A Mother Forever

but that week had been a good one, with Eddie not frittering away his pay packet on horses and beer. The sheets had been a gift from her sisters on her wedding day, and in those early happy months, she’d prepared her marriage bed with love. Later, as Eddie distanced himself from family life and acted more as if he was a single man, drinking to all hours and coming home when he pleased, she’d packed away her few good pieces of bedding and used the everyday sheets that had been purchased second-hand – not that they weren’t clean, she reminded herself. Wriggling to make herself comfortable, she gazed around the large room and gasped in delight. Eddie had informed her the previous tenant had left behind a few sticks of furniture in his haste to depart, but what she could see was more than the kind of old, knocked-about items she was used to. She was lying in a large brass double bed that faced two tall windows, between which was a dressing table with three shining mirrors. To her left was a chimney breast where a coal fire was burning brightly. Although still August, it had been a miserable, cold month. At each side of the blackleaded grate, a row of painted green and yellow tiles framed the fireplace and matched the darker green tiles in the hearth. She could see that someone had placed her two treasured photographs on the black iron mantelpiece.

On the opposite wall stood a large wardrobe, and beside that a chest of drawers. Every piece matched and, twisting her head sideways, she spotted bedside tables – and all in what she assumed was walnut. Hadn’t she often stood gazing into the windows of the posh furniture shops, promising herself that one day she too would be able to afford such luxurious items? ‘Perhaps it is all a dream,’ she murmured as she fell asleep, with the worry lines around her lips starting to disappear for the first time in weeks.

‘Mummy!’ a voice shouted, as her bed bounced and Ruby jolted awake with a start. ‘Mummy, I have my own bedroom and so does Grandma,’ her son exclaimed excitedly. ‘Do you want to come and see our beds?’

Ruby held out her hand to ruffle his light brown curls, but it felt like lead and flopped back down onto the covers. ‘My darling boy, have you been good for your nan?’

‘As good as a child of that age can be,’ Milly Tomkins huffed as she sat on a hardwood chair set by the fireside. ‘I saw the baby,’ she said quietly, noticing George was out of earshot, having climbed down from the bed and wandered over to the window.

Ruby gazed beseechingly at her mother. ‘I know I’m to blame for killing her.’

‘Kill? What are you talking about, girl? The child wasn’t killed.’

Ruby glanced over to where George was still looking out of one of the tall windows and waving to passing neighbours. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘It must have been something I did, as our George didn’t come along early, and look at him now. As fit as a fiddle. I must have overdone things, what with scrubbing floors to bring in money and then humping our belongings on and off the drayman’s cart.’

Milly put her hands on her hips and huffed again. ‘The child would not have survived if you’d taken to your bed for the past six months and never lifted a finger. It wasn’t meant for this world. It’s best you forget all about it. There will be more babies, just as night follows day; you mark my words.’

Ruby wiped her eyes on the edge of the bed sheet. ‘What do you mean by “never meant for this world?” What was wrong with her?’

Milly pursed her lips. ‘It’s best you don’t know. As I said before, forget about her.’

Ruby shuddered as she fought to hold back sobs of frustration. ‘She’s my daughter, how can I forget her? Besides, there’s the funeral to think about,’ she added, wondering if the few shillings she still had put by for things for the new house would be enough to bury her daughter. It didn’t feel right to be thinking about burying her own child, but sadly it happened. Why, there was a woman she’d known who’d worked down the market who’d died birthing her child, and the baby had gone to the grave with her. Ruby had been told that the woman had lost as many as had lived – and there’d been five young kiddies who’d ended up in the orphanage after their father dumped them and ran off, rather than face his responsibilities.

‘It’s been taken care of, so don’t you go worrying yourself.’

‘What do you mean? Don’t I get a say on where my daughter is to be buried? I want her name on the marker until I can have a headstone made. I can do that, can’t I?’

Milly gave a deep sigh and turned to her grandson. ‘Georgie boy, why don’t you pop downstairs and put some more butter on Mr Tibbs’ paws for me? We don’t want him wandering off and getting himself lost, now, do we?’

‘Yes, Nana,’ the child said as he ran to the stairs.

‘And mind you hold on to the banister rail. If you fall and break your neck, don’t come running to me in tears,’ she called after him as she perched herself on the side of her bed and took Ruby’s hand in her own. ‘Now, I don’t want you fretting yourself over this. It’s just something women have to put up with. You need to harden your heart and get yourself back on your feet. I’ll allow you this one day in bed, but there are things needing doing in this house, so pull yourself together and stop wallowing. It’s time you thought about others, and weren’t so selfish,’ she concluded, before hauling herself to her feet and heading downstairs, muttering as she went.

Ruby