Calico Road (19 page)

Meg didn’t notice the journey back, too caught up with the pain that was tearing her body apart. She clung to the older woman, groaning as the contractions racked her.

‘Eh, she’s coming on fast,’ Livvy worried. ‘Can’t you get that horse to move any more quickly?’

‘No, missus.’

‘Where does she live?’

‘Moss Row.’

When they reached the street, the men denied any knowledge of the house number so Livvy shook Meg to get her attention and, when she indicated the house, the men carried her inside. They stood just inside the door, still holding her, looking round uncertainly.

‘Well, get her upstairs!’ Livvy ordered. ‘Can you think of nothing for yourselves?’

They rolled their eyes at one another then went up the narrow stairs, grunting with the effort. After laying Meg down on the bed they turned round, eager to get away.

But Livvy was barring the doorway. ‘One of you fetch a neighbour. I can’t do this on my own.’

‘Right.’

‘And the other one can light the fire for me and get some water on to boil.’

The man nearest the door edged outside with a quick, ‘I’ll go and find a neighbour to help.’ The one left behind clattered down the stairs to the kitchen, looking anxiously back over his shoulder because Meg was crying out in pain now.

Shaking her head at the cruelty of life and the helplessness of men when faced with a birthing, Livvy turned to deal with Meg, who had forgotten her worries about her husband as her body’s needs took over.

One morning in May Sophia Greenhalgh found her head swimming when she tried to get up, so let it drop back on the pillow. A wave of nausea overtook her and she pushed aside the bedclothes in frantic haste, running to vomit into her washbowl. Shivering, she crept back to bed and rang for her maid.

‘Eh, shall I send for the master?’ Betty asked.

‘No, you shan’t.’

‘But you’re ill. He’ll kill me if I don’t tell him.’

‘I’m not ill. I’m expecting a child, that’s all! And I don’t want him told about this yet.’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but for the life of me, I dursn’t keep it from him. He’ll turn me off if I do.’

So Jethro was sent for and came back from the mill, striding into the bedroom he’d left two hours previously. ‘What’s wrong, Sophia? They said you weren’t well.’

She glowered at Betty, who shuffled her feet and avoided her eye. Waving one hand in dismissal, Sophia waited until the maid had slipped out of the bedroom before turning to her husband. ‘I’m not ill. I think I’m having a child, that’s all.’

‘Ah.’ He looked at her with immense satisfaction.

Sophia was aching for a cuddle or some sign of affection at this important moment in their lives, but he made no move towards her and she soon dismissed that foolish hope. Who should know better than she that the only affection Jethro showed was in the marriage bed? And that was probably only to help satisfy his own needs.

‘We’ll have the doctor over to examine you,’ he said.

‘What on earth for? I’m not ill, just having a baby. It’s perfectly normal to be sick in the mornings from all I’ve heard.’ And she’d heard a lot since she got married. It was as if she’d joined a club and the other matrons spoke quite frankly in front of her now.

‘Nonetheless we’ll let him check you. No need to take risks.’

Sophia glared at him, but he wasn’t looking at her.

He moved across to the window. ‘You’ll not go riding until after it’s born. And you’ll do no physical work. Are you sure we have enough servants? Do we need to hire more?’

‘I don’t do any physical work now and of course we have enough servants.’

‘Good. But we must make sure you lead a quiet life.’

She sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. To her astonishment he came across to the bed then and pressed a quick kiss on her cheek before moving away, avoiding her eyes again as if he’d done something to be ashamed of.

‘I’ll leave you to rest. You should stay in bed till the doctor has seen you.’

Sophia said nothing. Better to get up after he’d left than to defy him openly or he’d order the servants to keep her in her room. She had already learned how ruthless Jethro could be when he wanted something – or perhaps ruthless was the wrong word? He wasn’t a cruel man. Adamant or determined might be better ways of describing him when he wanted something done a certain way. The servants and mill workers always rushed to obey his orders.

In fact, he wasn’t at all the kind of man she’d thought him when they married, but a much more complicated creature.

She sometimes wondered what it would have been like to marry Oswin. Would he have been so firmly in charge of their lives or would he have left things to her? Probably the latter. She had come to the conclusion that Oswin always took the easiest route and Jethro the most direct. And Oswin had lain with other women at the same time as he was courting her. She hated the thought of that. She knew now that many men, sometimes highly respected men, were unfaithful to their wives, but for some reason felt certain that Jethro wasn’t. He wasn’t the sort of man to flirt idly and, besides, he wanted her nearly every night. When would he have found time for others?

Would the child make a difference to her, to them? Would being a mother help her to settle down and find some measure of personal happiness?

Her brother had never been as content as he was now, pursuing his interest in botany and leaving the estate management to Jethro. It made her angry to see Perry so heedless of his duties. Her mother was delighted to have the burden of debt lifted from her shoulders and now asked her son-in-law’s advice about everything she did, so afraid was she of ever being short of money again. That utter dependence irritated Sophia.

Only Harriet was unhappy because she desperately wanted a husband and home of her own.

It was all too much. Sophia closed her eyes, and the next thing she knew Betty was waking her up because the doctor had arrived. He hovered a short distance away asking detailed questions, phrasing things delicately, as if she didn’t understand what was happening to her own body.

As she’d expected he pronounced her to be in excellent health, though how he knew that without even touching her, she couldn’t work out. And he spoke to her as if she’d lost half her wits.

When Jethro came up to see her after the doctor had left she was still furious about that and told him so in no uncertain terms.

He grinned at her. ‘I don’t like him either, but he knows more than I do about looking after women in your condition.’

‘How can he when he didn’t even touch me? I think any midwife would know ten times as much as him.’

Jethro went away looking thoughtful.

Sophia got dressed and made it very plain to her household that she was still in charge and didn’t intend to lie in bed till the child was born.

After the birth was over Livvy said, ‘It’s a girl, Meg love. Eh, you were lucky it all happened so quickly. There’s some as take days to give birth.’

Meg lay there exhausted, eyes closed, trying to take in the fact that she had a daughter. She opened her eyes to see Rhona shaking her head and exchanging glances with Livvy as they looked down at the child cradled in Livvy’s brawny arms.

Terror shot through Meg. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ She pushed herself up on one elbow but had to repeat her question before they’d answer.

It was Livvy who said gently, ‘Not wrong exactly, but she’s not a strong baby, Meg love. She came a bit early, didn’t she, and she’s quite small? It’s always harder to raise them when they come early.’

‘Give her to me!’

They passed over the bundle and she had her first sight of her daughter’s face, such a bonny baby with fine, wispy blonde hair and blurred-looking blue eyes. But she was also wan looking and much smaller than other babies Meg had seen. In fact, the poor little creature looked downright weary. Well, Meg felt tired herself. She’d like to sleep for a month! It was hard work birthing a child.

With a sinking feeling she suddenly remembered Ben. How could she have forgotten? ‘Have you had any word from the workhouse?’

‘No, love.’

Poor Ben. He might never see his daughter. It took all Meg’s strength of will not to dissolve into tears at that thought, but she knew the baby had only her to rely on so she daren’t give in to her anxiety. She bent to kiss the delicate forehead then said in a low voice, pausing a couple of times to swallow the sobs that were nearly overwhelming her, ‘I’m going to call her Helen – for Ben’s mother. It’s the name he wanted if we had a girl.’

‘It’s a pretty name. He’ll be glad about it when he gets better.’

Meg grasped Livvy’s arm. ‘You do think he’ll get better?’

‘Eh, what do I know, love? Even the doctor didn’t know. But Ben’s alive, so you have a chance at least.’

‘Yes. There’s a chance, isn’t there?’

‘Now then, stop worriting and let me clean you up. You’ve a daughter to care for now as well as a husband. Life has to go on.’

Meg allowed them to treat her as they would. She was sore, exhausted, could feel the blood trickling from her as it did during her monthlies. They’d found rags for that.

When Livvy finished she asked, ‘Is there someone who can come in to help you?’

Meg shook her head. ‘I’ll manage.’

‘You should stay in bed, for the first day at least.’

Meg looked down at her daughter. ‘How can I? She only has me. And anyway, I have to go and see Ben.’

‘You can’t! It’s a long walk out there.’

‘I have to.’

‘I’ll do your shopping for you tomorrow,’ Rhona offered. ‘I can fetch what you want when I’m buying my own stuff. You can go and see Ben in a day or two when you’re a bit stronger.’

‘Thanks.’

Livvy stood up. ‘I have to get back now to see to my own family. Rhona will drop in later. Just put the babby to the breast when it wakes up. They don’t need showing how to suck.’

The infant was lying asleep beside her so Meg allowed herself to drift off into sleep too.

She was woken by the baby’s thin crying but it stopped almost immediately as if the effort had been too tiring. Meg listened but there was no sound from downstairs, so she supposed she must be alone. For a moment fear filled her. How could she possibly manage this without help, without a husband? Then the baby whimpered and that sound helped her to pull herself together.

Picking up her daughter, she bared her breast, putting the little mouth next to her nipple and waiting for the infant to start sucking. But the tiny baby didn’t seem to know what to do and her whole face screwed up again as another thin, drawn-out wail issued from her mouth and stuttered quickly into silence.

‘Come on now, love, drink your milk,’ Meg whispered, running one fingertip down the child’s soft cheek and over her lips. And to her delight it happened: the child opened and shut her mouth once or twice, then fastened on the nipple and began to suck.

Tears of joy welled in Meg’s eyes at this miracle and the feeling that ran through her as she felt the soft little lips taking their milk from her breast. She bent to plant the lightest of kisses on the child’s forehead. ‘I love you, Helen.’

She frowned down. The name they’d agreed on didn’t sound right, was far too grown-up for such a tiny infant. ‘Nell, then. I’ll call you Nell.’

But that didn’t sound right, either. Very tentatively she tried ‘Nelly.’ And it sounded perfect. ‘My little Nelly,’ she repeated, kissing the nearest cheek. ‘That’s what I’ll call you. You can save Helen for when you’re grown up.’

And whatever those women said, her daughter
was
going to grow up. Meg would make sure that her Nelly grew big and strong like other children, if she had to work her fingers to the bone to pay for good food and warm clothing. Her child wasn’t going to want. And Ben was going to get better. He must. They both needed him so badly.

The following morning Meg got ready, wrapped the baby in layers of clothes and an old shawl she’d bought from the shop, and went outside.

Rhona appeared at her door, gaping. ‘Whatever are you doing?’

‘Going to see Ben.’

‘But the workhouse is over a mile away.’

‘I’ll manage.’ Meg set off, not wanting to waste her energy on arguing.

She was exhausted by the time she got there, but straightened her clothing and shushed the baby, who was a bit fretful, before knocking on the door.

A woman opened it and told her she couldn’t go in, so Meg pushed her aside and went in anyway.

They brought the overseer to her and he sent for the Matron, who tutted at them all and asked if they had no kindness for a woman who’d borne a child only the day before?

‘Your husband’s still the same,’ she said. ‘Eh, you look that pale, lass. Have you eaten owt this morning?’

‘I forgot.’

‘Then you’ll have summat afore you see him. You’ll do no one any good by fainting from hunger.’

She sat the young woman down and insisted she drink a cup of tea and eat a piece of bread and butter before going any further.

This simple act of kindness brought tears to Meg’s eyes and she said, ‘Thanks,’ in a husky voice before eating the bread, suddenly ravenous.

‘Can I see my husband now?’ she asked the minute she’d finished.

‘I’ll take you up.’

They went into a narrow room even smaller than their bedroom at home and Matron waved her hand at the bed on which Ben lay. ‘As you can see, we’re keeping him clean and warm, but the doctor says there’s nowt else we can do. We must let Nature take her course.’

‘Can I stay with him a bit?’

‘Aye. I’ll send someone to fetch you in half an hour, then you’d better get yoursen home and have a lie-down.’

So Meg sat beside Ben and took hold of his hand. It seemed natural to talk to him. ‘I’ve brought your daughter to meet you, Ben. I do hope you’ll hurry up and wake. She’s so lovely and we really need you.’ She gulped back the tears that threatened and went on talking to him, but he made not a single sign of hearing or understanding and eventually her voice tailed away. His face had a pale, waxy colour and his breathing was so shallow she had to lean forward to make sure he was still alive.