The Shoemaker's Daughter (37 page)

She turned to see Edward beside her, he was sound asleep, his hair tousled over his too-pale face and with a pang of unease, Hari realized just how thin he’d become over the past months.

The pain eased, ebbing away from her like a tide, leaving her gasping and frightened. She sank back gingerly against the pillows, perhaps it had been a false alarm, the birth was early even by the doctor’s reckoning.

In the early morning light, Hari examined her life calmly and with senses alert and she knew that whatever happened, she must protect Edward from the truth. It meant she must live a lie, letting him believe the baby was his, to shock him with her doubts would be too cruel. In any case how could she be sure, really sure that the baby was not Edward’s?

Once the child was born and she had regained her strength, she would see things more clearly, she would put the past behind her and start afresh, determined to make Edward happy.

The pain came again fiercer this time and Hari put her hand over her mouth, determined not to frighten Edward with her cries. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to remember to go with the pain, that was the advice handed out by the old midwives, not to fight against the forces of nature but to go with the flow. But it was more difficult than Hari had ever imagined.

At last, the pain subsided and tentatively Hari reached out a hand and touched Edward’s shoulder. He was awake in an instant.

‘The baby,’ she said, ‘it’s coming.’ She saw the sleep vanish from his eyes to be replaced with apprehension. ‘It’s all right,’ she reassured him, ‘just fetch the midwife, everything is going to be just fine.’

‘But it’s too soon.’ Edward was already struggling into his clothes. ‘The baby isn’t due yet, something must be wrong. I’d best have the doctor, I’d feel happier with him looking after you.’

When Edward had gone, Jenny came into the room with a tray of tea and an expression of avid curiosity on her face.

‘Mr Morris gone for the doctor, then, baby coming early, is it?’ She put the tray down at the bedside. ‘No need to worry, mind, my mam got six children, they come when they’re ready, she says.’ She paused hands on hips, ‘Mrs Crocker the midwife delivered all of us, mind.’

There was a reproof in Jenny’s voice, an implication that what was good enough for the women of the area was not good enough for Mrs Edward Morris.

Hari closed her eyes as the pain came again, should it be this sudden, wasn’t there supposed to be a period of mild labour leading up slowly to the birth? Hari bit her lip, wanting only to be alone but Jenny was standing beside the bed, a look of indecision on her face.

‘Mrs Crocker’s good, mind,’ she volunteered more gently ‘and she only lives about five streets away. Looks as if you haven’t got time to wait for the doctor to come.’

‘Go get the midwife, then, Jenny.’ Hari said through her teeth, ‘Tell her to come straight away.’

Jenny disappeared and Hari could hear her running down the stairs. She sank back against the pillows as the pain eased and wondered that, in between times, she felt almost exhilarated and completely in charge of the situation.

It was a strange experience, this childbirth, when the pains came they made her feel so vulnerable, pinned to her bed, made her a creature of the earth with nerve endings and sensations rather than a rational human being who had successfully run a business. Then they eased and she was herself again.

It was a relief to see Jenny return after only a few minutes with the midwife. Mrs Crocker looked very capable, wearing a starched white apron over a plain skirt and blouse. Her sleeves were already rolled up in preparation for the work she would do.

‘Fetch plenty of hot water, Jenny,’ she said, ‘that’s the first thing we need and hurry, girl, by the look of it there’s not much time.’

She bent over the bed and carefully placed her hands on Hari’s swollen stomach. ‘Yes, a good strong pain is coming, I can feel the tightening, that means your baby is going to be here before too long.’

Hari gritted her teeth hearing the small moaning sounds she made and yet unable to help herself. She was aware of Jenny bustling about the room and then she smelled the acrid scent of the rough soap as the midwife rubbed it over her hands and forearms.

‘Like to be clean and fresh to handle new babies, I do,’ Mrs Crocker said conversationally. ‘Not the practice of all midwives, mind, but it is my practice and there’s not many babies I lose.’

It was reassuring to hear the woman’s confident tones and Hari relaxed for a moment, gathering her strength for the next bout of pain.

Edward returned with the doctor who summed up the situation at once. ‘I think your wife is in very good hands,’ he said quietly, ‘Mrs Crocker is one of the best midwives in the district, you won’t go far wrong with her.’

‘But you’ll stay, doctor?’ Edward sounded panic stricken and Hari longed to comfort him but she was too swamped with her own struggle to give birth and the hand she had raised dropped back to the bed as she gave up the effort to talk.

It seemed interminable, the pains were getting stronger and lasting longer until Hari felt that she couldn’t go on. Her strength was ebbing fast, she wanted so badly to sink into an unconscious sleep, to get away from the turmoil that was taking place in her body.

And then, the pains seemed to change, she was suddenly invigorated.

‘That’s my girl, bear down now nice and strong, good girl, keep at it, it’ll all be over soon.’

Hari heard low noises coming from her throat, her voice was hoarse and yet she knew, with a sense of triumph, that the ordeal was almost over.

‘There’s a good mother!’ The midwife was triumphant, ‘Your baby’s nearly born, one more push will do it, good girl, that’s it!’

Hari felt suddenly released, she closed her eyes and rested gratefully for a moment and then the sharp sound of the baby’s cry roused her.

‘And here he is, Mrs Morris, congratulations, you have a fine strong boy.’

Hari sighed with relief, the moment was one of exquisite happiness. She lifted her head and saw that the midwife was bent over the bed attending to the baby.

‘Is he all right?’ Hari heard her voice without recognizing it, it was thin and thread-like and she sank back on to the pillow feeling immeasurably weary.

‘He’s a strong hearty child,’ the midwife said, ‘no dainty doll-like creature this but cut out for a navvy, he is. And such dark hair, not like his dad. Here take him. Mrs Morris, say hello to your son.’

He was surprisingly heavy in her arms and Hari, as she looked down at the crumpled little face, felt tears brim in her eyes.

‘He’s just perfect,’ she said in awe, ‘just look at his fingers, aren’t they beautiful?’

The midwife was smiling in a proprietary way. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘all new babies are lovely to their mams, it wouldn’t be right otherwise.’ She moved closer to the bed, ‘Now give the boy to his father to hold so that I can put you tidy.’

Hari became aware of Edward hovering at the foot of the bed and a heavy feeling of guilt swamped her. Edward came towards her and tentatively held out his arms and, reluctantly, Hari handed him her baby.

‘Look doctor,’ Edward said eagerly, ‘I have a son, isn’t it wonderful?’

The doctor made the appropriate noises and then moved to the door. ‘Congratulations to you, Mrs Morris,’ he said, ‘I will come to see both of you in a few days’ time.’

The midwife spent a while longer bustling around the bed but when at last she was satisfied that Hari was comfortable she washed in the bowl of fresh hot water Jenny had brought.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ Mrs Crocker said, ‘and every day for as long as you need me.’ She moved to the door. ‘I advise that you are attended for at least two weeks.’

Hari sighed, glad to have Mrs Crocker’s support. It was Edward who spoke.

‘You keep coming for as long as you see fit,’ he said, ‘and you will be well rewarded.’ He was smiling broadly, still cradling the baby and Hari closed her eyes against the pain of the guilt that seared her.

And yet, lurking behind the guilt was the overriding wish that Craig could be standing there, proudly holding their son, smiling his delight at the birth of the boy.

Hari held out her arms and Edward carefully returned the baby to her. He sat on the bed and moving the sheet from the baby’s face peered down, smiling.

‘What shall we call him?’ he said. ‘We haven’t thought of a name yet.’

Hari was silent, she didn’t know what to say, she stared down at her son knowing only that she loved him with every fibre of her being.

‘What about Joseph Morris after my father?’ Edward said thoughtfully.

‘No!’ The word burst from Hari’s lips before she could restrain herself. She forced herself to smile. ‘I thought it would be a tribute to my father if I called my first son after him, let the boy be David which is the English for Dewi,’ she said quickly.

‘Of course,’ Edward smiled understandingly, ‘I’m sorry, if that’s what you want that’s what it shall be.’

She put out her hand and rested it on his arm, ‘It’s me who should be sorry, I didn’t mean to bite your head off.’

‘It’s only to be expected after what you’ve been through these last few hours. Just put the baby in the crib and I’ll watch over him. Tomorrow we’ll employ a nursemaid to look after him but for now you must try to get all the rest you can so that you’ll regain your strength all the sooner.’

And in spite of the way her thoughts ran in turmoil around her head, Hari did eventually fall into an exhausted sleep only to dream of Craig bending over the crib, smiling down at the son who was the spit out of his mouth.

As the days passed and Hari grew stronger, she realized just how like Craig the baby was. His features were strong, his hair thick and dark and yet Edward totally failed to see it.

He doted on the boy, crooning over him whenever he had the chance which was often. Of late Edward had taken to delegating his work to the young man he had employed to help him in the office after his first bout of sickness.

It irked Hari to have him there all the time, she seemed to have no moments of privacy with her baby and sometimes she was hard pressed to control her impatience.

It was almost ten days after the birth of her son that Edward came into the bedroom, a broad smile on his face.

‘We have a visitor,’ he said. ‘Craig is very anxious to see this fine boy of ours, can he come in?’

Hari drew a sharp breath and held the baby closer. ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Hari said, feeling a deep resentment as Craig entered the room and moved towards the bed.

‘I’ll go and organize Jenny to bring us all some refreshment,’ Edward said and Hari almost called after him to stay but her lips remained closed, she couldn’t show herself up like that.

Craig sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at Hari with concern in his dark eyes. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked and she nodded without speaking. ‘And the baby?’

Reluctantly, she drew back the shawl and watched Craig’s face soften as he stared down at the new-born child. He looked up and met her eyes.

‘I love you, Hari,’ he said, ‘I only wish I’d recognized it earlier. Come away with me, we’ll leave Swansea and the gossips behind, we’ll be together as we should have been from the start if I’d had any sense.’

‘Don’t, Craig,’ Hari said in a whisper. ‘I can’t do that and well you know it, it’s impossible.’

‘Why is it impossible?’ Craig said persuasively, ‘Can you live a lie with Edward? I don’t think you can.’

Hari rubbed at her eyes wearily. ‘Yes, I can and I will! Edward’s so happy now, please don’t say any more, not now, Craig, it’s far too late.’

‘I know.’ He took her face in his hands and gently kissed her mouth. ‘You must get strong and then we’ll talk again.’

‘Yes,’ Hari said, grateful that he was not pursuing the matter. Her every nerve cried out for him, it would be wonderful to be with him, for the three of them to be a united family. But that was only a dream that would never come true.

Edward returned with Jenny close behind him carrying a tray. ‘Here’s my best port,’ Edward said, ‘you must have some, Hari, it’s good for the blood and we shall all drink to my son.’

Craig got to his feet and towered above Edward who looked slight and pale beside him and very vulnerable. Craig lifted his glass.

‘To the baby,’ he said softly. Then putting down his untouched glass of port, he left the room without another word.

Hari lingered in bed for longer than she needed, afraid that once she was on her feet, Craig would come to torment her with his talk of love. It was Mrs Crocker who at last chastised her and roused her out of bed, bullying Hari into dressing herself.

‘Take the baby for a walk in the park, for goodness sake!’ she said, pretending to be cross. ‘You’re a fit healthy young woman and both you and the boy need some good fresh air in your lungs.’

It was several days later when Emily called to see Hari, bringing a gift for the baby.

‘Thank you, Emily.’ Hari opened the parcel and took out a silver christening cup. ‘It’s lovely, you shouldn’t have.’

‘He’s a fine boy,’ Emily said a little enviously, ‘and you look blooming, Hari, motherhood suits you.’

‘I feel very well,’ Hari agreed and she did. Physically she had recovered fully from the birth, she should be the happiest woman in the world and yet guilt hung over her like a cloud.

‘You are looking happy and content enough,’ Hari said taking in the bloom of Emily’s skin and the shine of her chestnut hair. ‘Your marriage must be a happy one.’

Emily laughed shortly. ‘You sound quite envious, Hari, but yes, in spite of the gossiping tongues, John and I are making a go of things together.’

‘I’m glad,’ Hari said softly. ‘Isn’t it strange the way our lives have changed?’

Emily nodded. ‘Our lives have changed all right, I was all set to marry Craig, to be Mrs Grenfell and to gloat over the combined wealth of both families and now all that seems so trivial and shallow.’