All the Days of Our Lives (18 page)

Just round the corner she was grateful for a scrubby hedge edging a garden, because her insides bucked and she was sick until there was nothing left inside her.

October 1943

It was Vera who noticed.

Katie spent the rest of the summer in a paralysis of fear, denying to herself for as long as she could that this was really happening to her. But as the days waned and the leaves turned yellow, then brown, the child moved unmistakably inside her.

That evening it was wet and they had both come in tired and hungry from work, leaving their umbrellas open to dry in the hall. They took off their wet boots, then went round pulling the blackout curtains and turning on the lights.

‘There’s some of that stew left over from yesterday,’ Vera said. ‘Where are my slippers? Ah, here they are. It’s more potato than meat, but there’s a fair bit left, I think.’

‘I’ll put it on to heat up,’ Katie said. She almost said, ‘I could eat a horse, I’m so hungry,’ but stopped herself. Her mother had been giving her odd looks lately, as if she was trying to work something out.

‘There’s some carrot and swede,’ Vera said. She got to her feet, with a tired grunt. ‘I’ll get the fire going, then I’ll come and give you a hand.’

Vera clicked the wireless on. Music streamed out and then, as she riddled the fire and Katie was scraping carrots, the news. Italy had declared war on Germany.

‘They want to make up their minds, those Eyties,’ Vera remarked. ‘This is nearly all slack—’ The fire kindled and spat.

Katie heard her mother’s intake of breath. She was kneeling by the fender, head turned to look at Katie as she stood by the table. Their eyes met and, in those seconds, Katie knew it was too late to deny anything. Her stomach had taken on an unmistakable roundness and Vera was staring straight at it. Katie felt her cheeks burn.

There was a moment of silence as Vera got slowly to her feet. Then she advanced like a prowling tiger. Katie took a step back, horrified at her demented expression.

‘
What
’ – she pointed an accusing finger – ‘is
that
?’

Katie looked down helplessly at her expanding belly, unable to meet her mother’s burning gaze.

‘Look at me!’ Vera shrieked. ‘Don’t you dare look away from me! What is that . . . That swollen . . .
thing
doing in this house? It’s true, isn’t it? I knew something was going on – it’s that Collinge chap, isn’t it? You
stupid, stupid
—’

The stinging slap her mother delivered across her face forced Katie to look up in shock, tears of pain filling her eyes.

‘Ow – don’t! Don’t hit me!’ Holding her cheek, she burst into tears. ‘What’re you hitting me for?’

Vera was beside herself. ‘What d’you damn well think I’m hitting you for, you
stupid
, dirty girl!’ She began by screaming, but managed to lower her voice in case any of the neighbours might hear. She came up close, taking hold of the neck of Katie’s cardigan, her whole face bitterly contorted. The rest of her words came out as a venomous hiss. ‘It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve gone and let him have his way with you, and now look at you!’

Katie couldn’t deny it. She nodded, but she could feel defiance growing in her.

‘Well, what d’you want me to say? I’ve been biting my lip long enough, but my God, I should’ve said something before. You’d better get him to marry you right away, there’s nothing else for it. I just hope he does the decent thing or you’re ruined, my girl – no two ways about it!’

‘Of course he will,’ Katie defended him. ‘We love one another – only he doesn’t know yet. I haven’t told him.’

Vera gave a nasty laugh, folding her arms across her chest. She was working herself up into more of a mocking rage by the minute.

‘No, I bet you damn well haven’t! All these years I’ve brought you up, scrimping and saving, and trying to give us a respectable life amid all the dregs . . . And how d’you thank me for it, you little slut? Spreading your legs for the first man who comes along. My God . . .’ She was so worked up that for a moment Katie thought she was going to have a fit. Her voice turned to a growl. ‘Look at you – just like your father. You’re like him down to the bone – oh!’ She backed away and slapped her hand down hard on the table. Katie saw that the pan of water for the carrots was boiling away, steam pouring into the cold air. My father? Katie thought. What on earth is she talking about?

‘Mother . . .’

‘Don’t you “Mother” me!’ Vera was wringing her hands. ‘Don’t think you can get around me. I’m not your mother any more. D’you think I’ve hauled myself out of the gutter for you to drag us straight back down there again? Do you? Over my dead body! You can get out – take your things and your bastard brat, and get out of my sight. You’re all the same: you’re an O’Neill to the core, and I’m finished with you – the whole damn rotten lot of you! That’s what you are: rotten to the core.’

It was Vera who was sobbing after this bewildering outburst, bent over with her elbows resting on the table, face buried in her hands. Katie stood numbed, in shock as the words poured out of her mother, not seeming to make any sense.

Vera suddenly flung herself away from the table. ‘Go on, I mean it – get out! Take your things and go – to him. And I hope he damn well wants you or you’ll be on the streets, my girl, and it’ll serve you right, and don’t think you can come running to me! You’ll find out what life’s about, won’t you, you stupid little bitch. Go on . . .’

She came across the room and Katie ran out, frightened that her mother was about to set about her. Up in her room, she stood at a loss. What was she doing? Surely her mother didn’t really mean her to leave, for good? She couldn’t mean that! In her panic, the only person she could think of whom she wanted to see was Simon. He felt like her rock, the only safe haven to which she could escape.

‘I’ll take my night things,’ she murmured, opening drawers with shaking hands and gathering a little pile of belongings on the bed, the tears now running down her face.

‘Are you ready yet?’ Vera’s voice grated up the stairs. She came up and stood in the doorway, arms folded, her expression as hard as iron.

‘Mother, surely you don’t mean . . . You don’t really want me to
leave
?’

‘Oh yes, I do. I’ve had enough of you and your kind – Judases all!’

‘But what d’you mean?’ Katie wailed. ‘Uncle Patrick wasn’t a . . . a Judas. And Daddy . . .’

‘
Daddy
,’ Vera mimicked in a nasty voice. She looked so strange, so completely possessed by rage, that Katie was frightened. It was as if Vera had become someone she’d never seen before. ‘What do you know about
Daddy
. You were too young to remember anything.’

‘But . . .’ Katie’s voice became a squeak. ‘What d’you mean?’

They stood staring at each other. Vera’s face was working, and for a few seconds Katie felt she was looking at someone deranged. Then her expression seemed to freeze. In a low, intense voice, almost a hiss, she said, ‘I don’t mean anything. He
died
. Left forever. That’s a betrayal – can’t you see that? Can’t you?’

Their words ran out and suddenly it was quiet. Repelled, Katie turned and stuffed her things into her little suitcase. Vera stood back to let her past. She didn’t follow Katie as she went down the stairs, put on her wet boots again, picked up her umbrella and walked out into the night.

It seemed to take forever to get to Kings Heath, though it was not very late. She felt punch-drunk and unable to think straight. On the bus she found herself wondering whether Vera had taken the carrots off the stove or whether they had boiled dry. This made the tears come again, but she tried to swallow them down, not wanting to cry in front of strangers.

At Simon’s door she prayed he would answer, and not one of the Welsh lads. It took her several minutes to get up the courage to knock, and when she heard footsteps in the hall she thought she might faint with fright.

Simon’s face appeared round the door, squinting into the gloom.

‘Squeak!’ he exclaimed. ‘How lovely to see you, darling!’ Katie was sure the cheerful welcome sounded forced, but then she had taken him by surprise.

‘Can I come in?’ she asked huskily.

‘Well, of course you can.’ He stood back and she passed him, not sure if he had noticed the holdall in her hand. ‘So I take it you can’t keep away from me?’

The hall was dimly lit and the house sounded quiet. She took a breath, even opened her mouth to tell him, but instead said, ‘I – I’ve had a bit of a falling-out with my mother. Can I stay here tonight?’

‘Ah!’ Simon laughed, sounding relieved. ‘I did wonder what the luggage was all in aid of. Of course you can, Squeaky. I know what you mothers and daughters are like. Come on in, I was just having some supper. Bangers – d’you want some?’

‘No, it’s all right, I’ve had mine,’ she lied. In any case she could not have eaten: her stomach was churning like a maiding tub.

She sat opposite Simon and accepted a cup of tea as he tucked into his sausage and mash, looking as handsome as ever, but completely unaware of her misery.

Just look at me, she thought. Look at me properly. But he was too busy tucking in.

‘I’ve been over to Coventry today – see about a new customer. That’s why I wasn’t in.’ He took a swig of tea. ‘What sort of day’ve you had – old Misery-Guts behaving herself?’

Katie told him a few bits and pieces about the office. She was sure Mrs Crosby knew that she and Simon were involved with each other – the woman seemed to have second sense. But though she gave Katie long, meaningful stares, there was nothing she could say. As they talked about the day-to-day life of the firm, and Katie tried to be as normal as possible, the day’s upset and even the reality of the baby faded a little into the background. It became more and more impossible to begin the conversation. She knew she was putting it off again. Mother would calm down, she could go back home . . .

But as they prepared for bed later, she was careful to keep herself facing away from him as she undressed, in case he noticed. She saw though, with despair, as he carelessly threw his clothes onto the chair and flung on a dressing gown to go and clean his teeth, that he wouldn’t notice. He was blithely oblivious to everything. His life was going along swimmingly, thank you very much. She watched his departing back with utter desperation. She had to tell him – had to . . .
Please, listen to me – help me . . .

They cuddled up in Simon’s three-quarter-size bed, she with her back to him, Simon curled around her. As soon as they were touching she knew he was aroused, his hands beginning to explore her body in a lazy sort of way.

‘I think Mac and Les are going to be able to fix up a round of golf this weekend,’ he said through a yawn. ‘It’s a shame you don’t play – you should come and learn.’

Katie felt lonelier in that moment than ever before in her life. She said nothing. Simon’s hands were lifting the edge of her nightdress, his hands moving higher.

‘Goodness, Squeak’ – he stroked her bare belly – ‘I do believe you’re starting to fill out a bit. Is someone getting you extra rations from somewhere?’

Her breath caught in her throat. She turned in the bed so that she was on her back, half facing him.

‘BB – Simon. I . . . I need to tell you something.’

‘Umm?’ She could feel him pressing against her, hard and wanting.

‘No – stop, please!’ She was so emphatic that his hands stilled.

‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘I’m . . . I’m . . .’ Oh heavens, could she get the words out! ‘Oh, Si – I’m having a baby – our baby.’ They poured out, the sobs starting too.

He pushed himself up on his elbow and his boyish face was staring intently down into hers.

‘You are having me on, aren’t you?’

She shook her head vigorously. ‘I can feel it moving. It’s yours, Si – ours.’

He pushed back the bedclothes, drawing up her nightgown so that she felt cold and exposed, and touched her swollen stomach. His interest seemed detached, scientific, as if he was checking the pressure of a set of tyres.

‘And you’re sure?’ he said again. She could see he was completely stunned. That such a thing might really happen had not crossed his mind.

Fearfully, her tears running into her hair, she looked up into his face. ‘I’m certain.’

His left eye twitched. He looked away, across the room. Katie felt a coldness grow in her. He was not with her, she knew. He was far, far away. All he said, in the end, was, ‘
Christ!
’

Katie woke the next morning after a terrible night’s sleep, sick with hunger. Of course – she had had no tea last night. It all came rushing back to her. She was here, in Simon’s bed, after the row with Mom, after his reaction: the fact that he could think of nothing whatsoever to say.

She was alone in the bed. The curtains were still closed and the room very dark. Somewhere she could hear movement in the house, the others getting off to work. Would Simon just disappear to the works and not even come and speak to her? Was that how it was? And she had to get to work as well – she couldn’t just lie here! But she felt sick and utterly drained.