Lonely Teardrops (2008) (48 page)

‘I’m aware of that,’ his mother interrupted in a voice like ice. ‘And of course he did have a new girl-friend, until you appeared back on the scene. Caroline was a lovely girl, quite delightful. You’ll find clean towels in the bathroom next door. If you need anything else, please let me know.’ Whereupon she marched off and left Harriet to her own devices.

Mention of Steve’s new girl friend unnerved Harriet slightly. Mrs Blackstock clearly was not pleased that Steve had finished with this Caroline. Harriet told herself it probably would have ended anyway and tried not to think about it, or hope for too much as she unpacked her few possessions and tended to Michelle. Since collecting Harriet from the hospital and moving her into his home, Steve had rushed back to college, promising to return the following weekend when they’d have more time to talk.

Relations with his mother did not improve over the following days but Harriet did her best to cope. The atmosphere remained chilly and she opted to stay in her room much of the time, only venturing out for an hour or two each afternoon to take Michelle for a walk in the small, soft-bodied pram Steve had bought for her.

‘I’ve not much money, living as I do on a student grant, but I’ve a bit put by from a summer working for Barry on the fruit and veg stall,’ Steve had informed her.

 
‘I don’t want to take your money.’ Harriet had valiantly attempted to resist but Steve very reasonably pointed out that she couldn’t carry the baby everywhere, and that she’d need other things too: nappies, nightdresses, vests and stuff.

‘You’ll have to tell me what’s needed.’

His kindness filled her with fresh guilt, but it was Rose who came to the rescue, taking Harriet shopping and buying all that was necessary for the baby, apart from the pram which Steve insisted on paying for.

‘Joyce might not be prepared to provide you with a home, but you’re still my granddaughter, and this little one is my great-granddaughter, so I’ll see we do right by her.’

To Harriet’s great surprise and gratitude, Mr Blackstock made enquiries about a maternity allowance and made sure she got it. It wasn’t a fortune but would give Harriet a modicum of independence until she found herself a job and a place of her own. Steve didn’t want her to do any such thing, of course, but Harriet had no intention of being dependent on anyone, or rushing into marriage for the wrong reasons, as Joyce had clearly done.

In her heart she knew she still loved Steve as much as she ever had, if not more. And she believed him when he told her that he still loved her. But was love enough? Her experiences of that particular emotion thus far in her short life was that it was largely an unreliable commodity.

Chapter Forty-Two

Margaret Blackstock watched her young guest with close attention. Steve had confessed to her his defection over Caroline. They’d had quite an argument on the subject, Margaret actually accusing her own son of toying with the girl’s emotions. She was most disappointed in him and secretly appalled at the idea of welcoming this young hussy into her house.

Nevertheless, Margaret was nothing if not the perfect hostess, no matter what her private opinion on the moral standards of her guest might be. She provided Harriet with a MIRRO-Matic de luxe electric kettle which would allow her to make herself a cup of tea or coffee whenever she should want one. The girl also had her own bathroom up there on the second floor.

‘You may come down to the kitchen to prepare yourself a meal at any time, and there is a washing machine for Baby’s nappies. You only have to say, and so long as I am not using it, it is all yours.’

Margaret certainly had no intention of waiting on the girl. It was, in any case, time Harriet learned some sense of responsibility. Margaret would sit in her small parlour doing her tapestry work or listening to
Woman’s Hour
, half an ear cocked for any sound from above. Not that there ever was any sound. She might still have been alone in the house all day for all the noise the girl and her baby made.

Margaret had to admit she seemed to be a very good baby, with hardly a peep out of her. A part of her almost regretted this. She might well have welcomed an opportunity to dash upstairs once in a while on the pretext of offering help and advice, if only to see the child close to. Margaret had to admit she was curious, and she did rather like babies. She would have liked more than one of her own, but no more had come after Steve.

Sometimes when Harriet came downstairs at three o’clock, as she did every afternoon to put little Michelle in her pram which stood in the hall, Margaret would jump to her feet and rush out to make some comment or other.

‘It’s rather cold outside, have you made sure she is well wrapped up?’

‘Oh, yes, Nan bought her a warm matinee jacket.’

‘Don’t stay out too long though, it looks like rain. Young babies are very prone to catching a chill.’

Harriet would smile and go on her way.

‘How is she sleeping?’ Margaret politely enquired as Harriet returned to the house one afternoon.

Surprised by the interest, Harriet answered with equal politeness. ‘She’s doing very well, thank you.’

‘And how long can she go between feeds?’

‘About four hours.’

‘Oh, that’s good for such a small baby. What weight was she when she was born?’

‘Six pounds two ounces.’

‘She is doing well then.’

‘Yes,’ Harriet agreed, ‘she is. Thank you.’

That evening as Margaret sat with her husband listening to a concert on the Third Programme, she commented thoughtfully, ‘I believe this girl could shape up to make quite a good mother.’ Mr Blackstock gave a non-committal grunt from behind his evening paper.

‘There’s an air of common sense about her which is really quite surprising, considering her background. Of course she will need help,’ Margaret mused. ‘Babies can be tricky creatures.’

She glanced across at her inattentive husband, and the empty chair where her son used to sit before he’d gone off to college. ‘Not that you would either know or care. Men don’t understand such things,’ she finished rather quietly to herself, and went to put the kettle on.

Harriet made a point of expressing her gratitude for Mrs Blackstock’s interest, even for the advice the woman offered, such as not to pile on too many blankets which could overheat the baby, and never to use a pillow.

‘And don’t rely too much upon a dummy,’ Margaret firmly instructed. ‘If a baby is crying there is generally a good reason for it.’

‘Yes, Mrs Blackstock.’

Yet, surprisingly, her comments didn’t make Harriet feel inadequate in any way, rather it made her feel less alone in this difficult situation, perhaps because the older woman was also equally ready to offer praise, such as her frequent remarks about what good progress Michelle was making, and how well she must be sleeping.

Generally though, Harriet did her best to keep out of the Blackstocks’ way. She took careful note of their mealtimes and adjusted her own eating plan so that she didn’t intrude upon them. Harriet found it preferable, in the circumstances, to avoid much cooking altogether, and got by largely on bread and cheese, fruit and cold meat sandwiches. Sometimes she would treat herself to a hot pie from Big Molly’s stall, or fish and chips from Frankie’s. Her one consideration was for Michelle. So long as the baby was well and happy, nothing else mattered.

Best of all she loved her afternoons when she would walk round the market, proudly showing off her child. Harriet refused to be concerned if some people did indeed gossip about her behind their hands, whispering that she was still unwed and her child illegitimate. She was by no means the first on this market, and Michelle was still beautiful, and very healthy despite her poor start in life. A baby to be proud of.

Joyce never came near but Rose was a constant visitor, calling in most days to dangle this new addition to the family on her knee.

‘The cards told me I was to find a new love in my life. Not that I imagined for a minute they meant a babby, getting the wrong end of the stick entirely,‘ Rose chortled. ‘But they were absolutely right, as always, and here she is, a real little love. Isn’t she a treasure?’

‘Does Joyce ever ask after her?’ Harriet ventured to enquire, and her grandmother’s face darkened.

‘Don’t expect too much from our Joyce, chuck.’

‘But she’ll miss so much if she refuses to even get to know Michelle.’

Rose shook her head in despair. ‘Don’t dwell on it, Harriet love. We are as we are, and my daughter isn’t going to change at this late stage in her sad life.’

To be fair to Margaret Blackstock, unlike Joyce, she didn’t take out her disapproval upon the baby. One rainy afternoon, seeing Harriet struggling to put the hood down on the pram, she quietly took Michelle and held her while Harriet unloaded her shopping and carried the bags upstairs. When she came back down again, only moments later, Mrs Blackstock was sitting in the kitchen with the baby on her knee, making
coochee-coochee
sounds and pretending to tickle the baby’s tummy.

‘She’s a little darling.’

Harriet smiled with relief. ‘
I
think so.’

‘Of course you do. And what does your mother think of her?’

‘Joyce, you mean?’

‘Ah, I was forgetting for a moment. Yes, what does Joyce think of her?’

‘She thinks I should sweep her under a carpet, or, failing that, have her adopted.’

The other woman looked slightly stunned by this robust response. ‘You always were very direct, Harriet. And are you going to have her adopted?’

Harriet shook her head. ‘Would you have given Steve away?’

A small silence, and then Steve’s mother asked the inevitable question. ‘And you think you can manage to bring her up on your own, do you?’

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Hmm!’

Still she didn’t hand over the baby, but at that moment the kettle on the Aga started to whistle. ‘I thought we might have a cup of tea. Why don’t you make it while I change her nappy? I see there’s one in her little bag here.’

Harriet could scarcely believe her eyes as Steve’s mother efficiently changed Michelle’s nappy, talking and smiling to her all the while, then sat to sip her tea, still with the baby on her knee.

‘I take it the father is not going to be of any help.’

‘No,’ Harriet replied, rather shortly. She had no intention of discussing Vinny with Mrs Blackstock.

‘Babies can be very demanding.’ She jiggled Michelle in her arms to keep her content as she began to grizzle and suck her little fist. ‘They deprive you of sleep, suffer from colic, need constant attention and feeding, and cry for no reason, or so it seems at times.’

‘Nan has given me lots of advice.’

‘I’m sure she has.’

Michelle started to whimper and Harriet leapt to her feet. ‘It’s nearly time for her next feed, I’d best take her upstairs and get her bottle ready.’

‘Aren’t you feeding her yourself?’ Margaret lay the baby against her shoulder and gently rubbed her back. Michelle instantly stopped crying, although her little mouth was still searching for food.
 

‘I don’t have enough milk. Sister said it was because I was malnourished when I had her. It’s all right, I get the National Dried Milk from the clinic, along with her orange juice and cod liver oil, and she seems to be thriving on it. That’s what counts.’

Margaret considered Harriet with all seriousness. ‘You must take great care of her. My Stephen suffered from jaundice shortly after he was born, which was partly due to some feeding difficulties he was having, and a consequent shortage of fluids. Quite common with small babies, I believe, but nonetheless worrying.’

‘I will take the very greatest care of her.’

Margaret looked the girl straight in the eye. ‘I rather believe you will. And what about you? Are you taking proper care of yourself? I don’t see you operating my cooker very often. What are you eating?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Hmm!’ said Margaret Blackstock again as she handed the baby over.

‘Well, no one shall remain malnourished in
my
house. And if you are to be of any use as a mother to this baby, then you must eat properly too. We have dinner at six as a rule, but we can put it back an hour until after you’ve settled her, then you may join us. Don’t argue, I won’t take no for an answer.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Blackstock, I appreciate it.’ Harriet was appalled by the prospect of dinner alone each night with the Blackstocks, without even Steve there for support, but she could hardly refuse when they’d opened their doors to her, however unwillingly. And at least the woman thought Michelle was a little darling.

Steve came home every weekend and it soon became clear that they were getting along as well as ever, happy just to be in each other’s company.

‘You might even fall in love with me all over again,’ he teased as he helped fold Michelle’s clean nappies and stow them away in a cupboard.

Harriet rewarded him with an impish smile. ‘I just might, you never know.’

Steve was less astonished to find his mother entirely captivated by the baby than Harriet was, being only too aware that her bark was far worse than her bite. But he was amazed to find himself equally enraptured. He’d never ever given a thought to babies until now, but this one was indeed a darling, a sweet little baby who took her feed without a murmur, slept soundly, and surely that was a smile just now when he’d tickled her under her chin?