Читать книгу A Daughter’s Courage: A powerful, gritty new saga from the Sunday Times bestseller - Kitty Neale - Страница 14

It was a cold December morning and Robbie’s head was banging. There were no curtains at the window and the sunlight streaming in was hurting his eyes. His mouth felt furry and he rolled over on the thin mattress as he tried to recall what had happened last night.

He had vague recollections of getting involved in some sort of drinking game with three miners, but couldn’t remember leaving the pub or getting home to the house he shared with two other families. At least he had a room to himself, not like the poor buggers with several kids between them, all crammed into one room per family. He was also thankful that he hadn’t woken to the sound of screaming babies again. His head was pounding enough without all that screeching adding to it.

He had moved out of his sister’s large house, glad to get away from noisy broods. Her place had been all right at first, but he was peeved when, to make money, his sister let two sets of Irish immigrant families move in without even consulting him first. Annoyed, he’d packed his stuff and left, but now it looked like he was no better off, because this boarding house was just as noisy.

Robbie had a sudden flashback to the night before. The miners had set a table up for cards. He had no memory of playing but thought he would have joined in. After all, it wasn’t like him to turn down a game. Suddenly he sat bolt upright in the bed, swore and scrambled for his trousers that were lying in a heap on the floor. He anxiously searched his pockets, turning them inside out. There was nothing in them, not a single penny. He couldn’t even remember it happening, but with a cold sense of dread he realised he’d lost all his money.

Had he lost it fair and square at the card table? Or did those miners rob him? Robbie couldn’t be sure, but either way he was in dire straits. The rent on this room was paid up for another two weeks, but he had nothing, no money for food or tobacco. He couldn’t even go back to Myra’s as he didn’t have the fare to get there.

Robbie sank to his knees, feeling hopeless. All the money he’d stolen had gone through his hands like water and he had nothing to show for it, just a sore head and a crappy room in a squalid house with no heating or hot water.

He needed money and fast. There was no way he would go back to working for someone else, slogging his guts out for them to reap the profits. It was a mug’s game. He’d have to do another robbery, and though it would mean more risk, this next one would be bigger and better than his last.

Alice put a few more lumps of precious coal on the fire before she sat in the armchair next to her husband. She’d heard Dorothy vomiting again that morning, but her daughter was never one to moan; instead she’d simply got ready and gone to work quietly. The whole business still worried Alice. It was a relief to know that Robbie’s brother had promised to help them out financially, but that didn’t take away the fact that Dorothy was unmarried.

‘Oh, Bill, the shame of it,’ she said softly to her husband. ‘Dottie won’t be able to hide her bump for much longer and then the tongues will start wagging.’

Alice didn’t expect any reaction from Bill, but it didn’t stop her talking to him. Every afternoon at one-thirty she would pour them both a cup of tea, and then sit and chat to him about the weather, or the neighbours, or whatever sprang to mind. Recently, the main topic of conversation was Dorothy’s unwanted pregnancy.

In some ways, Alice was pleased that Bill was apparently unaware of the situation. It saved him the pain of knowing what a terrible mistake his beloved daughter had made. He would have been devastated, she thought to herself, but at least this way he was oblivious to it. But at the same time she missed having her husband to share her worries and woes.

‘I know we’ve always been so proud of our girl, Bill, and don’t get me wrong, I will always love her, along with that unborn grandchild of ours, but if only she’d had a bit more sense. I mean, fancy getting herself in the family way. I thought I’d taught her better than that.’

She looked at her husband’s blank face. There had been a time when he would have loved to have a new baby bouncing on his knee, especially if it was a boy. Bill had always wanted a son, but after Dorothy was born Alice had never conceived again. Now a grandchild was in the picture and she could just imagine it: Bill kicking a ball around with his grandson in the back yard, making little boats to float on the lake in the park, or building a go-kart from a wooden crate together.

As she rose to her feet and went back to the kitchen and the next load of washing, Alice hoped against all odds that if one good thing was to come out of Dorothy having a baby, it would be that Bill’s lost mind would find its way back from whatever murky place it had wandered to.

The bell in the bakery chimed for lunch break and Dorothy was so grateful to hear it. Her stomach was completely empty, most of its contents down the toilet. She was beginning to feel a little weak and light-headed so was looking forward to tucking into the bread and cheese that her mum had packed for her. It seemed daft that with all the bread, cakes and pies they produced they had to bring their own food, but you could never rely on Mr Epstein’s moods. Sometimes he would let them have any imperfect bakes, but at other times he would refuse and if they didn’t bring their own lunch they’d be left hungry.

Food preparation was the last thing Dottie could face first thing in the morning, especially after braving the freezing cold of the outside lavvy, and since her morning sickness had begun she was grateful that her mum had taken over making her lunch. She knew Alice was still upset about the pregnancy, but had noticed that she’d begun knitting some little matinée coats and booties. She wondered if, as with her, there was a tinge of excitement setting in. Alice had warned her that, once the pregnancy was out in the open, she should expect a barrage of abuse from the locals, but Dorothy didn’t care any more. She was blinded by love for the baby growing inside her and couldn’t wait to meet her daughter or son. She was sure her mother was beginning to feel the same way too.

Dorothy eagerly grabbed her wrapped sandwiches from her locker and joined her friend in the small staff room. She was desperate to tell Nelly her secret, but had promised her mother to keep quiet for as long as possible. ‘I’m absolutely famished, Nelly. I could eat a horse,’ she said, eagerly unwrapping her sandwich before her bottom was properly seated.

‘Blimey, Dottie, slow down or you’ll give yourself a bellyache,’ Nelly said, then looked at Dorothy’s stomach, her eyes narrowing.

Dorothy looked down too, and saw she had a bit of a bulge. Half of her wanted Nelly to cotton on, but the other half was reminded of Alice’s warnings.

‘Dottie, don’t take offence, sugar, but I’ve gotta say … you’re getting a bit of a tummy on you. You might want to slow up on that bread and cheese. I mean, you don’t want to end up looking like me!’ Nelly said and laughed a big, bellowing chuckle as she patted her wobbling stomach.

Dorothy didn’t laugh along with her friend, but instead gave her a knowing look in the hope that Nelly would guess the truth. Slowly, as the penny dropped, Dorothy could see it dawning on Nelly and the woman’s laugh turned into a look of astonishment.

‘My God, Dottie … have you got a bun in the oven?’ Nelly whispered.

Dorothy nodded her head. ‘Please don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.’

‘Oh, blimey! I won’t say a word, I promise. I assume it’s Robbie’s?’

‘Of course it is. Who else would it be? But he doesn’t know anything about it. I still don’t know where he is, and neither does his brother Adrian.’

‘Bloody hell, Dottie, what are you going to do? You ain’t married so surely you can’t keep it.’

Dorothy noted the look of horror on her friend’s face and felt disappointed. She’d hoped Nelly would be as excited about the baby as she was. ‘If you’re suggesting adoption, forget it. I’m keeping my baby, and until Robbie shows his face Adrian is going to help us out. You’ll see, Nelly, once Robbie knows I’m pregnant he’ll come back to marry me and everything will be all right.’

‘Yeah, you live in cloud cuckoo land if it pleases you,’ Nelly said sarcastically, ‘but I’m telling you straight, that man will never marry you. Never in a month of Sundays.’

‘I don’t care what you say. I know Robbie loves me, and he will come back. When he does he’ll love his baby too,’ Dorothy retorted, but then her tone softened. ‘Nelly, please, I don’t want to fall out with you about Robbie again. I’m really happy about this baby and I hoped you would be too.’

After a long pause, Nelly finally answered, ‘I can’t believe you’re happy with being up the duff without a husband. I think you’ve got a long, hard road ahead of you, but if you’re determined to have this so-called love child then you’re going to have to toughen up ’cos you know what people are like around here. You’re going to need a friend and I’ll be that friend, but I don’t want to hear no more nonsense about that Robbie.’

Thanks, probably, to her haywire hormones, and despite what Nelly said about Robbie, Dorothy still felt like crying happy tears. Nelly would stand by her and that felt good. She was fully aware that few others would. The neighbours and locals would be judgemental and no doubt she’d be ostracised by them, and by the other staff in the bakery. Now, though, there was some compensation in knowing that Nelly was there for her.

‘Thanks, Nelly. And it’s a deal. I won’t mention him to you again,’ Dorothy said.

‘Good, I’m glad to hear it.’

Dorothy took another bite out of her sandwich. She might not be able to talk about Robbie, but nothing could stop her from thinking about him, and praying that one day soon he’d come back to her.