Sins of the Father (2 page)

Stretching her arm up to the rafters, Emma took down a bundle of dried nettles and, as the kettle boiled, she made the infusion, just in time to see her mother’s swollen legs coming down the ladder.

Myra smiled as Emma gave her the tin mug, her hands wrapping round it in pleasure. ‘You’re a good girl.’

As her mother lowered herself onto a stool, her stomach looked huge and cumbersome. Yet the rest of her was thin, too thin, her arms and legs like sticks. She was only in her mid-thirties, yet she appeared old and worn beyond her years.

In the flickering candlelight, Emma saw her grimace of pain. ‘Are you all right, Mum?’

‘Stop fretting, I’m fine,’ she said, taking a sip of the nettle tea.

‘Do you think there’s any money left?’

‘I looked in his pockets before coming down and found none.’

‘How could he?’

‘That’s enough! It isn’t your place to question what your father does. You know as well as I do that he hasn’t been the same since coming home from the war. He had a terrible time and it changed him.’

‘Mum, you can’t keep using that as an excuse! It’s been three years and he rarely has nightmares now. If you ask me, he should count himself lucky. At least he’s in one piece, which is more than you can say for Mr Munnings next door.’

‘Enough, Emma! I know you’ll soon be seventeen, but you’re getting too big for your boots lately and talking about things you don’t understand.’

Emma hung her head, her face hidden by her long, wavy blonde hair as she mumbled, ‘If he’s blown his money on booze again, what are we supposed to do for food? The rent is overdue too, and I can’t see the landlord being fobbed off anymore.’

‘You always worry too much. We’ve managed before and we’ll manage again. We’ve still got some potatoes, and perhaps Dick will earn a few bob on the market today.’

‘Without flour there’ll be no bread.’

‘Then we’ll do without. Now come on, buck
up. And talking of potatoes, you can peel some spuds and I’ll fry them for breakfast.’

Emma did as she was told, finding as she dug in the nearly empty sack that most were sprouting roots and had turned spongy with age. She sorted out the best of them and, with her hands in the sink turning blue in the ice-cold water, she surreptitiously watched her mother.

There was another small grimace of pain that she tried to hide, but Emma saw it and suspected the baby was coming. This would be her mother’s ninth child, and it had been a difficult pregnancy, one that seemed to drain her of energy.

The racket overhead started then, the sound of her siblings waking, squabbling, and then her father’s voice rang out.

‘Shut that fucking noise!’

There was instant quiet for a moment, but then one by one they came down the ladder. First to emerge was Dick, the eldest boy at fourteen years old. In his arms and clinging to his neck like a little monkey, he held the youngest boy, Archie, who at two hero-worshipped his big brother. Next came thirteen-year-old Luke, the quietest of them, a thoughtful, introverted boy, always the odd one out. He was handsome, almost beautiful, and his pale, blue eyes seemed to hold a strange, deep knowledge. There had been odd occasions when Luke had unnerved them, once predicting
that their mother was carrying a boy, and as though he had the ability to see into the future, he had told them in advance when their father was arriving home from the war. Emma loved Luke dearly and he was her favourite brother.

He was followed down the ladder by eleven-year-old Susan, and then there was a lull.

‘Where are the others?’ Myra asked.

‘Still asleep,’ said nine-year-old Bella, the last to appear, clutching her peg doll and pretty as a picture with blonde hair and wide blue eyes.

Ann, at six years, along with three-year-old James, had arrived after their father had been given leave during the war. They were always the last up every morning, but they’d show their faces as soon as the smell of food wafted into the attic.

All the children made for the fire, pushing and shoving each other to get close, whilst Myra smiled serenely at her brood. She had a look about her; one that Emma was familiar with, a look that always preceded labour.

‘Come on, Em, get a move on with those potatoes,’ her mother said.

‘They’re ready.’ After carefully slicing them, Emma got between her siblings to place the frying pan on the fire, adding, ‘Get dressed, you lot, or you’ll get no breakfast.’

There was grumbling, but all except Dick did her bidding. As the eldest boy, Dick thought
himself too old to be given orders, but now, seeing how pale his mother looked, he lifted up Archie, saying with a frown, ‘I’ll see to this one.’

‘You’re a good boy,’ Myra said, but then with a small cry she bent forward, arms clutched around her stomach.

‘Mum! Mum! What’s wrong?’ Dick cried.

‘I…I think the baby’s coming,’ she gasped, but then, after taking a few deep breaths, she managed to straighten, her eyes encompassing them all. ‘It’ll be a while yet so there’s no need to look so worried. In the meantime, Emma, you’d best get the kids fed. And you, Dick, be prepared to take them out for a while later, and…’ Her voice died as she bent forward again, this time unable to suppress a scream.

Emma’s face blanched. She’d seen her mother in labour before, and had even watched some of her siblings being born, but this time she knew it was different. ‘Mum, what is it? What’s the matter?’

‘I dunno.’ Despite the freezing room, perspiration beaded Myra’s brow. ‘Oh, God!’ she suddenly cried. ‘Quick, Emma, run downstairs and fetch Alice!’

Emma fled the room, almost falling down the stairs in her haste. She hammered on Alice Moon’s door. Come on! Come
on
, her mind screamed as she hopped about in anxiety, relieved when at last the woman appeared.

‘Please, come quick, it’s my mum.’

‘Stone the crows,’ Alice said, her voice thick with sleep, ‘what’s all the fuss about?’

‘Mum’s in labour, but something’s wrong. She’s screaming, Alice!’

At last the urgency in Emma’s voice registered and Alice’s sleepy eyes cleared. Shoving Emma aside, she rushed upstairs, oblivious to the fact that she was still in her long flannel nightgown.

Alice Moon took over. She urged the children out, sending them down to her flat with Dick in charge, and unceremoniously got Tom Chambers up to help his wife back to their attic bed.

For three hours Emma crouched beside the mattress, her hand numb with pain from her mother’s fierce grip, and her legs cramped whilst Alice tried to help with the birth.

‘Myra, I’m sorry, love, but I’ve got to have another go at turning it.’

There was no reply, just a groan, and Emma’s heart thudded with fear. The last time Alice had tried this, her mother’s screams had been horrendous. Please, she willed, please let it work this time.

Alice bent to her task, her face grave, and then the screams rose again, echoing in the rafters.

‘No! No! Don’t,’ Myra cried.

Alice shook her head in despair. ‘Tom!’ she yelled.

His head appeared at the top of the ladder. ‘What do you want now?’

Alice stood up and, though she spoke quietly, Emma heard every word. ‘She’s bad, Tom, real bad. You’d better get the doctor.’

‘Leave it out, woman! She’ll be all right. You’ve birthed the last three kids and there’s never been a problem.’

‘For God’s sake, man, will you listen to me! It’s a breech birth and I can’t turn the baby. She needs help, she needs the doctor.’

‘He won’t come without his fee.’

‘For Christ’s sake, Tom, wake up! You don’t have to pay the doctor now, not since this National Health Service was introduced. Now get a move on or you could lose your wife. I don’t care how you do it–bloody drag him here if you have to–but get him.’

Emma didn’t hear her father’s reply. Her eyes were wide with horror. Blood was pumping from her mother’s womb, soaking the mattress. ‘Alice! Alice!’

The woman turned at her cry. ‘Christ, she’s haemorrhaging. Quick, Tom, before it’s too late!’

But it was too late. By the time a disgruntled doctor climbed the ladder, Myra Chambers and her baby were dead. Emma was still sitting by her mother, refusing to accept that she was gone, and
only when her father touched her shoulder did she react.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she yelled. ‘This is your fault! Why couldn’t you leave her alone? She’d still be alive if you hadn’t filled her belly again!’

Emma cringed then, braced for a clout. She had dared to speak up, to shout at her father, but instead he stared at her, white-faced, his eyes avoiding the lifeless body of his wife, and beside her the baby, pitifully small and wrapped in a rag.

‘You…you…’ he spluttered, but then his body seemed to fold. He staggered across the attic, then clambered down the ladder.

Still Emma didn’t move, Alice unable to cajole her away. It was only when Dick came to her side, crouching down and placing an arm around her shoulder, that she broke. The anger seeped away to be replaced by a surge of grief that almost choked her. She sobbed, and turning, clutched Dick, finding that his tears mingled with her own.

‘Come on, Em,’ Dick urged. ‘Alice needs to see to Mum.’

Emma dashed tears away with the heel of her hand, but looking at the poor worn-out body of her mother, anger arose again. ‘He killed her, Dick.’

‘Don’t be daft, Em. Alice said that by the time the doctor got here it was too late.’

‘I’m not talking about the doctor. It was Dad who killed her.’

‘You’re talking rot. Of course he didn’t.’

Emma was too emotionally drained to argue. She forced herself to her feet, cramped legs screaming with pain, and with a last look at her beloved mother, she allowed Dick to lead her away.

‘You’ll have to tell the kids, Emma,’ Tom Chambers said as Emma climbed down the ladder.

She looked at her father’s red face, crumpled in grief but, instead of sympathy, she felt nothing but contempt. ‘Why me?’

‘It’ll be better coming from you.’

Anger still stemmed her grief and, unable to bear the sight of his face, Emma left the room, slamming the door behind her as she went down to the middle landing. For a moment she paused outside Alice’s door, her temper diminishing as she wondered how to tell her brothers and sisters. Somehow she had to hold herself together for their sakes. Taking a great gulp of air, Emma went inside.

‘Has the baby been borned?’ asked Bella. ‘Is it a girl, Emma? I hope it’s a girl.’

‘What’s up, Em?’ Luke asked, eyes perceptive as he studied her face. Luke the quiet one, the intelligent one, so sensitive that their mother always said he was like a cuckoo in her nest. At that thought, a sob arose that Emma was unable to stifle and, holding her hand across her mouth, she looked wildly across the room at Alice.

‘Shall I tell them, love?’ the woman asked gently.

For a moment Emma was tempted, but then Luke was by her side, his soft eyes now wide with fear. ‘I knew when Alice came to fetch Dick that something was wrong. What is it? Is Mum all right?’

Emma could only shake her head, but Luke immediately realised the implications, his face blanching. ‘Why didn’t I see this coming?’

Unable to answer, Emma’s eyes flicked around the room at the others all looking at her worriedly. God, how was she supposed to tell them? How could she break the awful news that both their mother and the baby brother had died? Only little Archie seemed oblivious, absorbed as he gnawed on a crust of bread.

Emma crossed the room and, sitting down, she pulled James onto her lap, beckoning the others to her side. With her eyes heavenward for a moment she prayed for inspiration, but her mind remained blank.

‘Why is Luke crying?’ Susan asked.

Emma looked at Susan, poor plain Susan, who always seemed to have a runny nose and caked eyes. She was the sickly one, lacking the resilience of her siblings, and, like all of them, as thin as a rake. Susan’s bony knees showed beneath a threadbare skirt as she moved closer. Taking her hand, Emma struggled to answer her question. ‘Luke’s crying because…because…’ It was no good,
the words wouldn’t come, and once again Emma’s eyes flew to Alice.

With a small, sad shake of her head, Alice took a deep breath. ‘Listen, pets, I’m afraid your mother and the new baby have gone to heaven. They’re with the angels now.’

Susan was the first to speak, her voice high. ‘You mean…you mean our mum’s dead?’

‘Yes, love, I’m afraid so,’ Alice said.

A loud cry pierced the air and, as all eyes went to Bella, Alice quickly drew the child into her arms. Susan too began to cry, and it was Luke who comforted her, whilst Emma struggled to answer Ann’s questions.

‘What does she mean, Em? What’s dead?’

‘Mummy was ill and she didn’t get better.’

‘What? Like Mrs Dunston’s dog?’

The Dunstons lived on the ground floor, the only ones to have use of a small garden at the back of the house. ‘Yes, love, that’s right.’

‘They buried him in the garden. Is that what they’ll do with our mum? I don’t want them to do that to our mum,’ she cried, tears filling her eyes.

‘They won’t, darling.’

James suddenly squirmed on her lap, and looking at everyone with obvious bewilderment, he too began to cry. ‘Want my mummy. Want Mummy.’

It was too much for Emma, her tears spurting as she pulled James close. For several minutes they
remained like that, clutching each other and crying, none of them aware that little Archie was sobbing too, obviously affected by their grief.

The door opened. Dick came into the room and immediately swept the toddler up into his arms. ‘It’s all right, Archie. It’s all right,’ he consoled.

Many minutes passed, but at last their tears subsided.

They were still clinging to each other, until Alice gently pushed Bella away, patting her head as she said, ‘I’m sorry, pet, but I’d best go back upstairs. You lot stay here for a while, and if you’re hungry there’s more bread and a pot of jam in the larder.’

Food, Emma thought, feeling sick at the thought, but then James squirmed in her lap again.

‘Want jam,’ he said.

Emma wiped his snotty nose before standing up to place him in her seat. She then went to the larder, but as she cut several slices of bread, her eyes alighted on a newspaper lying on the table. Just below the banner she saw the date, 7 December 1948, and knew it would be etched on her mind for ever. It was the day their mother had died, their cornerstone was gone, their lives changed. What was going to happen to them now? The thought forced its way to the front of her mind. The task of looking after her brothers and sisters would fall to her now.