The Girls from See Saw Lane (22 page)

M
ary didn't seem
to take to motherhood. She didn't seem very well and she certainly wasn't enjoying her life. She hadn't really picked up since Peggy was born. That's what they called the baby, Peggy. I didn't know what to think. It was like she had switched off. She was pleasant enough, but you got the feeling that when you spoke to her she was only half listening. She wasn't interested in anything. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to reach her. I told her mum that I was worried about her and she said that Mary just needed to rest. 

‘She'll be right as rain once she's rested,' said Mary's mum. ‘It's not unusual, you know, for young mums to be exhausted.'

She slept whenever she didn't have to be awake. By the end of January, Mary's tiredness was worrying everyone around her and eventually her mum took her to see the doctor.

‘I'm low on iron,' said Mary the next time I went round. ‘He's given me some tablets. He says it can happen when you've had a baby, so hopefully I'll soon be better.'

I wanted so much for Mary to get well and I really wanted the tablets to work. I wanted my friend back.

Not long after, I went round to the flat to find Mary in floods of tears.

‘She won't breastfeed,' she sobbed. Peggy's face was all red and sweaty, screwed up like a fist and she was screaming her head off.

‘Maybe she's not hungry,' I said. 

‘Of course she's hungry,' shouted Mary. ‘She's always bloody hungry.' 

I picked Peggy up and held her against my shoulder. I whispered to her as I walked around the rooms in the flat and gradually her crying eased off; she was still hiccupping and trying to catch her breath but she had stopped screaming.

‘Why don't you have a lie down, Mary?' I said.

‘I think I will,' she said. ‘I just wish I wasn't so tired all the time. Those tablets haven't made any difference at all, except that now I'm bloody constipated.'

‘It'll get better,' I said, not really knowing if it would.

Mary didn't try to breastfeed Peggy again; she put her on the bottle. Sometimes, if I was there at the right time, I took a turn giving it to her. I loved it. I loved the way she stared up into my face as she sucked, the way her tiny lips locked onto the rubber teat, the look of utter contentment on her face as her tummy filled. She was intensely fascinating to me. I loved to hold her, and bathe her and walk around the flat, holding her to my shoulder. I could not understand how Mary could be so disinterested in this beautiful, amazing little creature with her tiny pink fingernails and her lovely, inquisitive eyes.

I knew it was easier for me. I could come and go as I pleased. I wasn't responsible for Peggy every second of every minute of every day. I could bathe her in the little plastic tub in front of the gas fire in the flat's living room, pat her dry, powder her, put her into clean clothes, feed her and leave her. After I'd done all that, I could go down to the cafe to meet Steve and I could laugh and dance and sing and be free. It wasn't me who was being woken three or four times a night by Peggy's screaming. It wasn't me who had to pace the floor with her, singing interminable lullabies, to stop her crying from disturbing the neighbours.

I understood all that, but I still couldn't understand how Mary could have disassociated herself so completely from her baby. I was only her mother's best friend, but I still wanted every face Peggy saw to be a smiling face. I wanted to fill her days with flowers and toys and her evenings with lullabies and cuddles. I wanted her to always have a nice full tummy, and warm, clean clothes. Looking after the baby did not seem, to me, to be a chore. It was hard for me to keep my patience with Mary, who acted as if she didn't care. But how could I judge her? I didn't know what it felt like to be responsible for another little life.

There were times when I caught myself thinking that Mary had only herself to blame for the position she was in. It wasn't like her life was anywhere near as terrible as she made out. She had a nice home, a nice husband, a beautiful baby… I'd have swapped my life for hers any day – only I'd have made the most of it! After thinking these thoughts I felt disloyal, I felt like a bad friend and I was determined to help her all I could.

‘Look at her,' I said to Mary. ‘Look at her little face! See how she's trying to smile, you can see how hard she's trying! She's moving her arms up and down as if that will help her face! She's so gorgeous.'

I turned around and saw the distress on Mary's face, and of course I couldn't be angry. I swallowed my resentment, put the baby down on her blanket on the floor, and put my arms around Mary. She began to cry.

‘I didn't want it to turn out like this,' she said. ‘This isn't how my life was supposed to be. I was supposed to be having the time of my life, wearing nice clothes, going to parties, having fun and instead I'm stuck here in this flat with a husband I hardly know and a baby that doesn't like me.‘

‘Of course she likes you! You're her mother!'

‘She doesn't. I'm useless with her. I couldn't even breastfeed her.'

Mary cried and I sat and hugged her and kissed the top of her head and assured her that everything was going to be all right.

We had that conversation, or one like it, over and over again. 

Nothing I said cheered Mary up, she refused to look on the bright side, she was adamant that Peggy didn't like her, and I found the way she seemed to blame the baby very hard to deal with. I couldn't tell Mary anything about my life without it prompting in her either tears of self-pity or the kind of comments that made me feel guilty about enjoying myself while she was imprisoned in her life. She resented me because I was free, she resented the baby because she thought Peggy hated her, and she resented Ralph for going off to work while she was stuck in the flat.

My feelings towards Mary were so mixed up. It had never been like this, we had always been able to tell each other everything, but now I was hiding my thoughts from her, I was resenting her and that was wrong. I must try to help her more. I started going to the flat every night after work and only seeing Steve at weekends. The flat was a mess and it was beginning to smell bad because of all the dirty nappies left all over the place. I couldn't understand why Mary had become like this, it just wasn‘t her, it wasn't the Mary I knew. So I would go there every evening and clean up and play with Peggy. Mum said I was spending too much time there and that Peggy wasn't my responsibility and I should let them get on with their lives, but she didn‘t know what it was like, she didn't see the state of the place and she didn't see that Mary wasn't looking after Peggy properly. Mrs Pickles went in every day and helped Mary as much as she could but she had six boys and a husband to look after. She always put her coat on as soon as I got there so we didn't really talk.

I had been avoiding Ralph by leaving the flat early, but one evening I lost track of the time. Peggy had a cold and I couldn't settle her and I was still there when Ralph came home. At first it was awkward, we didn't know what to say to each other so we both busied ourselves with the baby. After that evening I started staying later so that I could see Ralph. I started looking forward to seeing him. Mary was nearly always in bed, so we'd sit and have a cup of coffee and we'd talk about ordinary things, like my work and his and we'd talk about Mary, about how she wasn't coping, about the fact that she wasn't bonding with the baby like she should be. We laughed about silly things just like we used to. These times became precious to me.

D
ear Diary
,

C
hristmas came and went
. It used to be my favourite time of the year but this year my heart just wasn't in it. Aunty Brenda, Uncle Eddie and Carol came round as usual and in the evening Rita and Nigel came round for their tea. I joined in a game of charades and played Ludo with Dad, but inside I was wishing the day away. Steve bought me a big brown teddy bear and I bought him the latest Eddie Cochran LP. I didn't go round to the flat, I just couldn't bear to see Mary and Ralph playing happy families on that day. I waited until it was all over before I went round. One afternoon, having finished work at lunchtime, I stopped off at the shops and bought a present for Mary and Peggy. Peggy didn't have any toys of her own, only second-hand things that Mary's mother had given her, and most of those were boys' toys. She was now two months old and I'd noticed that she had started to reach out for things, her chubby little fingers curling round my hair when I bent over her, and she was sucking the edge of her blanket. I decided on a soft pink rattle shaped like a teddy that chimed when you shook it. For Mary, I bought some magazines, a bag of sweets and a tube of lipstick. I hadn't seen her wearing make-up since the baby had been born. I thought that might cheer her up.

When I reached the flats, I could hear Peggy crying from the bottom of the steps. I let myself in with the key hidden under the doormat and called Mary's name but there was no answer. The baby was in the front room in her basket, she was screaming and her face was all red and sweaty. I picked her up. She was wet through and she reeked of urine. As soon as she was in my arms, she began to calm down; the screaming subsided into gulping sobs that made my heart ache.

‘Poor baby,' I cooed, kissing the silky top of her head. ‘Poor little Peggy, don't worry, Dottie's here now. Mary?' I called again but louder this time. Mary came out of the bedroom rubbing her eyes.

‘What?' she asked. 

‘Oh, Mary!' I was angry and frustrated. ‘Didn't you hear her?'

Mary yawned. ‘I was asleep.' 

‘Peggy's soaking wet. Don't tell me you didn't hear her crying!'

‘Well obviously I didn't, did I?' said Mary. ‘Give her to me I'll change her.'

‘Are you sure you know how to?' 

‘What's that supposed to mean?' she said, glaring at me.

‘You don't do it very often, do you?'

‘You do it then,' Mary said. ‘You're right. You do it better.'

I felt bad then. 

‘I‘m sorry Mary, I didn't mean to say that. I don't do it better than you. I was just…'

‘I only meant to lie down for a minute or two,' said Mary. There was a sob in her voice. ‘I didn't mean to go to sleep.'

‘No of course you didn't. It's all right,' I said. ‘Don't get upset. I'm here now.'

Mary sat on the sofa watching as I changed Peggy.

‘Who's a nice clean girl now then?' I said, tickling her under her chin. Peggy giggled so I tickled her again.

‘She likes you more than she likes me,' said Mary.

‘Of course she doesn't.' 

‘She does,' said Mary. Then she sort of stared at me before saying ‘You know she does.'

‘Mary, you have to stop being like this. I haven't seen her for more than a week. She's only smiling at me because I'm smiling at her. She just likes the attention. Here, why don't you hold her?' 

‘No,' said Mary, pulling away from the baby I was holding up to her. Her baby. ‘It's okay.' 

She leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. She looked like a little girl, a frail sad little girl. 

‘Have you been eating properly?' I asked. ‘Because you look as if you've lost weight.'

Mary sighed and shook her head. ‘I don't seem to have much of an appetite. I'm too tired to eat. I'm tired of everything.'

‘Perhaps you should see the doctor again,' I said.

‘That's what Ralph says.'

I always got a kind of hot feeling in my stomach when Mary referred to Ralph in that way, like they were a family, like they made decisions together. I knew I was being mean and jealous but I couldn't help it.

I put a fresh sheet in Peggy's basket and laid her down. I sat next to Mary on the sofa and took hold of her hand. It seemed even smaller than usual and it was cool.

‘I think Ralph's right,' I said.

‘He says he'll make an appointment,' said Mary. ‘If he could just give me a tonic or something to make me feel less tired then I'm sure I could look after Peggy better.'

‘Yes.'

‘I do try, Dottie, but everything I do just wears me out, so it's easier to let Mum take over, or Ralph or you. I know what you all think of me, you think I'm a lazy cow and a bad mother.'

‘Of course we don't,' I said. But I knew there was part of me that did.

‘And do you know what, Dottie?' she said. ‘I don't care, because I'm too tired to care.'

‘I bought you a present,' I said. I passed her the paper bag containing the lipstick. She took it out, took the lid off and pushed up the tube to look at the colour. It was a paleish peach that I knew would suit her. She looked at it for a moment, then put it down.

‘Don't you like it?' I asked.

‘It's lovely. Thank you,' she said, in a tone of voice that made me realise she would never wear the lipstick.

‘Shall I make you a sandwich?'

‘No thanks, I think I'll just go back to bed for a bit now that you're here. Perhaps you could take Peggy for a walk or something. She's supposed to have fresh air. It's supposed to be good for her.'

Mary walked over to the basket and looked down at the baby.

‘I'm sorry, little one,' she said. ‘Sorry I'm so useless. Dottie should have been your mother. She'd have made a lot better job of it than me.'

I tried not to be irritated by that remark, really I did, but it annoyed me and it upset me and it hurt me. It wasn't just the pathetic self-pity in Mary's voice, when nobody had made her go out and sleep with Ralph, nobody had made her go and get pregnant. It wasn't just that. Mary was right, I
should
have been Peggy's mother. If anyone was going to have a baby with Ralph Bennett, it should have been me! And if it had been me, then I would have loved that baby with every inch of my being and I'd have looked after her and made sure she was always clean and dry and happy and I would never, never in a million years have gone to sleep and left her screaming with her bottom all sore from lying in a nappy soaked with her own wee. And if I had, which I never would have, I'd never have felt sorry for myself about it. Those were the unkind thoughts that were in my head, thoughts that I was ashamed of thinking.

I could hardly look at Mary.

I waited until she'd gone back into the bedroom and closed the door and then I picked Peggy up. Her eyes were beginning to droop. I gently traced the outline of her face with my finger, she was such a beautiful baby.

It was hard work bumping the pram from the front door of the flat down the steps, difficult for me and I was healthy and strong, impossible for someone as weak and tired as Mary. Once I'd got it to the bottom, I went back up to the flat and fetched Peggy. I tucked her in and set off. It was a bit windy but dry. I was wearing my navy duffle coat and green matching scarf and gloves that Aunty Brenda had made me for Christmas. Peggy stared out at me from a red fluffy bonnet; she looked warm and cosy.

We walked to the park where we sat on a bench overlooking the boating pool. There were people playing with motorised boats. They were crouched at the side of the water controlling the boats with little black boxes and the air was filled with the acrid smell of petrol. I put the hood of the pram up because I was worried about the fumes. People smiled at me as they walked past and sometimes they stopped to look in the pram to compliment Peggy on her bonniness and her beauty. I knew that they thought I was her mother and I didn't do anything to put them right.

I
stayed
out with Peggy for hours. I didn't see the point of taking her back to the flat, and if I'm honest, I didn't think I could bear another session of misery with Mary. I'd brought a bottle with me, wrapped in a towel in the bottom of the pram, and although it wasn't quite as warm as it should have been, Peggy didn't seem to mind. I fed her at a table in one of the cafes and at the same time I had a frothy coffee and a Chelsea bun. One wall was covered in posters and there was one about a mother and baby group, it was being held in a local church hall. I asked the girl behind the counter for a pen and wrote down the number. I would give it to Mary. It might help her to meet other young mums. I felt increasingly annoyed by Mary. She hadn't even
tried
to be a good mother. She hadn't put any effort in at all. She'd just given up. There were times when I thought I would be a better mother to Peggy, that I would love her more than Mary did. There were times when I thought Mary wouldn't care if Ralph, Peggy and me ran away together. There were even times when I wished that my best friend Mary Pickles would just disappear. Most of all I was worried about Peggy, and the fact that Mary hadn't heard her crying even though I could hear her from outside.

It had started to rain, so, reluctantly, I headed back to the flat. I left the pram at the bottom of the steps, picked Peggy up all bundled in her blanket, and went up to the flat. Mrs Pickles was waiting at the door.

‘Oh thank God you're back,' she said. ‘I was worried sick.'

‘Mary asked me to take Peggy out for some fresh air,' I said a bit defensively.

‘I know, dear, I know. But let me take her now.' 

‘What's wrong? Has something happened? Is Mary okay?'

‘No, Dottie, she's not. I'm very worried about her, so I'm taking her and Peggy home with me.'

I followed Mrs Pickles into the front room. Mary was sitting on the couch, she looked even smaller and paler than she had when I'd left her. She had her coat on over her nightie. I sat down beside her and took her little hand, it felt kind of damp and clammy and there was a funny smell about her that I hadn't smelt before. She didn't smell like Mary. I thought she probably hadn't had a proper bath for weeks. Her hair was lank and greasy and her skin was awful.

She did her best to smile. ‘Will you wait for Ralph to come home, Dottie, and let him know we're at Mum's? He shouldn't be long.'

‘Of course I will.'

‘I don't know what's wrong with me, Dottie.'

‘Nothing's wrong with you,' I said cheerfully. ‘A few days with your Mum looking after you and you'll be right as rain!' It was the kind of thing everyone kept saying. 

‘I'm scared.'

‘There's nothing to be scared of,' I said.

‘You will come over, won't you?' said Mary. ‘Once you've told Ralph?'

‘I can't,' I said, ‘I'm meeting some friends.'

‘Oh.'

Mary's mum gave me an odd look but she didn't say anything.

‘Maybe later?' said Mary

‘I'll try,' I said.