Читать книгу A Mother’s Gift - Pam Weaver - Страница 12

Saturday August 25 was indeed what the papers called ‘a scorcher’. When the lorry arrived outside Dottie’s cottage, the back of it had been transformed by an assortment of blankets and cushions. Mary was perched on top of a pillow laid on a crate of beer and fizzy pop, looking every bit the carnival queen. Tom sat at her feet while all around them the kids were bursting with excitement. Billy had a firm hold on little Christopher and Mary was cradling Connie on her lap. Susan and Maureen sat side by side next to their mother.

‘Don’t you look lovely, hen,’ Mary said as Dottie came down the path carrying a big bag. ‘You’d better sit here in the cab with that pretty dress on.’

‘What, this old thing?’ laughed Dottie, although in truth she was wearing her sundress for the first time. A friend had given her the material because it was too pink. The sleeveless bodice was tight, and she had made a belt to wear at the top of its calf-length full skirt. Luckily she’d been able to match it with some other pink material with tiny white daisies to make a small bolero top.

‘You’re so good with a needle,’ said Mary. ‘Me, I’m hopeless.’

Reg nudged Dottie’s arm. ‘I can’t sit in the back, love,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid if they can’t shove up and make room for me on the seat, I shan’t be going.’ He lowered his voice for Dottie’s ears only. ‘You know I couldn’t face the back of a lorry, not after what happened during the war.’

‘Of course not, dear,’ she smiled. ‘You sit next to Peaches, I’m quite happy at the back with Mary and the children.’

She watched as Peaches, dressed in a voluptuous tent-like dress to hide her bump, pulled Gary onto what was left of her lap and Reg, his Brylcreemed hair flopping attractively over one eye, climbed in beside her. Gary looked a little pale and he was complaining a bit.

‘I’m not so sure we should be taking him,’ said Peaches.

‘He’ll be as right as ninepence when he’s down on the beach,’ said Jack.

Dottie walked around the back and, grabbing hold of Tom’s hand, clambered over the side of the lorry. ‘Poor little Gary still doesn’t seem very happy,’ she said as she sat next to Mary. ‘What’s the matter with him?’

‘Peaches reckons he’s got a bit of a cold,’ said Mary, shaking her head. ‘He’s been like it since Saturday.’ And turning to one of her children, she said sharply, ‘Put your arm in Susan. If you hit something while we’re moving you’ll do yourself a mischief.’

Maureen had gravitated to Dottie’s lap. It felt good holding her. Dottie enveloped her in her arms, enjoying the feel of her warm little body and the faint vinegar smell of her shiny clean hair, soft as down next to her cheek. The old yearning flooded over her again. If only she could have a child of her own …

‘I love you, Auntie Dottie,’ Maureen lisped.

‘And I love you too, darling,’ said Dottie with feeling.

The drive to Littlehampton was very pleasant. They all sang silly songs, ‘Ten green bottles, hanging on the wall, Ten green bottles, hanging on the wall, and if one green bottle should accidentl’y fall … there’ll be nine green bottles hanging on the wall,’ was one and the other was ‘There was ten in the bed and the little one said, ‘Roll over, rollover.’ So they all rolled over and one fell out, there was nine in the bed and the little one said …’ and they clung to each other, laughing whenever Jack took a corner fast.

Forty-five minutes later, they pulled up on the seafront. Tom was the first to jump down. He helped Mary and the kids and then lifted Dottie down. Everybody, except Reg, grabbed a bag and they made their way onto the sand. The warm weather and the Carnival had brought everyone out. The beach was already very crowded. In fact it was difficult to find a stretch of sand big enough for all of them to be together, but eventually they did and luckily it was fairly near the promenade. Dottie pointed out the toilets beyond. ‘Handy for the kids,’ said Mary, giving her a nudge.

Tom and Jack brought some deckchairs down and the adults made themselves comfortable. As for the children, they couldn’t wait to get into the water. Mary stripped them down to their little ruched bathing costumes and knitted swimming trunks and let them go. ‘Make sure you look after them,’ she told Billy.

Knowing they’d soon get bored, Dottie went up top and bought six buckets and spades from the kiosk along the promenade. The children were thrilled to bits.

‘You shouldn’t have spent all that money, hen,’ Mary scolded. ‘They must have cost you a fortune.’

‘They were only one and eleven each,’ said Dottie happily. ‘And besides, it was my pleasure.’

‘What do you say?’ Mary demanded of her children.

Five happy faces looked in her direction and chorused, ‘Thank you, Auntie Dottie.’

Reg gave Dottie a dirty look but just then Jack and Tom appeared with the crate of beer and fizzy pop.

‘Hope you’ve remembered a bottle opener,’ Reg remarked as he tied a knot in each corner of his handkerchief to make a sun hat. He had already bagged a deckchair and placed himself on the edge of the group.

Everyone looked helplessly from one to the other until Peaches rummaged in her handbag and produced one. ‘Thank the Lord for that,’ laughed Jack as he set about offering the bottles around and removing the tops.

When it came to her turn, Peaches shook her head. ‘I’d sooner have a cuppa.’

‘Then look no further,’ smiled Dottie, reaching for her Thermos flask.

In the end, the men had beer, the women had a cup of tea and the kids shared from a big bottle of cherryade with a replaceable glass stopper.

‘Can I take the empties back to the off-licence and get the tuppence, Mum?’ asked Billy.

‘We haven’t emptied the buggers yet,’ laughed Tom.

‘Language,’ said Mary.

‘Whoops, sorry love.’

The deckchair attendant turned up. Reg appeared to be asleep, so Tom parted with three bob. ‘He didn’t waste much time,’ he grumbled good-naturedly.

The sea glistened in the bright sunlight and the air was filled with the happy shouts of excited children. Dottie kicked off her shoes and let the sand get between her bare toes. Mary’s kids kept themselves amused for hours, making sandcastles and running to the sea with their new buckets to get water for the moat.

Little Gary joined in for a while but it was obvious he wasn’t really feeling well. It didn’t take long before he was all curled up on Mary’s lap with his thumb in his mouth.

At one o’clock they ate their lunch: egg sandwiches, bloater paste sandwiches and cheese sandwiches; but no matter how hard they tried, they all ended up with a little sand on them. Mary handed round some of her fruitcake and Dottie offered them some Victoria sponge. Then they made the kids lay down for a rest. The little ones were shaded by the deckchairs or a blanket suspended between the chairs as they lay underneath.

‘I reckon you should have gone in for the Miss Littlehampton, Dottie,’ said Tom holding out his newspaper. ‘You’re better-looking than that June Hadden any day.’

‘Oh, Tom,’ laughed Dottie. ‘I’m a married woman!’

‘So is she,’ said Mary. ‘She’s a mother of two.’

‘Have a go at the Miss Sussex competition.’ Tom encouraged. ‘That feller from Variety Bandbox is going to crown the winner. Derek Roy.’

‘I don’t think Reg …’ Dottie began.

‘Reg won’t mind, will you, Reg?’

Reg had been lying back in the deckchair with his eyes closed. He opened them to find everyone staring at him, willing him to agree.

‘What, and make a fool of herself?’

‘Your Dottie is a real smasher, Reg,’ Tom protested.

‘Come on, Reg,’ said Mary. ‘Be a sport.’

Reg’s eyes narrowed and Dottie laid her hand on Mary’s arm.

‘Who’s for ice cream?’ said Jack and a chorus of little voices, all wide-awake now, cried out, ‘Me, me!’

‘Good timing, Jack,’ grinned Peaches.

After their ice creams, Gary, Connie and Christopher slept for upwards of an hour while Susan and Maureen managed half an hour. Billy was allowed to go to play by the water’s edge as soon as the others were asleep. Dottie walked with him, not only to keep an eye on him, but also to have a bit of a paddle herself.

She and Billy had a special relationship. He was only little when his dad died but until Tom Prior came along, he’d so desperately tried to do what everyone told him and be the man of the house. He was fiercely protective of his mum. Dottie had never ever told Mary how he’d cried the day of their wedding. His mother and Tom were off on honeymoon – an afternoon at the pictures in Brighton – and Dottie was looking after Billy, Maureen and Susan in their new home. The babies were sleeping and she’d thought Billy was quite happy playing with his toy farmyard but all at once he’d burst into tears. At first she’d thought it was because he was jealous of Tom: after all, he’d had his mother to himself for most of his life. Up until the time Billy’s father was killed, the war had meant that, apart from a couple of periods of leave, Billy had hardly ever seen him. But as she comforted him, Dottie realised the child had taken his ‘job’ as ‘man of the house’ so seriously, that the tears were tears of relief. Now at last Tom could have the responsibility of looking after his mother.

As she and Billy paddled in the water, Reg, his trouser legs rolled up to his calves, came to join them.

Earlier that morning, Dottie had been thinking about that letter from Australia again. She kept forgetting to say something about it and, although he’d obviously taken it and read it, Reg still hadn’t said anything about it. It was probably of no con sequence. A letter from the wife of an old army pal or something … but it was funny that he hadn’t mentioned it again.

She was about to ask him about it, when he said, ‘You’d make somebody a good little mother.’ His remark caught Dottie by surprise. She stared at him, unsure what to say. How odd. Was he feeling the urge again? Oh dear. Could he hang onto it until they were home, or was he going to suggest they go somewhere?

As they all paddled together, Dottie felt she couldn’t be happier. The sun, the sea, the lovely weather, their friends on the beach and Reg … She wanted to tell him so, but she couldn’t embarrass him in front of Billy.

Picking up her skirts, Dottie ran further into the water. Billy followed and the two of them splashed about a bit.

‘Fancy a quick look around Woolworths?’ Mary suggested when Dottie and Billy came back. Reg was already back in his deckchair.

‘Ye-ah,’ said Billy.

‘What about the kids?’ asked Dottie.

‘I’ll stay and keep an eye on them,’ said Peaches.

‘The men can look after them for five minutes, can’t they?’ said Mary.

‘Reg?’ Dottie asked.

‘I’m reading the paper.’

‘Can I come?’ said Billy.

Tom and Jack waved them away. ‘Go on, get on with you and enjoy yourselves.’

‘And me?’ Billy tried again.

‘You heard your mother,’ said Tom. ‘Us men’ll have to look after the kids. About time you took our Christopher over to the toilets, isn’t it?’

‘Aw, Dad!’

The three friends set off for the town. As they walked along the promenade, Peaches fluffed out her blonde hair with her fingers. Dottie linked her arms through theirs and they began an impromptu dance until Mary slipped and trod on some man’s toe.

‘Oi!’ he shouted.

‘Sorry,’ Mary called as they all dissolved into laughter.

‘He’ll have a flat foot now,’ said Peaches. ‘Step – flip, step – flop …’

It was all very silly but Dottie laughed until she held her sides. ‘I haven’t had a laugh like this for ages.’

They stopped off to look at the exhibits in the big marquee on the green.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Mary, holding a prize-winning jar of lemon curd up to the light, ‘your preserves are every bit as good as these, Dottie.’

Dottie blushed happily.

‘And I tell you what,’ said Peaches. ‘I’m busting for the toilet again. Let’s head towards the town.’

The friends linked arms once more and set off to find the public conveniences. Outside again Peaches said, ‘I’ll be glad when this one comes and I can have some fun again. Fancy coming to Brighton with me once I get my figure back? I can’t wait to get some new things.’

‘Let me make you something,’ said Dottie.

‘Be nice if we could all go shopping though, wouldn’t it?’ Peaches remarked.

‘Count me in,’ said Mary.

‘You’re on,’ said Dottie with a smile.

‘How come you haven’t got any kids, Dottie?’ asked Mary. ‘Doesn’t Reg want any?’

Dottie felt her face colour. ‘It just never happened,’ she faltered.

‘Oh darlin’, I’m sorry,’ said Mary. ‘Me and my big mouth.’

‘It’s all right,’ Dottie quickly reassured her.

‘My cousin Nelly was like that,’ said Peaches. ‘In the end she went to the doctor and he said she and her husband wasn’t doing it right.’

‘What the ’ell were they doing then?’ said Mary, agog.

‘Just touching navels.’

There was a moment of silence then Mary said, ‘Was that all?’

They all burst out laughing.

‘Perhaps your Reg needs some coaching,’ said Mary, giving Dottie a hefty nudge.

‘You volunteering?’ grinned Dottie and they all laughed a third time.

‘What about cousin Nelly?’ Mary asked.

‘Whatever the doc said to them worked,’ said Peaches. ‘They’ve got three kids now.’

‘All the spitting image of the doctor,’ roared Mary. Peaches enjoyed the joke, laughing heartily. Thank goodness they didn’t know about Doctor Fitzgerald, thought Dottie as she joined in. Thankfully the subject of babies, and the lack of them, didn’t come up again.

‘Here we are,’ said Mary as they found the shops.

They wandered around Woolworths and Peaches bought herself a bottle of Lily of the Valley. Mary got each of her brood and Gary a 3D stick of rock with ‘Littlehampton’ printed through it to take home. ‘Clever how they do that,’ she remarked.

Dottie bought a new comb for Reg.

Reg flipped through the pages of the Littlehampton Gazette. Nothing much there. He was just about to fold it up when Connie tottered towards him, a long candlestick of mucus and sand hanging from the end of her nose.

Alarmed, he cried, ‘Tom!’

‘Cor, love a duck,’ said Tom as he saw her.

Lifting her half-filled bucket towards her father, she said, ‘Eat tend cakey, Daddy.’

‘Hang on a minute, sweetheart, let Daddy clean you up first.’ With the practised hand of an expert, her father put one hand on the top of her blonde head to hold her steady while he fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief. Connie sneezed and the candlestick grew longer.

Jack, who was cuddling Gary on his lap, laughed aloud. Reg shuddered with disgust.

‘Tend cakey, Daddy?’ Connie said as her face emerged from under the voluminous handkerchief.

‘I’d love to,’ said Tom, pretending to take a piece. ‘Ummm, delicious. Don’t forget your Uncle Jack and Uncle Reg.’

‘Yum, yum,’ said Jack obligingly.

Connie turned towards Reg. ‘Not for me,’ he said quickly.

Tom ruffled the child’s hair. ‘Uncle Reg is full up,’ he said. ‘But I could eat you up!’ He growled and, snatching her in his arms, he kissed her neck. Connie giggled happily and when he put her down again she wandered back to the area of sand which served as her kitchen.

‘Not up to sand pie, Reg?’ Tom said good-naturedly.

‘Looking after kids is woman’s work,’ Reg muttered.

‘Rubbish,’ said Tom. ‘I love being with all my kids. I’m a dab hand at changing a nappy too.’

Reg shook his paper disapprovingly and hid behind it again. Thank God Patsy was well past that stage. His lip curled at the thought of changing nappies, and as for dealing with snotty noses … You’d better keep well away from me, thought Reg sourly. But a couple of minutes later, the little brat was on her way back. Reg glanced around helplessly. The other two men were gone: Tom was doing something with Christopher and Jack was walking Gary towards the sea where the other kids were splashing about at the water’s edge.

‘Clear off,’ Reg hissed.

But Connie was on a mission. Holding out her bucket of sand, she struggled to steady herself, tottered and made a grab at his trousers. She stumbled against him and fell. At the same time, Reg noticed a wasp crawling along the sand nearby. As Connie pulled herself to her feet again, Reg glanced around to make sure nobody was watching him, and then gave Connie a good shove with his leg. She sat down heavily on top of the wasp. A few seconds later, her heart-rending screams brought the others running.

By the time the girls got back, the kids were sitting further down the beach, watching a Punch and Judy show. Billy had his arm around Connie who was sporting a large white bandage on her leg. Mary listened in horror as Tom explained about the wasp.

‘Good job the St John Ambulance people were so close,’ he said, pointing to the first aid post a little way along the beach.

‘Poor little mite,’ said Dottie. ‘Couldn’t you have stopped her?’

‘She fell,’ said Reg, re-arranging the knots in the handkerchief on the top of his head. ‘Couldn’t do a thing about it, love.’

The Punch and Judy show over, Gary was looking very listless again.

‘I think you’d better take him to see Dr Fitzgerald tomorrow, hen,’ Mary told Peaches.

Peaches nodded miserably.

‘Get Dottie to run over and fetch him when we get back,’ Reg suggested.

Dottie turned her head away. Oh God, she couldn’t possibly face Dr Fitzgerald again. Not after last Saturday night. Whatever was she going to do?

‘You’ll go and get the doc for Peaches, won’t you love?’ Reg insisted.

She turned her head and everyone was looking at her. ‘Yes, yes, of course I will.’

They arrived back in the village at six thirty. Jack dropped Reg off at the Jolly Farmer and then went on to Mary’s place. It took a while to get all her sleepy kids off the back of the lorry, but they all called out their goodbyes.

‘It’s been a wonderful day, hen,’ Mary told Peaches. ‘Now don’t you worry about your Gary. He’ll be all right.’

Jack took Dottie, Peaches and Gary home. The little boy kept whimpering as if he was in pain and Jack had to carry him indoors. As soon as they were safely inside, Dottie and Jack drove to the doctor’s.

‘You’ll wait for me?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ he smiled.

Dottie was relieved. She’d been frantic with worry. She didn’t really want to face the doctor again. Not so soon. But she couldn’t refuse a friend, could she? Not when her child was so sick.

She drew some comfort from hearing the engine still running as she walked up the garden path to the big house. Dottie rang the doorbell and waved to Jack. All at once, he drove off. She almost panicked and ran after him, crying, ‘Come back …’ but then she realised he was only turning the lorry around. She turned to face the door. The glass panel grew dark and she knew someone was coming.

It was Mrs Fitzgerald. ‘Dottie!’

‘I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs Fitzgerald,’ Dottie began, ‘but is the doctor here?’

‘He’s not on call today,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said crisply. ‘You’ll have to go to Dr Bailey over at Heene Road.’

‘Who is it?’ said a voice behind Mrs Fitzgerald.

‘It’s Dottie.’

‘It’s all right,’ said Dottie quickly. She could hear Jack’s lorry drawing up outside the gate again. ‘We’ll go to Dr Bailey.’

Dr Fitzgerald snatched opened the door and Dottie jumped. She couldn’t look at him in the eye and was immediately tongue-tied. ‘I didn’t know it was your day off … um … I wouldn’t have …’

‘Is it your Reg?’ he asked all businesslike and formal.

‘It’s little Gary Smith,’ Dottie gabbled. ‘Peaches and Jack are really worried. We thought it was just a cold and a bit of sunshine would do him good so we’ve been to the beach all day at Littlehampton. He’s been too poorly even to join in with all the other kids.’

‘I’ll get the car,’ said the doctor.

‘It’s your day off,’ Mariah reminded him.

‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ said Dottie at the same time. ‘Jack’s here. He’ll run us over to Heene Road.’

‘I’ll just get my bag,’ Dr Fitzgerald insisted.

Dottie hurried back up the path. She wanted to get into the lorry before the doctor suggested taking her as passenger in the car. Jack was leaning anxiously out of the cab. ‘He’s coming,’ she said, swinging open the door and climbing in beside him.

‘Thank God for that,’ said Jack with feeling.

Dr Fitzgerald followed them to number thirty-four where Jack and Peaches lived. It made Dottie feel uncomfortable knowing that he was right behind them. She’d have to deal with this. She had to find a way of making it clear that his advances were totally unwelcome, and then they would both know where they stood.

‘You will come in with us, won’t you, Dottie?’ said Jack as they pulled up outside.

‘Well …’ Dottie began.

‘Peaches would be glad of a friend.’

When they all got inside the house, Gary was already in bed. Dr Fitzgerald, Peaches and Jack went upstairs and while they were all gone, Dottie busied herself making some tea for when they all came down. After a few minutes, she heard Peaches cry out, ‘Oh no, no!’

Dottie dropped the lid of the teapot and raced upstairs, her heart pounding with fear.

Peaches was sobbing in Jack’s arms. Little Gary was lying very still on the top of his bed while Dr Fitzgerald was pulling down his pyjama top. For one awful second, Dottie feared the worst, but then she saw Gary move his arm very slightly. ‘I’ll go back home and telephone for the ambulance,’ Doctor Fitzgerald was saying.

‘What is it? What’s happened?’ Dottie gasped.

‘I’m going with him,’ said Peaches.

‘I’m afraid that will be impossible, Mrs Smith,’ said Dr Fitzgerald, shaking his head. ‘Not in your condition.’

‘But I’m his mother!’ Peaches wailed.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ said Dottie looking wildly from one to the other.

Dr Fitzgerald closed his bag with a loud snap. ‘I’m not one hundred percent sure,’ he said, ‘but it looks to me like poliomyelitis.’