Put Out the Fires (30 page)

“No, but someone’s bound to find out sooner or later.”

“It won’t be for long,” Dilys said serenely.

She’d better have a word with Sheila Reilly, Ruth thought, and find out where Bootle women had their babies. Liverpool Maternity Hospital, where Dilys had been due to go, was now too far away.

The girl winced and clutched her stomach. “I think I’ll go to bed, if you don’t mind,” she said. “I feel dead tired. I walked most of the way home as I didn’t have enough for the whole fare.”

Ruth felt stricken with guilt, though it was scarcely her fault, and her heart impulsively went out to the girl. “I’ll make you a hot-water bottle,” she offered, “and a cup of cocoa.”

Dilys was already in bed by the time Ruth went upstairs, leaning comfortably back against the headboard. She wore a threadbare nightdress - the flowered pattern had almost disappeared, it had been washed so many times. The gas light had been turned full on.

“Ta,” she said as the stone bottle was tucked under the clothes against her. She grabbed Ruth’s hand as she straightened the eiderdown. “It’s awful nice being home,” she said.

“It’s nice having you,” Ruth said briskly.

Dilys seemed unwilling to let go of her hand. “You’ve been dead kind. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Somewhat unwillingly, Ruth sat on the edge of the bed and put her other hand over that of the girl’s plump one.

“You’d have managed, somehow. Anyway, it’s Eileen Costello you should really thank. It was her idea to look after you. As for me, I could have been much kinder.” She should have brought the girl back weeks ago, she realised with compunction, even if it meant giving up her bed. She looked so much happier and relaxed now she was “home”.

In an effort to salve her conscience, she said, “I’ll buy a pretty nightdress tomorrow for you to wear in hospital.”

“I won’t need one.” Dilys looked at her, wide-eyed and utterly trusting. “What’s going to happen to me baby?”

“Someone else will take care of it. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I suppose so.”

“There’s a lady, a friend of Eileen’s, who’s coming to see me later in the week. She promised to look into it for me.”

“Will it go in an orphanage?”

“Either that or be adopted,” Ruth said, guessing.

“There was a girl in school who lived in an orphanage.

She was dead miserable most of the time. We became best friends.” Dilys put her free hand on her stomach. “It kicks sometimes, you know, or turns over ever so slowly, like a somersault.” She giggled. “Maybe it’s going to be one of them acrobats when it grows up.”

“Maybe.”

To Ruth’s horror, tears began to run down the girl’s pudgy cheeks, but not the wild, angry tears she was used to seeing. The tears were those of a woman, an unhappy woman. “I love it, really,” she whispered, “but I’d never feel right about it once it was born. I’d only go blaming it for things it hadn’t done and calling it sinful.”

“Try not to think about it.” Ruth squeezed her hand.

“Instead, think about what you’re going to do after the baby’s born. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

Dilys cheered up immediately. “I’m going to join the WRENs. I’ll be sixteen soon, but I’ll tell them I’m older.

That woman, the landlady, thought I was going on for twenty. I’ll write and tell you how I’m getting on, shall I?”

Ruth said reluctantly, “If you want,” then, remembering she was the only person in the world the girl could correspond with, she added brightly, “I’ll be really interested to know how you get on.”

“You will?”

“Of course I will!” Ruth replied with as much sincerity as she could muster. “I shall always feel concerned about you.”

She could almost have cried when she saw the pathetic, gratified expression on the girl’s face. What a hypocrite I am, she thought fiercely. Even worse, was the fact she needed to be a hypocrite. Eileen Costello would have said all these things quite naturally, and what’s more, she would have meant them! She removed her hands. “It’s about time you went to sleep,” she said softly. “Come on, lie down and I’ll tuck you in.”

Dilys slid down the bed and snuggled under the clothes.

“Thanks, Ruth, for everything.”

“Shall I turn the light completely off or would you like it left low?”

“Off, please.”

“Goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ruth had her hand on the door, ready to leave, when Dilys said in a scarcely audible voice, “Ruth?”

“Yes?” Ruth’s knuckles tightened on the door and she paused before adding, “Love?”

“I want you to have the baby!”

“What?”

“You’re the nicest person I’ve ever known and I can’t stand the thought of it going in an orphanage.”

Ruth clutched the door, speechless for the moment.

After a while, she managed to say, “That’s completely out of the question, Dilys.”

“Promise you’ll think about it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Ruth said, but only as a means of escape. She’d no intention of thinking about it for a single second. She ran downstairs, shaken, and found her father in the kitchen, where he was peeling potatoes. The white kitten was rubbing itself against his ankles, hoping for a titbit.

“I’m making you some corned beef hash. Dilys ate your stew.”

“I don’t feel the least bit hungry, Dad. A cup of tea will do me.”

“What’s the matter?” He looked at her with concern.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“Nothing.” Ruth went into the living room to get away from his worried gaze. She was still shaking, and felt a rush of unreasonable anger at the girl upstairs. What a thing to ask! “I suppose I’m a bit worried about Dilys.”

“She seems fine, quite content,” he called. “When’s the baby due?”

“God knows,” Ruth said flatly. Today was the first of February. “Any minute, I reckon.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t arrive in the middle of a raid!” He came in chuckling, carrying two cups of tea.

“Knowing you, you probably hope it will. Anything for a bit of drama.”

His eyes lit up. “It would be just like the pictures, wouldn’t it? Bombs falling, sirens blaring, and Dilys upstairs in labour in the Bette Davis part.”

“Don’t, Dad!” Ruth shuddered, but he’d managed to calm her down with his nonsense. “There’ve been no raids for a week or two, anyway.” After a spurt of quite heavy bombing during the middle of January, the remainder of the month had been quiet. “Perhaps Hitler’s given up.”

“That’s what everybody says when there’s a lull, but it always begins again when we least expect it.”

Ruth remembered his words when the air-raid siren wailed out its sinister warning as she lay wide awake on the sofa in the parlour. The sofa was too short and too hard and there wasn’t enough bedding to keep warm. She stretched her legs out of the blanket for a while to ease the ache in her knees and waited for the German planes to arrive. They came eventually, but not for long, and if any bombs were dropped, they must have been a long way away from Bootle because there were no explosions nearby. The All Clear sounded after about half an hour.

“Perhaps that was merely a reminder to keep us on our toes,” she muttered as she tried to get comfortable. She dozed off eventually, but came to with a start, not sure whether it was minutes or hours later, convinced she’d heard someone cry out loud. She lay there, listening intently, and wishing she’d thought to bring the clock in with her, at least she’d know the time, but the cry was not repeated. It was deathly quiet in the street outside, so it must still be the middle of the night. Perhaps the cry, if there had been one, had come from Dilys? If so, Ruth had better make sure she was all right. It would be a relief to get off the sofa for a while.

She crept upstairs so as not to disturb her father, and her heart almost turned over when she heard the sound of whimpering coming from the rear bedroom. She began to panic. What on earth was she supposed to do if the baby was on its way? She knocked softly on the door and opened it. The room, like the whole house, was in total blackness.

“Are you all right, Dilys?” she whispered.

Dilys’ voice sounded quite normal as she replied, “I’m fine.”

“You were making a noise. Are you crying?”

“I was probably dreaming.”

“Would you like me to sit with you for a while?”

“No, ta, I’d sooner go back to sleep.” She sounded faintly impatient.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Goodnight again.”

Ruth returned to the sofa, curled up under the blanket, and when she awoke, shadowy daylight glimmered around the edges of the blackout curtains. She flexed her aching muscles, put her dressing gown on and went into the living room to light the fire. To her surprise, the fire was already blazing away and the kettle on the hob just beginning to boil. Her father was about to make a pot of tea. He looked tired, but greeted her in his usual cheerful manner.

“Morning, love.”

“What are you doing up so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know why, but I felt on edge all night. There were all sorts of spirits dancing around the house determined to keep me awake. Snowy felt them, too. He kept nudging me with his nose.” Ruth laughed. “Nice spirits or nasty ones?”

He thought for a while before replying. “Restless spirits, I think. Then I could have sworn I heard the front door close about six o’clock, but I told myself I was an old man whose hearing was getting as defective as his eyes.”

“The front door close?” Ruth frowned.

“Yes, but I probably imagined . . . ” His voice faded when he saw the horrified expression on his daughter’s face. “Dilys! I’d forgotten all about her.”

Ruth was already bounding up the stairs two at a time.

Had she gone into labour and decided to make her own way to a hospital? She would almost certainly know where to go. Or had she seen through Ruth’s pretence of being a caring person and gone elsewhere? I was fond of her, Ruth thought desperately, I really was. But I was terrified we would become close. I don’t want to feel close to anyone, never, never again.

“Dilys!” she shouted as she burst into the bedroom. She yanked the curtains back with both hands.

The bed was empty. Dilys had gone.

Ruth leaned against the window, groaning. She covered her face with her hands.

“What’s happened?” Jacob shouted.

“She’s gone, Dad. She’s gone.” Perhaps it was still all right. Perhaps Dilys was even now lying safely in a hospital waiting to give birth, but why hadn’t she woken Ruth? And here was me, Ruth thought brokenly, assuming she looked upon me as a mother!

She went over to the wardrobe. She’d get dressed and go in search of Dilys. Somehow, she had to find the girl.

Ruth was about to reach for a frock when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the eiderdown move. It moved the barest fraction, up, then down. The movement was followed by a noise, a faint, almost imperceptible gurgle. Scarcely able to breathe, Ruth approached the bed and pulled the covers back.

The baby was wrapped in a bloody sheet, and as soon as the heavy bedclothes were removed, it began to flail its arms and legs and the sheet fell away. It was a plump, fair haired boy.

“Aah!” Ruth felt as if the sound had been dredged up from the very pit of her stomach and a pain as fierce and strong as any felt when she’d given birth herself swept over her. “Aah!” she cried again.

She reached down and touched the baby’s shoulder and, as if conscious of the touch, he flailed his sturdy arms and legs even harder. She picked him up and cradled him in her arms and a range of emotions rushed through her that left her reeling, though she could never remember afterwards what they were. She began to cry, to weep uncontrollably, though she’d never cried, not once, since the day Benjy had hanged himself and her children had gone away. It was as if the agony of losing them was being purged from her body.

“What’s the matter?’Jacob began to climb the stairs. ‘My dear girl, what’s wrong?’

He came panting into the bedroom, his face fearful, but stopped short when he saw what Ruth was holding.

Ruth went towards him, still weeping. “We’ve got a baby, Dad! See, we’ve got a little boy.”

He’s beautiful,” Sheila Reilly marvelled. “He must be all of line pounds. And you say she had him during the night without making a sound?”

“Scarcely a sound.”

Ruth was in the Reillys’ noisy, chaotic house, where she’d gone in the hope of borrowing a bottle and teat, and one or two items of baby clothes until the shops opened and she could buy them for herself, assuming Sheila still had the things to borrow. “I’d already bought Dilys a few odds and ends, but there’s no rubber pants or nappies, and I hadn’t got round to a shawl.”

“I keep all me baby clothes,” Sheila assured her, “though some are so old they were bought for Dominic, me first.

Cal and me intend to have more kids once this bloody war’s over.” She chucked the baby under the chin and Ruth regarded the action jealously. Seeing as Sheila had provided the bottle and the teat, she hadn’t liked to argue when she’d insisted on feeding the baby with warm water and sugar.

“I’ll buy a tin of baby milk later,” Ruth said. She was amazed at how normal and matter-of-fact her voice sounded, whilst her mind remained a turmoil of emotion.

“Evap’s the best. There’s no lumps and it doesn’t upset the baby’s stomach like that powdered stuff.” Sheila laughed. “He’s a tough little bugger, isn’t he? Just look at the way he’s kicking!” The baby’s legs were punching Sheila’s thighs. “What’s going to happen to him?”

Two boys came into the room before Ruth could answer, both dressed for school. “Where’s Siobhan?” demanded Sheila. “Siobhan!” she yelled. “Are you ready?

Dominic and Niall are about to leave.” Two other children, a boy and a girl, were playing underneath the table, and a tiny girl was clinging to Sheila’s leg watching the baby being fed with great interest. Every now and then she squeezed his toes, much to Ruth’s alarm.

“I’m sorry to have come at such an inconvenient time,” she murmured.

“It’s not inconvenient, not at all,” Sheila said dismissively.

“Anyroad, I don’t often have the chance to hold a baby which is only a few hours old, though he seems more like a week, he’s so big and lively.”