The Girls from See Saw Lane (20 page)

I
t was mid-December
. The baby was due at any time. Mary was so big it looked as if she was about to burst. She felt tired all the time, her ankles were swollen and she complained about her breasts hurting and stuff that I didn't really want to know about. It was hard to explain, because Mary was my best friend, and I didn't want to be anywhere else but with her, but it just wasn't much fun anymore, and nothing she was doing seemed to have much to do with me. I supposed it would be different when the baby came along and she had more energy again. I honestly thought she would be happier then.

And then there was Ralph. I seemed to spend my life avoiding him. When I was at the flat I was continually worried that he would walk through the door.

I became even better friends with the girls at work and I went out with them every weekend and sometimes in the week. Christmas was not far off and everyone was enjoying the buzz. The shop windows were decorated and Woolworths was full of selection boxes of chocolates and fairy lights and tinsel. Christmas trees were leaning against the wall outside. The smell of pine reminded me of happier times when I was a child. Without noticing, I began to enjoy myself. I was beginning to feel a kind of freedom. I hadn't stopped loving Ralph, that wasn't going to happen overnight, and I still missed my old life with Mary dreadfully, but I'd stopped feeling anxious all the time. I laughed more. It was a kind of moving on, and although there was a part of me that wanted nothing more than to live on the edge of Ralph and Mary's life, I knew that in the long run I would lose myself, and I wasn't going to let that happen. I would find the strength from somewhere and I would make a life of my own.

I could tell that Mary didn't like it very much that I was having a life that didn't involve her at all, so although I was having a great time I played it down. When I was with Mary, I didn't mention the boys, or how nice they were, and how we would spend hours in the arcade with them relentlessly teasing us and slipping us piles of pennies so that we could have extra goes on the machines. I didn't mention the plastic mistletoe hung over every table in the cafe or my invitation to the Festive Frolic party night at the Regent ballroom. I didn't say anything about that to Mary as she sat in the little flat, with her feet up to try to reduce the swelling and her hands resting on her belly, which was getting very round and which I found a bit frightening. It seemed strange, to me, that Mary's body could change so dramatically without her really having anything to do with it. She was becoming a mother whether she liked it or not.

You would never know Christmas was coming in Mary's flat. I bought a couple of strings of tinsel for her as a present. I stuck the tinsel around the mirror in the front room of the flat, but it didn't make it feel any more festive.

‘What's the point?' she asked. I couldn't think of a good answer.

Mary sighed a lot, and I fetched her drinks that she never finished, and sometimes she closed her eyes and seemed to disappear into another place altogether. I always made sure I was gone before Ralph came home from work.

Once she said to me: ‘This isn't the life that I expected to have.'

‘I know.'

‘I wanted more than this, I wanted us both to see the world, now I'm going to be stuck here forever in a council flat with a bloke I don't even fancy. I wanted fabulous and I've ended up with ordinary.'

I didn't know what to say to her, because to be honest I thought she was probably right.

‘What did you do last night?' Mary asked. ‘I called in at your house on the way back from the shops and you weren't there.'

‘Oh nothing much,' I said. It was a lie. I'd been on the pier with Steve. I'd had a fantastic time. I'd laughed so much my sides had hurt. We'd had a go on some of the fairground rides and I felt so happy with the wind in my face and Steve's arm round my shoulder, the world spinning as the waltzer travelled round, Steve pressed against me. And then we'd eaten peanut toffee and drunk steaming cups of mulled cider. I'd watched Steve on the grabber. He was an expert on that machine and he always gave me the little gift that he'd won. My bedroom window ledge was lined with little teddy bears and cigarette packets. I gave the fags to Dad, but kept the packets. After we'd been in the arcade, we went to the cafe and danced until it closed. We'd held hands and kissed under the mistletoe.

I smiled at her. ‘I didn't do anything interesting,' I said. 

  ‘Never mind,' said Mary, with a little sigh. ‘I'll be able to come out soon. When the baby's born. We can take it out in the pram. We'll be able to go for walks along the seafront and things like that.'

‘Yes,' I said as enthusiastically as possible. ‘Yes, of course we can.'

I
did
miss Mary. I missed being with her all the time and having her with me to laugh at things and share every single tiny part of my life with. I wanted to tell her about Steve and how much fun we were having. I missed everything about Mary.

But, at the same time, in a strange and amazing way, I felt like I had been reborn. I was no longer ‘Dottie who tags along with Mary Pickles', I was just ‘Dottie'. It took a while before I felt able to express an opinion of my own without agreeing to everything that was said to me, but it happened. And people actually seemed interested in what I had to say. I always just used to leave the talking up to Mary. Perhaps Mary did Ralph's talking these days. Ralph still went out with Elton sometimes, but Mary wouldn't see Elton. She wouldn't let Ralph invite him round to the flat because she said she didn't want him to see her looking like the size of a house. 

‘Do you still like Elton?' I asked her casually.

‘What does it matter whether I like him or not?' she said. ‘He wouldn't want me now, would he?'

‘I'm sorry,' I said.

‘It's not your fault, is it? It's all mine.'

‘My mum says you were unlucky. I mean there's our Rita trying really hard to have a baby and she can't do it and you only did it once. I'd definitely call that unlucky.'

‘Or stupid.'

‘Let me help you with this ironing,' I said.

A heap of it was piled up in the linen basket that was on the floor in Mary's living room. I put up the ironing board and plugged in the iron. It was a smart, new one that one of Mary's aunties had given her. I didn't mind doing the ironing for Mary. It was quite soothing really and while I ironed she sat in the chair watching me. I could see Mary twice, once in real life and once reflected in the tinselled mirror. In both she looked sad. Now all the furniture was in, the room seemed quite small. It felt as if we were playing at being grown-up. 

‘Have you thought of any names for the baby?' I said, to change the subject. I passed Mary one of Ralph's shirts. She laid it out beside her on the settee and folded the arms in.

‘Ralph likes Caroline. If it's a girl.'

‘Caroline's nice.'

‘I think it sounds a bit posh,' said Mary.

‘What about Helen? After Helen Shapiro'

‘I don't like Helen Shapiro.'

‘You used to.'

‘Well I don't now.'

‘How about Sandra then? After Sandra Dee.'

‘Will you shut up about names, Dottie? I don't care what it's called, okay? And what if it's not a girl?'

‘I don't know,' I said. ‘I've just always thought it would be a girl.'

‘Well it's probably going to be a boy,' said Mary. ‘An ugly little boy.' And then for good measure she added, ‘With ginger bloody hair.'

I sighed. That was what it was like at the time. I was lying to Mary about my life without her, and when I was with her she was miserable and I was bored. It wasn't exactly ideal.

Mum seemed to know how I was feeling.

‘It's difficult for you, isn't it, love,' she said as I got ready to go and see Mary one evening. ‘It must be ever so hard, going round to the flat.'

‘It's okay,' I said, with a shrug. ‘It's how it is, isn't it? I can't change it.'

‘It's very good of you, to be so loyal to them both,' Mum said. ‘Wouldn't you rather be going out with Steve?'

I shrugged again. 

‘You do like him, don't you?' Mum asked. ‘He seems a very nice young man to me.'

‘He is, and yes I do like him.'

‘But he's not Ralph?'

I looked at my mum and my eyes went all hot. How could she tell?

‘I don't think I can ever feel the same way about Steve that I do about Ralph,' I said. 

‘You don't have to,' said Mum. ‘Don't go putting pressure on yourself thinking you ought to feel this or you ought to feel that. Give it time and just enjoy his company.'

‘Okay.'

‘You never forget your first love, Dottie,' she said. ‘But you do learn to love again. It's just a different kind of love, a deeper love.'

‘Was Dad your first love?' I asked her.

‘No, he wasn't,' she said. ‘His name put me off for a start, can you imagine what it was like going out with a boy called Nelson? My dad took the mick out of him something rotten.'

‘You still went out with him though?'

‘Only because he never gave up. He was like some annoying little insect buzzing round me. Every time I turned round he was there.'

‘Mum,' I asked. ‘If it wasn't Dad, who was your first love?'

Mum sighed and a dreamy look came over her face.

‘It's a long time since I've thought of him. His name was Jack. He lived next door to me when we were growing up. Everyone knew we would end up together; we were inseparable. People used to say, if you want to find Maureen just look for Jack.'

‘So what happened? How come you married Dad then?'

‘Jack got killed in the war, Dottie. He was only gone a week and he was killed.'

She turned to me and smiled wistfully and I saw something I'd never seen before in her eyes. I saw a glimpse of the young girl she used to be. 

I took her hand. ‘Mum, that's awful. What did you do?'

‘I wanted to die too. You see, I couldn't remember a day in my life when Jack wasn't there. I did a lot of crying and I wouldn't go out and I made everyone around me miserable. And all through that time your Dad used to come round the house, you see he was Jack's best friend. I used to make my mum say I was out. Then one day she said she'd asked him in and he was sitting in the front room and I had to go downstairs and tell him myself that I didn't want to see him because she was fed up of making excuses for me.'

‘Did you go downstairs?'

Mum smiled. ‘Not right away, no. I shouted at my mum and said that I would only ever love Jack and I wouldn't ever go out with anyone else for the rest of my life.'

‘What did she say?' 

‘She said my name was Maureen Cox not Greta Garbo and that Jack was dead and he wasn't coming back and there was a perfectly nice young man sitting downstairs in our front parlour who was daft enough to want to go out with me.'

Mum smiled and squeezed my hand. The look was gone; she was back to her old self again.

‘And you fell in love with him?'

‘Not right away, but he never rushed me. I think if he'd tried to rush me, it wouldn't have worked out. He made me feel safe and he let me talk about Jack, because you see he missed him too. I suppose you could say he grew on me and I missed him when he went off fighting. One day I realised that if I ever lost him, it would be as bad as losing Jack. That's when I knew I loved him.'

‘That's so romantic, Mum.'

‘It seems like a long time ago.'

‘So you think I should give Steve a chance then?'

‘You're still young, Dottie, and this Steve might not be the one for you, but yes, give him a chance, enjoy his company and see where it takes you.'

It felt strange talking to Mum about being in love and learning about Jack. Somehow you don't expect your parents to have ever felt the way you do. In fact, it's hard to imagine that they were ever young at all. I wondered if Mum had told Rita about Jack.

I was still thinking about all this when I ran up the flight of stone steps that led to Mary's flat, clutching a tin of mince pies Mum had baked for her. At least now we had something to talk about, but when I knocked on the door nobody answered. I tried to look through the window, but I couldn't see anything. I knocked again. I lifted up the flap from the letter box and shouted: ‘Mary! Are you all right?'

Then the girl from the next flat came out. 

‘She isn't there,' she said, leaning against the door.

‘Oh,' I said. ‘Do you know where she is?'

‘They've taken her off in an ambulance.' The girl picked at her nail. I felt my heart hit the floor.

‘What's wrong? Is she having the baby?' 

The girl shrugged. ‘I dunno. She was screaming her bleedin' head off, so I went down to the phone box on the corner and called an ambulance. Didn't know what else to do.'

‘Was Ralph with her?'

‘Who?'

I was breathless with frustration. ‘Ralph! Mary's husband!'

‘I don't know about no husband. She was on her own.'

Poor Mary! She must have been so scared, all on her own in pain. I wished I hadn't spent so long talking to Mum. I should have been there earlier. I should have been with her! I didn't know what to do. I thought I ought to fetch Ralph. I decided to get her mum.

‘What hospital have they taken her to?' I asked the girl.

‘Didn't say.' 

Silly cow! I thought. I ran back down the steps just as Beverly Johnson walked into the square. I'd never been so pleased to see anyone in my life.

 ‘Beverly!' I said. ‘I need you to go round to Mary's house and let her mum know she's just been taken into hospital. Could you do that?'