was placed on the scales and the weights adjusted. She gave a wail and began to quiver as she stretched her arms and legs. She was a good colour, as sweet a newborn as Esmé had ever seen. ‘Six pounds and four ounces at birth.’

Esmé couldn’t see anything of Wally in the child, but it was early days yet, and she hadn’t had all that much to do with him.

Minnie took up the child and gazed at her. Her eyebrow lifted a mere fraction, signalling that she’d been looking for a similarity too, and couldn’t find it. Esmé held her breath, wondering if the straightforward Minnie would say anything.

There was a fraction of a shrug, as though her friend had reminded herself that it wasn’t mandatory that a child should resemble its father – and she didn’t really care, either way. ‘She looks like you, Lillian, though I can see a bit of Ma in her.’ She placed the child in Lillian’s arms. ‘See if you can get her to attach to your breast. Some babies need encouragement before they can suck. I’m going to look below to see if you need any stitches, so don’t jump.’

While Lillian admired her daughter, Minnie briefly examined her patient. ‘Everything seems to be in order. You did well for a first child. What a wonderful birth, four hours from start to finish, and hardly a groan.’ She gently cleansed and dried the area. ‘I wish they were all like that. Pass over those pads, please, Es. And then we’ll change the draw sheet.’

When Lillian was comfortable, Minnie asked her, ‘Have you thought of a name for your daughter? And don’t you dare suggest Red Rafferty! Her appearance has created enough excitement for one day.’

Lillian giggled, then thought for a moment before giving a big smile. ‘Shirley, I think, after Shirley Temple, that child film star . . . and after Ma, as well. Shirley Marlene.’

‘That’s a pretty name.’ Esmé picked up the soiled sheets and the afterbirth, which was wrapped in the morning newspaper, and would be burned with the rubbish in the rusty oil drum that was used as a backyard incinerator.

A name jumped out at her. The article was short. Crime boss, John Teagan captured after an armed hold up, and faces fourteen years in jail for robbery with violence. Other charges are pending.

Esmé crooked her finger at Minnie and they moved to one side. They exchanged a smile when she read it. ‘I’ll ask Ma to tell Lillian tomorrow. I’ll go and put these sheets in to soak, and I’ll get you a cup of tea.’

Minnie took it from her hands. ‘I can see to all that . . . don’t keep Leo waiting any longer.’

She nodded. ‘Don’t wait up, Minnie, I’ve got my key.’

Minnie laughed. ‘Why don’t you do both of you a favour and stay with him all night.’

She surprised herself by saying, ‘Perhaps I will.’

Washing her face and hands she brushed her hair. She was growing it, and it rippled to her shoulders, where it terminated in loose curls. Pulling on brown slacks and drawing a long pink cardigan over a chiffon blouse, she powdered her face, applied lipstick and dabbed a little perfume behind her ears and in the hollow of her throat.

It was Coty’s Chypre. Chad had given it to her two birthdays ago, and although she’d been frugal with it, she’d shared the fragrance with Minnie, and now there was barely any left.

She hadn’t used it for some time, and the perfume brought a sharp, nostalgic moment of delight that she’d soon see her family again. Minnie had been right . . . this trip to Australia had been an adventure for both of them.

Snatching up her coat, she smiled as she heard Ma cooing over Shirley. That was going to be one spoiled baby.

They took a tram into the city and made the cinema in time, managing to get a seat in the back row, where they held hands and exchanged occasional, but increasingly passionate kisses. Towards the end of the film Leo whispered in her ear, ‘What’s that perfume you’re wearing?’

‘Chypre.’

He gave a chuckle. ‘It doesn’t smell like any sheep I’ve come across. You smell good enough to eat, though, and I didn’t have any dinner.’

‘Neither did I.’

His stomach rumbled loudly, and she chuckled. ‘If we left now we could take a tram to that fish and chip shop near your flat, then eat supper on the way to your place, where you can make me a cup of coffee to wash it down with.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve got it all worked out, then.’

Far from it, she was hoping he’d work it out when the time came.

They ate crisply battered fish and fried chips from newspaper wrapping as they walked. After they’d finished, Leo dropped the paper in a rubbish bin and said, ‘That newspaper was probably full of chemicals.’

‘The contents tasted good, though . . . and besides, we didn’t eat the newspaper. It was only there to keep the food warm. It had that white paper lining.’

‘Also full of chemicals.’

She laughed, sliding her greasy hand into his. ‘It’s best not to think about it. Chemicals or not, it was delicious, and I enjoyed it.’

It began to rain, a fine drizzle that soaked the pavements and picked up the reflection of the city lights and turned the ground into a kaleidoscope of colours. The gutters rumbled with miniature streams of running water, and now and again a car went past, the tyres hissing in a blur of fine spray.

‘It will begin to pour before too long. We’d better run . . . the flat isn’t far.’

By the time they got there they were both dripping. Long as her legs were, they were no match for Leo’s, and soon she was out of breath. Collapsing against him when he used the key in the main door, she gasped out, ‘I can’t go another step.’

He swept her up in his arms, carried her up the stairs and balanced her precariously on one raised knee while he inserted the key into the door of his flat. Nudging it open he secured her under the knees and smiled down at her as they went inside and he set her on to her feet. ‘The bathroom’s through there. Hang your coat on the line over the bath. I’ll make us some coffee.’

Leo’s flat had two bedrooms, and was on the second floor of a four-storey red brick block. There was space to park a car behind the block. Leo had bought the flat with a legacy from his Thornton grandmother. The rooms had high ceilings, and the furnishings were sparse, with a masculine look of leather and some red curtains and matching cushions to soften it.

She supposed they’d live here eventually, though she’d prefer something with a garden so she could have a dog and grow vegetables.

When she was dry she joined him in the kitchen, towelling her wet hair. ‘What will you do about this flat?’

‘It’s not much use trying to sell it while the Depression is on. When we’ve gone Alex will pack up my personal things and take them to Fairfield to be stored, along with the car. The flat can be let furnished, and we’ll get ourselves a house when we come back.’

The kitchen was small and neat. ‘What about the Moth?’

‘The plane has its own shed at Fairfield, and there’s room for the car. Alex can have the use of them both, especially while he’s courting Minnie.’

‘Is he courting Minnie? She likes him a lot, and I’d hate her to be hurt again.’

‘Seriously . . . but it might take him a while to get round to asking her. I might have to give him a push.’

A smile sped across her face. ‘I’m glad, because I want her to be happy. When we get to London where will we live?’

Stirring a spoonful of sugar into her coffee, he added milk and handed it to her. ‘I’ve already had accommodation arranged for myself. It’s an attic bed-sitter and will be a bit small for two. We can find something bigger once we’re there. You’re not worried about how we’ll manage, are you?’

‘A little . . . I imagine I can get a job though.’

He placed her coffee to one side and lifted her to sit on the edge of the table, so their eyes were level. ‘We’ve never discussed finances, have we? I want you to know that I have enough money to support us comfortably, since I get a good income from the sheep station, and will have a wage from the hospital while I’m studying. You don’t have to work to help support us, Es. You only need to work if you want to, until we have children who need mothering.’

‘I do want to work.’ Colour touched her cheeks, and she remembered that she’d decided it was time to surrender her innocence. She didn’t really know how to go about broaching the subject.

‘Leo . . . I want to ask you something?’

His glance went to her mouth. ‘Ask away.’

‘I don’t know how to.’

The puzzlement in his eyes changed to dismay. ‘You’re not going to change your mind about getting married, are you?’

‘Lord . . . no.’

‘Well, what the heck is it? Stop keeping me in suspense and just say it.’

‘Would you . . . will you take me to bed?’

She giggled when his eyes widened in shock and he said, ‘What . . . now . . . this very moment?’