Читать книгу Little Ann's Field of Buttercups - Ann Jacques - Страница 13

Mum and Stan met Ben’s parents and settled on a marriage date as soon as possible. It was arranged for April 2 1953—the soonest date available at the registry office.

Our honeymoon was in Brighton. After the entire trauma of having to organise a quick wedding, our families seemed alright together. Ben and I tried to put the strain between us aside. I guess we suddenly felt more grown up now we were married. While on our honeymoon, I surprisingly began to feel more secure and happier about having a husband. Just like my childhood holiday with the ladies in black, I realised I had to try and make a bad situation better. On returning, we rented two rooms in my new mother-in-law’s friend’s house. Luckily, I’d always had to put the dinner on for Mum so I could cook. On the other hand Ben’s mum, Ivy, liked to cater to him. The relationship was not too bad between us. In fact, I felt quite happy. At least I was away from my mother and Stan with their constant arguing and nagging. I enjoyed looking after our two little rooms, and having a husband.

It wasn’t long before problems started to occur in our relationship. Ivy’s friend Gladys didn’t like me very much because I did things differently to her. I also wasn’t spending any time with her because I felt we had nothing in common. She started causing trouble by telling Ben things I was doing wrong. He always seemed to take this woman’s side as she was older, and his mother’s best friend. He started criticising me and this made me cry. I always tried my very best in the house but no matter what I did, she would find some fault and tell Ben. Eventually Ivy even started having a go at me. I think she secretly wanted her son back for herself.

Ben and I would go out Saturday evenings to the club where his mates had saved seats for us. I always felt uncomfortable because his mates passed snide remarks constantly throughout the evening, stirring him because he had to get married. They remarked about he can’t spend his money on beer anymore because it was for baby clothes. I know he hated it and he would get back at me later. Soon after I stopped going out. Ben deeply resented the whole situation. He made good money so there shouldn’t have been a problem but he just didn’t want to use it to keep ‘unwanted baggage’—me and the baby. He confirmed that by giving me the bare minimum of housekeeping money.

Ben had to sell his motorbike to help towards the costs of the baby. What made things worse were the nights when he continued to go down to the club with his mates and they started cracking their jokes about him being ‘tied down’. I didn’t know Ben sold his motorbike, I certainly never ask him too. He never talked to me about the financial affairs. Once I found out, it was obvious he blamed me and never forgave me. He should have thought about the consequences before he forced me on the floor that night.

One morning I woke up feeling unwell. I had stomach pains and felt feverish. I was a few days past my due date but I didn’t think it was anything to do with being in labour. It just wasn’t how I thought it would feel. As I headed off to the kitchen to prepare a snack, Gladys came into the room. She looked at me strangely and asked if I was alright.

Instinctively I immediately thought, ‘What have I done wrong now?’

‘You look like you’re in labour’, she said.

The next thing I remember is an ambulance arriving to take me to hospital. Indeed I was in labour. Luckily, I had packed my suitcase a month before my due date as I was instructed by the clinic. At the hospital, I was giving a pubic shave, an enema and a bath. I felt violated. After being clothed in the appropriate hospital-issue gown, I awaited the birth of my child. I was so frightened, not knowing what to expect. All I was told was to breathe in the gas and air when I felt each pain coming.

I lay on the hard bed in the hospital labour ward alone for hours, thinking I was going to die. Time seemed to move ever so slowly. All I could do was to watch the clock in my line of vision, taunting me with its hands that just seemed to stand still. But at last my lonely drawn out ordeal came to an end as I finally gave birth to a baby girl.

The name I chose for my daughter was Sherly, meaning ‘bright meadow’. Sherly Ann was the most beautiful and perfect little thing I had ever seen. I remember staring into her big blue eyes and feeling an incredible surge of love. What an amazing feeling it was to hold my daughter in my arms. Everyone commented on how gorgeous she was. After ten days, we went home and were overwhelmed by visitors bringing all the usual baby presents. Even my work friends visited in their lunch hour. I was especially excited to receive a lace christening gown from Auntie Betty in South Africa.

I don’t know how we acquired the flat we moved into. Ivy and Gladys didn’t want us there with the baby in the house. Our new unfurnished flat was above a shoe repairer’s shop in town on the main street, Oxford Street. Our entrance was in an alleyway at the back of the property. Fox’s Glacier Mints factory stood at the back.

We had an agreement with the owner of the shoe store. I would mind the shop for a couple of hours whilst the owner went on his lunch break. I also had to keep the place clean. There were two flights of stairs to the old terrace. The stairs were very narrow, steep and dark and I had to trek up and down the stairs many times throughout the day. We had a kitchen with a glass door into the lounge come bedroom. We had no running water and no drainage so every drop of water in and out of the flat had to be carried in buckets down the flights of stairs and into the yard where there was a drain and a tap. It was very primitive. Having a child was taboo and limited your choice in rented accommodation because no one liked the idea of a crying child.

Life was unbelievably hard. I washed nappies by hand, boiling them up in a large container on top of the cooker to kill the bacteria, then rinsing several times till the water became clear. It took a whole morning to wash twelve nappies. I lost loads of weight, getting down to only five stone. It seemed all I was ever doing was carrying water up and down stairs. The only rest I received was when I was feeding Sherly. I enjoyed this immensely and tried to spend as much time with her as time would allow.

When Ben wanted a bath, I had to carry loads of water up the stairs and boil it. We had a tin bath near the coal-fuelled fire. Coal also had to be brought upstairs in a coal bucket. It was exhausting, however, I was determined to succeed and always managed to prepare hot meals for Ben when he arrived home from work. He was a painter and decorator by trade and made good money including the extra he made on the side. But I saw very little of it. Ben only ever gave me enough money to buy baby food for Sherly.

Finally, he started refusing me money indefinitely—a tactic that I believed was to force me to leave him, with him looking like the innocent party. I knew him all too well. I did not have a job because of my baby, so Ben used that as his manipulating tool. I insisted that he gave me baby’s milk money and other things Sherly needed or else I would report him to welfare. But I also needed to survive. I lived on baby food. Ben was pretty switched on when it came to what was needed so I had to watch my buying. I doubled the quantities of the food that Sherly was using so he would not get angry. If he ever questioned or antagonised me about it I would tell him, ‘Babies do grow’. He would not dare refuse because he knew I would report him to welfare.

Sherly soon began teething and getting nappy rash. I tried using ointment on her rash but it gave her no relief. With the baby’s constant crying, Ben got angry and we started to fight. Sometimes Ben would arrive home late and drunk after I had tried to keep his dinner warm in the oven. I’d put it on the table where he would leave it until it went cold, then he would complain. After many nights like this and several arguments I found out he was going home to his mother’s for dinner after going out to the club with his mates. As time passed, our arguments escalated and Ben began hitting me. I felt such hatred for him as I fought back to defend myself. Then he would grin and say things to convince me it was all my fault. Then we would make up. At one stage, I thought I was pregnant again and told him when I thought he was in a pleasant mood. Ben went berserk and deliberately pushed me down the stairs saying, ‘you’re having no child’. Luckily I was not badly hurt, just bruising my ankle. It turned out I was not pregnant, thank God, and knew I would never fall pregnant with such a monster ever again. I knew I had to get out if that abusive relationship because Ben was drinking more heavily and more frequently, and getting more violent towards me. I was so worried and had no one to help me, not even my family. They had shunned me—back then getting pregnant before marriage was considered a crime.

After months of trauma, I was beginning to get sick of trying to make it work with Ben. The carrying of water up and down the stairs and working in the shop began to tell on me and I was getting more mentally exhausted by the arguments, along with not being able to see anyone. Even if I had the time to see anyone, it meant long bus journeys to the outskirts of town. I had to be there for Ben or I would be in more trouble. Then there were problems with Sherly’s teething. I really needed somebody to help me. I was just seventeen years old and I felt completely powerless and depressed without any idea of how to get out of my situation.

One evening Ben was so violent I ran to the police station for help. The police told me they were unable to interfere in domestics and I would have to sort out the problems I had with my husband by myself. I was too terrified to go back home to Ben on my own so a police officer escorted me home. When we arrived, Ben had locked me out and Sherly was inside. The policeman was not allowed to force entry so I picked up a brick and smashed the glass door in order to open the Yale lock to the back door. The police officer and I then headed up the stairs. He assured me that I would not get hurt and he would try to calm the situation down.

Ben was shocked that I had brought a police officer with me and instantly started accusing me of being the cause of our problems in order to make him look good. Of course, I retaliated by arguing back. The police officer obviously saw that our relationship was beyond repair when he told us both that if we couldn’t get along, we should both ‘just call it a day’.

After that night, Ben became pleasant and we stopped arguing for a while. He definitely had an ulterior motive. Ben had been so mentally and physically cruel to me. He would manipulate everything to be my fault, and at times I believed him. His abuse had worn me down and weakened my self-esteem and self-confidence. I was totally dependent on Ben and all I wanted was a happy family.

There I was mainly living on baby food and whatever money I could trick Ben into giving me. Then Ben started taking the wireless to work, so I was not able to listen to music or news during the day. He also started tearing up the Leicester Mercury evening newspaper, the one paper I loved, so I could not read it if I had a minute during my chores. Eventually, he started giving me the silent treatment and when I spoke he would ignore me and leave to go to the pub, not even coming home afterwards. I simply did not care, and was even relieved not to have to be watching what I said and did around him. This continued until Sherly was eleven months old. I was so worn down from the baby, house maintenance and my marriage problems. I realised things were not going to get better if I stayed with Ben. I was tired of not eating properly and realised this was not the ideal situation. But there seemed to be no alternative but to just get on with it.