‘Go and find out where she is,’ I urge James. My voice sounds awful. It has that rattle that sounds like a chest infection, but really means death.
As James leaves the room, I look at Kenny. He smiles at me with that beautiful smile of his.
Ethel squeezes my lifeless hand. ‘I love you, Mum,’ I whisper.
As she starts to cry, I shut my eyes. I need to hold on – I have to.
I wake up once more and look at Freddie. No words are needed, he knows what the look means and so do I. Nobody else apart from Freddie knows about the phonecall, you see.
Tommy heard that I was dying and rang me up. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, and I love you,’ he said.
We had a little chat. ‘Promise me you’ll never come home,’ I asked him.
He paused. ‘I can’t promise you that, Mum. It all depends if that baby belongs to me.’
Fearfully, I dropped the phone with shock. That was the last I heard from him; he never had the guts to call back.
As my breathing becomes more laboured, I start to worry. Please hurry, James, I say to myself.
Finally, I’m aware of the door bursting open. As James pushes Maria towards me in the wheelchair, I try to sit up. But I can’t, I’m too ill, it’s impossible.
James lifts the baby up so I can see him, maybe give him a little kiss.
‘Mum. Meet Jack, your grandson.’
One look at the child tells me all I need to know. He has Tommy’s eyes, his mouth, his nose. I gasp. How can I rest in peace now?
Tears in my eyes, I whisper my final words, ‘God bless my sweet baby James.’