Bill Bailey's Daughter Read online

  ‘More likely a whale. It’ll be three parts water.’

  ‘Oh, here’s the last of the tribe coming.’ Nell looked down towards the back gate. Then she added, ‘He seems to be the only one of them that doesn’t run.’

  Fiona joined Nell at the window, and she said, ‘He’s always walked like that, straight, steady. It’s like his character.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad there’s one of them that’s straight and steady. But here’s one that’ll have to run’—she turned from the window—‘if I don’t want Mr Bertram Ormesby to arrive home to a plain table. Everything’s set in the dining room; and mind, see that the squad clears away.’ She nodded towards Fiona. ‘Anyway, I’ve been up there and I’ve told madam what she’s got to do. And so, leave it to them, and no more interfering from you and standing at the sink till all hours. Hello there, Mark.’

  ‘Hello, Nell. Boy! It’s cold. Hello, Mam.’

  When he leant forward to plant a kiss on the side of his mother’s face he made no remark, such as Willie might have done, saying, ‘I’ll soon have to get a ladder,’ or some such, but quietly asked, ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Fine, fine; the same as I did when you went out this morning. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Fine, fine; the same as I did when I went out this morning.’

  They laughed together; then, looking to where Nell was getting into her coat, he said, ‘Anything filling before tea, Nell? I’m starving.’

  ‘Yes, there’s plenty of dry bread and pullet.’

  ‘Oh, that’ll be nice.’

  ‘Well, you know the new arrangement: help yourself to a snack until your dad comes in; then in the bottom of the oven there’s a shepherd’s pie big enough to feed five thousand, and there’s an apple pie to go with the custard I hope Katie is going to make.’

  ‘She’ll not.’ Fiona flapped her hand towards Nell. ‘I’ve had some of Katie’s custard. Look, get yourself away and let me have my kitchen to myself for five minutes.’

  ‘That’s gratitude if you like.’

  ‘Drive carefully; it’s the peak hour.’

  ‘And you be careful…Ta-ra!’

  As she went out laughing, Mark said, ‘What was that last about; she generally says bye-bye.’

  ‘Oh, I was telling her about Willie and having to chastise him about ta-ra.’

  ‘Oh.’ Mark pursed his lips now. ‘I shouldn’t trouble. I bet before he’s finished he’ll end up talking like Sammy does now, and Sammy will be talking plain, unvarnished English.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t agree with you, Mark, at least about Sammy. My fear is we’ll have two Sammys. Anyway, everything all right with you?’

  ‘Yes…Mam.’

  ‘Yes, what is it?’

  ‘Roland’s going skiing in February. There’s a party from the school going to Switzerland. There’s…there’s still a vacant place and he wonders if…well, if I could go. But…but it costs a lot of money.’

  ‘Skiing? Would you like to go?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Mam. Oh, yes, I’d love it. But as I said…it costs…’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘…Over two hundred pounds.’

  ‘Over two hundred. It is a lot of money.’ She stretched her upper lip as she nodded at him. ‘Well, we’ll have to ask your dad, won’t we?’

  ‘Yes; yes, we’ll have to ask him. But it’s not only that; there’ll be clothes, you know. You can hire the skis and the boots, Roland says, but…well, there’s other things.’

  She put her arm around his shoulder, saying, ‘Don’t worry about that. When your dad comes in let him have his bath and his meal, then we’ll get at him.’

  ‘You’re for it then, Mam?’

  ‘Wholeheartedly. And I shouldn’t be a bit surprised but I’ll come with you.’

  He leant his head against her shoulder, and when she asked, ‘What did you say there?’ he looked at her through blinking eyelids and said, ‘Nothing, nothing. I’ll…I’ll take my snack upstairs.’ He went to the fridge, and after opening the door he asked, ‘Is this mine on the plate?’

  ‘Yes. And if you get all that down you, you won’t have any room for dinner.’

  She watched him close the fridge door, then go out of the kitchen without looking towards her again. And she stood where she was for a time, her hands joined on top of her bulging stomach.

  Her son had said to her, ‘You’re wonderful.’

  She was so lucky.

  She was crossing the hall when the front doorbell rang.

  She was surprised to see her mother. Mrs Vidler phoned practically every day, but her visits were few and far between.

  ‘Oh! This cold.’ The elderly woman bustled into the hall. ‘The wind goes right through you. No, no, dear, I’m not staying; I’ve just come…well, I want a word with you. Are we alone? I mean…’

  ‘Yes, yes; they’re all upstairs.’

  Mrs Vidler hurried into the sitting room. Fiona followed, more slowly, and when they were seated, she said, ‘Is…is anything wrong?’

  There was nearly always something wrong when her mother phoned; there was always something wrong when she visited her. She had been very sympathetic when she thought that Bill was dead, but on his recovery she had reverted to her natural self; and yet not quite, because of her new interest in Davey Love and the boy. Of course, this interest could have been put down to motherly feelings, but she, knowing her mother, was well aware that she held no motherly feelings towards the big, raw, good-looking Irishman which in a way filled her with pity. She was well aware of her mother’s need of a man, but why she should pick on this raw, uneducated, yet good-hearted and amusing individual, she would never know because refinement was her second name.

  ‘I’m going away for a while, dear.’

  ‘Going away?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I said, going away, and for perhaps a month.’

  ‘A month?’

  ‘My dear, stop repeating my words. I said, I’m going away for perhaps a month. Is it unusual that one should take a holiday?’

  ‘Where are you going for perhaps a month?’

  Not immediately, but after a pause, her mother said, ‘America.’

  ‘America?’

  ‘Yes; you’ve heard of it, haven’t you?’

  ‘Mother, please don’t be facetious. Why has this come about all of a sudden? Who’s going with you?’

  ‘There’s no-one going with me, dear. And it hasn’t come about all of a sudden. I’ve been thinking about it and preparing for it for some weeks.’

  ‘But there must be a reason. America, of all places. And…and on your own, and…’

  She watched her mother rear now: the old defensive look came back on her face and her voice was stiff as she said, ‘Don’t say that, Fiona…at your age. I am merely turned fifty. I’m not dead yet.’

  Turned fifty? Her mother was fifty-eight, if she remembered rightly. Of course, she must admit she didn’t look it, except there were those bags under her eyes and lines running from the corner of her mouth and marking her upper lip. Yet her bone structure was good; her high cheekbones stopped the cheeks from sagging. Yes, she could pass for fifty, or a little less, when she was made up, as she was at present. But why this trip to America? She said, ‘Do you know anyone there?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I have been corresponding with someone there for some time now. And don’t look surprised, Fiona. You see I have my own life to lead. You definitely have yours and haven’t paid much attention to me or my doings. Oh. Oh’—she held up her hand now—‘I’m not blaming you. In your present condition I know how you must be feeling, but there were times when you weren’t in your present condition and you must admit that then you didn’t feel for me, or ask if I was lonely…’

  ‘Mother! You have been surrounded by your women’—she’d almost said cronies—‘friends for years: bridge friends, coffee friends, church friends; there’s hardly a week goes by that you don’t take a trip with them.’ She could have added, ‘And during th
e years that I was lonely and struggling to bring up three small children you only came here when it suited you, and then it was nearly always to interfere and cause an upheaval about one thing or another.’ She sighed now as she said, ‘Well, all I can say, Mother, is I hope you have a wonderful time.’

  ‘There’s no doubt about that, I’m sure I shall.’ She was about to turn towards the door when she hesitated, then looked back at Fiona and said, ‘By the way, did you tell Mr…Love that you thought it was too much for me to pop in and see to their meals?’

  ‘No, I certainly did not; in fact, I have never discussed you with Mr Love.’ And she emphasised the mister.

  ‘Well, that is something in your favour. Now I must be going.’

  ‘When are you leaving for America?’

  ‘The day after tomorrow.’

  ‘So soon?’

  ‘No, it isn’t so soon. I told you the arrangements have been going on for some time. Anyway, I may not see you again before I go, but I do hope everything goes well with you at your confinement.’

  They stood facing each other at the front door now, and as Fiona looked at her mother she thought: Mother and daughter, and there was the mother saying, ‘I’m going off to America for a month. I hope everything goes well with your confinement.’ But she had never been an ordinary mother. She recalled the day after Mark was born when her mother stood by the bedside and said, ‘Make a firm stand. Don’t let this happen again.’ And when she had said, ‘Have you seen the baby?’ Her mother had answered, ‘All babies look alike at this age.’

  That empty place somewhere below her ribs opened its door again and for a moment she felt she was about to cry. But why should she? She had everything: a loving family and an adoring man. So why should the lack of mother love be an empty space inside her?

  ‘Goodbye, dear.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mother.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to wish me a safe journey and a happy holiday?’

  ‘Yes; I wish you both, Mother.’

  Mrs Vidler stared at her daughter, then said, ‘You were always so enthusiastic over my doings, weren’t you, dear?’ And then leaned forward for the maternal kiss, and without further words pulled open the door and went out.

  Fiona had switched on the outside light, but as she watched the prim figure walking away she called, ‘How are you going to get home, Mother?’ One heard of old ladies and young ones too being attacked in the streets in the dark, and the Crescent was situated almost half a mile away. But she needn’t have worried because Mrs Vidler turned and said, ‘I do have a taxi waiting, dear.’

  Of course, she would have a taxi waiting; her mother always looked after number one. But taxis were expensive, as were trips to America, and she was always putting it over that she could just manage to exist in the middle-class way she had been accustomed to all her life.

  ‘Mam.’

  She looked up to where Katie was making her way down the stairs, two at a time as usual.

  ‘That was Gran, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes; yes, that was Gran.’

  ‘Has she upset you?’

  ‘No, no dear. Would Gran ever upset anyone?’ She pulled a face at her daughter and Katie said, ‘Would there ever be a time when she didn’t? Come on and sit down.’ She took her mother’s arm as if to give her support and escorted her back to the sitting room, and to the couch. And when, having sat down by her mother’s side, she did not begin to chatter by asking a question or expressing her adverse opinion of something or someone, Fiona said, ‘Anything wrong?’

  ‘Mam.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can I ask you something, personal like?’

  ‘Yes, of course, dear.’

  There was a long pause before Katie, looking into her mother’s face, said, ‘Do you love me?’

  Fiona drew her head back as if to get her daughter into focus, and then she said, ‘What a question to ask, Katie! Of course I love you. You know I love you. I…I love all of you.’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘What do you mean, that’s it?’

  ‘That’s what Sue said her mother said: she loved them all, the six of them, en masse. That’s what Sue said, they were loved en masse because there wasn’t time to love them singly. Sue said you got advice doled out to you singly, but the other…well, it was in a lump.’

  ‘Katie’—Fiona took her daughter’s hands and held them tightly between her own—‘you’re an individual. You are my daughter and I love you for yourself.’

  ‘Do you love Mark and Willie like that too?’

  Fiona paused before she answered this, and then she said, ‘Yes. Yes, in a way. I love you each for yourself, not en masse.’

  ‘What about Mamie?’

  ‘Well’—Fiona again paused—‘Mamie comes into a different category. It was compassion I felt for Mamie first. But now I love her too. You understand? You understand me?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do, Mam. But as Sue says, it’ll be different when that comes.’ She now poked her finger gently into the mound of Fiona’s stomach. ‘She says it was like that in their house because there was nine years between the last one and the new one, and the new one is now three years old and Sue says life has never been the same since it came.’

  Fiona didn’t speak for almost a full minute, but continued to look at her daughter. But she wanted to, she had wanted to say immediately, ‘That Sue says too much; and I don’t like your being friends with her. She’s a year older than you in age, but apparently much older in her ideas, which she doesn’t hesitate to voice.’ But what she forced herself to say was, ‘No two families are alike, Katie. Ours is a very special family. And I can assure you when the baby is born you’ll all love it, and I shall continue to love you all…individually. Remember that. Individually.’

  ‘Where’s everybody?’

  At the sound of the voice Katie jumped up from the couch, crying, ‘That’s Dad! He’s early.’

  As she went to pull the sitting-room door open Bill pushed it from the other side, saying, ‘Now Lady Bailey, are you pushing me out or welcoming me in?’

  ‘You’re early.’

  ‘Is that a fault?’

  ‘No, no; but it’s only about half past five.’

  ‘I’ll go back.’ He took two steps backwards, and Katie, grabbing his hands, said, ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Fiona from the couch. ‘We can have dinner any time now.’

  ‘I want a cup of tea, madam.’ He made one flapping movement with his hand towards her; then turning to Katie, said, ‘Yes, hinny, a cup of tea, sweet and strong.’

  ‘Aye, boss.’

  ‘She seems in a happy mood.’ He came quickly up the room now and, pushing Fiona’s legs to the side, sat on the edge of the couch. Then turning his head sideways, he put his ear to her stomach, saying, ‘Hurry up you! You’ve got me worried; you’re comin’ in between me and my work.’ Lifting his head, he asked gently, ‘How are you feelin’, love?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘You know something? I’ll have to stop calling you “love”. Every time I say that word I think of Big Davey. How about pet?’

  ‘No, I don’t like pet, I’d still rather have “love”, even with the image of Big Davey.’

  ‘The house seemed quiet when I came in, no ructions from above.’

  ‘Oh, you just missed those earlier on before Sammy went home…I’ve got news for you.’

  ‘Good or bad?’

  ‘Well, it all depends upon how one sees another person. I think from your point of view it’ll be good. Mother’s going away for a month.’

  ‘Oh, that is good. Where is she going?’

  ‘America.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘That’s what I said when she told me.’

  ‘What’s she goin’ to do there?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. She says she’s going for a holiday. She’s been arranging it for a long time, she said.’

  ‘She’s up to something.�
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  ‘What can she be up to in America?’

  ‘Your mother, my dear, never does anything without a purpose. You know that. Anyway, I know somebody who’ll be glad she’s out of his hair for a time, and that’s Davey. I know all his little movements now, his reactions, and he’s been tryin’ to corner me for days. But I’ve had somebody with me or I’ve been on the site. You know, between you and me, I think it’s indecent the way she’s chased that fella. She’s old enough to be his mother, she is really.’

  ‘You needn’t emphasise the fact, I know it too well. It’s most embarrassing, especially since he stopped leaving the key handy for her. Why he did it in the first place was likely because he looked upon her as a motherly old soul.’

  ‘What I can’t understand’—and now Bill shook his head as he laughed—‘is that she’s so stinkin’ uppish, so refined, she’s looked down her nose on me so much that she’s cross-eyed, and yet, what does she do but set her cap at a fella like Davey Love who, let’s face it, even from my point of view, is a pretty rough diamond. My! My! Well, I’ve never been able to fathom it.’

  ‘Well, you should have, with your insight into the sexual activities of all mammals, especially the two-legged ones.’

  ‘Aye well, that might be so, but goin’ by her age there’s nineteen years between them and that’s indecent.’

  Fiona half-cocked her head and said, ‘Taking the argument a little further: it wouldn’t be indecent if it was the other way around, the man nineteen years older than the woman, would it?’

  ‘No. No, it wouldn’t. That’s nature. Anyway, it still wouldn’t have been so bad if she had picked on somebody of her own standard, at least what she considers her standard. Say now she had taken a shine to Rupert. Now there, he would, I should imagine, have been up her street, socially and in every other way. By the way, has he called in today?’

  ‘No, he hasn’t, dear; and I’m so disappointed.’

  ‘Watch your lug. You know, I could dislike that fella. He’s everything I am not, and too, he’s had a marvellous upbringing and a first-class education. But what is he doin’ with it? Secretary to Sir Charles. And what does that mean? He is just a glorified chauffeur.’