Hilda had spoken again to Dora, and, after hearing that hell and damnation weren’t preached, she decided to let Ellen go to the Baptist church. So far her daughter had seemed to love it, and now went on and on about Jesus – how he loved us all, how we’re his flock – but Hilda barely listened. Ellen was happy and as long as she remained that way it was fine: however, at the least sign of her being upset, she’d stop her going.
Hilda continued to feel unwell, the housework neglected, until on Saturday night, four weeks later, she woke in the night, groaning as pain knifed through her stomach.
No, no, she begged inwardly; please, don’t let me lose my baby. She sat up, clutching her stomach as another pain shot through her, this one more agonising than the last. Unable to stifle it, she screamed, and then screamed again.
‘Oh…oh no! No, not my baby! Oh God, save my baby!’
Ellen stumbled into the room, crying in the darkness: ‘Mum! Mum, what’s wrong?’
‘Get…get Mabel.’
‘Wh…what?’
With gritted teeth as pain struck again, Hilda was able only to grind out, ‘Go…Mabel.’
Ellen ran out, but too frightened to move, Hilda remained bending forward, her arms around her stomach, holding on, her mind trying to deny what was happening. She couldn’t be losing her baby, she couldn’t. She was over three months – past what was always considered the dangerous time. It had to be all right – it had to.
Hilda had no idea how long she sat there, one pain gripping her, then another, and another, until at last, Mabel rushed into the room.
‘Oh…oh, Mabel,’ she groaned.
She was aware that Mabel was fumbling for the bedside light, and, as the dim illumination spread across the bed, Hilda screamed again as she felt something slither from her body.
‘No! No! Please, Jesus, not my baby!’
‘Lay down, Hilda, let me look,’ Mabel urged.
Hilda lay back as Mabel gently pulled back the blankets. She knew what her friend would find, but still couldn’t hold back a cry of anguish when Mabel spoke.
‘Hilda, I’m so sorry.’
Tears spurted then, and she was dimly aware of Mabel’s arms around her, trying to comfort her, but there was no comfort. Why had she cried out to God, to Jesus? Why had she been mad enough to think there was a supreme being who would save her baby? Perhaps she had taken in some of the stuff that Ellen had been spouting, but it was rubbish, all rubbish. In anguish she ripped the crucifix from her neck, flinging it to the far side of the room.
‘Come on, love, let’s see if I can get you cleaned up, and maybe you should see a doctor.’
‘No, no, I don’t want a doctor. It’s too late, Mabel, my…my baby is dead.’
With a sigh of sadness, Mabel left the room, while Hilda continued to cry until she felt she was drowning in her own tears.
When Mabel came back she was carrying a bowl of water and a towel under her arm along with a newspaper. She placed the bowl by the bed, saying softly, ‘Come on, leave this to me, and I’ll need to change your sheet.’
It was only then that Hilda became aware that she was lying in her own blood, and…and: ‘Oh, Mabel…’
‘I know, love, I know,’ she murmured, swiftly removing something and wrapping it in newspaper.
Hilda couldn’t bear it. She knew it was her baby,
her son or daughter, and she cried, ‘I want to see it.’
‘No, darlin’, no,’ Mabel said. ‘There’s nothing to see. It…it’s tiny and isn’t properly formed. I’ll take it away,’ she added, rushing from the room.
Hilda closed her eyes in despair, wrapped in misery and hardly aware of Mabel returning, of being moved gently first one way then the other as the sheet was removed and her body bathed.
‘Try to get some sleep, love. I’ll stay with you.’
Mabel’s voice had reached her, but Hilda said, ‘No, no, I just want to be on my own. Leave me, Mabel, I’ll be all right.’
‘All right, if you’re sure, but I guessed what was happening and left Ellen in my place. I’ll keep her with me overnight.’
Hilda nodded, too heartsick to care. Her body felt empty, her baby gone, and when Mabel left she curled again into a ball of anguish.
Mabel locked up for Hilda and then sadly went up to her own flat. She too had once miscarried, remembered well her own grief and her heart went out to Hilda. It had surprised her that a miscarriage had been so painful, and, like Hilda, the heartbreak of losing her baby had been overwhelming. That had been eighteen months after having Billy, and since then there had been no
more pregnancies. Not that she minded now. Billy was nearly thirteen, only a year younger than his brother, but he’d been a difficult baby, squalling and demanding so much attention that she had hardly any time left for Percy. He was the same now, a holy terror, but Percy was a joy. There were odd occasions that she longed for a daughter and it wasn’t too late. It was the same for Hilda. She and Doug could try again, but that would be of little comfort to Hilda at the moment.
‘Is my mum all right?’ Ellen said, running up to her worriedly.
‘Sit down, love,’ Mabel urged.
‘No, no, tell me!’
‘I’m afraid your mum’s lost the baby.’
‘Lost it! How?’
‘It’s just something that happens and nobody really knows why.’
‘Is…is she all right?’
‘Yes, but it may take her a while to get over it. Naturally she’s very sad, and she wants to be on her own for a bit. I told her you’d sleep here tonight, but it’ll have to be the sofa, I’m afraid.’
Ellen looked close to tears, and it was only then that Percy spoke. ‘She can have my bed,’ he said. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa.’
Mabel smiled at him gratefully. When Ellen had come banging on the door, it had woken both her
and Percy. ‘Thanks, love,’ she said. ‘I’ll get you some blankets.’
Mabel went to fetch them from the cupboard, and, peeping into Billy’s room, she saw that he was still asleep. Nothing seemed to disturb him, and if she didn’t know better she’d have described it as the sleep of an innocent. Innocent! Huh, not Billy, the little sod was always up to mischief.
What a night, Mabel thought as she returned to bed. Poor Hilda, and it didn’t seem right to leave her downstairs on her own. She’d pop down first thing in the morning, but for now, it was time that they all got some sleep.
Ellen was up early after a restless night’s sleep. She wanted to see her mum – to make sure she was all right. There was no sign of Mabel, but Percy was stretched out on the sofa, blankets in a tangle around him as he said groggily, ‘My mum’s gone downstairs.’
Without a word Ellen ran through the kitchen and down the iron stairs, almost falling inside the back door to find Mabel in the kitchen. ‘Is…is my mum all right?’
‘She’s only just woken up and looks fine.’
Ellen ran to her mother’s room, halting momentarily. She didn’t look fine, she looked awful.
‘Mum…’ Ellen choked.
Her head turned, her eyes dull and voice reedy,
‘Don’t worry, I’m all right, just…just a bit tired, that’s all.’
Ellen scrambled onto the bed, placing an arm around her mother, and they lay quietly, but then Mabel appeared carrying a tray.
‘I’ve made you some tea, Hilda, and do you think you could manage this bit of toast?’
‘No, I’m not hungry.’
Mabel didn’t argue, only saying brusquely, ‘Right, Ellen, you eat it. I’ll get a bowl of water and sort your mum out. Go into the living room, there’s a good girl.’
‘But…’
‘You can come back to see your mum after I’ve given her a wash. Now go on, there’s a good girl.’
Ellen reluctantly did as she was told, but she’d only just finished the toast when the back door flew open and Percy almost fell into the room in his haste. ‘Where’s my mum?’
‘She’d giving mine a wash.’
Percy dashed past her and Ellen followed, hovering behind him on the threshold of her mother’s bedroom.
‘Percy!’ Mabel protested. ‘Get out of here.’
‘Mum, guess what? Dad’s here.’
‘Jack? My Jack’s here?’ she parroted.
‘Mabel, go. I’ll be all right,’ Hilda said.
‘But…but you need…’
‘I can manage, and, anyway, I’ve got Ellen.’
‘Well, if you’re sure…’ Mabel said.
‘I’m sure – now just go.’
Mabel hurried out, while Ellen just stood there, unsure of what to do. She saw the bowl of water beside the bed, tinged red, her eyes widening.
‘It’s all right, nothing to worry about, but go and pour it away.’
Ellen managed it, spilling only a little, and then went back to her mum. ‘What do you want me to do now?’
‘Nothing,’ she said, her mother’s tone lacklustre. ‘I’ll call you if I need anything.’
‘I’ll tell Lucy I won’t be going to church today.’
There was no answer, her mum’s eyes already closing. Ellen saw something glinting on the floor and crept across the room to pick it up. It was her mum’s cross and chain. She’d give it back to her later, but for now she left quietly, going through the kitchen and out of the back door, calling out, ‘Lucy! Lucy!’
It wasn’t Lucy who responded, it was Dora. ‘Lucy isn’t dressed yet. Is something wrong, Ellen?’
‘I can’t come to church today. My…my mum lost the baby.’
‘Oh, how awful for her. I’m so sorry, my dear. Don’t worry, I know you can’t come to church, but tell your mother we’ll all pray for her swift recovery.’
‘Thank you,’ Ellen choked as her eyes filled with tears.
‘You can pray for her too, Ellen. You don’t have to be in church for the Lord to hear your prayers.’
‘Yes…yes, I will.’
‘Good girl, and if there’s anything I can do, anything your mother needs, let me know.’
Ellen thanked her, still tearful when she went back inside. She had been to church quite a few times now and last week had seen a baptism. Before the lady had been immersed in water she had talked about her spiritual conversion, of being born again. The lady had looked so happy, as though something wonderful had happened to her, but despite being told about it, Ellen still didn’t understand. How could you be born again?
It was an hour before her mum called her, and Ellen rushed to her bedroom, relieved to see she was sitting up and looking a little better.
‘Are you all right, Mum?’
‘My throat’s parched. Will you make me a cup of tea?’
‘Yes, and I found this on the floor,’ Ellen said, holding out the necklace. ‘The chain’s broken but maybe Percy will be able to fix it.’
‘Keep it. I don’t want it.’
‘What? I can have it?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘Thanks, Mum, and…and I told Dora I wouldn’t be going to church today. She said to tell
you that she’ll ask everyone to pray for you to get better.’
‘Tell her not to bother. I prayed to God, to Jesus, to save my baby and a fat lot of good it did.’
‘I…I’ll make your tea,’ Ellen said unable to think of anything else to say. She liked going to church, but there were so many questions, so many things she still didn’t understand. Why hadn’t her mum’s prayers been answered – or the ones to bring Socks back?
Hilda recovered quickly, at least in body, but the loss of her baby weighed her down. There were times when she longed for the comfort of her mother’s arms and the grief of losing her parents would resurface to add to her misery. There were also times when she reached automatically for her mother’s necklace, only to find it wasn’t there. Ellen was wearing it now, and Hilda didn’t feel she could ask her to give it back.
For her daughter’s sake, Hilda made an effort, but her smiles were forced, and her heart heavy. In September it was Mabel who finally came to the rescue, persuading her to take a job with her in a factory on the other side of the Common.
Ellen was still going to church and as she continued to enjoy it, Hilda didn’t have the heart to stop her. Not only that, Dora was so reliable that she’d approached the woman to ask if she’d look after Ellen after school. It cost her five shillings
a week, but it was worth it for peace of mind, and the arrangement was working well. The work at the engineering factory was hard, but at least Hilda felt she was doing something important for the war effort.
It was now Friday; her week’s work over as Hilda knocked on Dora’s door. ‘Hello, and has Ellen behaved herself?’
‘Yes, she’s been as good as gold. Ellen, your mum’s here.’
Hilda handed over five bob, admiring Dora’s blonde curls. ‘Your hair looks nice. Have you had a perm?’
‘No, but I’ve had it in curlers all day. Cyril’s coming home tonight and he likes me to look nice.’
Ellen appeared then and they both said their goodbyes to Dora. As they walked next door, Ellen asked, ‘Mum, what’s for dinner?’
‘A bit of Spam and mashed potatoes,’ Hilda told her. Though a little hungry, she wasn’t looking forward to the pink, tinned meat that had now become a regular part of their diet. She flopped tiredly onto a chair, kicking her shoes off with relief. ‘Put the kettle on the gas, Ellen. I could murder a cup of tea.’
‘You look worn out, Mum.’
‘I am, but at least I’ve got the weekend off.’
As her daughter made the tea, Hilda closed her
eyes, only to open them moments later when Mabel burst into the room, her face white with panic.
‘Hilda, Percy’s gone.’
‘Gone! Gone where?’
‘I came home to find Billy on his own and a note on the table from Percy. He said he’s gone to join up, but I don’t know where. He ain’t been the same since his dad went back after those two weeks’ leave. Oh, Hilda, what am I gonna do?’
‘Calm down, love. I know Percy’s big for his age, but he isn’t fourteen till next week and doesn’t look old enough to join up. They’ll probably take one look at him and send him home with a flea in his ear.’
‘I hope you’re right, but I know Percy’s fed up. He wants to leave school now, but they won’t let him go until Christmas. He hates it,
and
having to keep an eye on Billy. The little sod drives him mad, me too, but I never thought Percy would try this.’
Billy appeared then, and Hilda hid a smile. There was no doubt that Billy was a little sod, but his cheeky grin was irresistible. With dark curly hair, green eyes and a sprinkle of freckles across his nose, he took after his mother in looks. He said, ‘Panic over, Mum. Percy’s just turned up.’
Mabel’s eyes lit up, and pushing Billy ahead of her she hurried out, calling, ‘See you later, Hilda.’
There was no doubt that Percy was Mabel’s favourite, and Hilda often wondered if that was why Billy was so naughty; perhaps bad behaviour was the only way to get his mother’s attention. In front of Billy, Mabel would go on and on about how good Percy was, but she never offered a word of praise to her younger son.
‘Here you are, Mum,’ Ellen said as she handed her a cup of tea.
‘Thanks, darling, you’re a good girl,’ Hilda said and meant it. She still grieved the loss of her baby, but with a daughter she was proud of, Hilda knew that somehow she had to count her blessings.
Mabel was just thankful to see Percy. She wasn’t angry, just relieved. ‘Please, love, don’t ever do that again. I nearly had a fit when I saw your note.’
‘I told him not to go. I told him you’d be upset.’
‘Shut up, Billy. I’m not talking to you,’ Mabel snapped, her eyes never leaving Percy. He was so like his father, tall, with brown hair and eyes to match. It was bad enough that Jack was in the army, that he was back at the front and she feared for him every single day, without her son joining up too. ‘I suppose the recruiting station turned you away.’
‘They laughed at me…told me to come back when I’m a man.’
‘That was a bit cruel, but they’re right.’
‘I’ll be fourteen next week and as soon as I leave school, I’ll try again.’
‘You’ll still be too young, sweetheart. I know you want to be a soldier just like your dad, but there are other things you can do to help the war effort. Like me, you could get a job in an engineering factory and it’s important work.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ Percy said, ‘but it ain’t the same.’
Mabel knew she would still have the worry of Billy when Percy started work, and though she didn’t want to give up her job, her younger son couldn’t be trusted on his own. The thought of losing two quid a week in pay caused a surge of anger. If Billy was more like his older brother it wouldn’t be a problem, but Billy was a bloody menace, always running off, always nicking things whenever he got the chance, his reputation down the market notorious. If only his father was here to sort him out, but there was no telling when Jack would be home on leave again.
‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ placated Percy, obviously unaware that her anger wasn’t directed at him.
‘It’s all right, son, but as I said, don’t ever do that to me again. Now the two of you can get cleaned up while I make a start on our dinner. You go first, Billy.’
‘Ain’t you gonna give Percy a hiding?’
‘No. Now do as you’re told and have a wash.’
‘That’s not fair. You gave me a hiding yesterday and I only nicked an apple off a stall.’
‘And how many times have I got to belt you before you stop thieving?’
With a mutinous look on his face, yet knowing better than to argue, Billy left the room. Mabel heaved a sigh of exasperation, doubting she’d ever be able to knock any sense into her younger son. It had always been the same, Percy the good one, Billy the bad. She smiled at Percy now, thankful that she had at least one son she could be proud of.
When dinner was ready, Hilda called Ellen to the table, but they had eaten only a few mouthfuls before the air raid siren sounded. Bombing raids were infrequent now and Clapham still remained mostly untouched, but despite this Hilda insisted they went to the nearby underground station for shelter.
‘Grab your gas mask, Ellen, and let’s go.’
‘Do we have to? Can’t we stay here?’
‘After what happened to your grandparents, I’m not going to risk it. Now don’t argue and get a move on,’ Hilda ordered as she rushed to pick up the bag that contained their papers, along with her own gas mask.
Outside they joined up with Mabel and the boys, and soon Dora and Lucy appeared too.
‘I hope Cyril doesn’t get caught up in the air raid,’ Dora said worriedly. ‘Do get a move on, Lucy.’
If bombs fell on Clapham, Hilda knew she’d never be able to forgive herself for bringing Ellen back to danger, but as Gertie had sold the smallholding soon after they left, writing to say she was off to enlist in the ATS, there was no chance of going back to Somerset.
Hilda still hadn’t answered Gertie’s letter and wondered where she was now – unaware that it wouldn’t be long before she got her answer.