Читать книгу A Daughter’s Courage: A powerful, gritty new saga from the Sunday Times bestseller - Kitty Neale - Страница 17

Adrian yawned; he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He’d been restless most of the night, thinking about Dorothy. It wasn’t any better now during daylight hours. He sat at his desk and tried to keep focused on the job in hand, but as he concentrated on the bookkeeping, the numbers in front of him weren’t as engaging as thoughts of Dorothy.

The telephone trilled and Adrian reluctantly answered it. He quickly perked up when he heard Myra on the other end of the line.

‘He did what?’ Adrian screeched, hardly able to believe his ears. Myra had said that Robbie had paid her a fleeting visit and turned up in a brand-new red sports car.

‘Did you tell him about Dottie and the baby?’ he asked.

Myra said she hadn’t seen him as she’d been out shopping at the time. It was one of her lodgers who had told her about the car.

‘Where was he heading to next?’

Unfortunately, Myra didn’t know, but said he must have come into some money as he’d left the kids a shilling each for Christmas.

‘I doubt he earned it,’ Adrian said scathingly.

They spoke some more, speculated on how Robbie had found the money for a car, and wished each other a happy Christmas. He and Myra both doubted that in such a short time Robbie could have found a job that paid enough money to buy a sports car, and they discussed the possibility that he’d won the money by gambling. Though he hadn’t said anything to his sister, deep down Adrian feared that Robbie had been involved in something illegal again, perhaps another robbery.

He replaced the receiver, lit his pipe and hoped that his brother never showed his face in Battersea again. As far as he was concerned, it would be best for everyone. His forthcoming niece or nephew deserved better than a common thief for a father, and Dorothy should have a worthy husband, one who truly loved her and could look after her.

In the bakery, Nelly glanced at her friend and noticed that she looked pale and clammy. She hoped Dorothy wasn’t going to throw up. ‘Hey, are you OK, sugar?’ she managed to whisper to Dorothy when Mr Epstein wasn’t keeping his beady eye on them.

Dorothy just nodded but Nelly wasn’t convinced. ‘Do you need to go to the toilet?’

‘I don’t know … it’s my stomach … I’ve got rotten cramps.’

That didn’t sound right to Nelly and she feared it could only mean one thing.

Dorothy gasped as she bent over, clutching her stomach. ‘Is this normal, Nel?’

Nelly didn’t want to frighten her friend, but she had to get her to the locker room. Her mind raced as she tried to think of an excuse that old Epstein would buy. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, but we need to get you off your feet.’

‘How? It’s a good hour until our lunch break. Argh, this hurts, but I’ll have to grin and bear it.’

‘No, you won’t. Leave it to me and go along with what I say, OK?’

‘Yes, but what are you gonna do?’

‘I’m going to have a word with Mr Epstein. Don’t worry, love.’

Nelly approached the baker, who was already eyeing the girls suspiciously. He had thin ginger hair swept over the top of his head, and a large pointed nose. His eyes narrowed as he snapped accusingly, ‘What is so important that you and Miss Butler find it necessary to talk when you should be working? I saw you both, wasting time. I’ve a good mind to dock your wages, the pair of you.’

‘It’s Dorothy, sir, she’s not feeling very well. I’m worried she may faint. Can I take her to the back room?’

Before Mr Epstein could answer there was a loud shriek. Nelly spun round just as Dorothy screamed louder and was horrified to see that blood was trickling down her friend’s legs and beginning to pool on the floor. Without hesitation, Nelly ran to her, her big chest heaving up and down.

‘Shush, it’s all right,’ she said soothingly, putting her arm round Dorothy’s shoulders.

‘I’m bleeding! What’s happening? Please, Nelly, help me. It’s so painful,’ Dorothy cried.

‘Just come to the locker room with me and try to stay calm,’ Nelly urged, hoping that none of their co-workers would work out what was going on.

Her fears were realised when Mr Epstein called, ‘What is wrong with that girl? Is she miscarrying?’

Dorothy looked at Nelly, saying fearfully, ‘Oh, my God, I’m not, am I?’

‘I’m sorry, but yes, you might be, though nobody else needs to know. Come on, lean on me, and let’s get you out the back.’

Mr Epstein was shouting again, ‘It’s a disgrace! How dare she come here in that condition! Get that whore out of my sight!’

Nelly felt Dorothy’s body flinch and wasn’t sure if she was having more pain or if Mr Epstein’s words had hurt.

‘I’m not having that,’ she screeched at Epstein. ‘Dorothy ain’t a whore, she’s just having a bad monthly. You should watch your mouth saying things like that ’cos she could have you up in court for slander.’

Nelly had no idea if that was true, but at least it shut Epstein up as he blustered, ‘Yes, well, I can see she’s ill so take her home.’

She managed to get her friend through to the locker room and seated on the wooden bench. Dorothy bent over double. ‘Oh, God, it hurts. What’s happening? Am I going to die?’

‘Don’t be silly, of course you aren’t, but I think you’re losing the baby. We must get you to Dr Stubbs.’

‘No,’ Dorothy shrieked, ‘if anyone’s in the waiting room they’ll see me and guess what’s happening.’

Nelly sat down next to her friend. She had seen her sister go through this between her first and second child. ‘OK, then, we need to get you cleaned up and home to bed.’

‘The pain is getting worse and I don’t think I can make it home.’ Dorothy was crying as she clutched her tummy.

‘Do you want me to call an ambulance?’ Nelly asked worriedly.

‘No … no!’ Dorothy gasped, and, drawing in juddering breaths, she straightened up. ‘It’s eased off now so I’ll try to make it home.’

‘All right. I’ll help you,’ Nelly said, before hurrying into the toilet to get some tissue to wipe her friend’s legs. She then took Dorothy’s coat from her locker and draped it across the girl’s shoulders before putting on her own coat. ‘Right, come on, hold on to my arm and we’ll take it nice and slow.’

They left the bakery by the side door with Dorothy leaning heavily on Nelly as they made their way to her house. The going was slow as they had to stop every now and then when the pain became too much for Dorothy to walk.

‘That’s it, girl,’ Nelly urged. ‘Not far now, we’re nearly there.’

Dorothy was becoming weaker so Nelly was relieved when the Butlers’ house came into sight. She had the greatest sympathy for her friend’s pain, and couldn’t imagine what the girl was going through, yet it crossed her mind that maybe, in some ways, this was for the best. She doubted Dorothy would feel the same, but Nelly knew that in the long run it would better for Dorothy if there was no baby.

Alice had just finished changing her bed when she heard a woman’s voice shouting from the hallway downstairs. Whoever it was sounded frantic and was calling her name.

‘Mrs Butler … Mrs Butler!’

Alice sped down the stairs as quickly as her worn-out body would allow and was shocked to see Dorothy, looking as if she was at death’s door and being supported by her large friend Nelly. ‘What’s happened? Alice asked, worried sick at the sight of her poorly daughter.

‘She’s losing the baby and she needs to lie down,’ Nelly answered.

‘We can’t let her father see her in that state. Somehow we have to get her upstairs,’ Alice urged, watching despairingly as with a nod Nelly almost carried Dorothy up the stairs and into her bedroom. It was a good job that Nelly was a big girl with the strength to match, thought Alice, knowing her frail body would have been of little help.

‘Mum … Mum … I’m losing my baby,’ Dorothy wept as Nelly laid her down on her bed.

‘I know, love,’ Alice said sadly.

Dorothy cried out in pain and Alice grew concerned at the amount of blood she was losing. She looked awful, as white as a sheet, and as Alice had known a woman who’d haemorrhaged following a miscarriage she said urgently, ‘Nelly, can you run to the phone box and call Dr Stubbs? No, better still, call for an ambulance.’

‘No … no, I don’t want to go to hospital,’ Dottie protested.

‘You’ll do as I say,’ Alice snapped, fear making her sound angry.

‘Your mum is right,’ Nelly said, hurrying off to the phone.

Alice rushed to grab some towels from the bathroom. When she came back, the bedroom seemed to be spinning, so, after placing the towels under her daughter, she was grateful to sit on the edge of her bed. She held her daughter’s hand as Dorothy brought her knees up to her stomach and moaned.

‘I don’t want to lose my baby, Mum.’

‘I know you don’t, but the ambulance will be here soon,’ she said softly, squeezing her daughter’s hand. She hated seeing her suffer and regretted the many times she had wished Dorothy would miscarry.

The poor woman who’d haemorrhaged had died, and if her Dottie died too, Alice knew she would never forgive herself.