A Woman of Substance (57 page)

Blackie was calling from the other side of the room, ‘And what will ye be calling Tinker Bell, then? Have ye thought of a name?’

So preoccupied was Emma, she did not think twice. Edwin’s name was on the tip of her tongue and she said automatically, thoughtlessly, ‘Edwina—’ As that name fell from her lips Emma froze by the sink, so aghast was she at her own carelessness. What made me say that name? she wondered, furious with herself. She had never had intention calling the baby after Edwin. She had decided to name the baby Laura weeks ago. Emma felt as if the blood was draining out of her.

Blackie’s jaw had dropped open and he was staring at her back. He could see that she held herself tensely and her shoulder blades were protruding through the thin silk of the white blouse she was wearing. He repeated the name Edwina to himself and then, without having to give it a second thought, he knew who the father of her child was. Edwin Fairley. There
was no doubt in his mind about that. Everything fell neatly into place. Why had he not thought of Edwin before? It was so obvious. And he had been suspicious of her story for months, convinced that the fastidious Emma would not have entangled herself with a village yokel. Blackie’s heart ached for Emma and he longed to console her. But he held himself in check. Although her face was turned away from him, Blackie was now acutely conscious of her embarrassment and he guessed that she had just made a dreadful slip of the tongue. He was positive she had never meant to call the child Edwina. Why would she so blatantly spell it out for him? No, the canny Emma would never do that. It had been a mistake she could not now gracefully correct.

And so Blackie adopted an unconcerned tone and said, with a show of gaiety, ‘And where did ye find such an
elegant
name, mavourneen? In one of them illustrated magazines, I am thinking. Sure and it is real fancy, but very fitting for me darlin’ Tinker Bell. I like it. Sure and I do.’

Emma nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Blackie fussed with the towel, draping it over his arm, and then he tested the water, taking his time so that she could regain her composure. ‘Now then, I’m ready,’ he said with a bright smile. ‘Hold the babe forward, Emma…Yes, that’s right. Good, mavourneen.’

Somewhat recovered, Emma said, ‘Her full name is to be Ed—Edwina.’ She almost faltered, then swallowed and went on more steadily, ‘Laura Shane—’

‘Shane!’ interrupted Blackie, his surprise evident.

‘Yes, after you. I can’t very well call her Desmond or Patrick, and Blackie would seem odd, now wouldn’t it?’

Blackie chuckled. ‘True! True! Well, ‘tis flattered that I am and right pleased, Emma. So, let’s commence.’ He dipped his fingers in the bowl of water with a flourish and made the sign of the cross on the baby’s forehead.

‘Wait a minute,’ Emma exclaimed, her eyes stretching widely. ‘I’m not a Roman Catholic and neither is the baby. In the Church of England the vicar just sprinkles the water on in drips. He doesn’t make a cross. We must do it properly. Start again, please.’

Blackie bit back a smile. For a so-called atheist she was being mighty particular. ‘Sure and I understand, Emma.’ He wiped the cross off the baby’s brow with the towel and resumed. Once again he dipped his large brown fingers in the water and ceremoniously sprinkled a few drops on the child, who stared up at him unblinkingly.

‘I christen thee Edwina Laura Shane Harte. In the name of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.’ Blackie crossed himself and then he bent down and kissed the baby. He smiled at Emma, and kissed her, too. ‘There ye are, mavourneen. The baby is christened. Does that make ye feel happier?’

‘Yes, Blackie. Thank you. It was beautiful. And just look at the baby. She’s smiling again and she didn’t even cry when you dropped the water on her. I’m going to make sure she has a good life. The best of everything, Blackie.’ She turned her face to his and her gaze was solemn. ‘She’ll have the most beautiful clothes and go to the best schools and she’ll be a real lady. I’m going to make sure of that. Nothing is going to stop me.’ The serious expression eased into a tender smile. ‘I wonder what she’ll look like when she’s older, Blackie. What do you think?’

A Fairley, that’s a certainty, Blackie mused, regarding the child objectively. The signs were already there, as young as she was. He said, ‘She’ll be lovely, Emma. Aye, she will indeed. But put her back in the cot, and get out Laura’s bottle of port wine. I think the least we can do is to be drinking a toast to the baby.’

‘Oh, Blackie, do you think that’s all right? Laura might be annoyed if we dip into her—’

‘Don’t be silly, Emma,’ Blackie cried through his laughter. ‘She won’t care. And anyway, I’ll go out later to the offlicence and buy another bottle. We have to be toasting Edwina, ye know. It’s the custom.’

Emma nodded and did as he asked. They toasted the baby with the ruby port, which Emma had poured into two small glasses. ‘May she be healthy, wealthy, and wise,’ pronounced Blackie, taking a sip, ‘and I won’t be adding beautiful, for we know she’ll be taking after her mother!’

Emma smiled at him with great fondness, and they sat down
in front of the fire, drinking the wine, lost in their own thoughts. After a short while Emma said, ‘We can’t tell Laura about the christening. She wouldn’t approve. She wouldn’t think it proper. She’d also wonder why I didn’t go to the church.’

Blackie nodded and frowned. ‘Aye, ye are right about that. Still, what are ye going to be telling her, Emma? After all, she doesn’t know the truth. She’ll be thinking it funny if ye don’t have the bairn baptized.’

‘I’ll tell her I’m having it done in Ripon,’ said Emma, recognizing as she spoke that she had finally made her decision about the baby’s immediate future.

‘Ripon! Why there?’ Blackie threw her a curious glance.

Emma looked at him carefully, cleared her throat, and said softly, ‘Because that’s where I’m going next week with the baby. I’m taking her to my cousin Freda’s.’ Blackie seemed baffled and Emma explained quickly. ‘She will live there with my cousin. You know I can’t keep the baby with me when I have to work. You said that yourself months ago.’

Blackie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Have ye been in touch with ye cousin, then? Has she agreed to take Edwina in?’

‘No. I was afraid to write, in case she turned me down. But if I arrive there with the baby I know she won’t do that,’ Emma said, speaking in the most assured voice she could summon. ‘Freda’s a good woman, Blackie, and she was very close to my mother, even though she is much younger. She’s a motherly sort and she loves children. She has two little ones of her own. I just know she won’t refuse me when she sees the baby. And I shall pay her for looking after Edwina.’

Blackie sighed. ‘Aye, I see the practical side of the idea, but won’t ye be missing the child, Emma?’

‘Oh yes, I will, Blackie. I will! But as soon as I’m on my feet, I shall bring Edwina back to live with me. In the meantime, I shall go to see her once or twice a month.’

Blackie shook his head, looking sorrowful, and his Celtic soul ached that she had to be separated from her child. But he said cheerfully, ‘And when do ye intend to be going to Ripon?’

Emma bit her lip. ‘I shall take the baby over there next week, before I go back to work. On Thursday. I’ll stay with Freda
that night and all day on Friday, to be with the baby a bit longer.’ She saw the dismay on his face and cried, ‘I have to do it! I have no choice!’ Tears were imminent and her voice shook.

‘I know, Emma, I know. Don’t be getting yeself upset,’ Blackie responded sympathetically. He leaned forward and squeezed her arm. ‘It’s the wisest course under the circumstances.’

‘At least she will be with a member of my family and she’ll be in the fresh country air,’ Emma pointed out firmly, as if to convince herself, as well as Blackie, of the wisdom of her decision.

Blackie said, ‘But what about ye dad? Won’t ye cousin be telling him about the baby?’

‘No, she won’t, if I ask her not to,’ Emma countered in a confident tone, hoping she was right. ‘She knows what he’s like, and she’ll protect me for my mother’s sake. They were like sisters.’ Emma looked him right in the eye and went on, ‘I shall tell her the whole truth, Blackie, about the boy from the village letting me down and running off to the navy. I’ll have to.’

‘Aye, I expect ye will,’ remarked Blackie, now convinced that the truth had been slightly bent. Then another thought struck him forcibly, and he reflected for a minute, before saying, ‘Emma, ye mentioned the birth certificate before. Ye will have to go and register the bairn’s birth with the registrar in Leeds, to get the certificate. And ye’ll have to give the father’s name. It’s the law.’

Emma’s face darkened with distress. She had already thought of this herself and it bothered her not a little. She held herself very still, not answering.

‘I can guess what ye are thinking, mavourneen. When the registrar asks ye for the name, ye are going to say “father unknown”, are ye not?’

‘Yes,’ she acknowledged softly.

‘Aye, I knew it. Well, I think ye should be putting
me
down as the father,’ he said emphatically.

Emma was thunderstruck. ‘Oh, Blackie, I can’t! I won’t! Why should you have that responsibility?’

His piercing stare was unwavering. ‘Do ye want to give the name of the
real
father, Emma?’ he asked pointedly.

‘No!’ she exclaimed, her eyes flaring.

‘Well, then, wouldn’t it be better to have
my
name on the certificate? The paper will still show that she’s illegitimate, I realize that. But at least a name, such as it is, would look better than “father unknown”. Think on that one, mavourneen.’

‘But, Blackie—’

He held up his hand to silence her and there was a reproving look on his face. ‘Do ye know how often ye say “But, Blackie”? Always disagreeing with me, ye are. It’s settled,’ he announced in a voice that forbade argument. ‘And I shall come with ye to the registrar’s office, just to make sure ye be doing as I say.’ He stretched out his hand and patted her arm again. ‘Ye’ll see, it will be fine, Emma. And I am happy to take the responsibility, as ye call it, for Tinker Bell.’ He grinned crookedly. ‘I mean Edwina Laura Shane. Me darlin’ godchild, so to speak.’

Emma’s eyes filled up. She fumbled for her handkerchief and blew her nose, striving to curb her emotions. ‘You’re so good, Blackie. I don’t know why you do so much for me.’

‘Because I care about ye, Emma, and the wee one. Somebody’s got to look out for ye both in this hard world, I am thinking,’ he remarked softly, his affection reflected in his bright black eyes.

‘You might regret it later. I mean, regret putting your name on the birth certificate.’

Blackie laughed dismissively. ‘I never regret anything I be doing, mavourneen mine. I’ve found regrets to be a sinful waste of time.’

A brief smile touched Emma’s lips. She knew it was fruitless to attempt to dissuade him once his mind was made up. He, too, could be very stubborn. She stared into the fire reflectively. ‘I must keep the birth certificate in a safe place. Locked up. Laura must never see it,’ she said. Her voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible.

Blackie was not certain he had heard correctly. He leaned forward and asked, ‘What was that?’

She gave him the benefit of a long knowing look. ‘I said,
Laura must never see the birth certificate. Because
your
name will be on it.’

‘I don’t care about that,’ exclaimed Blackie. ‘But she shouldn’t see it, for the simple reason that she’d know then ye are single, and that the babe’s illegitimate. Did I not tell Laura ye were married to a sailor called Winston Harte? Pack of lies I told that poor girl. Ye are forgetting things, Emma.’ He sighed heavily. ‘That’s the trouble with lying.’

Emma flushed. ‘They were only white lies. I told them for the baby’s sake, and you agreed all along that I was right,’ she retorted fiercely. ‘And I’m not forgetting anything. I was only thinking that I must protect
you.
And I don’t want Laura to be hurt. She would be, if she saw your name on the birth certificate. She might believe you really were the father.’

‘So what?’ Blackie demanded, further bewildered.

‘Laura loves you, Blackie.’

‘Loves me! Laura! That’s a lot of cod’s wallop, mavourneen.’ He burst out laughing and shook his head disbelievingly. ‘Hell could freeze over before Laura would look at
me
twice. I don’t have to tell ye that she’s a staunch Roman Catholic, and devout, and she knows I’m lapsed. Come on, Emma. That’s a daft idea. Loves me, indeed! On the heads of the Blessed Saints I do swear ye have lost ye mind.’

Emma threw him a fond but impatient look. ‘You are a great fool, Blackie O’Neill. You can’t see what’s staring you in the face. Of course she loves you. Very much.’

‘Did she tell ye that?’ he cried, his glance quizzical.

‘No, she didn’t. But I know she does.’ Observing his sceptical expression, Emma added vehemently, ‘I just
know
, deep down inside, that she does!’

Blackie could not help laughing again. ‘Ye are very imaginative, Emma. Sure and ye are. I don’t believe it at all, at all.’

Emma shrugged resignedly. ‘You don’t have to, but it’s true,’ she asserted strongly. ‘I can tell by the way she looks at you, and talks about you sometimes. I bet if you asked her, she’d marry you.’

Blackie was stunned. A peculiar look settled on his face, one Emma could not read. Emma said hurriedly, ‘You mustn’t tell her I’ve said anything, though. She’d be upset if she thought
we’d been talking about her, behind her back. And anyway, she’s never actually
told
me she loves you. That’s just my opinion.’

Still Blackie did not answer. Emma rose and went over to him. She touched his massive shoulder lightly and he looked up at her, his eyes suddenly twinkling. ‘Promise me you won’t mention it to Laura, Blackie.
Please.
’

‘I promise I won’t mention it to a living breathing soul,’ he said, patting the small hand resting on his shoulder. Satisfied that he would keep his word, Emma nodded and glided into the kitchen. ‘I’ve got to start preparing things for tea,’ she called over her shoulder.