swearing softly to himself as he tried to match pieces of the dog’s head to its body.
Florrie finished knitting the white matinee coat and reached for her darning needle to sew the pieces together. In a few more days her baby would be wearing it and yet it looked to be just about the right size for Betty’s doll.
Her thoughts returned to the letter from Frank’s wife. Janie’s words were coming back to her, but something didn’t fit, I’m expecting sometime in summer, he would have been happy about that. Summer? Summer? That baby couldn’t be Frank’s then… he’d been gone too long. She remembered his last words to her, Janie’ll be all right. Bob’ll look after her.
She clutched her chest, the ache in her heart almost unbearable. Perhaps it was better that Frank wouldn’t be coming back poor sod…not after another fella had fathered his longed for child.
At this point she was unable to grasp the similarity between Janie’s betrayal and her own willingness to fall into another man’s arms. During that night she went into labour and as soon as it was daybreak she dug her elbow in Joe’s ribs.
‘Joe, I've started, get up and fetch the midwife.’
Throwing on his clothes Joe dashed to the nurse’s home. All that day at work he thought about his next step. The child would be born. The child would be adopted. They would all get back to how it was before, just the four of them, him and Florrie and his girls. Back home that evening he pottered about the kitchen putting off the moment he’d been dreading.
‘Is that you, Joe?’ Florrie’s voice was tired and weak.
He braced himself and then as if restrained by heavy chains of despair, slowly climbed the stairs. At the door of the dimly lit bedroom he stood rooted to the spot. The only sound was the rustling and snuffling of a newborn, instinctively but clumsily trying to latch on to its mother’s nipple.
‘It’s a boy, Joe,’ Florrie whispered, ‘come over here and just have a look at him, will ya?'
Joe ran his tongue round his dry lips, opened his mouth to speak, snapped it shut again and moved towards the bed. He tried to take a deep breath, discovered he couldn’t, and retched instead. Everything was getting darker… spinning… faster... faster…
‘Joe? Joe? Are you all right?’
Florrie’s voice came to him through a gradually clearing fog. His forehead and the back of his neck were heavy with sweat, he tried to open his eyes then tightened them again before opening them wide as he tried to take stock.
He was on the floor by the side of the bed with Florrie hanging over him gently slapping his face. Pulling himself on to his knees he rested his head on the bed and allowed himself to lapse in and out of oblivion. It seemed like hours had passed before he became aware that Florrie had placed the baby, with its sweet-scented newness, inches from his face.
‘It’s no good… I don’t want it here Florrie, not in my house,’ he said desolately, ‘it’ll have to go.’
‘I can’t give him away Joe. I just can’t . He’s mine… and more’n likely he’s yours as well.’ She summoned up all her strength to make one final appeal. ‘You always wanted a son, didn’t you Joe? We’ve already lost one little lad, let’s not lose another.’
Man and wife began to cry, torn apart by their own misery, unable to comfort each other until eventually Joe rose to his feet and staggered from the room. The blameless infant, exhausted by his journey into the world and blissfully ignorant of his uncertain future slept on.
Joe turned a deaf ear to the muffled sound of his wife’s wretched sobbing and lathered his face briskly at the kitchen sink. He needed a pint but he didn't want his pals to notice how upset he’d been. He stared with swollen eyes at his reflection in the mirror and scraped his razor across his
Florrie finished knitting the white matinee coat and reached for her darning needle to sew the pieces together. In a few more days her baby would be wearing it and yet it looked to be just about the right size for Betty’s doll.
Her thoughts returned to the letter from Frank’s wife. Janie’s words were coming back to her, but something didn’t fit, I’m expecting sometime in summer, he would have been happy about that. Summer? Summer? That baby couldn’t be Frank’s then… he’d been gone too long. She remembered his last words to her, Janie’ll be all right. Bob’ll look after her.
She clutched her chest, the ache in her heart almost unbearable. Perhaps it was better that Frank wouldn’t be coming back poor sod…not after another fella had fathered his longed for child.
At this point she was unable to grasp the similarity between Janie’s betrayal and her own willingness to fall into another man’s arms. During that night she went into labour and as soon as it was daybreak she dug her elbow in Joe’s ribs.
‘Joe, I've started, get up and fetch the midwife.’
Throwing on his clothes Joe dashed to the nurse’s home. All that day at work he thought about his next step. The child would be born. The child would be adopted. They would all get back to how it was before, just the four of them, him and Florrie and his girls. Back home that evening he pottered about the kitchen putting off the moment he’d been dreading.
‘Is that you, Joe?’ Florrie’s voice was tired and weak.
He braced himself and then as if restrained by heavy chains of despair, slowly climbed the stairs. At the door of the dimly lit bedroom he stood rooted to the spot. The only sound was the rustling and snuffling of a newborn, instinctively but clumsily trying to latch on to its mother’s nipple.
‘It’s a boy, Joe,’ Florrie whispered, ‘come over here and just have a look at him, will ya?'
Joe ran his tongue round his dry lips, opened his mouth to speak, snapped it shut again and moved towards the bed. He tried to take a deep breath, discovered he couldn’t, and retched instead. Everything was getting darker… spinning… faster... faster…
‘Joe? Joe? Are you all right?’
Florrie’s voice came to him through a gradually clearing fog. His forehead and the back of his neck were heavy with sweat, he tried to open his eyes then tightened them again before opening them wide as he tried to take stock.
He was on the floor by the side of the bed with Florrie hanging over him gently slapping his face. Pulling himself on to his knees he rested his head on the bed and allowed himself to lapse in and out of oblivion. It seemed like hours had passed before he became aware that Florrie had placed the baby, with its sweet-scented newness, inches from his face.
‘It’s no good… I don’t want it here Florrie, not in my house,’ he said desolately, ‘it’ll have to go.’
‘I can’t give him away Joe. I just can’t . He’s mine… and more’n likely he’s yours as well.’ She summoned up all her strength to make one final appeal. ‘You always wanted a son, didn’t you Joe? We’ve already lost one little lad, let’s not lose another.’
Man and wife began to cry, torn apart by their own misery, unable to comfort each other until eventually Joe rose to his feet and staggered from the room. The blameless infant, exhausted by his journey into the world and blissfully ignorant of his uncertain future slept on.
Joe turned a deaf ear to the muffled sound of his wife’s wretched sobbing and lathered his face briskly at the kitchen sink. He needed a pint but he didn't want his pals to notice how upset he’d been. He stared with swollen eyes at his reflection in the mirror and scraped his razor across his
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