Mud and Gold (15 page)

‘Goodness me, you
are
frightened,
aren’t you, dear? Has some old woman been telling you terrible
stories? Don’t you take any notice—some women enjoy frightening
young girls like you. It won’t be as bad as all that. Come on,
sweetheart.’

Amy tried to take another step backwards,
but a powerful contraction gripped her. She clutched her belly and
moaned, then leaned against Mrs Coulson and let the woman lead her
a short way down the passage and into a bedroom.

Mrs Coulson sat her on the edge of the bed
and deftly removed Amy’s shoes and stockings. Amy let her do as she
wished. If she closed her eyes she could imagine it was her
grandmother undressing her for bed, until another shaft of pain
brought her back to the present.

‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ she asked
when the pain subsided enough to let her speak.

‘Now, why shouldn’t I be?’ Mrs Coulson said
with a laugh. ‘Aren’t people usually nice to you? Put your arms up,
darling.’

Mrs Coulson undressed her, then got the
nightdress out of Amy’s bundle and helped her into it.

‘There we are, now we can get on with
things. Lie back, sweetheart.’ Amy lay on the bed and lifted her
knees, then let them drop outwards. ‘That’s a good girl,’ Mrs
Coulson said. ‘I’m going to have a little look to see how you’re
going, you tell me if I hurt you.’ But she didn’t hurt. Her touch
was firm but gentle, and Amy found it almost comforting.

Mrs Coulson stood back from Amy and raised
her eyebrows. ‘My goodness, dear, it’s a good thing you didn’t
leave it much longer getting here. You’re well on the way. Why did
you wait so long?’

‘I-I didn’t want to be any trouble. My
husband was busy with the milk, and I thought nothing would happen
for hours and hours.’

‘You were wrong there! Another hour or two,
three at the most, that’s all. And you would have troubled your
husband a lot more if he’d had to deliver your child out on the
road.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Amy began, then she cried out
as pain gripped her.

‘Never mind, dear, you’re here now. Lie
still for a bit, I’ll be back in a jiffy.’

She disappeared from the room and came back
holding a thick pad of cloth over a dark brown bottle, just as Amy
let out a shriek of pain. ‘Yes, poor little thing, it hurts,
doesn’t it?’ Mrs Coulson crooned. ‘Don’t be frightened, this’ll
make the pain go away. Take a deep breath.’ She tilted the bottle
for a moment, turned it upright and replaced its cork, then held
the pad close to Amy’s face.

‘What’s that? Is that chloroform?’

‘That’s right, darling. Come on, don’t twist
your face away.’

The pain was making it hard to think. Amy
struggled to concentrate on Mrs Coulson’s kind face, but it kept
fading into Sister Prescott’s grim scowl of disapproval. ‘I thought
I couldn’t have that. I thought it had to hurt.’

Mrs Coulson suddenly looked fierce, and Amy
cringed, but her anger was directed elsewhere. ‘Is that what the
old women have been saying to you?’ she demanded. ‘Just because
they suffered in childbirth they want every woman to, and they tell
girls like you that the good Lord meant women to suffer. They’re
wrong, child. I had my first three with nothing to take the pain
away, and I’ve blessed the Lord for this wonderful thing every day
since I bore my fourth with hardly more pain than cutting my
finger. This is God’s gift to women.’

‘I’m not allowed,’ Amy said, desperately
longing to take hold of that cloth and the relief it promised.

‘Who said you’re not allowed? Did your
husband tell you that? You can be sure he’d be yelling for the
chloroform if he had a broken leg that needed setting. I’ll tell
you what, my dear—the day a man bears a child is the day I’ll take
notice of any man’s opinion on the subject. Anyway, I won’t tell
him and you won’t either. Come on now, be a good girl.’ She held
the pad over Amy’s face just as a sharp pain made Amy cry out
louder than ever.

Amy gasped for air and felt a delicious
numbness creep over her body. She breathed deeply again and again
until the pad was taken away. ‘It doesn’t hurt now,’ she said in
wonder. She closed her eyes and savoured the strange, floating
feeling that had taken hold of her in place of the pain.

She was still unconscious two hours later
when a lusty cry broke the silence of the room. ‘A fine big boy,’
Mrs Coulson murmured to herself. ‘That should cheer the poor,
frightened little thing.’

November – December 1885

This was the strangest dream Amy had ever
had. She struggled to wake from it, but hands seemed to be pulling
her down into the thick darkness. There were muffled noises around
her; they slowly resolved into voices, and even more slowly into
audible speech.

‘Come on, darling,’ a voice said. ‘Time to
wake up now.’

Granny? Is that Granny calling me? Have I
slept in? I’ll be late for school. I mustn’t be late, Miss Evans
said I could start on the new reading book today
.

She felt a hand patting her cheek. ‘Wake up,
dear.’

It’s not Granny. Granny’s dead. I don’t
want to wake up
.

‘Open your eyes, darling. You want to see
your baby, don’t you?’

My baby? Ann’s here?
Amy forced her
eyes to open, but everything around her seemed dim and unfocussed.
‘My baby,’ she slurred. ‘Where’s my baby? I want her.’

‘Him
, you mean. Here’s your fine big
son.’

Amy began to see a little more clearly. An
ugly, wrinkled face topped with a fuzz of red hair was thrust near
her own.

‘Look at your baby, dear.’

‘That’s not my baby. What have you done with
my baby? I
want
her.’ Amy tried to push herself upright in
the bed, but her body refused to obey.

‘Why does she say it’s not her baby, Mrs
Coulson?’ Amy heard the voice of a young girl. ‘It is, isn’t
it?’

‘Hush, girl, of course it is. She’s muddled
in her mind, she’s still stupid from the chloroform. Don’t take any
notice of what she says, she’ll be right as rain when she’s woken
up properly.’

‘I want my baby,’ Amy whimpered. She felt
tears running down her face, but it seemed too much effort to wipe
them away.

‘I’ll put him to her breast for a bit. That
should steady her, and I want him to suck—it encourages the milk to
come in. Undo her buttons for me, Nellie.’

Amy felt hands fumbling at the yoke of her
nightdress. She blinked away the tears and tried to focus on the
red-headed creature. Its face was twisted in what looked like
anger, and a thin wail came from its mouth. For a moment the small
face blurred into Charlie’s large one, contorted with rage as he
swung his hand at her. Amy closed her eyes against the sight.
‘Please don’t hurt me.’

‘No one’s going to hurt you, darling. The
little fellow wants a drink, that’s all. My Lord, Nellie, I’ve
never seen a girl as frightened as this one. Have you got her
bodice undone yet? That’s the way, pull it right open.’

A hand was reaching for her breasts. Amy
opened her eyes, and now the face that she saw, half Charlie’s face
and half a strange creature’s, was full of hunger. ‘Don’t,’ she
begged. ‘I don’t want to. Please don’t make me. I don’t want to!’
She waved her hands feebly, trying to ward off the assault on her
body.

‘Now you’re being silly,’ a voice said
sternly. ‘Hold her arms down for me, Nellie. She nearly caught the
little fellow a clout then.’

Strong hands gripped Amy’s own and forced
them down to her sides.
I mustn’t struggle. Charlie will be
angry with me now. He’ll hit me
. ‘I’m sorry I was bad. I’ll be
good now. I’m sorry, Charlie.’ She closed her eyes and waited for a
blow; instead she felt her breasts being fumbled with and tugged
at. Amy lay limp and unresisting.
I belong to him. It’s his
right to do whatever he likes
.

‘Who’s she talking to, Mrs Coulson? Who’s
Charlie?’

‘That’s her husband. Stop prattling, girl,
you pop out to the kitchen and put the kettle on for me. She’ll
want a nice, hot cup of tea when she comes around properly.’

The mild discomfort of having her nipples
sucked at cleared the last of the clouds from Amy’s head. When the
sucking stopped she opened her eyes and recognised Mrs Coulson,
holding a blanket-wrapped bundle.

‘Are you all right, dear?’ Mrs Coulson
asked. ‘Do you know where you are now?’

‘Yes, thank you. Wasn’t someone else here a
minute ago?’

‘That’s Nellie, Mrs Finch’s girl from next
door. She helps me around the house when I’ve got mothers staying
here—she loves babies, that one. Of course I keep her well out of
the way while the real business is going on, but she’s a good,
useful sort of girl.’

‘Oh. Did I… did I say silly things
before?’

‘No sillier than hundreds of women. Don’t
worry, dear, I didn’t take any notice. Now, have a proper look at
your baby.’

Amy tried to drag herself up into a sitting
position, but as soon as she moved pain stabbed through her, making
her cry out.

‘You’re a bit tender, aren’t you? Take it
slowly. You just lie still and I’ll move the pillows.’ Mrs Coulson
held the baby in one arm while she adjusted the pillows behind
Amy’s back till she was half-upright. ‘I’m afraid you’ll be sore
for a while. This great big boy of yours was in a hurry to get into
the world, and he didn’t mind tearing you in the process. But I’ve
stitched you up nice and neat, and you’ll heal up given time. There
you are,’ she said, patting the pillows. ‘You want to have a little
cuddle with your baby now, don’t you?’

Amy looked at the creature in Mrs Coulson’s
arms. It had come from her body, and yet it seemed to have nothing
to do with her. ‘No, thank you.’

‘Don’t be frightened, you won’t hurt him.
Babies aren’t as delicate as they look. Come on,’ she encouraged.
She laid the baby on Amy’s chest and curled Amy’s left arm behind
his head. ‘That’s the way. Isn’t that nice?’

Amy said nothing. She lay quietly and looked
at the baby, wondering how long Mrs Coulson would expect her to
hold him.
I don’t want you
. She felt nothing but weariness
and resignation.

After a minute or two Mrs Coulson lifted the
baby and placed him in a cradle close to the bed. ‘He’ll go off to
sleep in a minute. He’s a fine boy all right.’

‘Why is he so ugly?’

‘Well, most newborns aren’t very pretty,
darling, except to their mothers. But it’s worse with such a big
baby. His head’s been all pushed out of shape on his way out. Don’t
worry, he’ll look nice soon.’

‘A boy. My husband will be pleased. He
wanted a son.’

‘Most men do, especially the first time.’
Mrs Coulson sat on the bed and slipped an arm around Amy’s
shoulders. ‘You wanted a girl, didn’t you, dear?’

‘No. I was scared I might have a girl—he
would’ve been angry with me if I had.’

‘Of course he wouldn’t have been!
Disappointed, maybe, but it’s nothing to be annoyed over.’

‘Yes, he would. He would’ve been really
angry.’

‘Does he often get angry with you? Got a bit
of a temper, has he?’ Mrs Coulson probed.

‘Only when I annoy him.’ Amy tried to smile.
‘The trouble is, I seem to do it such a lot.’ She wondered for a
moment why she was talking so freely to a stranger; but Mrs Coulson
did not seem like a stranger now, and she was so easy to talk
to.

‘Well, I find
that
hard to believe—a
sweet little thing like you. Goodness me, some men don’t know how
fortunate they are.’

‘It doesn’t matter. It’s a boy, and
Charlie’ll be pleased with me. That’s all that matters.’

‘You and the little fellow are both safe and
well, and
that’s
all that matters,’ Mrs Coulson retorted.
She gave Amy a gentle squeeze. ‘You know what, dear? With all those
stitches—and you lost a fair amount of blood when the little fellow
was coming, too—I think I should keep you here with me for three
weeks instead of two. It’ll give you a bit more time to heal up and
get stronger before you have to go home and manage by yourself.
Would you like that?’

‘I’d like to stay—if I won’t be a
nuisance?’

‘Of course you won’t! You’ll be good company
for me. And I’ve got Nellie to help with the work—now, why’s that
girl taking so long with the tea?’ She bustled off to hurry along
the tardy Nellie.

*

Amy slept late the next morning. It was
after nine o’clock before Mrs Coulson brought in her breakfast on a
tray. When Amy had had a leisurely meal and dozed a little more,
Mrs Coulson sat her up against the pillows and fussed over her. Amy
closed her eyes and savoured the pleasure of being treated like a
much-loved child as the nurse washed her face and hands.

‘I’ll give your hair a good brush, you’ll
want to look nice when your husband comes. Such pretty hair,’ Mrs
Coulson exclaimed. ‘So thick and wavy. I’m afraid your son won’t
take after you in that.’

Amy looked down at the cradle, where the
baby lay sleeping. ‘He looks much better today, like a real person.
Do you think he looks like Charlie?’

‘Mmm? Yes, I suppose he does. Yes, he’ll
look just like his Papa.’

‘I hope so. Charlie would like that.’

Charlie arrived earlier than Amy would have
thought possible; she knew he must have rushed through his milking
and factory visit. Mrs Coulson had barely finished putting her own
pretty mauve bed jacket around Amy’s shoulders when there was a
loud knocking at the front door and she hurried off to answer
it.

‘Come in, Mr Stewart,’ Amy heard her
say.

‘What’s happened? Is it all over? Is
everything all right?’ That was Charlie’s voice.

‘They’re both doing very well. Come along,
see for yourself.’

Charlie all but pushed his way past Mrs
Coulson when they reached the bedroom door. Amy could see from his
face that he must have hardly slept all night. He looked drawn and
anxious, and she could not help but feel sorry for him.