A Kiss and a Promise (6 page)

Lizzie had been astonished by the encounter. Naturally, she had heard, both from her mother and from Stella, that her sister had become friendly with a young officer and she had never for one moment doubted his existence, since she knew that her darling Stella would never lie to her. The young officer existed all right, but she had not expected him to be quite so well spoken, self-confident and charming or, if the truth were known, quite so – so redheaded! But his unaccented voice thrilled her, and the way he looked at Stella … any other girl would have been in seventh heaven, Lizzie told herself severely. If only, oh if only Stella had not met that wretched Irish seaman first! But Michael Gallagher was far away, sailing heaven knew what distant seas, and Mr Brett was right here. Surely he would not be returning to the Front for a good while yet? He was still on crutches, still limping badly. Oh, if only he would sweep Stella off her feet, propose marriage, show her the sort of life he could offer her!

‘Miss Bennett, wharrever are you thinkin’ about? That’s three times I’ve asked you if you’d care for another cup o’ tea, and not so much as one word in answer have I got!’

Miss Parsons’s voice was plaintive and Lizzie hurriedly hauled her mind back to the present, to the neat little tearoom where she and her fellow employee were sharing a big brown pot of tea and a plate of fancy cakes. ‘My dear, I’m that sorry,’ she said contritely. ‘Me mind were elsewhere … yes, another cup of tea would be very nice. And perhaps … yes, perhaps one of them pink iced buns.’

‘Your mind were with your little sister and her beau,’ Miss Parsons said shrewdly. ‘You’ve thought o’ nothin’ else since we met ’em.’

‘We-ell, yes, that’s true,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘He seems a nice young feller, and you can tell he’s right fond of Stella. But … I don’t know …’

‘Oh well, she’s young yet, and not likely to be considerin’ marriage, or her future,’ Miss Parsons said comfortably, pouring tea. ‘She’ll be havin’ a good time, and wi’ looks like hers … well, who can blame her?’

Lizzie helped herself to the bun with the pink frosting and bit into it. ‘Who indeed?’ she echoed rather thickly. ‘I dare say you’re right and she’s just – just gettin’ to know several fellers to gerra bit more experience, like. She’s a good girl, our Stella.’

Stella was in her room getting ready for work. Outside the window, a light drizzle was falling and she sighed, selecting her dark raincoat instead of the lighter garment she had planned to wear. It was May, and high time that they had some nice weather.

Glancing down at herself, Stella was pleased to see that there was no obvious sign of her pregnancy for she knew that, by now, she was almost five months gone. She found herself dreading the moment when she would have to admit to her mother and Lizzie that she was in the family way. She and Michael had planned for this, seeing it as their only hope of an early wedding, but now that the moment had come Stella was secretly afraid that admitting she was expecting a baby would make her sound like a bad girl with no thought for her mother’s feelings, but only a sort of greed. This was not true; she and Michael were deeply in love, but she knew there were people who would look at her differently once they heard about her condition.

However, it was something that would have to be faced, though no one had yet commented on the slight thickening of her supple waist, and her bouts of morning sickness had been of short duration; indeed, pregnancy seemed to suit her, giving her a glow, so that friends remarked how well she looked.

Gwen Murrell was walking out with a young man from the Sports Department and for the first time in her life spending her money on something other than pretty clothes, so the two girls haunted shops like Bunney’s where household goods could occasionally be bought very cheaply. Miss Murrell’s young man was not happy at home and had suggested that he and Miss Murrell should aim for an early wedding, even if it meant a lot of scrimping and saving right now. Accordingly, the bottom drawers of both girls were gradually growing, and it obviously did not occur to Miss Murrell that her friend was nest building.

It would not be so bad breaking the news to her mother if she had Michael’s support, Stella told herself as she clattered down the stairs. His immediate offer to marry her without delay would calm a good deal of her mother’s anger and the fact that Michael had promised they would move into a room of their own meant that the family would not have to face the condemnation of neighbours and friends. By the time the baby was born, Stella assured herself philosophically, as she entered the kitchen, she would be a married lady with a home and husband of her own. Oh, folk might count on their fingers and look knowing, but she found she no longer cared about that. Her mother was one of a large family – six boys and eight girls – and Stella knew very well that at least three of her aunts, and probably more, had had to get married.

‘You ready for the off, Stella love?’ Mrs Bennett was sitting at the kitchen table, spooning the porridge Stella had made earlier into her mouth, and spoke rather thickly through it. She glanced up at the clock on the mantel. ‘Have you got time for a cuppa afore youse go? I reckon there’s a good five minutes before the next No. 1 comes along.’

‘No, I don’t think I’d better, Mam,’ Stella said with real regret; she could have done with another cup of tea. ‘Miss Ellison likes us to be in early – it puts her in a good mood.’ She swung open the kitchen door. ‘See you tonight, Mam,’ she called over her shoulder, slamming the door behind her and setting off, though not for the tram stop. She had realised months before that any letter from Michael which was delivered at her home was either hidden or destroyed, and rather than create a full-blown row had made other arrangements for her post. Now, her letters came to the corner shop where Mrs Mullins stuck them under the counter and handed them over whenever Stella called in. She was a fat and friendly woman and thought it very romantic to be helping a pair of star-crossed lovers, so never said anything to Mrs Bennett about the arrangement.

Now, Stella ducked into the shop and looked hopefully across at Mrs Mullins, who immediately produced an envelope from under the counter. ‘There you are, m’ dear,’ she said cheerfully, handing it over. ‘I hope as how it’s good news; it’s about time the old
Thunderbolt
came into port again, ain’t it?’

Stella agreed fervently and hurried out of the shop. There was a queue at the tram stop, which meant the No. 1 had not yet arrived. She joined the end of it and began to open the letter. It was not a long one but so far as she was concerned any communication from Michael was something to be savoured and enjoyed. The tram came along and the queue drew back, cursing as water sprayed up from its wheels, then everyone scrambled aboard and Stella, following, stuffed the letter into her pocket, unable to prevent a big smile from spreading across her face. Michael was delighted that they were going to become parents, and the ship was heading for Liverpool at last! The convoy over which she stood guard would be returning to sea with its cargo of much-needed food supplies within three or four days. It was not long, and it would mean that she and Michael could face her mother together. All the way to work, Stella smiled and smiled and thought longingly of the little attic room in Marsh Lane. Was it possible to arrange to wed in three days? She supposed it must be. Then they would get married and nothing her mother could do after that would part them.

Satisfied, Stella dreamed happily of the days to come.

After a couple of days of euphoria, Stella made a brave decision. She realised that there was no time to be wasted if she and Michael were indeed to marry before he returned to sea. Therefore, she must tell her mother immediately so that they might go together to see Father McKay. Once he realised that she was expecting Michael’s baby, he would be as eager to get a wedding arranged as she. All Stella’s sensitive soul shrank from the task of having to tell her mother without Michael’s support, but she told herself not to be a coward, and two weeks before Michael’s ship was due to dock she decided to take the bull by the horns.

It was a Sunday and she and her mother had just got back from Mass and were preparing the Sunday dinner. Lizzie was going to join them and suddenly Stella decided that she would tell her mother before her sister arrived rather than after. It might mean that she had to go through two lots of reproaches, two lots of gnashing teeth and rending garments, but she thought it would be fairer both to her mam and to Lizzie if they heard her news one at a time. What was more, her mother proceeded to give her an ideal opportunity for such a revelation by remarking that Minnie Thelwell, at No. 24, was clearly expecting another baby, though God knew how she would manage since she already had four kids under five and a husband fighting somewhere in France.

‘An’ if young Joseph Thelwell has got a brain in his head, he’ll do a bit of countin’ up and realise he probably ain’t the father,’ Mrs Bennett was saying grimly as she pushed a large pan of potatoes over the heat. ‘Mind, he’s a good lad and she’s a trifle weak-minded, so mebbe, by the time he’s home next …’

‘I’m having a baby, too, Mam,’ Stella cut in, her voice a little high and strained but still determinedly cheerful. ‘It ain’t for a while yet, but Michael and meself want to marry when he next comes home. He’ll be back in two weeks.’ She glanced across at her mother who appeared to have been turned to stone in front of the stove, with one hand still on the pan handle. ‘I – I thought you and meself might go along to the Presbytery this afternoon and have a word with the Father. I – I don’t know much about such things as special licences, but Michael thought we might need one. D’you think the Father will be able to tell us what best to do?’

Mrs Bennett did not reply at once but she did turn a little in order to stare unbelievingly at her daughter. ‘It’s a joke, ain’t it?’ she said huskily. ‘You’re havin’ me on because of what I said about Minnie Thelwell. It were wrong of me, because she ain’t a bad gal, but – but it were wrong of you, our Stella, to gimme such a fright.’ To Stella’s horror, large tears welled up in her mother’s eyes and trickled down her cheeks. ‘Stella? Tell your old mam it ain’t true!’

‘I’m sorry, Mam, really sorry, but if you’re honest, you must know that for Michael and me it were the only way,’ Stella said humbly. ‘I didn’t want to be a bad girl, but what else could we do? You made him so unwelcome that I dreaded bringing him home and we both knew you’d never let us get married, not without us runnin’ off to Scotland or somewhere, and Michael’s not home for long enough. So – so we decided that it were gettin’ pregnant or waitin’ four years, and we couldn’t either of us bear that.’

Mrs Bennett sat down heavily in the nearest fireside chair. The cat, Sunny, immediately jumped into her lap but though Mrs Bennett automatically began to stroke his gleaming back, she did not take her tear-wet eyes from her daughter’s face. ‘So now it’s my fault, is it?’ she said bitterly. ‘I might have known it would be my fault. Oh, Stella, how could you? I always tell everyone wharra good gal you are and now … to have people starin’ an’ callin’ names …’

Stella had been preparing suet pastry for an apple dumpling. Now she ran across the room and put her arms about her mother, regardless of her floury hands. ‘But Mam, if Michael and meself get married then no one’s goin’ to say things – why should they? An awful lot of women are in the family way when they walk up the aisle.’

‘Yes, I know; I were expectin’ Lizzie meself when your dad and I wed,’ Mrs Bennett admitted in a lugubrious tone. ‘But – but that were different. We wanted somethin’ better for you, Lizzie an’ me. There were that young officer, Lizzie telled me about him, she said he were a grand, handsome feller and well-to-do. Why oh why, queen, couldn’t you have settled on a feller like that, instead of a bog-trottin’ Irishman what’ll carry you off to Conny-wotsit to toil out your days in the spud fields an’ never see your old mam again, very likely.’

‘Oh, Mam, I don’t love Mr Brett an’ never shall and I love Michael very much,’ Stella said. ‘And marrying Michael won’t be like that anyway. I’m not going to leave you, not while the war’s on. Once the war’s over, you’ll have the lads back, I know you will, so you won’t be lonely. Very likely, when George marries, he an’ his wife will move in with you; it ’ud be company for you, someone to do the cooking and look after you when you’re old.’

‘I’m old now,’ Mrs Bennett wailed, rubbing at her eyes with her fat and rather dirty hands. ‘I’m as old as the bleedin’ hills but I’ve led a good life – apart from gettin’ in the family way with Lizzie – an’ now look how I’m repaid! Me youngest child what everyone knows is the most beautiful gal in Liverpool an’ she throws herself away on a …’

‘Don’t say it again, Mam, or I’ll get real upset,’ Stella said warningly. ‘I’m going to marry Michael and it won’t do for you to keep calling him names. If you do, I really
will
move out because he’ll be my husband and no one could bear hearing their mother call their husband bad names.’

Mrs Bennett sniffed and dabbed at her eyes again with the edge of her shawl, but Stella could see that the worst of the shock was over and her mother was growing, if not reconciled, at least used to the idea that her youngest child was going to be married. ‘Ho, so I aren’t to call your precious Michael names, aren’t I?’ she said belligerently. ‘And why not, pray? Are you goin’ to tell me he didn’t have no hand in gettin’ this baby? He’s behaved as bad as you – worse – so I’m entitled to call a few names, I think.’

‘Then you’d best call me a few at the same time, Mam,’ Stella said steadily, though she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. ‘I’m a slut and a bad girl and I’m going to have a little bastard; is that what you’re thinking?’

This was too much for Mrs Bennett. She turned in her chair, disturbing Sunny who jumped down with an affronted air, and gave her daughter a hearty hug. ‘No, of course you ain’t a slut an’ the baby won’t be a bastard, not once you and that – that …’ she caught her daughter’s eye and grinned suddenly, ‘… not once you and that decent young Irishman is wed,’ she ended.